Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow. Thanks to everyone reviewing, following, etc this story.

"See, I think there are roads that lead us to each other. But in my family, there were no roads - just underground tunnels. I think we all got lost in those underground tunnels. No, not lost. We just lived there."
― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Last Night I Sang to the Monster

There's some of my Star Wars opinions coming through in the Smoak-Queen family time section, 'cause I'm reading a bunch of SW fics at the moment and am having feels.

Read, enjoy and review!

Twenty-Five

Lost in Underground Tunnels

One thing that Oliver had always found a mixture of endearing and amusing about Felicity was just how intensely she felt about the shows and movies she got into. She could passionately argue and rant for hours on how this plotline didn't make sense, or that new director had completely ruined those characters, and so on, so forth. William had inherited the trait. He also had inherited his mother's opinions on many things.

In their family, the topic of Star Wars was a serious one, and should anyone be foolish enough to compliment Anakin Skywalker to her face, Felicity would, if they were lucky, kick them out of the mansion. If they were lucky. Back when she was pregnant, she'd once put one of her classmates on the no-fly list for daring to say that Anakin was the best character in the franchise and should have lived. As far as Felicity was concerned, Anakin Skywalker was the devil incarnate and anyone who liked his character was unwelcome in her presence (never mind that the guy was fiction. For his own sake, Oliver supported her. That didn't mean he didn't find the whole thing hilarious, and the way Will agreed so seriously with his mother was both funny as hell and absolutely adorable.).

The Saturday three weeks before his mother's trial was due to begin, two weeks after Sara's return, the three Queens were cuddled up on the cosy sectional in the theatre room, having a Star Wars marathon. Oliver, who enjoyed the movies but didn't take them nearly as seriously as his wife and son, had mostly stayed quiet, more intent on observing the two's serious discussions about the people and plot than the movies themselves. It warmed him to see them interacting with one another, even a year after Felicity's return. For so long, he'd thought he would never see that happen, and it was a gift he was determined not to waste.

They'd started with The Phantom Menace (which was peppered with Felicity's grumblings about Qui-Gon's arrogant attitude and the stupidity of allowing a fourteen-year-old to be elected to such a high-profile position. Will had agreed "Yeah, Mommy, isn't she still meant to be in school? She's only six years older than me in this, and I'll only be in eighth grade!"), then Attack of the Clones, during which Will had questioned Padmé's sudden change of heart regarding Anakin. ("I don't get it. Earlier she said they couldn't be together and now she says she loves him? Mommy, Daddy, I don't get it.")

They treated their son the way he deserved given his high IQ and maturity, so Felicity hadn't simply danced around his questions and given a sugar-coated reply. Instead, she had seriously suggested that Anakin was using the Force to manipulate Padmé into loving him, or else that the adrenaline of almost dying and the knowledge that they were now at war had caused them to rush into commitment making without really spending time together getting to know each other properly. While watching Revenge of the Sith, Felicity had taken the opportunity to advice Will against that sort of thing. ("You want to make sure that you only marry a person you really love and respect, Baby," she had urged him, Oliver nodding in support. "And someone who's opinions you respect too. Even if you disagree with some of them, or don't fully agree, you shouldn't marry someone you're incompatible with.")

Felicity adored the Original Trilogy (save for Vader being redeemed at the end. She believed it was a bad message to send-commit genocide but if you feel badly be forgiven. "And that's if he really regrets turning Dark," she had pointed out animatedly to him once, years ago when they were still dating. "It never explicitly says so, he just intervenes to save his son's life."), so most of it was spent laughing and agreeing with the characters. They were mid-way through The Empire Strikes Back, listening to the famous "do or do not, there is no try" line from Yoda (one of Felicity's favourite characters in the series, tied with Obi-Wan and Luke, and Will's outright favourite due to him looking and sounding funny), when they realized that their son had fallen asleep clutching his stuffed Yoda. He always had the toy with him when watching Star Wars, though by now it was faded and worn from so many years and washes.

Sara had bought it for him when she came to see Felicity after Will was born, and it was one of his favourite stuffed toys to this day, though not the actual favourite (actually, Oliver didn't think his son had a favourite toy. Maybe the miniature, working Mars Rover he had proudly built and showed off to the family. He was his mother's son.). It was a much-treasured possession, especially when it had been the main reminder of Will's believed deceased godmother.

"I'll carry him up to bed," Oliver whispered to his wife, who nodded, extracting herself carefully before leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to the child's forehead, taking care not to disturb him. Oliver couldn't pull his gaze away from the scene if he had wanted to. It always astounded him to know that Felicity could break the neck of a man three times her slim size with a single jerk, hit the centre of a target from a mile away and decapitate an opponent without so much as chipping her nails, yet she handled their son with such care. The dichotomy of it had been difficult to reconcile at first, yet gradually it had become just another reason to love her.

He carried to sleeping boy upstairs to his bedroom and tucked him in before heading back down to find Felicity clearing up the theatre room, dusting popcorn crumbs into the bucket to be dumped, the 65" screen switched off and the DVD returned to its case. Oliver joined in the tidying silently, replacing the boxes in their places on the shelf and helping double-check for any sweet wrappers or such scattered around the place. It wasn't something he'd have thought to do before meeting Felicity, who took for granted that you cleaned up your own mess.

"Bed?" He asked her after they were done. She gave a tired smile and nodded.

"Sounds good," she agreed, stepping closer so they could kiss lightly but intensely.

"I love you," he sighed after they ended the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. She smiled back lovingly, for once bereft of the stress and sorrow that had darkened her gaze since her return from Lian Yu.

"I love you too," she responded.

Sara sighed after hanging up her cell, ending the call with Felicity. Her friend was off to Russia with Oliver and Diggle in order to save Dig's friend. They'd be gone for a few days at least, as their cover was that Oliver was meeting with his Moscow subsidiary, meaning he would actually have to meet up with them. Defending the city would therefore fall to Sara alone for the rest of the week, and she had agreed to dress up as Artemis so nobody would realize that Felicity was gone and try to take advantage of the vigilante's absence, or else start putting two and two together and notice that Artemis and Felicity were one in the same. Sara wasn't remotely in Felicity's league when it came to archery, but she was still a damn good shot. The League did not allow any of their members, temporary or permanent, to be less than fantastic with every type of weapon they used, and many they didn't.

She lost herself in planning how to do her patrols around the Glades without her parents getting suspicious. The two of them hated her being out of their sight, and when they did leave her, they inevitably ended up ringing her to check she was alright. Her mom was sleeping in Laurel's room while her sister was staying with her boyfriend for the moment, though Dinah's leave was about ready to run out, at which time she would have to return to her job at Central City University.

Sara couldn't deny it would be a bit of a relief for her mother to return to Central City, close as they were. She loved her parents, she would never take them for granted again after the pain of being away from them for so long, but their smothering attention was difficult to handle after so long with only Nyssa touching her kindly, or even paying her attention outside of orders. Even then, her former lover had not been one for demonstrative love or PDA. Nothing that could be used as a weakness by those in the League wishing to replace her as Ra's' heir. Touching was reserved solely for the privacy of their room or else for extremely close saves.

"Sara," a curt voice interrupted her thoughts and making her stiffen.

'Stupid little girl' Al-Owal's voice chided her for getting so absorbed in her thoughts she had failed to detect the other woman's approach. 'Letting a civilian catch you by surprise. No wonder Ra's agreed to you leaving service. You are weak.'

'Rot in hell you bastard,' she thought back bitterly before she shoved the malicious voice away and forced a wary, hesitant smile of greeting at her older sister. Laurel returned the look with a stony expression, anger glinting in her dark eyes and radiating from her body language. Her expression was composed, but even if Sara weren't her sister, she could see the minute tells giving Laurel's anger away. Evidently, her anger at Sara had not cooled down over the weeks since their reunion.

"Hey, Laurel," Sara greeted her warily. "Uhm, how's it going?"

Laurel sniffed. "I'm fine," she replied curtly, not returning the question. "I'm just here to pick something up," she explained briskly, walking past Sara towards her bedroom door.

"I-uh, right," Sara stammered uncharacteristically. She wrapped her arms around her middle in a protective embrace, her battered heart aching at her sister's clear anger towards her. The words Laurel had flung at her venomously when they reunited echoed in her mind, each one more painful than a dagger.

"You're the reason Mom and Dad divorced, the reason Dad became an alcoholic who I had to look after! You're so selfish, you let us grieve for you for years while you pranced around doing God knows what with God knows who! You're the one who introduced Ollie to Felicity and wrecked my relationship with him! Everything bad that has happened to this family is all your fault!"

Sara had been unable to find the words to defend herself. Nothing she said was wrong, after all, even if the context could be argued. Their parents had intervened, and Laurel had ended up storming out. That was the last time that Sara had seen her. Dinah had insisted that Laurel didn't mean it, she was simply overwhelmed and already struggling with grief and probable PTSD from the Undertaking, but Sara had had her doubts. Doubts that were confirmed by Laurel's cold attitude towards her today.

She meant every word she said.

The sound of the front door closing drew her attention, and she headed downstairs to meet her father, who was hauling several bulging bags of groceries. In a sharp contrast to Laurel, he grinned widely and broadly the moment that he laid eyes on her, gesturing for an embrace with one hand. She hastened over and hugged him tightly, burying her head in the crook of his shoulder and exhaling unsteadily. At least her parents didn't hate her for surviving and coming home, even despite the turmoil she had caused them over the years. They were unwavering in their love and care, and doing their best to help her without pressuring her to talk before she was ready, despite both of them having spied and been horrified by her scars.

"Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" He questioned her gently. She shrugged as she pulled away, giving a weak smile that she knew failed to reach her eyes.

"Laurel's here, and, uhm, she clearly still isn't too pleased with me being home," she explained softly. He frowned, grimacing as he put down the grocery bags on the table before cupping her cheek with one hand.

"Just give her time, honey," he urged. "Your sister loves you. She's struggling personally at the moment and you're an easy target to lash out at, that's all. She loves you, she really does."

"Yeah," Sara mumbled. "Right."

Laurel appeared in the doorway then before he could respond, with a well-made, professional dress suit hanging over her arm. She blatantly ignored Sara's presence to focus on Quentin. "Hey, Dad," she smiled at him. He smiled back, heading over to hug her.

"Hey sweetheart, how's it going?" He asked cheerfully, kissing her cheek.

"Great, actually," she replied. "I have an interview with DA Spencer this afternoon about a job!"

"That's fantastic!" Quentin exclaimed.

"Yeah, congratulations Laurel," Sara added with the sincerest smile she could muster towards her sister. Currently, Sara wasn't working herself. Once all the legal stuff had been dealt with, she hoped to apply to SCU and finish her degree. Then she would join Felicity in running SCT, the way they had long since planned.

As a child, she had bounced from one job prospect to the other, as kids did. One day she wanted to be a doctor, the next a cop like her father, and so on, so forth. She and Felicity had been fourteen when they'd conceived the idea of Smoaking Canary Technologies, and it had become their baby, the two of them writing down ideas for products and adds, stashing away any extra cents and all. Anything to bring them a step closer to fulfilling their ambitions. It stung to know she had missed Felicity opening it, but that her best friend had kept it so close to their dream, from the logo Sara had drawn in art class at sixteen to the idea for her Lance Learner, aka the Lancer, soothed that ache somewhat.

"Thanks Dad," Laurel responded, ignoring Sara completely. She also ignored the disapproving look that Quentin shot at her for it. "I was thinking. Things with Sebastian are going well. I want you and Mom to meet him. Could we have a family dinner at his place this week, before she heads back to Central City?"

Sara exhaled shakily through her nose, looking down at the tiled kitchen floor to hide the hurt she felt. It hadn't escaped her notice that Laurel had deliberately excluded her from the invite. She forced on a mask of indifference as she began unpacking the groceries. "Sounds like it would be fun, Dad," she told him as casually as she could when she noticed him hesitating, glancing between her and Laurel worriedly. "You should go. You know how much you love terrorizing our boyfriends."

"Alright honeys," he agreed in a soft voice. Sara felt a stab of resentment towards Laurel for putting that pained look in his eyes. Her poor parents were wonderful people. They didn't deserve all the pain their daughters had given them.

It was why she was dancing around the topic of where she'd been and what she'd been doing since their reunion. They wouldn't just be horrified by her actions, but the knowledge of the torture she had gone through would doubtlessly break their hearts as well. She had seen the looks on their faces when they caught a glimpse of one of her scars when her shirt had rode up, and she had no desire to make things worse.

She had put them through so much already, she just couldn't bring herself to add to it, nor was she brave enough to risk them recoiling from her when they heard about her time in the League. The kindest thing that she could do for them was pretend as much as possible to be the old, fun-loving and flirtatious firecracker of a girl she had once been. It was the least she could for them, even if it meant suffering through her memories alone. Worst came to worst, she could at least turn to Felicity. If anyone would understand, it was her.

She just wasn't ready yet.

Russia: Spring, 2013

Ta-er al-Sahfer crouched on the rooftop across the road from her current target's house. The Target was a member of the Russian government, a husband with two children, a boy named Nicholas and a girl named Natasha. Twins. The man himself was an important financial supporter of the current Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin, and the League had been hired to take him out, along with several others in favour of Putin's policies, in the hopes of crippling Putin's power, or at least denting it.

This was a mission like any other in every way except for one.

She refused to think of it, instead focusing on the mission. It was dark inside the house, the sky was black and obscured by heavy clouds that heralded rain, and in various areas of the city she could see the smoke signals sent up by the others, saying they were now moving to eliminate their respective targets. She touched her lighter to the small bonfire she had set up in a bin, sending up her own signal to confirm she was about to move.

That done, she exhaled and grasped her crossbow, shooting a rappelling hook to the roof across before using her staff to zipline across. Then she climbed down the chimney into the house. It was a Pre-October Revolution era building, and had a large chimney and wide fireplace, large enough for her to climb down using two small hooks for grip. They also kept it astonishingly clean. Once she was inside, she paused long enough to dust off her boots ('Never leave any trace of your presence' was something that Al-Owal had reinforced a million times both during and after her training), then set about completing her mission.

She stole upstairs, passing by the two children's rooms (Sara Lance felt her stomach twist painfully at the knowledge that she was stealing a father from two little children. Ta-er al-Safer was simply concerned with making sure they didn't wake up and sound the alarm. Not only were there the parents, but several servants and a live-in nanny also resided in the house. Waking any of them could lead to trouble. This was meant to be a discreetly done job, nobody save for Aliyev himself being killed.), then the guest room before at last she reached the door to the master bedroom.

She reached out a glove-covered hand to turn the old-fashioned doorknob and quietly open the door, careful to avoid it squeaking. Inside was a large room containing two dressers made of oak with silver handles, a matching wardrobe and vanity, a door that led to the en-suite bathroom and finally, the bed.

There were two forms curled up in the bed, and Ta-er al-Safer was displeased to see that they were closely entangled. It would make it harder to eliminate her target without disturbing his wife. She would have to separate them somehow, without disturbing either. In the back of her mind,

Sara Lance shuddered mentally in guilt as she pictured the woman waking up to see her husband's dead body.

Ta-er al-Safer walked closer, her feet ghosting over the carpet. She pulled her knife out of its' sheath and flipped it to get a better grip. She paused at the bedside, squinting to see the couple better. She noted that her target's carotid artery was in her line of sight, and accessible to her reach. She would be able to kill him quickly, then. It was simply a matter of ensuring that the blood flow wouldn't wake up his wife.

Ta-er al-Safer worked fast, slicing the carotid artery too fast for the man to register that anything was happening. She gripped his shoulder and twisted him so he fell onto his back, the blood soaking the pillow and bed. However, his wife remained oblivious to his death, simply adjusting herself to lay her head on his chest and continuing to sleep peacefully.

The mission over, Ta-er al-Safer turned and slipped away, retracing her steps until she reached the chimney and climbing back up to the roof before again zipping to the other roof and then cutting the rope. The rain was pouring down heavily, erasing any evidence of her presence that she didn't destroy herself.

Once she was safely away from the sight of her most recent murder, halfway to the rendezvous point, Sara collapsed to her knees on the ground of an alleyway and let out a mixture of a sob and a laugh.

One hundred days had been spent healing her, and she had sworn to complete a hundred missions in return for the League saving her life.

Mikhail Aliyev had been her one hundredth mission.

She was free. She was finally free to leave the League and Nanda Parbat, and return to Starling City and her family.

She wept, and she wasn't quite sure if it was from relief or fear at the unknown future laying at her feet.

Laurel left the meeting with Kate Spencer pleased at how well it had gone. The DA had been reluctant to rehire her, but Laurel had persuaded her, using the folder Wilson had slipped to her discreetly. It was full of incriminating information that would see a permanent end to Spencer's career should any of the secrets within come to light.

As a result of her persuasion (she refused to consider it blackmail. Only bad people used blackmail to get their way, and Laurel wasn't a bad person. She was simply using the resources she had available to right an injustice. Losing her job had been unfair and cruel, and this was the least of what the city owed her after she had spent years slaving away at CNRI for minimal pay to help the people of the Glades.) she was now an employee of the Starling City District Attorney's office. To put the cherry on top of her victory, she had been named as second chair for the Moira Queen case, the current most high-profile case being prosecuted in the state.

Due to motions lodged by the Queen's legal team, the jury and the judge were all from other cities in the state. The judge was from Seattle, and specialized in high-profile cases, and the jury members were all from various cities, and all were completely unconnected to Starling. The defence team had argued to the State District Attorney that Moira had a right to an unbiased judge and jury, and if any of the jury members were from or related to someone from Starling, they would be biased against their client. Even people who avoided the Glades like the plague had been affected by the quake, what with the economic backlash and the riots and protests that had raged throughout the city in the aftermath.

It wouldn't be a slam-dunk case, Laurel knew. The defence team would play up the 'frightened mother and grandmother seeking to protect her family from her husband and daughter-in-law's murderer' like crazy, and the jury members wouldn't have seen the devastation caused by the Undertaking, especially as so much of the Glades had been rebuilt. And of course, the Queens and Tommy Merlyn had donated heavily to relief efforts, which would look good to them.

But Laurel would win, and she would make sure everyone saw the Queens as the scheming, faithless traitors they were. Then, she would have the satisfaction of seeing the remainders of their lives collapse when Wilson's plan came to fruition.

Her phone buzzed as she daydreamed of Felicity and Oliver seeing their lives collapse into ruins the way hers had, and she huffed in irritation, pulling out her cell. She hesitated for a second at the sight of the caller ID: S.W.

Wilson frightened her more than she wanted to admit. They shared a mutual goal of destroying Felicity's happiness, but there was a look in his dark eyes that made her doubt his sanity.

Still, he frightened her too much for her to not do what he wanted, so she pressed the answer button and raised the phone to her ear.

"Ms. Lance, congratulations on your new job," he drawled in greeting. Laurel suppressed a shiver of discomfort. She was literally just leaving the DA's office, how had he found out already? Did he have the place bugged for some reason? Or was he having her followed?

"Mr. Wilson, thank you," she responded politely. "Is there anything else you wanted? I doubt you're calling me just to say congratulations to me."

"True," he acknowledged easily. "I have some good news about our project."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he confirmed. She practically hear his smirk. "I'm pleased to inform you that we have finally had the first successful operation. Brother Gold successfully survived ingesting the serum, and is already showing signs of improved strength. With his contribution, we will be able to increase our operation. We are on course to the finish line."

"That's wonderful," Laurel said breathlessly, even as unease twisted her gut. She still couldn't understand how injecting a bunch of people with some sort of super serum that made her think of the Captain America films Marvel made would help them ruin Felicity's life. She understood Rochev being assigned to bring down Queen Consolidated, but that wasn't something that would hurt innocents. Their accounts, yes, but they'd get new jobs.

The Mirakuru was something very different, and Laurel had her fears about what it would do. Yet she was in too deep to escape now, and she truly did want to make Felicity pay. To make her hurt the way Laurel had been hurting for so long now. Uneasy as the Mirakuru operation made her, she would put up with that discomfort to get her revenge.