December 9, 2013, early evening:
It's not quite dark yet when Oliver leaves the mansion, and he's willing to bet that Allen's still in the foundry, so he's not quite ready to return there just yet.
He'd thought he and Diggle and Felicity had been clicking together again. Maybe they had been. But they've also still been slightly on edge around each other, testing out the waters, unwilling to recreate the same issue that had caused the tension in the first place.
Oliver'd told them about ARGUS, and he'd seen the frustration in their eyes, the anger that he hadn't told them before, but he'd also seen the way they'd held themselves back, responded calmly, thanked him for telling the truth. How much of that reaction was genuine? Does it matter? And is he only second guessing it now because they'd betrayed him to save his life?
The worst of it is, he can't even dwell too long on the matter of Barry Allen knowing his secret. That cat's out of the bag. Allen knows now, there's no getting around it. And the Mirakuru is so much more important anyway.
Emotions cycle furiously through Oliver's brain, over and over again in an unending cycle that he can't seem to break because he doesn't know how he's supposed to feel, doesn't know which reaction is the right one. He wants to keep his friends and family uninvolved with the Mirakuru but keeping any of them in the dark seems like it might be dangerous. (More dangerous than them knowing the truth, though?) He wants to be angry at Felicity and Diggle for betraying his secret but in doing so they saved his life. (Is it worth it though, if Allen tells someone?) He wants to be fearless enough to face down the Mirakuru enhanced individual in Star City, but he can't stop thinking of Slade. (He'd barely beat Slade, and almost died this time – is he even capable of winning?)
The Mirakuru is what matters right now, stopping the men who're planning to create such unfathomably large batches with their stolen supplies. He should take every resource he can get – let Diggle and Felicity remain involved, draw on all of Barry Allen's skills, bring Roy into the loop, let Lance and the taskforce know what's out there. Even tell Laurel and Thea, in two different ways, what's out there, if it becomes relevant.
Instead he heads to his back-up base, still musty and dark. Mostly unused, and never occupied by anyone other than him. He'd started this crusade alone. He'd always imaged it would end with him alone too. Now he's got two brilliant partners who've each saved his life, more than once. He's working, more or less, with Quentin Lance and the SCPD. Laurel feeds him info about the one-percenters that come to CNRI, Roy feeds him info about crime on the streets of the Glades. Tommy's known the truth for months now, Thea for a few weeks. Even Superman's become a part of his efforts, having played no small part in saving Star City, asking Oliver for lessons on how to fight.
That's a lot of people to have involved in his problems. His problems, his mess. His monster.
They'll be involved anyway, if the Mirakuru gets out, his thoughts tell him. And you can't do this alone.
It's not a matter of pride that has him considering doing it alone anyway. It's a matter of safety.
'We can protect her,' he'd told Digg, oh so long ago when they'd first involved Felicity. (She'd only meant to stay for Walter, he remembers absently.) Now he is doubting that conviction.
Why? It was him who'd gotten hurt, hadn't it been? Tommy's kidnapping, his and Thea's kidnappings… they had nothing to do with the Green Arrow, not really. And Thea couldn't have escaped without knowing the truth about the Green Arrow. Being the Green Arrow is the only reason Tommy had been found as quickly as he had been.
In his secret secondary base, Oliver nocks one of his old bows, taking carefully even breaths as he takes aim at the center target. The arrow shoots straight to the bullseye – and straight through Shado's head on the way there. Oliver flinches backward, badly, and stares at the face of a woman long dead. She stares back at him, sorrow in her eyes, expression otherwise calm.
"Shado?" Oliver says, shock coursing through him like a cold bucket of water dumped on his head. "You can't be here."
She's not real. Oliver knows she isn't real. (She can't be real.) But she looks real, and knowing that she isn't really there doesn't stop him from hearing what she has to say, in a voice that sounds exactly like hers had.
"I had to see you, had to warn you," she replies, and her voice is just as soft and gentle as he remembers, tinged with concern and something that might have been love.
She'd died because of him. She's dead because of him. And yet she's also here. She can't be here.
But she is. "Warn me?" he can't help but ask. She isn't real, but she's talking to him all the same.
"You can't fight what's coming. Put down your bow. Take off my father's hood."
Shado'd never backed down from a fight on the island. She would know – the real Shado – that Oliver can't just let Mirakuru enhanced individuals run rampant over his city.
"I wear that hood to honor your father," Oliver returns. "And to honor you." Why is he talking to her? She can't be real. (But he misses her so much, despite how short of a time he'd actually had to get to know her.)
"If you want to honor me, stop fighting...and live," she tells him, still soft and gentle, eyes sad. "Or everyone you love will die."
What? Oliver blinks. That doesn't make sense. That Shado would want him to live, yes, but… She's confirming his worst fears. That involving everyone else in his crusade – putting them in the path of the Mirakuru – will only get them killed. Except not one of them has yet to be injured because of something Oliver did – or didn't do – as the Green Arrow. Digg's taken a few punches here and there, backing him up, and a few larger wounds when they'd faced Malcolm, and Felicity'd almost been caught in the earthquake before Superman had stopped it but…
He's been opening up again. He's let Thea in. He's reconnected with Tommy. He's trying to work with Digg and Felicity as a team. Friends, and not just partners. He's been trying.
And now here Shado is (not Shado), telling him to just throw that all away.
"I fight to protect those I love," he returns, hard but not harsh, because as much as he tells himself this isn't Shado, he can't bring himself to scold her. She's buried on Lian Yu next to his father.
She gives him a sad look in return. Oliver's phone vibrates, and he glances away, and when he looks back she's gone.
She wasn't real, he tells himself. But he still feels grief all over again at her absence.
There's no time for that though. Mirakuru has found its way to the streets of Star City and there's too much Oliver doesn't know about the situation. Why here? Why, of all the places in the world the culprit could have gone with the serum, had they come to Star City, where he is? Do they know about his connection with the Mirakuru, about his time on the island? Or is it all just a coincidence, or is Mirakuru going to appear in other cities?
There's too much unknown, too much rattling around Oliver's head as he checks his phone to see a text from Diggle, and the biggest question is how much he's going to involve his friends and family in everything that happens next.
Felicity, Digg, Tommy… They've all spent time questioning his decisions. They've all walked away at one point.
They've all come back.
That's their choice, isn't it? He can't ask them to get involved in this. But, despite their recent fights, he can already hear Digg's response (Digg's and Felicity's and Tommy's). 'You don't have to ask, Oliver'.
Tommy and Thea can stay away from the Mirakuru business – he'll tell them to stay away, if they aren't already furious with him for missing dinner. If Diggle and Felicity want to keep working in the meanwhile, he won't stop them – he needs all the help he can get – but he's going to do everything he can to stop both of them from entering the field for as long as possible. (He wants to keep them safe, but this is Mirakuru. Can he ask them to put their lives in jeopardy to save the city? It's their choice, he reminds himself again. And he can't let Mirakuru remain on the streets.)
Roy and Lance, though… does he warn them so they can stay away and risk letting them get involved? It's a question for later.
Digg's text says they've identified the man who'd attacked Oliver – the man with Mirakuru in his blood – and Oliver had just seen Shado, back from the dead, talked to her as if she really existed.
He needs to have another chat with Barry Allen.
Felicity, Digg, and Allen are all still in the basement when he returns, though he hadn't really expected anything different.
"I brought dinner," Oliver announces, glad he'd accurately predicted that they hadn't eaten yet. He's hungry, after his near-death experience, and he knows he needs to keep his energy up to heal properly. (He hadn't bothered to check with Allen what kind of food he enjoyed, but he did bring enough for everyone. That's as much of a peace offering as he can give right now.)
"That might just have to wait," Digg answers, though he throws the bag in Oliver's hand an interested glance.
"We found Cyrus Gold," Felicity explains for him.
"Who's Cyrus Gold?"
"The human weapon that left you nearly dead the other night."
"I managed to pull a print off your neck after all," Allen explains excitedly.
"I've had facial recognition software scanning closed circuit cameras all over town," Felicity continues. "He was at the corner of Delgado and 25th about five minutes ago before we lost him."
The intersection sounds familiar, but Oliver hasn't yet memorized the layout of every street in the city. "What else is at that intersection?"
"A parking lot, a market, a motel."
A motel. Oliver knows they're all thinking the same thing. No guarantee, of course, but…
"Can you hack it?" he asks Felicity. She doesn't need to ask him what he's talking about.
"Let me check," she offers, spinning back to her screens.
In the meantime, Oliver sets the bag of food on the table beside him and turns to Allen, who's been watching eagerly. (He really is a fan of the Arrow, and he's a member of the police in Central City, however tangentially, so he's probably not the kind of fan who approves of the violence Oliver commits. Instead, he's probably more focused on the lives Oliver's saved. It's a little strange, to see someone be so openly approving of him. He makes a mental note never to introduce Allen to Roy.)
"The rat poison that you gave me...are there any side effects?"
Allen blinks for a moment – perhaps at the question, perhaps simply at being directly confronted. "Um, yeah, I think hallucinations, maybe," he says with a frown, clearly thinking hard. "And excessive sweating. Are you sweating excessively?"
He's not a doctor, Oliver reminds himself, however much he knows biology and basic medical science. And he'd saved his life.
"Wait, what?" Felicity asks, throwing him a worried glance. But she's too caught up in her work to question him.
Digg does it for her. "You're hallucinating?" he asks, voice low with concern. "Are you sure?"
"I saw someone who's supposed to be dead," Oliver says in a flat voice, that allows for no argument. He can see the question that forms on the tip of Diggle's tongue in response. 'Who?' But Digg holds himself back, and doesn't ask.
That, more than anything, prompts Oliver to answer anyway. "She was on the island with me. There's no chance she's still alive."
It's tense for a moment at the revelation, even Felicity's shoulders tight, her back still to him as she works, before Allen moves into Oliver's line of sight.
"You did train in a jungle or forest environment, then," he says eagerly. "Hence the green."
From the looks of him, he's been dying to ask about the island – about anything to do with the Arrow probably – since Oliver woke up.
Oliver only gives him a look.
Allen changes tracks quickly. "I can draw some blood," he offers. "Make sure there's nothing else going on."
That, at least, sounds like a valid suggestion. Oliver moves over to where some of the medical equipment is still laid out. They don't have anything too high tech in the basement – they're not a crime lab – but Barry can at least check his blood cell counts and whatnot, and he'll understand what the numbers mean probably far better than the rest of them.
Despite his comments earlier about not being a doctor, Allen draws blood easily.
"Can I ask you something?" he asks, as he pulls the needle away from Oliver's flesh.
Oliver can't blame him for being nervous. He'd get worried if Allen wasn't nervous. But he also doesn't need the kid to know anything more about him than he already does. He gives Allen a look.
Apparently, though, and he really should have picked up on this by now, despite the fact that he'd met Allen less than a week ago, the scientist needs no prompting.
"Why no mask?" Allen barrels through the question, acting as though he thinks if he speaks too slowly Oliver will cut him off. "Not to tell you how to do your vigilante...ing, but the grease paint thing? It's a poor identity concealer."
It's… not a bad question, all things considered. Allen really has thought about this. And it's almost impossible not to answer him back. "So find me a mask that conforms perfectly to my face and doesn't affect my ability to aim while I'm on the run," Oliver responds.
"You should look into a compressible micro fabric," Barry answers right back, as if he'd already known what Oliver was going to say. No, as if he'd wanted to offer the suggestion earlier, but wanted to make sure that Oliver didn't have a valid reason for not wearing a mask before he'd spoke.
A compressible micro fabric. Oliver files the suggestion away to deal with later, once they've tracked down Gold and taken the Mirakuru off the streets.
"Too many people pay cash at the motel," Felicity cuts in, done with her hacking for the moment, "and they don't have their own security cameras. Or, at least, no networked cameras. But I checked the stored feed at the intersection, and Gold was there about the same time yesterday. Unless he's really into seafood markets, he's staying there. Or somewhere nearby."
It's a little strange, that their criminal's living out of a hotel, but then, a lot of people in the Glades are down on their luck. Homeless doesn't mean no roof over your head – it just means you don't have a home to go back to. And a motel like the one displayed on Felicity's screens, Oliver notes as he moves to stand next to her, looks very cheap.
"Right." Oliver nods and starts to move away again, only for Diggle to step slightly into his path.
"Maybe I should handle this one," he offers hesitantly, as if he's not sure Oliver would accept.
This is Mirakuru. Oliver, as far as he knows, is the only living person to ever fight down someone dosed with the stuff and live to tell the tale. Not that he has really told anyone the tale. (There's Sara too though, and it's still wonderful to think that she's out there somewhere, alive, even if she's not here.)
But he's also hallucinating. He's still sore and weak from his last fight, bruises lining his torso. He's at even more of a disadvantage than he was last time he'd fought Gold. And this is Mirakuru. They have to stop it. He'd only just vowed to himself that he wouldn't let anyone else into the field if he could help it, but he's in no condition to go himself – even if he wasn't hallucinating."
He nods again. "Fine. Recon only though. And I'm going as backup."
Felicity glances between the two of them, clearly worried. "Are you sure? Roy or Lance could –"
"We're not getting them involved in this," Oliver snaps, cutting her off. "Not yet," he adds, softening his words. He hasn't made a decision on that front yet, and looking at Digg and Felicity's worried faces, he thinks maybe that's a decision they should make together.
She swallows but nods, watching them leave.
Oliver can only hope he's not leading Digg to his death.
The motel's few records that are digitized – and therefore hackable by Felicity – didn't include names with most room numbers, especially those that paid in cash. But all John has to do is slip the man behind the desk a crisp one hundred (completely refundable by Oliver, of course) and he's headed up to the fourth floor to Cyrus Gold's room. The motel hallway is grungy and rundown, but John only notes it absently, so much more focused on staying alert and keeping his eye out for any movement.
Oliver'd almost died trying to fight this guy. Oliver. The only other time Digg's seen him this close to death had been when his mother had taken him by surprise and shot him. And even then Oliver had managed to drag himself out of the room, to the parking garage, and into Felicity's car. This time, Oliver'd barely managed to turn on his comm link.
John can't afford to miss anything, can't afford to make any mistakes.
He listens outside the room for a good two minutes, but there's no light coming from the crack under the door and no sounds from inside. If Gold is nearby, he's either in bed already, keeping very quiet, or not actually in his room at the moment.
It takes a moment for John to get the door open – he's not as good at picking locks as Oliver, but the motel locks aren't exactly top shelf locks – and he eases it open slowly, grateful for the lack of traffic in the hallway as he pushes it inward.
He doesn't turn on the light, not immediately, not until he's sure that Gold's not in the room, but, against the little stealth training he has, he doesn't shut the door behind him either. Leaving it open might alert someone in the hall to his presence – might alert Gold, whether he's in the room already or if he approaches from the outside – but he needs the light to see by. Not to mention that if Oliver couldn't beat this guy, he doesn't have much of a chance unless Gold is still suffering from any hits Oliver had managed to land. (From the looks of the brief glimpse of him on video they'd gotten, he's not.) John's picked up a thing or two about escape routes from Oliver, in the time he's worked with him. He leaves the door open and notes the location of the window.
Oliver'd already pointed out the fire escape to him when he'd told the man Gold's room number.
"Ok, what do you see?" Oliver's voice comes through the comm link, and it's a bit odd, to hear it in his ear rather than through Felicity's computers, announced to the old basement. It's not that John's not familiar with working in the field, it's just that he hasn't done so since the three of them have reconnected, aside from when Oliver had been kidnapped.
He shakes such thoughts from his mind. "It's clean. Really clean," he reports. Probably not super relevant, but it's the first thing he'd thought of. Compared to the dump outside, Gold's room is practically a five-star motel room. He has no idea what that means about Gold himself. He spots a notebook on the counter that's (hopefully) more what Oliver's looking for. "'Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday.'" He reads aloud. The handwriting is not nearly as neat as the motel room itself.
"Christened on Tuesday," Oliver finishes for him. "I know the poem. It symbolizes the seven stages of life - from birth to death."
John has no idea what that has to do with anything, or why Gold has it in his rooms. "What stage is this guy in?" he finds himself asking anyway, still looking around, still on high alert. He doesn't see the attack coming.
Gold sneaks up from behind him, and John turns quickly enough to get his gun aimed at the man's center mass, but not quickly enough to fire it. A steel grip clamps onto his wrist, twisting. Agonizing pain shoots straight up his arm.
Digg manages to fire off two shots, but he honestly couldn't say whether or not they connect with Gold. Gold certainly doesn't react. (If Oliver says something, John doesn't hear it through the temporary ringing in his ears and the fact that all he can focus on is the situation in front of him – escaping the painful grip Gold has him in.)
He doesn't manage to wrest his arm free, but he hits Gold in the face with his other arm. (And the man's wearing a mask, in his own motel room. Either he'd already had it on him, or he'd seen John coming from a distance). Gold reacts by letting go of his wrist and striking him hard enough to send him flying across the room. That hurts too.
John has no chance of winning. He has no illusions about that. Tonight was supposed to be recon anyway. Well, they've given away their position. No point in sticking around. He scrambles to his feet and jumps for the window. It's cheap glass, shattering under the force of his body hurtling through it (just another bruise he'll be regretting in the morning – though he supposes regret isn't the right word if it helps him live through this). He clings to the fire escape, scrambling for the ground, and very pointedly does not risk slowing himself down by looking back.
Oliver, of course, is already on top of things. John had been half worried that he'd charge into the apartment himself, no matter his own bruises, but instead his car comes squealing to a halt right below the fire escape, Oliver behind the wheel. Groaning in pain, wrist throbbing and shoulder aching from the way Gold had twisted his arm (from the way he'd caught himself on the fire escape after jumping through a window), John doesn't hesitate to throw himself into the car. "Go, go, go, go, go!" he urges by instinct, because Oliver doesn't actually need his cue.
They peel out of the alley quicker than they should, and Oliver spends ten minutes driving around seemingly at random until he slows down enough to pull off to the side and check on Digg.
Digg's wrist ends up needing to be wrapped. He's got bruising along his ribs and a shoulder that will ache for the next few days. And he stares unflinchingly at Oliver as Oliver patches him up.
"Don't you dare second guess this," he says boldly. "I made my choice."
Oliver doesn't need to ask for clarification. He wouldn't have done much better against Gold, in his condition. And he's made his decision too. This is Mirakuru. Gold needs to be taken down.
He's just not sure he wants to discuss this in front of Allen. He gives the scientist a look. Allen already knows so much, but he only knows about the three of them. He doesn't know about Tommy or Thea or Roy or Lance, or even Laurel's minor involvement with the Arrow.
Digg, of course, catches the look.
"Look, I get that you don't trust him –" he starts out.
Oliver appreciates the fact that he's willing to talk in such a way in front of Allen himself (Felicity's face is already shifting back to outrage), but he interrupts Digg with a look anyway. Digg closes his mouth, and Oliver turns to Allen.
"What you know could get you killed," he says plainly.
Allen sobers immediately. "I won't tell –"
"This isn't about whether or not you intend to tell anyone anymore," Oliver cuts him off. Against all his training, even though he hasn't had the opportunity to run a more thorough background test on Allen, he believes the kid about that, at least. Gut instinct, and he has to still believe he can trust those. "This is about whether or not someone can make you tell."
The kid doesn't get it, not at first, but then his gaze goes distant and his lips slip into an unpleasant frown.
"The more you know, the more danger you're in," Oliver finishes. He let Digg and Felicity make their own choices. When he'd given the phone to Laurel again, he'd told her she could throw it away if she wanted. Tommy decided to come back. Thea has decided she wants to help him. Roy… Well, Roy started looking for Oliver long before Oliver reached out to him.
He can let Allen make his own choice too. He's in too deep to back out entirely now, even if he leaves tomorrow and chooses to forget entirely about what happened to him in Star City.
Allen, thank goodness, seems to actually understand something of the gravity of the situation. He hesitates, thinking before he responds to Oliver's words. When he does speak, his own tone is even and measured.
"I… I always knew the Green Arrow had partners," he says solemnly. "I mean, I didn't know, but… I always guessed. I... What you do, what the three of you do, it's worth the risk. If I can help, I want to."
Oliver's not really sure he can help, not anymore, not beyond what he's already doing, but that's not really the point. Allen's made his decision too. He nods once, turning back to Digg and Felicity.
"We need to let Lance and Roy in on the situation," he says, "and then I need to talk to Tommy and Thea."
"What are you planning to tell Roy?" Digg asks, looking worried.
"Nothing specific," Oliver readily clarifies. They don't need Roy to go looking for Gold himself.
Digg nods. "And Lance?"
"I don't know how long it'll take me to recover. Alone, I won't be enough to take Gold down. Not for a while."
It's approaching twenty-four hours since they'd brought Allen down to their basement lair. Well, twenty just about, but near enough to twenty-four. John's left a few times now – to pick up food, mainly, and grab a short nap, but also on his ill-fated recon mission – and Felicity'd left once to grab a few things from her place and also catch a few hours of rest, but otherwise they've been on high alert since Oliver's first encounter with Gold. Allen's been stuck down here since they brought him in unconscious.
With Oliver out meeting with Lance face to face, John almost suggests taking Allen upstairs, letting him get some fresh air. But even if Allen knows about Oliver Queen being the Green Arrow, he doesn't know about Verdant. Oliver had openly discussed a few things in front of him – Lance's association with them, namely – but John's not willing to make the call on his own when it comes to letting Allen know where their base is.
John knows they've already broken Oliver's trust by bringing the guy in in the first place. He doesn't regret it, but he's not going to do anything more to jeopardize that trust. Oliver… it's more than just Allen that's bothering him. John can tell. He wonders how much more Oliver knows about this Mirakuru that he's not telling them.
Probably nothing more about how it works, or its ingredients, but probably a ton when it comes to Oliver's personal experience with the drug. And from what little snippets John has learned over the past year, Oliver has good reason to keep quiet. Nothing he ever says is pleasant. (Even his hallucination, even Felicity's disgruntlement that there'd been another girl on the island with Oliver… John can't see anything in her frustration but ill-placed jealousy. That other girl is dead. Nothing about that suggests Oliver was having a good time.)
Regardless, any potential life-changing (team-changing) decisions, he's going to consult Oliver on going forward, excepting those rare few occasions like last night when Oliver had been too unconscious to have his own opinion. He nods toward the cot in the corner. "Why don't you get some rest?" he suggests to Allen. "You've been up all day."
Maybe he'd napped while John had been gone, but he hadn't while Felicity had taken her break.
Allen gives the cot a wistful look, glances down at whatever test he's running on Oliver's blood, then stands up. "Is there… is there any chance I could get my stuff?" he asks hesitantly.
John's honestly not sure if he means his phone or a change of clothes.
"I won't tell anyone," Allen promises, no less sincere even though Oliver is long gone.
Working with Oliver has retaught John the habit of second guessing everyone's motives and living by the principle that people are not necessarily what they appear to be, but he believes Allen. Allen means what he's saying. Oliver seems to believe him too.
John nods, even if he still feels like he has to say something still beyond what Oliver's already said to the kid. It's half his fault that Allen's here in the first place. (He doesn't regret that. He never will. But he's still broken Oliver's trust in him. Again.)
"It's not just about Oliver," he says strongly as Allen blinks at him. "If people knew that you knew who the Arrow was, you'd be in danger too. Your family. Your friends."
Allen nods firmly, or attempts to at least. "I don't really have many people," he says. "No one will ever find out that I know."
John studies him, then nods again and moves to retrieve Allen's belongings from where he'd tucked them away.
Allen takes the suitcase and the phone, wallet, and keys that had been in his pockets gratefully, looking at his phone regretfully for a moment. He winces at whatever he sees there, shoots off a quick text, then winces again. "Probably too late to call my boss, isn't it?" he asks, half rhetorically.
"Probably," John agrees easily. He doesn't ever really have that problem. "Feel free to use the shower if you need it."
Allen looks toward the bathroom but shakes his head. "I think I just want to sleep, right now," he says, looking to the cot again.
"I can get you some fresh blankets –" Felicity starts to offer.
Shaking his head, Allen cuts her off. "I'm good," he says with a grin that highlights the exhaustion in his eyes. "Thanks."
Felicity grins back, a little sheepishly. Allen heads for the bathroom to change.
The minute Allen snorts slightly in his sleep, turning restlessly – in other words, the minute John and Felicity know for sure that he is asleep – tension drops into the basement, thick and heavy. They probably don't have long until Oliver returns now, but this is the first time the two of them have been alone together since they'd tranq'd Allen at the train station. It's been a long twenty-four hours, and neither of them has handled it entirely well.
John watches Felicity working at her computers for a moment. Most of her bad mood, he figures, doesn't have anything to do with Oliver's reaction that morning, or lack of gratitude. Most if it has to do with how worried she was – how worried they both were. The first time she'd learned Oliver was the Arrow she'd almost had to watch him die, her hands coated in his blood as John had worked furiously to save his life. No doubt last night reminded her of that meeting.
Still, fear doesn't account for her entire attitude, nor does it excuse the way she's acting as if they've done nothing wrong. The world isn't split into black and white, good and evil, and neither are individual actions. John doesn't think Felicity's at that point where she can recognize that what they'd done was a good thing and a bad thing, betraying their friend to save his life.
Some betrayals friendships don't come back from, and maybe Felicity's worried about that too, adding to her irritation.
John thinks Oliver won't take long to come around and recognize that the good outweighs the bad, but that doesn't mean he thinks Oliver's the one at fault here. (Truthfully, Oliver seems to already be doing that, putting things aside to go after the Mirakuru, but John won't take that as Oliver's genuine reaction until he sees the way his friend acts without Allen present.)
They hadn't exactly given him a lot of time to react this morning.
John considers what to say, glances away briefly, then moves to stand at Felicity's side. "Allen said he'll recover," he reminds his friend softly, figuring that tackling that problem first might just solve all the rest.
Felicity glances over at him, gaze as sharp as Oliver's arrows. "He almost died," she bites out. "Again."
John's seen the way Felicity throws herself into catching criminals and chasing down bad guys. She genuinely enjoys it, and she's good at it. But sometimes, when Oliver comes back injured and bleeding and Felicity gets frantic, he still wonders if they're asking too much of her. Then again, it's not like he's adjusted to the nearly dying either.
"But he didn't."
Felicity scowls. "If he'd had his way he would have."
She doesn't mean it that way, doesn't really think that if Oliver had had a conscious choice between living and dying, he would have chosen dying. She doesn't really see that side of Oliver, John thinks. He barely sees it himself. But he's seen the way Oliver looks at his own reflection sometimes. Maybe he wouldn't have chosen dying, if he'd had a choice, but Oliver's still expecting death to find him, sooner rather than later. And, John has thought more than once, Oliver doesn't only expect it, he's accepted it.
Not quite suicidal, because he'll fight to survive if there's even the slightest hope left, but he's teetering on the edge and sometimes John thinks he's the only one who can see it.
John can't think of anything to say for a moment, because he knows they're both thinking of what might happen next time. Because there will be a next time. John doesn't need to say that out loud to know that Felicity is thinking the same thing. The truth is, he's not really handling this any better than Felicity, he's just much better at hiding it.
He looks away from her, closes his eyes for a moment and considers what to say next.
Felicity speaks first, looking over at Allen. "He didn't even thank him," she says, disgruntled.
Misdirection, John figures. He doesn't doubt that Felicity's irritated at Oliver's lack of manners, but if she were thinking straight, if Oliver's near-death experience hadn't rattled her so much, she'd see Oliver's lack of manners for what they really were. Fear. Concern. At least, that's what John thinks. He's realizing that he still has a bit to learn when it comes to reading Oliver Queen.
"I think he had a bit more on his mind."
Felicity falters at that. Upset as she might actually be with Oliver, John knows she hasn't forgotten his near-death experience. It's most of the reason for her anger, after all.
"I'm pretty sure he didn't know where he was going to wake up." Or if he was going to.
Felicity doesn't know as much about PTSD as John does – how could she? – but she's known Oliver for a year now. She's seen him react to injuries and death before, even if she's only seen him wake a scant few times. She's probably never seen Oliver startled though – John only has once – because Oliver doesn't typically enter into a situation where he can be startled. He never gives anyone the chance.
In reaction to his words, Felicity's jaw clenches as she looks away. Her gaze flickers over to Allen again, if only for a moment, and however much she proclaims to trust him – however much she actually trusts him – John knows she's grateful that he's unconscious. She doesn't want to have this kind of personal discussion in front of him either.
It's awkward and tense and awful, for a moment, both of them aware that they almost just watched Oliver die, both of them wondering if Oliver will ultimately consider their actions a betrayal, and both of them feeling differently about it.
John's not going to apologize for saving Oliver's life, but he's going to do everything he can to make up for betraying his secrets to do so. Felicity, on the other hand, seems to think that Oliver's the only wrong party here, and that he owes Allen a thank you.
But, just as John had just been thinking of him, Oliver's motorbike roars past the camera feed on one of Felicity's screens, cutting their conversation short.
Now the tension isn't just between them and Oliver anymore, it's between him and Felicity too. This time though, this time, as soon as Allen's gone, they're going to sit down and talk things out.
December 10, 2013:
Allen doesn't wake until the early morning, and when he does he makes a few hurried distracted phone calls, glancing up at Oliver and Digg several times as he speaks.
"Thanks," he says, taking the breakfast sandwich Digg hands him when he walks over at the end. "Where's Felicity?"
"Here!" Felicity says, hurrying down the stairs. She's changed, showered, and caught a few hours of sleep – there'd been no reason for all three of them to stay the night. "I'm your ride to the train station."
Allen blinks at her. "What?"
"I appreciate everything you've done for us," Oliver says plainly, and Allen blinks at that too, "but if I heard you correctly you told your boss you'd be home yesterday."
"And the blood sample's done," Felicity adds on. She's deposited her purse on her desk already and hands over the printouts to Allen. "Unless there's something, wrong…"
"It's the least we can do, after making you miss your train," Digg continues.
"Oh, uh," Allen says distractedly, already flipping through the papers, "I'd already missed it." He looks up after a moment to find Felicity hovering impatiently near him, and even Digg watching anxiously. Oliver just holds himself calm. He'd seen Slade last night, when meeting with Lance, and again when he'd been alone in the foundry but for Allen's sleeping form.
"Do you know what's in my system?"
"Um," Allen starts, in the face of the scrutiny, before he musters his courage and meets Oliver's gaze. "There's nothing in your blood, it's clean."
Oliver tenses minutely. He'd been hoping for an easy answer, something that would pass in a day or two, or could be flushed out of his system. He should have known better than to hope.
"Then why is he hallucinating?" Felicity asks before he can, still hovering at Allen's side, neck craning as if she can read something in the printouts that he can't.
Allen shakes his head. "I don't know, but whatever your problem is, it's not pharmacological. It's psychological."
Oliver supposes he'd already known that. It shouldn't be such a surprise.
"It's in my head," he says, at the same time Allen says: "It's in your head."
Silence settles into the basement for a moment. Oliver processes the information, then sets it aside. He can worry about that later, when he's alone. For now, Mirakuru's still out there, and Allen's still here.
"Thank you for your help," he repeats calmly.
Allen blinks at him. "Oh, uh…"
Oliver quirks an eyebrow, willing himself to be patient. "Unless there's something else…"
"No, uh, no, nothing else. Just, uh… thanks, I guess. For letting me be a part of this. I promise I won't tell anyone."
Oliver doesn't doubt that, anymore. Hopefully, in Central City, Barry Allen will be far enough away from his troubles that no one will ever consider he might know the Green Arrow's secret.
Allen gathers up his stuff, moving to where Felicity waits for him at the bottom of the stairs.
Oliver stops him one last time. "Before you go…"
Allen takes the phone Oliver hands him. "What's this?"
"It's a way to get in touch," Oliver admits. "I owe you." He doesn't want to. Never wanted Allen to be involved in this. But Allen had saved his life. He'd proven himself invaluable. And Oliver might need his forensics and biology background again, especially with the Mirakuru.
Quick to shake his head, Allen's fingers nevertheless curl protectively over the phone he now holds. "You don't owe me anything," he argues.
Oliver's not interested in debating. Allen saved his life. That's all that needs to be said.
"It's for emergencies only," he clarifies. He's only known Allen a short while, but the man is easily excited.
"Of course. I promise you, I won't betray your trust."
Oliver glances over at Felicity before Allen can begin to babble. She and Digg had both looked astonished when he'd handed Allen the phone, but she recovers quickly at his look. "Right, well, don't want to miss this train too. You ready?"
"Oh, uh, yeah, thanks again."
Digg nods as Allen follows Felicity up the stairs, suitcase clunking awkwardly.
"We are going to talk about this," he says lowly, as the door shuts behind them.
"That was the plan," Oliver agrees neutrally, not sure if Digg's upset at not being consulted about the phone or just astonished that Oliver had handed it over at all. In the meantime, though, they have to wait for Felicity to return. No reason he can't stretch his muscles and test his recovery with a good workout.
Everything boils over when Felicity returns. Oliver's frustration at having his identity revealed, Felicity's frustration with the way he'd reacted upon waking up, Digg's frustration with… Well, with everything. It's been a tense few weeks. A tense month. They'd handled Tommy's kidnapping together. They'd dealt with the revelation that he's worked with ARGUS before. And now this. Now the Mirakuru.
They're working fine together as a team, but they just aren't quickly clicking together again.
"You gave him a phone," Felicity states blandly.
You told me to trust him, Oliver thinks about saying but doesn't. "Yes," he says instead.
"No offense, Oliver," Digg says, stepping in for Felicity, "but don't you think we should have been consulted on that?"
And shouldn't he have been consulted on involving Allen in the first place? It's not the same thing. Oliver knows it's not the same thing. How could it be, when he was unconscious when Digg and Felicity made their decision? But they'd told his identity to a stranger, and they're all lucky that it'd turned out as well as it had.
Making decisions without consulting them was why Digg and Felicity had left in the first place, Oliver knows. And he's done it again.
There wasn't time, he wants to say, but he knows how well Felicity and Digg would take that.
He takes too long to respond.
"You can't seriously still be upset that we told him without consulting you, while you were dying!" Felicity exclaims in the silence.
Oliver grits his teeth. Of course he's still upset about it. He wants to brush it aside, wants to go back to how they'd been before, slowly moving toward where they'd been over the summer. But that's not going to help them improve, in the long run. They want him to talk more? Fine, he'll talk.
"We got lucky, with Allen," he admits, voice tight. "You couldn't have guaranteed that it would turn out as well as it has." Can't even guarantee that Allen still won't tell anyone, but they can tackle one problem at a time, Oliver figures. "You cannot just tell whoever you want."
"You were –!"
"Not even if I'm dying!" Oliver cuts in harshly. It isn't that hard to understand! "This isn't just about me anymore! You were putting both of your lives in jeopardy! You were putting Thea and Tommy at risk. Laurel. Roy. Even Lance! You've told me that I'm not alone anymore, fine, but that means that I'm not the only one in danger if my secret gets out!"
"You dying in the hood would be a pretty big clue to anyone with a brain!"
"Star City will never find Oliver Queen's body under that hood," Oliver says finally, with a harsh look at Diggle. He knows he couldn't ask that of Felicity, knows she would never be able to dress up his corpse, disguise his cause of death, but Diggle…
The soldier's jaw clenches. "That's a lot to ask, Oliver," he says, low and tense.
"Not doing so would put you at risk. Would put your family at risk." It's a low blow, but Oliver can tell Digg's thinking about his nephew in response to his words.
"You were dying, Oliver," Felicity says resolutely, not backing down. "There wasn't any other option."
There was. There were a million different options, actually. But Oliver can tell, looking at Felicity now, that voicing any of them won't persuade her.
He grits his teeth again, then purposefully relaxes. "We can put contingencies in place. We can map out worst case scenarios. But next time we might not get so lucky, which means there cannot be a next time." He doesn't mean that he'll never put himself in a situation that might end his life again. He means next time, they can't call a stranger to save him.
"Allen's on call now – you need medical advice, fine, he's in the loop. Call him. But we're not bringing anyone else into this until we've run proper background checks on them."
"You're blowing this out of proportion, man," Digg says calmly – purposefully calmly. "We knew what we were doing, bringing Allen in. But if that's the way you want to play it, we can work with that."
It's… it's an agreement. None of them are really happy with it, Oliver can tell, but it's something they can work with. They'll just have to take it one step at a time.
"Are you alright, Thea? You seem distracted."
Walter's calm tone and soothing accent – and genuine concern – pull Thea from her distracted mind. She jerks her gaze away from the window she'd been staring out of and turns back to her ex-stepfather. But what can she say to him? Yeah, she's distracted, but she can't tell him why.
"I… it's just… Oliver," she says weakly, trying to muster up a smile.
"Is everything alright?" Walter repeats, no less concerned. "I know he's been having some trouble with the company."
Thea starts. She'd forgotten all about Queen Consolidated in the wake of her talk with Tommy. "No, I mean, yes, but I don't think that's it." She wants to talk about this, especially because Tommy keeps pushing her off by saying it's really Oliver she should be asking her questions (which, she would, but Oliver is refusing to talk to her and never actually told her the code to get into his secret base under Verdant). Suddenly, an idea strikes her. "Can I… can I ask you about, about what happened to you?" she asks uncertainly. She loves Walter, and she loves Oliver, and she wants to understand Oliver, but not so much as to risk her relationship with Walter. And Walter has never once said anything to her about the fact that her mother was behind his kidnapping.
Walter pauses, clearly not expecting that sort of question. He glances away, straightening the silverware on the table, before he glances up again. "Thea, it's not that I don't want to… to speak honestly with you, but…"
"I don't, I don't need to know details or anything," Thea quickly interrupts, rushing to reassure him. "It's just, I can't seem to get through to Oliver and I couldn't help but think… I mean…" She pauses herself, looking out the window for another moment as she searches for the words. "He won't talk to me. I just want him to tell me what… what's going on with him." It's hard, dancing around the truth, avoiding the fact that it's not just what Oliver went through during those five years but what he's going through right now that she wants to know about.
Walter takes a moment, his serious expression on. The waiter comes. They give their lunch orders. (It's a Tuesday, not a Saturday, but Walter has to fly out of town the coming weekend for an old friend's son's wedding, so he'd moved up their weekly lunch.)
Only after the waiter has walked away again does Walter speak.
"What your brother went through, and what I experienced…" Walter shakes his head solemnly. "I don't believe it was as similar as you might think."
Thea starts and stares at her ex-stepfather. He doesn't know, does he? Tommy had seemed certain he didn't, and Thea can't imagine why Oliver would have shared it with him, but…
"I didn't have to fend for myself," Walter continues. "I didn't… didn't have to change who I was to survive. But if Oliver's having trouble speaking about it, I suggest you give him time, and space. Remind him that you're there, and willing to listen, but don't push. Oliver…" But Walter trails off again, unable to come up with the words to describe her brother.
He doesn't know, Thea decides, or at least, Oliver's never told him. But she has the feeling Walter knows more about what Oliver went through than the rest of them, even if that's from careful guesswork on his part than anything Oliver's told him.
"He's been home over a year now," Thea reminds her ex-stepfather. "I don't… I don't know how well giving him time is working." Except it did work, she realizes as soon as she speaks. Oliver told her about the fact that he's the Green Arrow. It took him a year and a kidnapping, but he did tell her. Still, she's not willing to wait another year in order to stay in the loop.
Walter acknowledges that with a small grimace and a minute head nod. "Thea, the reason I don't wish to tell you exactly what… what happened to me, is that I don't want to burden you with that knowledge. I was left alone, and I was fed, and that, I think, is all I need to share. Have you considered that maybe your brother feels similarly?"
Except it's not exactly Oliver's past that she's pressing him on right now. How can she convey that to Walter without sharing Oliver's secret?
She shakes her head, frustrated with her inability to find the words. "It's not… I don't need details," she repeats. "I just… he won't even talk to me about what's going on right now, let alone while he was on that island."
"Perhaps lead with that," Walter suggests. "Ask him to start with something small. Ask him about his day whenever you see him. I know you've been watching movies together, maybe find an activity that allows you to speak while you spend time with the other." His gaze flickers to the side, where Thea spots their waiter approaching with their orders. "Lunch, perhaps." Walter says with a nod toward the food.
The last time she (and Tommy) had tried to eat with Oliver, he'd skipped out on them. But the other idea, starting small… Well, Thea's willing to admit that she's never been known for her patience, but she's quickly running out of options. Since it's that or nothing, she might as well give it a try. It's exactly what Tommy's been saying she should do though, exactly what he's been trying to do.
He said we could talk this afternoon, she reminds herself, even if she thinks Oliver'd only suggested that to tell them to stay away. She can try and follow Walter's advice then.
"Thanks," she says, sincere if not necessarily enthused by the suggestion as the waiter disappears again. "But enough about me." She doesn't want to spend their lunch wondering if Oliver's going to get himself hurt again, or if she'll have the patience to get through a conversation with him. "How'd the audit go at the bank?"
Walter grins and happy obliges her with the tale.
Thea and Tommy are both waiting for him when Oliver reaches Queen Manor's primary living room. He's not late for once, so it's hard to say if they were worried he wouldn't show, or just anxious in general. Thea, at the very least, is fidgeting anxiously, and stands when he enters, giving him a worried once over, even if Tommy stands much more slowly, with less concern on his own face.
"Now are you going to tell me what's going on?" Thea demands to know.
Oliver stares at her. "No," he says plainly. "It's called Mirakuru, and I want you to stay away from it.
She blanches, affronted, and opens her mouth, but with only a glance over at the patiently waiting Tommy she closes it again. "Why?" she asks instead through gritted teeth.
"I didn't tell you because I wanted you to get involved, Thea," Oliver says plainly. "I told you because you deserved to know the truth. You deserve to have people in your life who aren't lying to you."
"So what are you here to tell us?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver takes a brief moment to go over his planned statement in his mind. "I'll keep both of you up to date on the investigation into our kidnappers," he allows. "But if you won't accept a bodyguard, Thea –"
"No."
"Then there's nothing more I can do about it right now."
"And what about why you got injured?"
Oliver gives his friend a look. "You don't need to get involved with that," he repeats.
"Well what if I want to get involved!" Thea blurts out. "You're not my dad, you can't tell me what to do."
No, but he is the Arrow, and he does have a say in who helps him out. "You don't know what you're asking," he says, and it's not a criticism, it's a genuine fact. Thea doesn't have the first clue about what being the Arrow entails.
"You brought Roy into this! I know you've asked Laurel for help before! So, what, because I'm not a lawyer, or from the Glades, I've got nothing to offer?"
That's… not entirely false. Each member of his current team was involved because there was something he could gain from them. But saying it like that sounds cold. He never would have involved Roy if Roy hadn't asked for it. And, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, Laurel had only ever met the vigilante because he'd been unable to stay away from her.
He won't make that mistake again with Thea.
Looking away, Oliver walks toward the window, gazing out into the distance. "You've got a life. I won't put you in danger. I won't lie to you again, but that doesn't mean I want you to be a part of this."
Tommy steps forward before Thea can respond. "You're the Arrow. It's your choice, man. But I think you're making the wrong call here."
Oliver turns back to his sister. "I'm not putting you in any more danger," he repeats plainly. "Mirakuru, it's a drug. Makes people strong – stronger than humanly possible. If you hear anything about it – run. That's all you need to know."
She grits her teeth and he looks back to the window. A moment passes, then two, and then footsteps echo in his ears, disappearing down the hall. But only a single set. Only Thea's. Oliver turns slightly and raises an eyebrow at Tommy, still standing there.
"I said that I thought you were wrong," Tommy says plainly. "Not that I'm not going to support you, whatever you choose."
"I don't want to burden you with another one of my secrets, Tommy," Oliver says plainly, turning back to resume staring out the window.
Tommy takes a single step forward, placing himself firmly at Oliver's side rather than a step behind him. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver can see that Tommy's not even looking at him. He's looking out the same window Oliver is instead, both of their gazes trained on the distant forest.
Oliver wonders what Tommy sees when he looks at the trees. He wonders if Tommy thinks he sees Lian Yu. But then, Tommy has no idea what Lian Yu looks like. (And Oliver could never see the forest of that island in the trees surrounding his childhood home. He can tell the difference between them, at least.)
"I'm sorry," Tommy says plainly, after a minute passes in silence that isn't awkward, though it feels like it should be.
Oliver blinks. He doesn't know why Tommy would say that, but… "You've got nothing to be sorry for. I never should have asked you to lie to Laurel."
"No, not about that," Tommy returns. "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I'm not going to say I was wrong to be hesitant – I needed time to process things – but I should have been honest with you from the beginning. I should have told you how I felt. I was jerking you around on a string, telling you I'd help and then backing out, over and over again. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for calling you a murderer too – I don't know if I ever apologized for that, but even if I already have, I still mean it." Tommy looks over at him, expression as serious as Oliver's ever seen it.
"I'm sorry, Oliver. You're my best friend. You always will be. And right now, you need me. It's as simple as that."
But it's not. It can't be. Because Diggle and Felicity are frustrated with him again and Thea's furious and there's Mirakuru in Star City and he doesn't know who's behind it all.
Tommy's words are sincere and heartfelt. They should bring relief with them. They should lighten Oliver's shattered heart. They should brighten the shadows that have infected his soul.
All Oliver can feel is the weight of a lead balloon sinking into his gut. He doesn't say anything.
"Oliver," Tommy says, stepping forward again, spinning to face Oliver, only a foot or two between them. "Can I put a hand on your shoulder?"
Oliver blinks again at the question. No one… No one's ever asked him something like that before. He knows his confusion must be evident on his face, but Tommy doesn't speak, just waits patiently, expectantly for an answer.
Refusing would be… Well, there's no real reason to refuse. Oliver's not sure if Tommy thinks he's adverse to touch now, not sure what would have given his friend that impression. He'd hugged Tommy the first time he'd seen him after returning home.
He nods once regardless, a brief incline of his head.
Tommy offers him a soft smile, reaching forward and clapping his left hand firmly on Oliver's right shoulder. His grip is warm but not tight, a solid weight that almost seems to ground Oliver in reality.
Try and show up now, Slade, he finds himself thinking a little vindictively, surprised at himself for the thought before he refocuses on Tommy.
"Look, Thea told me how she found out about you," Tommy says. "Digg clammed up when I asked how you were. And Felicity responded to my text with something completely off-topic. I know something's going on. I know this Mirakuru has you worried – you're still my best friend. I still know you Oliver. I thought I didn't, but I was wrong. I've been looking at this – at the Green Arrow – all wrong from the beginning. You've been there for me through all of it. Let me be there for you."
Oliver stares into Tommy's brown eyes and Tommy stares back unflinchingly. Oliver looks away first, turning his gaze back out at the window. The solidity he'd felt when Tommy had first placed a hand on his shoulder has already evaporated. His heart is in his throat again at the mention of Mirakuru, at his fallibilities.
(So much for Tommy chasing Slade away.)
"What happened to Thea and me has nothing to do with this," he replies blankly, emotionlessly, distantly. ("You're still my best friend." "I still know you Oliver." "Let me be there for you.")
Tommy squeezes his shoulder once, lightly, then lets go. "I don't have to know the details," he says, seemingly unphased. "I don't want to know the details. You don't have to fill me in on the dangerous stuff. I don't have to get involved. Just… tell me how you're doing. Tell me what's bothering you."
Getting involved in Oliver's emotional state is a treacherous minefield that Oliver wouldn't actively chose to involve anyone in if he could help it. But Oliver can't be emotional if he wants to win the coming fight. And he can feel the specter of Slade creeping in on the edges of his vision (can feel the heartbreak of Shado clawing at his chest).
"There was a man, on the island with me," he says, still emotionless, still staring off into the woods surrounding the property. Cutting them off from the outside world. It's just him and Tommy right now (and Thea, somewhere in the vast structure that is their home).
"He trained me. Saved my life. And then I betrayed him. Got another friend of ours killed. We were brothers, for a time, and he died hating me."
Oliver glances over at Tommy at the end of it all. There, he thinks to himself, let's see how you handle that. There's a perverse sort of satisfaction at the thought and he doesn't know why. Is he trying to push Tommy away again? Is he testing how much his friend can handle? What kind of monster does that? (He hasn't even told Tommy the full story, hasn't even mentioned the hallucinations, but he's not sure he could tell the full story even if he'd wanted to. Every word about the island turns to gravel in his throat, forced out through clenched teeth. He's been back a full year and talking about it hasn't gotten any easier. By now, he's not sure that it ever will.)
Tommy swallows in response to the words, clearly unsettled slightly, but he doesn't back down. "It wasn't your fault," he says firmly.
It's empty reassurance. Tommy doesn't know what happened. His words don't really mean anything. But Oliver still feels something jolt through him at the confident tone Tommy uses.
"I don't think anyone's ever told you that, Oliver, but it wasn't your fault. You didn't ask to wash up on that island."
Oliver's mind takes a moment to think about what life would be like if he hadn't washed up there. Not for him, but the people who'd been there. Would Yao Fei have ever been captured? Would he and Slade ever have made it off the island together, enacting their plan to take the airbase? Or would Fyers still have used Shado as leverage over her father, killing her and Yao Fei when their parts were done, leaving Slade alone on the island until Ivo showed up?
The questions are pointless. There's really no way to know.
"Can I… can I ask what that has to do with everything that's happening now?" Tommy asks hesitantly in the silence. Not so much from his own uncertainty, it seems like, but from true concern for Oliver. That's a strange emotion to see directed at him for once, at least when it's not Digg or Felicity looking at him after he'd been injured.
There are no visible wounds on him right now, but Tommy doesn't look any less concerned than Oliver's partners usually are at the sight of blood.
"You don't have to answer," Tommy continues.
Oliver looks away again, back to the trees. Digg and Felicity know about his hallucinations. Digg had even admitted that he'd had his own trouble with seeing things when he'd first come home.
"I've been seeing him," he admits. "I know he's not real. But…" he struggles to speak. Struggles to say the words. "He was the first man I ever saw injected with Mirakuru."
Tommy doesn't know the whole story, but he seems to understand, at the very least, that it's not so much the Mirakuru that Oliver's struggling with but the memories that come along with it.
"I can't… I don't know what happened to you there. I can't believe that you would ever willingly betray someone like that. But… he's not here. You're not there. I still… I still see that cell sometimes. In the parking garage when it's dark. In the closet." Tommy grits his teeth and looks away for a moment. "I don't know what happened," he continues. "But you're a hero now. You're saving lives. You're going to stop this. And if you ever need reminding that you're not there, that you've made it home… I'm always free, man. Always."
Oliver doesn't move for a moment. Doesn't let any of his emotions onto his expression. Tommy'd been right about one thing – there's been a lot of back and forth between them over the months. A lot of hesitance and reluctance on both sides, each of them backing away from each other. He hadn't minded so much, so long as Tommy had been alive, and healthy, and happy.
He's thought more than once that he would be able to handle Tommy hating him, so long as Tommy was alive.
But this… This is more than he could have ever hoped for. He remembers, once again, the hug Tommy had engulfed him in when he'd gotten home. Tommy's his brother. Always has been.
Maybe that back and forth between them is finally over. Tommy looks at peace with his choices, and Oliver knows perfectly well he'll take whatever he can get.
He looks over at Tommy and, somehow, it seems as though Tommy knows exactly what's going through Oliver's mind no matter how reserved Oliver is acting. Tommy opens his arms.
"I'm going to hug you now, man," he says with a soft grin.
Oliver swallows, nods, and folds himself into the embrace gladly.
"Your girlfriend's taking too long."
The words are frustrated, there's no doubt about that, but they don't have the bitter twist that probably would have filled them last month, before Sin and Thea had really become friends (even if Roy isn't entirely certain if Sin would be willing to admit that out loud yet).
He flexes his fingers, tensing and untensing the muscles in his forearm. He'd gotten his cast off earlier that day, or, yesterday by now, and he doesn't entirely disagree with Sin.
Still. Thea'd gotten kidnapped. She is allowed to take some time to process that, even if it frustrates Roy that she isn't coming to him with her troubles.
"The trail's going cold," Sin continues passionately. "Whatever happened to Max –"
"I know," Roy cuts her off. This isn't TV with strict twenty-four-hour or forty-eight-hour time limits, but the longer they go without investigating Max's death the less likely it is that they'll actually find something. "I was going to look into the blood drive. Have you had any luck with his other friends?"
Sin shakes her head, giving Roy a look like she's surprised he was already looking into it. "I don't know many of Max's other friends. But there's one other guy I can try and track down."
Roy nods. "We can talk to Thea again tomorrow morning, but there's no point waiting around. You do that. The blood drive should have files on their donors. I'll see what Max's says."
"When?"
Roy looks around the darkened parking lot of Verdant after closing. "No time like the present, right?"
Sin grins in response, clearly glad they're finally looking into her friend's death. "Right? Meet up at your place, in an hour?"
"Works for me," Roy agrees, and watches her walk away for a bit before heading out himself. Sin had been the one to say it, but Roy'd been feeling impatient long before the end of their shift together at Verdant. Yeah, Thea's recovering from her kidnapping, but since she isn't coming to him he's got little to do with his time. And he's tired of just being the Arrow's ears on the streets. He wants to do something. Wants to prove he can do something. (The way he hadn't been able to do for Thea.)
He already knows the address where the blood drive was based out of. It's not far from Verdant and he heads there without thinking, without texting Thea. He doesn't need to call Green Arrow for this. He can handle it himself.
Breaking in is easy, they won't even be able to tell he was there. Finding Max's file isn't even all that hard either, though it takes a little longer. Except then there's a man pouring gasoline, and Roy runs, and then a pain radiates through his skull and the world goes dark.
AN: Well, Barry's headed home now. Hope you liked his part in this "crossover". Chapter 28: Strength, will be posted tomorrow, and that should be the end of the quick sequence of chapters for now.