Chapter 36.

In the Dark.

It was pitch black and bitterly cold.

Oliver Queen knelt in the surf, watching waves thrash against the rocky shoreline. His pulse was slow and steady, his body becoming more accustomed to the cold with each swell that circled him. His eyes shifted from a distant rocky outcropping to the open sea, where a spotlight danced along the water. It turned the waves white and revealed how treacherous they could be.

It was dark on the Amazo. Oliver had watched the last lights go out on deck as the crew prepared to brave another night. But it was not as sleepy as it seemed. Its crew was armed, its captain uneasy. Something had made him turn on the spotlight tonight. Perhaps it was the approaching storm, the choppy water, the threat of the tumultuous sea – or maybe it was the gnawing worry that the island was housing some danger that a stretch of ocean could not protect him from.

Lian Yu was like that at night. It looked like a wall of teeth from the water, an unwelcoming spit of land that wise men would avoid. Even a cold, scientific mind could not deny its mystical sway.

Oliver waited long after the lights had gone out, until the moon was at its highest point in the sky. He rose from the swell and waded to the outcropping, climbing onto the lowest rock. He moved like a mouse against a black backdrop, finding his way through touch and memory. He knew where to jump, where to slide, where to climb, until he was ten feet above the water – and then fifteen, and then twenty. Slowly, the basalt rose from the ocean, making his climb steeper and pushing him to his physical limits. But every inch brought him closer, until he was less than a quarter mile from the bow of the Amazo. Here, the basalt tower formed an impassible ridge. Anyone coming from the island would have to swim around, risking their feet on the fractured pieces of the rock that hid just below the surface. It was a good cover for the freighter – if no one could climb it.

He sat at the peak, on a slanted surface no bigger than the hood of a car. From here, if he faced the ocean, he could only see the freighter as a silhouette. It was this massive black thing that blotted out the sky behind it – hid the moon, hid the clouds, hid the ocean. And somewhere far to the north was China, to the west, Vietnam, and to the east, the Philippines. Civilization. He would steer the freighter toward one of them tonight.

Oliver pulled his eyes off the horizon, willing himself to focus. Now that he was out of the water, he was starting to shiver again. His hands trembled as he lay his bow down and dug through his backpack. Rope. He needed rope. It felt strange to his numb fingers.

He waddled around the rock, scoping out the edges, feeling what he could not see. His foot slipped toward the back and he cursed, jarring his leg trying to stop himself from rolling off the rock.

A voice came from below. "Oli?"

Someone shushed her.

Oliver steadied himself, smiling reflexively at the sound of her voice. He couldn't see his friends, but knew Sara, Slade, Luke, and Shado were down below him. They had swum from shore, through more peaceful waters, to the bottom of the outcropping. None of them, apart from Shado, maybe, could make the climb that Oliver had. It was easier to pull them up.

He whistled, beginning to lower the rope to them. He felt a tug near the bottom and waited until a responding whistle came. Shado climbed hand-over-hand up the sheer face of the tower. Oliver grabbed her hand near the top and pulled her the rest of the way.

She lay on her back for a moment, her breath making great, pale clouds in the air.

"You okay?" Oliver asked.

"Never better."

He pressed the rope into her hand. "Gonna need your help for this."

Luke came up next, strong enough to pull himself up, and light enough that Oliver and Shado could support his weight together. He swapped in with Shado to get Sara to the top. She had to tie the rope around her waist and between her legs. Despite all her training, she was the only one who wasn't strong enough to climb the rope on her own.

Oliver grabbed her by the pants at the top and hauled her over the edge.

"I'm gonna have rope burn in some bad places later," Sara said as she untangled herself.

Shado laughed. "We can take some spa days while the boys drive us home."

It took Luke and Oliver working together to get Slade to the top. He was a lot heavier than Oliver had imagined. His weight nearly pulled Oliver off the side of the tower. It took two attempts and a bloody knee to get him over the edge.

"God, what did you eat for breakfast, rocks?" Oliver demanded.

Slade could have been glaring at him. It was too dark to tell.

"It's all muscle, kid."

"You sure you're not just gonna sink?" Sara taunted.

"You better watch it, blondie, or you're going in first."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, would you, now?"

"Kids," Oliver cut in. "We have a mission. You can play later."

It was crowded on the tower. Oliver crept to the edge, feeling his way, and visualized the choppy waters below. He could see the crowns of the waves reflected in the moon and the roving spotlight, but just below the tower there was nothing but inky blackness.

He took a breath.

"Okay. See you at the ladder. Good luck, everybody."

Oliver stood up, lined his feet up on the edge, and dove twenty feet into the choppy sea.

He hit the water hard, his hands breaking the tension, his body moving in a wide arc beneath the waves. For several seconds he let himself drift. He let the sounds and pressures of the outside world become muted and distant. He was suspended in darkness, in quiet, with no freighter, no danger, no long road home.

And then his head emerged.

Oliver muscled his way through strong seas, opening his eyes only at the crests of waves, making sure he was on the right path. A red light bobbed in and out of the water, hanging stubbornly onto the side of the freighter. It felt like an eternity before he reached it. He grabbed the ladder just as the ship tilted and plunged him five feet underwater. And then it dragged him back up, and he clung to the metal like a drowned rat. He scampered up a few more feet, so only his torso was submerged when the ship shifted again.

He was not there long before Shado appeared. Her pale skin was immediately visible as she broke from a wave. She hesitated as she got closer to the ship, searching for the red light. Oliver called her name and her head snapped in his direction.

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her onto the ladder.

"See you up there," she said into his ear as she climbed past him.

Luke was right behind her, grabbing the ladder on his own. He paused beside Oliver, catching his breath, and then climbed on ahead.

Slade was next. Oliver had to let go of the ladder to let the swordsman pass.

But as he grabbed on again, the thought struck him.

Sara was supposed to jump before Slade.

"I didn't see Sara!" Slade said, drawing close to Oliver to overcome the noise of the sea. "She went before me!"

"I'll wait for her!" Oliver said.

Slade lingered.

"I'll wait," Oliver said again, more firmly.

Finally, the other man moved on, taking the ladder more slowly than Shado, and more surely than Luke. He paused again at the top, and then disappeared over the edge.

Sara.

Oliver climbed up, bracing himself on the ladder. He scanned the water, but all he could see were the glittering caps of waves in the moonlight and the circular glow of the spotlight.

He should have made her stay behind with Robert and Joleen. He would have had to tie her up, but at least she would be safe. She had insisted she could do this, that she wanted to have his back. He was too emotionally attached to her to make the right choice.

He was suddenly thinking about the raft, about his terror in those first moments. He had been sent back into the midst of the yacht sinking, into the disaster that had been the first black mark on his young life – losing Sara. He had searched relentlessly for her, resigned to drown before he left her behind. And he would do it now, no matter what price his other friends would pay.

He braced himself to jump in.

But suddenly she was there.

He saw a flash of skin first, brighter than the waves, and then a hand brushed his leg. Oliver slid down the ladder and reached out, but the waves yanked her away. She cycled back, swimming strongly, but this time their fingers only brushed.

Oliver came down further, the water almost up to his neck when the freighter tilted down. When she came back this time, she latched onto his back.

He could feel how weak she was, how exhausted, but she was strong enough to hold onto him. Her arms made his bow dig painfully into his lower back. He started climbing the ladder, stopping when they were hovering above the water to get a better grip.

Sara shifted, planting her feet on the ladder. There was barely room for the two of them, so Oliver leaned heavily to the left, giving her space to get her hands on the bars. She was shivering.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, a gesture he could barely see, and then said, "Yes. Sorry."

"It's okay." Oliver was suddenly overwhelmed with relief. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, like he had in the raft that first day. "It's okay."

He drew away, touching her face to find her mouth, and kissed her.

She smiled against his lips, "Is this really the time?"

"We could die any minute."

He rested his forehead against hers, forgetting that they were clinging to the side of a freighter that tipped back and forth in a hostile sea.

And then he let the moment end.

"You go first."

Sara started, and then paused to say sarcastically, "Are you gonna catch me if I fall?"

"No, but at least I'll notice."

It was a hard climb, but easier than the swimming had been. Sara stopped below the ship rails and listened for a few moments, and then she crawled under the bottom rail. Oliver followed. She scampered to the nearest cover – a shipping crate secured with a rope net – and he sunk into the shadows beside her. It was quiet on deck, quiet enough to tell Oliver that the others hadn't been discovered yet. He had no doubt there were disabled crew members stashed away all over the ship – or dead ones, if Slade was feeling violent.

Oliver positioned himself at the edge of the crate, getting his bearings. He replayed the memories in his head, positive that the control room was up a nearby flight of stairs and through a few corridors. It was pure luck that they had ended up so close.

"Ready?" he whispered.

Sara responded, "Yes."

Just as the word left her mouth, a pirate came around the corner and spotted them.

Oliver was on him in an instant, his instincts taking over. He got his arms around the man's shoulders, pulled him against his body, braced his hands on either side of his head, just above the chin, and then snapped his neck.

He never let the body hit the floor. He dragged him backwards into the shadow of the crate.

And for a moment he stayed there, crouching over the body, ready to lunge if another enemy came around the corner. His body had acted on its own, like it was reliving a memory. It was hard to come out of that. His head ached and his heart hammered.

Sara had been perfectly still when it happened. Now that the man was dead, she put her hand gently on Oliver's shoulder. "Oli, you're shaking."

"It's cold," he responded immediately.

Her hand slid away. "Where is everyone?"

"Clearing the ship by now. We're behind. We have to move."

Oliver led her up the stairs, staying low and quiet, willing their path to be empty. His focus was waning, his mind drifting to the first time he had been on this freighter. Sara had been there, and a year had passed since the two of them had seen one another. And then he thought of the last time he had been on it, when Slade had been trapped under a pile of rubble and water poured all around them. He thought of how he had felt that day – it was the first time he truly let the rage take over. He had become someone else, something else, when he stabbed Slade with that arrow.

He thought he had gotten rid of that man years ago.

But something inside of him was stirring that feeling again.

Oliver turned the final corridor to the control room. Sara grabbed him suddenly and yanked him backward down another hallway.

Gunfire erupted and shredded the walls.

He put his arms around Sara, shielding her from the shrapnel. He flung his backpack off and pressed it into her arms, readying his bow while she took a plastic bag off a high caliber gun.

"Surrender now, and live," Oliver shouted when the gunfire paused.

Someone laughed.

He reached into the backpack and pulled out a grenade. He could just see the wide, shocked, glassy blue of Sara's eyes as he pulled the pin and tossed it around the corner.

Someone shouted "Grenade!" in Russian, and then it went off.

Oliver and Sara were knocked against the wall. He stayed upright, but she fell to her knees. He knocked an arrow immediately, stumbling into the corridor, watching the smoke for movement. The grenade had warped the whole hall, blasting through cheap metal paneling and demolishing light fixtures. It had left three bodies in its wake and painted the walls with blood and flesh.

He advanced, ready to shoot. It looked like no one had moved in time.

Oliver reached the door to the control room. Sara stayed just behind him, gun in hand, looking around at the blood and gore with a sudden girlish fear in her eyes.

"I want to speak to the captain of this vessel," Oliver said.

Silence.

"We have your crew incapacitated," he said, "Surrender the ship to us and we'll let you swim to shore."

"You have a funny way of showing you mean no harm."

Anthony Ivo.

His voice was jarring. Oliver's jaw locked and the rage that had been building on deck became a veil of red. Ivo was a scientist with a god-complex. He was the one who killed Shado. He was the one who broke Oliver the second time, the one who had broken Slade. His little game in the woods had given Oliver nightmares for years.

No wonder the past was coming back so vividly. Oliver was reacting to this ship. He could never see himself sparing Ivo. He wanted to kill him.

"I never said we meant no harm. I just said you don't have to die, too."

"What do you want?"

"I already told you that."

There was a long pause.

"I can't give you the ship."

"Oh, you can." Oliver held an arrow ready at the end of his arm. "And you will. It just depends how long you're willing to stay in there. I've got plenty of time. But you need water. I can stay here for three days, until dehydration turns into seizures and hallucinations."

"We're not giving up this ship. Why don't we negotiate?"

"You have nothing to offer."

"I have information. You came from the island, right?"

"I think that was pretty obvious."

"I have information about the island that you might find interesting."

Oliver bit back a nasty reply.

Ivo wanted to sell him on the Mirakuru. But he had no idea that Oliver had destroyed it – all but one vial, which was hidden in the cove.

His need to torment Ivo overrode his survival instinct.

Oliver kicked the door in and fired at the first thing that moved. He hit a pirate square in the chest, and the man went down with his finger on the trigger. Bullets sprayed in a line from the floor to the ceiling, and then stopped suddenly. Oliver had another arrow knocked and pointed at Ivo already, who raised a gun at him – almost in slow motion.

He dropped his arrow and swung his bow, knocking the gun away. He swung it again, smashing Ivo in the face and driving him to the ground. His hand fell on the gun again and Oliver stepped on it. Ivo cried out, lashing out with his other hand. Oliver hit him with the bow again, splitting his lip. He rolled his shoe over the hand on the gun and Ivo retracted it.

Oliver picked up the weapon. He turned it over in his hands. It was the gun that had killed Shado, his personal piece. It was the only thing that made him strong.

Ivo stared up at him from his knees, cupping his bleeding face. Waiting.

"What do you know about the island?" Oliver asked.

Sara came slowly into the room, standing beside him. She did not know Ivo in this lifetime. Her wide eyes caught on the blood, on the gun in Oliver's hand. "What are you doing?"

He ignored her. "What do you know?" he said to Ivo.

"I'm on the verge of a medical breakthrough. If you let me go, we could work together. We could make millions. We could change the world."

Oliver knew that Ivo didn't care about money or about changing the world. He only wanted one thing from the Mirakuru – he wanted a cure for his wife. He wanted to save her life. And he would do anything to anyone who got in his way. He was a psychopath.

He was the enemy.

"I guess you want to know where the submarine is."

Ivo had this strange light in his eyes. "Who are you?"

Oliver crouched down, keeping a safe distance, but staying close enough so he could whisper. "I guess you want to know what I did with the Mirakuru."

"W-What…?"

"It's gone, Ivo. I destroyed it all. I erased that chapter." Oliver stood up again, the rage becoming a siren in his head. "Your wife is going to die. And she's going to die wondering what happened to you – because you're never leaving this ship."

Oliver pointed the gun at his head.

"Oli, what are you doing?" Sara repeated, grabbing his arm, trying to redirect the gun. "You said we weren't killing people unless we had to!"

Ivo had tears in his eyes. "Please. I don't know who you are. I can give you whatever you want – money, diamonds, what? You can have the ship! You can have the ship!"

"Oliver," Sara snapped. "Stop!"

Shado had more grace than Ivo before she died. She had closed her teary eyes one last time before he shot her in the head. He could still see her lying there. He could still feel it, like it was happening right now, like the timelines were trying to snap back together again.

"I want you to feel what she felt," Oliver choked out, his finger trembling on the trigger. "I want you to be as afraid as she was when you killed her!"

Sara jerked his arm violently away.

He screamed, throwing Sara off and bashing Ivo over the head with the butt of the gun. Ivo collapsed, unconscious. Oliver let the gun hang limply at his side.

Sara checked his pulse. "He's alive."

"Tie him up. He has crimes to answer for."

She looked up at him, a mix of fear and anger in her face – though she said nothing. Oliver was grateful. Slowly, the rage was leaving him, and the past seemed further and further away. He had made a choice that would affect them, probably for the worst. He wasn't even sure why he had spared the man. He only knew that there was no going back from here.

Oliver walked up to the windows, watching the quiet deck. Where were his friends? He thought he saw a sliver of movement here, a body rushing away there, but it was too dark to make them out. He leaned and squinted at a dark shape on deck – could that be Shado?

He heard a sound behind him.

A gun clicked.

Oliver whipped around, finding himself face-to-face with the barrels of three rifles held by soldiers in all black uniforms. Sara was a gunpoint nearby, and Ivo was still unconscious at her feet.

"Drop the weapon," one of the soldiers said.

He had an American accent.

ARGUS.

Oliver placed the gun on the ground, putting his hands up. His thoughts raced. It was too soon for this, too soon to deal with Waller. He had been too focused on getting off the island to come up with a plan for her. She was the mastermind behind Fyers, after all. She had plucked him off this freighter as it sunk that night and shipped him off to Hong Kong to prevent the release of the virus – an epidemic that he had a part in starting. He had stopped Fyers from shooting down that plane this time as well. China White had gone on to sell the virus.

But it was too soon.

Or was it?

Oliver said, "Who are you?"

Sara watched him, brave enough to ignore the guns in her face. He had told her bits and pieces of his life before returning to Star City, but he mostly focused on what came after. He must have mentioned ARGUS at some point. Maybe she was putting the pieces together.

"Stand by for Mockingbird approach," one of them said.

Oliver knew that codename.

The soldiers parted and Amanda Waller came into the room.

She was dressed in a midnight-black suit, her hair pulled in a tight bun, her eyes as sharp and intelligent as ever. Oliver had met her for the first time in Hong Kong, when she had tried to control him, to use him as a human weapon – and he had failed to prevent her death at the hands of Joyner. He could see the whole saga of their lives as they intertwined.

It was a strange and sickening feeling.

She looked first at Oliver, and then at Sara, "Hello Mr. Queen, Ms. Lance. My name is Amanda Waller. We have some matters to discuss."

His first urge was to fight, but he was outnumbered. Oliver had never trusted Waller. She was ruthless, ready to sacrifice anyone and anything to accomplish her mission. He didn't like the way she talked to Sara. He didn't like the way she stood there, full of purpose.

"How do you know my name?" Oliver asked, playing the part of the shipwrecked kid.

Waller would not be fooled by that. She had been watching them through a keyhole satellite. She was originally spying on Fyers, making sure her plan was enacted, but her focus shifted to Oliver after his death – at least, that was how it happened the first time. She would have seen him training, seen his friends. She must have seen them rehearse this mission the day before, and when they left the cove at sundown that day, she knew where they were headed.

"I know a lot about you," she said, glancing down at Ivo, who lay crumpled beneath Sara, and then at the pirate with an arrow sticking out of his chest. "You were shipwrecked here last year when your yacht went down. Your father is a millionaire. You allied with an ASIS operative – Slade Wilson – and with Shado Gulong. Were you aware that Yao Fei Gulong was a Chinese general?"

Oliver knew that.

He shook his head dejectedly, "He's dead."

"I know. A great loss for China."

Her sympathy was fake. Oliver was not sure if Waller had chosen Yao Fei for Fyers to frame the plane crash on, or if Fyers had done that on his own. Either way, it was her fault. She saw human life as nothing more than a balance – one life to save hundreds, no matter the circumstances.

"You have other allies, as well. A mercenary and a former captive."

Luke and Joleen.

"Where are they, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver realized there was hope. Waller was looking for his friends. He answered honestly. "We lost contact when we boarded the ship."

Her eyes gave away nothing.

"I've been watching you. You're an impressive warrior, and resourceful."

He knew where this was going. It was leading straight into a nightmare.

"I have a need for your services."

I just want to go home.

He felt like a kid all the sudden. That thought was so loud that it nearly brought him to tears. He wanted to go home and see his mom and his sister. He wanted to meet John and Felicity. He wanted to see Tommy and Laurel again. He wanted to see Quentin, even though the man would hate him. But there were so many things keeping him away from Starling City. It felt like there were a hundred oceans, a hundred storms, a hundred years separating him from home.

He squared his jaw.

Waller was holding all the cards. Her people were heavily armed and well-trained. He had no doubt there were dozens more of them around the freighter, on boats nearby, in planes overhead. She never traveled light, and she knew what Oliver was capable of.

She wanted him. She wanted to use him like a gun, to destroy her enemies.

What choice did he have?

"You're not letting me go home, are you?" he said, hesitantly.

She almost looked like she felt sorry for him – which would have been something, if she wasn't the one causing him problems. "No."

He gritted his teeth.

"If you want to fight your way out, go ahead and try it. I may not know exactly where on the island your father is, but there are ways to find out. Do you want me to demonstrate?"

She wanted him to come quietly.

"No. I believe you." Oliver knew it would be a missile. A bomb. Something loud and destructive that would set fire to half the island.

Waller nodded. "Your friends are free to go. Once you and Ms. Lance are on the helicopter-"

"What?" Oliver cut in. "No, Sara goes home. You said they could go home!"

"Sara Lance is also a formidable warrior, and easy to underestimate." Waller was looking at Sara hungrily – it made Oliver sick. "And she can be your leash. I had a feeling you would be hard to keep in line, so Ms. Lance will offer some… security, for your cooperation."

Sara was looking at Oliver, "It's okay, Oli."

"Let her go," he said, letting that rage from before trickle back into him.

A voice came over the radios.

"We have prisoners down here, Mockingbird."

Waller paused thoughtfully.

Oliver cut in, "He was using them for medical experiments. My dad will get them home. You can just let them go. They're nobody."

One of them was somebody. A friend. An enemy.

Waller watched him, and then said, "Leave them." She rolled her wrist, and the soldiers were moving. "Get them to the helicopter. If Mr. Queen fights you, break the girl's arm."

And just like that, he was being led out of the freighter and onto the deck. A helicopter hovered overhead, making a hell of a noise, and two ladders hung nearby. Oliver kept his eyes on Sara, trying to find a way out of this for her – he had to get her out of this.

But the chances were getting slimmer. He climbed the ladder, hope slowly dying.

He sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders, ARGUS agents filling the spaces around them. Waller was not there. Oliver had guns trained on him, eyes trained on him, for the whole flight.

Sara said, "Where are they taking us?"

Oliver knew, but he said nothing.

He thought about his friends. Where had Shado, Luke, and Slade gone? Did they get off the freighter? Would they take it over and find their way home? Would they go back for Robert and Joleen? Would they come looking for Oliver and Sara, or cut their losses? Oliver knew that Robert would try to find him. He knew that Slade was fiercely loyal and clever.

But he hoped his friends would forget about him.

He had achieved at least part of what he had hoped for – his father, Slade, and Shado were going home. It was impossible to celebrate, but a victory was a victory.