A/N: Sorry it's been a few days. I've been wrestling with whether I wanted to do another version of "The Emerald Queen" or go back to an old favorite. I chose the latter. Hopefully, now I've got that settled, things can return to normal service. It's not like I have anything better to do. Only so much time you can spend playing an MMO, even a "Star Wars" MMO, before one get's bored.

Now, speaking of which, I've got to bet back to crafting this sadistic Imperial Agent of mine, so I'll let you all get on with reading the new chapter. *grins*

"So, Mr. Queen, where did you go?" Alex Danvers asked as Oliver stepped into his office, freezing in place as he saw her leaning against his desk. "You do remember I'm assigned to you for your protection, don't you? We still don't know if someone is going to target you and your sister."

"Must've slipped my mind," Oliver said blandly. "And I just went for a drive to clear my head."

"A drive where?" Alex asked.

"I went to the Glades to take a look at the steel factory, get an idea of what I need to do to bring it back to life," Oliver said. "It's gonna take a lot of work. It's in a serious state of disrepair and the entire building will have to be rewired." He remembered how Tommy had bribed the city inspector to ignore the basement once Verdant opened and had used the excuse that the basement wasn't up to code when Quentin and Hilton came calling; Oliver still regretted treating his friend with such suspicion as he had. "You could say I'm a bit more hands-on than my father was. I intend to visit every department of Queen Consolidated and familiarize myself with all of their work."

"Right," Alex said after a moment. "Well, just try to remember that I am here for your protection, Mr. Queen. I'll be down in the lobby when you're ready to head home."

"Of course, Agent Danvers," Oliver said smoothly, already figuring out the best way he could get out of the building. Alex scoffed and exited the office while Oliver sat down behind his desk, drumming his fingertips on its flat surface. Green Arrow had been off the streets for a few days now, while he dealt with the aftermath of his mother's suicide and now Walter's murder. He needed to get back out there, make up for his screw-up the night Sara returned. He knew it was risky, with the F.B.I. in town and looking into Green Arrow with a new task force, but he couldn't just sit by and let them handle things. This was his city, and he would be damned if he let people who weren't invested in it's future decide it's fate.

Oliver checked his messages. There was a message from Malcolm, asking him to call him when he got a chance; that meant for now Merlyn was going to play the 'mentor' card. He wouldn't be talking about the Undertaking and Tempest on an open line, especially since the F.B.I. were likely going to be monitoring any and all calls that Oliver received in case a threat came in. There was also a call from Dr. Anne Green, reminding Oliver that they had an appointment tomorrow morning and that he had already missed two appointments they had scheduled. Oliver grimaced, but considering how off his game he had been the other night, maybe it was time to fulfill what would now be his mother's dying wish and get help in therapy. At least now he knew his secrets wouldn't be shared with his mother, and through her with Malcolm. He hated himself for thinking it the moment after it crossed his mind, however true it was. She had been his mother!

Oliver picked up his phone and dialed Merlyn's personal cell, the number of which he had provided in his message. It was time to at least get the ball rolling on things with Merlyn, however they ended up playing out. After a few rings, Merlyn picked up. "Oliver," Merlyn greeted. "I'm glad you called. Let me begin by again offering my condolences, for both Moira and Walter. They were good friends."

"Thank you, Malcolm," Oliver said pleasantly, keeping up the pretense that his godfather was not a murderous psychopath who had driven his mother to suicide and murdered his stepfather. "I assume you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Yes, I wanted to offer my guidance as you step down this treacherous path," Merlyn replied. "Being a C.E.O. has many dangers and pitfalls. Normally, your father or mother would've been there to guide you as you took these first steps. As your godfather, it's my sworn duty to fill their shoes when they can't be here."

"I appreciate the offer, Malcolm, and I would be open to getting advice from a man with over twenty years of experience," Oliver said.

"I caught the press conference earlier," Malcolm said. "You have your father's charisma and your mother's way with words. Truly inspiring, Oliver. But do you truly think it wise to re-open the steel factory?"

"It won't happen right away," Oliver replied. "I went down there this afternoon; it was why I was out of the office when you called. I wanted to get an idea of what was needed. It'll take months to bring the factory back up to code and ready to open for business. But just the promise of much-needed jobs can have an impact on people, I think. This city needs something to pull it back from the brink. Maybe it's this, or maybe it's something else. All I know is that I have to try to do something." He allowed some of the frustration he was feeling to leak into his voice, letting Merlyn conclude he might be pliable and feeling dirty as he did it. Was this truly the best way to save Starling City? Play games with a psychopath like Malcolm Merlyn?

Malcolm was silent as he considered Oliver's words, then said, "All I'm saying is it might be too ambitious a step for a newly-minted C.E.O. If this is truly what you wish to do, I'll support you one hundred percent. It's what your parents would've wanted. Feel free to call me any time that you need advice."

"I will," Oliver confirmed, and the two said their goodbyes. After hanging up, Oliver couldn't help the shudder of revulsion that passed through him. In the past, he would've been able to handle that conversation without feeling this way. What had changed? Almost instantly, Oliver knew what had changed. He had. While he was still very much a man for whom the mission came first, he had found himself building a new family for himself here in the past, a family that included the woman that he loved and the sister that he cherished. He had also been building a reputation for himself, one that risked being tarnished if he continued to play games with Merlyn just to find out who the other members of Tempest were. Maybe it was time to dig into his memories again, see if he couldn't find something that pointed to another member of Tempest, someone he could twist and exploit to discover the identities of the rest. *1*

But that would have to come later. He needed to find out if Moss had capitulated to Fyff's demands or if he was going to have to make a choice between going after Brodeur or going to Iron Heights to save the lives of Declan and Laurel. He couldn't do both; he had barely made it in time to save Laurel and Declan the last time. If only there was a way to do both…

Oliver started. There was a way. There was someone else in Starling with the skills to intervene, someone who had learned to be a shadow, someone who had been trained to slip in and out of prisons without leaving a trace, only feared whispers. He had a stop to make before he hit his lair tonight. It was time to see about bringing Sara Lance down off of the fence in the war for Starling's soul.

But first, he needed to call Laurel, find out the situation with Moss.

*DC*

As it turned out, Moss had capitulated and even done one better, moving Declan into protective custody at Iron Heights. The process would be a little slower than it had been in the previous timeline since they were taking this route, but in the end, the result would be the same, and Peter Declan would be a free man while Ankov went down for the murder of Camille Declan and Brodeur faced justice for dumping toxic chemicals in the Glades. Oliver had managed to once more slip away from Agent Danvers, knowing that this would probably be the last time she let him out of her sight at Queen Consolidated, and made his way to the Bunker. "Good work today with Moss, Henry," Oliver congratulated Fyff as he entered the Bunker, moving to the stand where his uniform waited, shedding his suit jacket and undoing his tie. "Once Peter Declan is free and clear, send the intelligence we gathered on her to Agent Trimble. That should occupy his task force for a while."

"We're gonna get a reputation if we do that to every corrupt official," Fyff warned.

"A good reputation," Oliver returned. "The less corrupt officials on the bench, the better for Starling." Oliver undid the cuffs of his shirt and began unbuttoning the front. "Now that the Brodeur issue is dealt with, it's time to move forward on something I've been holding back on for far too long. Bring up all the intel we have on Daniel Brickwell's location, it's fortifications, and how many men he has with him. It's time to get justice for Rebecca Merlyn."

"On it, boss," Fyff said as Oliver continued shedding his clothes and got dressed in his uniform. Oliver held off on choosing his arsenal of arrows until he knew what he would be facing. Zipping up the top half of his uniform, Oliver joined Fyff at the computers as the man pulled up the intel they had on Brick and his headquarters in the Glades. According to what they had, Brick was operating out of a warehouse in the Glades, and it was consistently guarded by roughly fifteen men with automatics.

Oliver went to his array of arrows and began selecting explosive arrows, bolo arrows, and a handful of tranquilizer arrows. Sliding his chosen arsenal into his quiver and mounting a few basic arrows the flechette around his left forearm, Oliver pulled up his hood, turning to Fyff. "While I'm out, see if you can backtrack the person who shot Danakov to their hideout; find out their identity if you can."

"Will do, boss," Fyff said as Oliver headed out.

*DC*

Laurel Lance sighed as she sank onto her couch, feeling older than her twenty-seven years. She had just come from the loft, where she had been visiting Thea, and where Alex Danvers had showed up just as she was leaving, looking steamed. Laurel assumed Oliver had given the agent the slip, and shook her head now, laughing softly. He wasn't going to earn any friends with the F.B.I. if he kept giving them the slip, but she knew that for him, the city had to come first.

Laurel pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked for any messages. There was a text from Joanna, telling her that they had received confirmation that Peter Declan had been moved into protective custody. Jason Brodeur's assets had been frozen for the duration of the investigation, leaving the man incapable of buying off the guards that were set to watch Declan. Laurel was happy that this was going so well, but she was very suspicious of the fact that Moss had caved. She had expected to have to argue a lot more with the judge and that maybe even that might not work, despite her hopes to the contrary. And yet, it had worked. The judge had granted protective custody to Declan and allowed the S.C.P.D. to open an investigation into the file and its contents, which would inevitably lead to Peter Declan's freedom.

But despite the recent victories, Laurel felt there was something off about everything. She knew Oliver had had something to do with Moss capitulating, and she had a sneaking suspicion that blackmail was involved. While she had accepted a lot of what Oliver was doing, she drew the line at blackmail, and she was going to have to talk to him about it. She knew he wanted Green Arrow to be a symbol of hope, but if people found out Green Arrow was resorting to blackmail, she had to ask herself how many of them would be accepting of this. While Oliver had tried the same thing with the District Attorney, that hadn't been one of Laurel's cases; they hadn't even been working together yet. This was the first time since they started working together that Oliver had done something so underhanded, and it made Laurel question just who her boyfriend was now. *2*

There was a soft knock on the door of her apartment. Laurel stood and made her way to the door, opening it to find her sister on the other side, dressed in dark-toned street clothes. "Sara, come in," she said softly, stepping to the side and pulling the door open wider. Sara stepped inside, and Laurel shut the door behind her. "What brings you by?"

"I needed to see you," Sara said. "Right now, it's just me where I'm living, and the solitude is getting to me. You and Ollie are the only ones who know I'm in Starling right now, and I really don't want to see Ollie right now. I get this feeling he's gonna keep trying to pull me into this crusade of his."

"He has that effect," Laurel said as the sisters took seats on the couch, each tucking one leg under the other. Laurel brushed a lock of her hair over her right ear, clearing it away from her eyes. "Truth is, he probably wants a partner who can be his equal in this. He's training me and Thea, but I get the impression it's just so we can defend ourselves if Merlyn ever tries anything. I doubt he wants us in the field with him."

"Would you even want to do that if it was an option?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I… don't know," Laurel said softly. "On the one hand, I want that future he spoke about in his message to the city, and I wonder if to get that future I'll have to go beyond what I'm comfortable with. But on the other, I worry that I would lose myself if I stepped away from the bounds of the law so brazenly and became a vigilante myself." Laurel scoffed to herself. "I don't even know why I'm thinking about things like this. I'm not you or Oliver. I don't know how to take on a dozen men armed with automatics and come out on top. I can barely handle intruders in my apartment."

Sara was surprised at the degree of self-doubt her sister was struggling with. Laurel had always been so confident, so sure of herself in the past, that to see her doubting herself, even if it was something as wild as her ability to be a vigilante in comparison to Oliver or Sara, was startling. "There's something else, isn't there?" she said softly.

Laurel blinked in surprise; Sara didn't used to be so intuitive. "The case we've been working on, Peter Declan," Laurel began, "I had a meeting with the judge this afternoon and she did everything I wanted. She gave him protective custody, opened an investigation into the file, froze Brodeur's assets while the investigation is ongoing…"

"So, what's the problem?" Sara asked, puzzled. She would've thought Laurel would be thrilled for everything to be going right.

"I'm pretty sure Oliver blackmailed her," Laurel said. "I know that technically he's a criminal, but until now he's only done things that help people in the long run. Even when he killed James Holder, he was doing it because otherwise more lives could've been lost. But this feels different to me; I feel like this victory is tainted somehow."

Sara sighed. That was one of the biggest problems her older sister had. She was too much like their father. "Okay, let's run this through," Sara said. "Say Ollie did what you think. Take that away. What happens?"

Laurel considered it for a moment. "Brodeur came in while I was talking to the judge. I would've confronted him, told him I would keep digging even if the judge refused to accept the new evidence."

"Then?" Sara prompted.

"Brodeur would probably have Declan killed, probably me, too," Laurel said, thinking it over. Brodeur would know she would be incensed her client was killed and make it her mission to bring him down. One thing her current high profile had made clear was that she was a crusader. He would know that, and plan accordingly. "Oliver would've had to beat a confession out of him."

"So, in the end, does taking the high road benefit the innocent, or not?" Sara asked knowingly.

Laurel sighed. "I understand what you're saying, Sara," she said. "It's just not what I expected when I started working with Oliver." She shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts, and looked at her sister. "So, why is it you don't want to help Ollie?"

Sara sighed. "For the past five years, my life hasn't been my own," she said. "My first year, I was a 'research assistant'. My second year, I was caught between Ivo and Ollie. The past three years, I've been told to go and kill someone and expected to do so without asking questions. I'm not saying I don't want to help people, Laurel. But I don't know if Ollie's crusade is the best way for me to help people. All I know in combat is how to kill, and Oliver's crusade prohibits that. I don't think I can change."

"Sometimes the only thing that stands in the way of change is our own hubris," Laurel said softly. "You've convinced yourself that you're a monster. What if you started telling yourself something different? What if you started telling yourself that you could use the tools that made you into an assassin for better purposes? If you don't feel like you can commit to Ollie's crusade, don't. There are other ways to help people. Every night he works on taking down someone who's entrenched, he's not able to patrol, and criminals take advantage of that. Maybe you can patrol the Glades, a different part every night, and make the people feel safe that way. Just think about it, Sara."

"I will," Sara promised.

Before either sister could say another word, there was a knock at the door. Sara froze where she sat, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Laurel made a snap decision. "The bedroom," she said quietly but firmly. Sara nodded and moved into the bedroom, secreting herself out of sight as Laurel went to the door and answered it. "Dad," she said in surprise. Since his visit to her office at C.N.R.I. yesterday, he had been avoiding her like the plague.

"Can I come in?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Sure," Laurel said after a moment. She couldn't really tell him now wasn't a good time without an explanation. He would expect her to have one; and, in truth, she hoped being in the same vicinity as their father would help Sara come to terms with the fact that she was home, and that it was alright to come out of the shadows and live again, instead of hiding away wherever she was living. Laurel had this horrible thought that her sister was roughing it in the Glades while she slept in the safety of her own apartment, or at Ollie's loft when she stayed the night with him. Laurel stepped aside, letting her father enter.

The two of them moved to the couch and sat down. Laurel saw Sara peering out from the shadows of her bedroom, soaking in the sight of their father. "What brings you by?" Laurel asked. "Cuz you made it pretty clear how you felt about what I'm doing."

"I'm not here about that," Quentin said, shaking his head. "Whatever happens with that is on your head. I've done what I can to discourage you from working with that lunatic. If you can't see he's leading you down a dangerous road, than I'll just have to hope you come to your senses before the consequences catch up with you. I'm here about Sara."

"What about her?" Laurel asked after a moment's pause. She saw Sara step forward slightly, falter, and retreat back into the bedroom, ducking her head.

"Has Oliver said if she's come back at all? I figure if she came back, she'd go see him since she's not feeling like she can come see us," Quentin said.

"Oliver hasn't said anything about her," Laurel could answer honestly. He had led Sara into the 'trap' of meeting her face-to-face at the Bunker, and they hadn't talked about Sara and her situation since then. "I'm sure that wherever Sara is, she wants to come home, even if she's afraid to. She might feel she can't, that we'll judge her for who she had to become while she was away. That's what I got from the note she left with Ollie." And from the conversations I've had with her, Laurel added silently in her head, hoping her father took the bait.

He did. "I'm not gonna judge Sara for surviving hell," Quentin said. "She's my daughter, Laurel, same as you, and whatever the two of you do, wherever your paths take you, you'll always be my little girls. That's never gonna change."

Laurel watched as Sara hesitated before stepping forward, giving her a nod, clenching and unclenching her fists nervously. "Turn around," Laurel told her father softly. Confusion flitted across his features, then surprise, and finally hope as he turned and stood to face his youngest daughter.

"S-Sara?" Quentin stuttered.

"It's me, Dad," Sara said quietly, moving forward. "It's me. I'm here." She stepped closer, and Quentin reached out to touch her, his hand brushing over her cheek, which was wet with the tears that had begun to stream down her face. "I'm-I'm home."

"Yes, baby, you are," Quentin said, taking Sara by the shoulders and pulling her into a bear hug, Sara burying her face in the cloth of his suit coat. "You are home." Laurel sat by, smiling brilliantly as her father and sister reunited.

*DC*

The last of Brick's guards grunted as he slipped into unconsciousness, slumping against Green Arrow as the vigilante applied pressure to the thug's windpipe with his arm. Green Arrow let the man drop. He had been moving through the warehouse silently for the past twenty minutes, taking out Brick's men one by one, and now the only one left standing was the budding crime lord himself. Green Arrow moved to the office in the center of the warehouse where Brick was going over his plans to expand his criminal empire. He fired an explosive arrow, sending the door of the office flying off its hinges and barreling through after it, nocking one of the basic arrows from the flechette on his left forearm and whirling to face Brickwell.

"So, the interfering busybody decides to pay me a visit," Brick sneered. Green Arrow was struck with the fact that the last time he had seen Brick had been during the riot Diaz had started at Slabside. From what he knew, he had died at someone's hands during the riot, and been found in the morgue. Considering that was the only way out of the prison aside from the front gate and Stanley had escaped, Green Arrow could put two and two together. "What, no smart comment, Greenie?"

"Daniel Brickwell," Green Arrow said, "you have failed this city."

"Oh, come to give me a chance to atone for my crimes, have you?" Brick laughed. "You'll forgive me if I don't take you up on that offer." He picked up his radio. "Gents, we have an intruder. Whichever one of you manages to kill him will be forgiven for letting him get this far." Brick waited expectantly.

Green Arrow chuckled. "I'm afraid I spent the past twenty minutes knocking your men out and ensuring they won't bother us," he said. "This is a reckoning almost twenty years in the making, Brickwell."

"You're telling me you've been waiting twenty years to get ahold of little old me?" Brick laughed. "You gotta get yourself a girl, mate."

"No," Green Arrow said, "but without the crime you committed nineteen years ago, there would be no need for me." With that cryptic statement, Green Arrow loosed his arrow, which flew straight and true, striking Brick in the shoulder. The man hissed in pain and Green Arrow surged forward, using his bow to bash Brick in the side of the head. Brick stumbled slightly, then recovered and thrust a meaty fist into Green Arrow's side, driving the breath from the Emerald Archer's body.

"I think you'll find I'm a little harder to take down than that Chinese harlot," Brick sneered and delivered another blow to the side of Green Arrow's jaw and busting his lip open. Green Arrow spat blood from his mouth and struck back, delivering a bow-cut (an uppercut with his bow) to Brick's chin, the brass knuckle grip giving the blow more of an impact. Green Arrow backed up, giving himself space from Brick, and delivered a swift kick to Brick's sternum, driving Brick back, clutching his chest in pain. Green Arrow surged forward, pressing his advantage and delivering one, two, three blows to the side of Brick's head with the brass knuckle grip. Blood trickled from the head wound that this created, staining the brass knuckle grip in the process. With Brick out of it for the moment, Green Arrow drew one of the tranquilizer arrows from his quiver and jammed it into the side of Brick's neck, injecting him with the tranquilizer. After a few tense moments, Brick slumped forward. *3*

Green Arrow double-checked that Brick had his weapon on him, setting it on the desk before using a bolo arrow to tie the unconscious gangster to his chair. "Send a message to Pike, let him know where to find a little gift," he ordered Fyff through the comms.

"Think he'll take the bait?" Fyff asked.

"Pike or Merlyn?" Green Arrow asked.

"Both. Either," Fyff said.

"We'll see," Green Arrow mused. "I'm heading back."

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.

Chapter Notes:

*1* I've said it before, and I will probably say it many more times… writing Malcolm leaves me wanting to take a fucking shower afterwards to remove the coating of slime. Figured I'd share the pain with Oliver. It helps that I think Oliver as he stood in Crisis Part 1, where this story branched off from, would feel less-okay working with a man like Malcolm, even faking it.

*2* Laurel is still a very moral person. She didn't engage in anything like blackmail until Season 2, when she was used along with Frank Bertinelli to draw Helena into a trap. So, obviously, she's going to struggle with some of Oliver's morally gray choices. She wouldn't be Laurel otherwise.

*3* Oh, I needed this. It's been so long in this story since I wrote a good ol' chapter of Oliver beating down on the bad guys and getting descriptive with it.