Dinah Laurel Lance waited until the Bentley had pulled away from the F.B.I. office to ask her questions, particularly why Diggle was looking so somber. "Mr. Diggle, what's going on?" Laurel asked. "What kind of deal did Ollie make? When I told him that I would be at his arraignment and trial, he just gave me this sad smile." Laurel noticed her sister flinch out of the corner of her eye. "Sara, you know what's going on? What is it? Tell me, please."

"Let's wait until we're home," Sara said. "I'm gonna want a drink for this, and I think we'll all need one by the time Dig and I tell you what's happening tonight." Sara looked out the window of the Bentley, her expression as somber as Diggle's, and Laurel felt her stomach churn unpleasantly. Whatever was going on, it had to be bad. She settled back in her seat, thinking of those last moments with Ollie, of the feel of his lips on hers. There had been something desperate about that kiss on his end, but why? Did Ollie think she wouldn't stand by him now, of all times? She would need to make sure he knew that she would, no matter what. What he had said about what she meant to him was true in reverse, something she had known since that night she was abducted by Hunt's men and forced to confront the regrets and wishes she had in life.

The Bentley pulled up in front of Laurel's building soon enough, and all three of them got out, going up to Laurel and Sara's apartment, Laurel unlocking the door and stepping inside. A part of her felt relieved at walking through her front door again, but she was mostly filled with trepidation because of how Sara and Diggle were acting. "Alright, what's going on?" Laurel asked, turning to face them as they entered the living room. "The two of you are starting to scare me."

"Drinks first," Sara said heavily, going to the fridge and getting three of the low-carb beers Laurel stocked her fridge with. She handed one to Diggle and another to Laurel before nodding at the couch. Laurel and Sara took the couch and Diggle remained standing. "Laurel, while Ollie was with you and we had a moment alone, Dig told me that Oliver had enacted his Clean Slate Protocol."

"What's that?" Laurel asked quizzically.

"It was Oliver's worst-case scenario," Sara said, her breath hitching slightly, knowing how much this was going to hurt her sister. Hell, it was hurting her knowing what was coming, because Ollie had been a part of her life as much as he had been part of Laurel's. "Oliver knew that if law enforcement went after you that he would have to sacrifice himself to keep you out of prison. He did that for all of us tonight. But he also knew that by doing that, he would be serving himself up to Tempest on a platter. Clean Slate Protocol was Oliver passing the torch, because he's not going to be around anymore. He knew Tempest would kill him, whether it's tonight or when Ollie is in prison awaiting trial. So, he set things up so that there would be a fallback position, a new base of operations for me to take over from. Clean Slate Protocol is Ollie dying and me taking over in the fight against Tempest."

"No," Laurel whispered in horror. "Please, Sara, tell me that that's not true. Please, tell me that tonight Ollie wasn't saying goodbye permanently."

"I'm sorry, Laurel," Sara said, choking up, setting her beer aside and pulling the trembling Laurel into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"No!" Laurel howled in grief, her mind again remembering the desperation with which Oliver kissed her, his sad expression when he said goodbye, when she told him she would be at his arraignment and trial, two events that might not happen depending on how fast Tempest moved. "No!" Diggle bowed his head as the young woman's grief affected him, as well. *1*

*DC*

Oliver Queen climbed into the SUV, his hands still cuffed behind his back, and sat in the back seat. In the seat beside him sat Alex Danvers, and in the passenger's seat was Agent Trimble. An agent called Rossi was going to drive the SUV. It would be one of three SUVs, the other two providing escort to the federal holding facility. Trimble was taking no chances of something like the transport with Helena happening, it seemed. Both the leading and trailing SUVs were full of agents in tactical gear to provide protection in case someone attacked the convoy. Oliver mused to himself that he might actually make it to the federal holding facility and have to spend the night there. It depended on if Malcolm or whoever he hired could get the route the convoy would take to the holding facility from the field office. It would also depend on if Malcolm decided to go with overwhelming force to wipe out his hated adversary which, considering it was Malcolm, who tended towards grandiosity due to his god complex, was highly likely.

Oliver turned and looked out the window as the convoy left the underground garage, seeing the crowds of reporters all taking pictures of the convoy and capturing the moment on film. He wondered if any of these reporters would end up following the convoy like Clark and Lois had. He briefly amused himself with the idea that Clark, Lois, and Jimmy would try to follow this convoy the way they had the one that was carrying Helena to the courthouse, but Oliver seemed to recall them being camped outside the field office with the rest of the reporters. And even if they did follow, they weren't going to aid and abet a wanted felon escaping from federal custody, not if they wanted to see the light of day again. No, if something did happen tonight, that would be the end of the line. It depended on if Tempest decided to risk a hit or if they would settle for someone in Iron Heights or Slabside shivving Oliver.

"Was it worth it?" Alex asked from the side.

"Was what worth it, Alex?" Oliver said, purposely using her first name.

"It's Agent Danvers, and you know exactly what I mean," Alex said.

"Yes," Oliver said, looking out at the city as it passed by. "My city is worth every sacrifice I've ever made, and it was worth sacrificing my freedom for the people I care about. Isn't that what your profile says about me? That I would do anything to save others?"

"Yes, it does," Alex said after a moment. "We were counting on that, actually, to bring you in by bringing in the Lance sisters. And it worked."

"It did," Oliver acknowledged. "Congratulations."

"You're awfully calm for someone who is facing twenty years in prison," Alex observed.

"I've made peace with my fate, Alex," Oliver said. "I'm just sorry there could be so much collateral damage."

"What are you talking about?" Alex asked. "You got your friends off free and clear. And it's Agent Danvers."

"I don't see much point in standing on ceremony at this point, Alex," Oliver said dryly. "And do you really think Tempest is going to let me go to trial or even my arraignment? It may not be tonight, it may not even be in the morning, but I'm a man with a target on his back. It's only a matter of time before Tempest strikes to deal with me permanently."

"You're paranoid, Mr. Queen," Alex replied.

"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," Oliver said. Alex scoffed and sat back in her seat, but Oliver noticed she was more tense than she had been a minute ago. He heard Trimble mumble something into his radio, talking to the other teams, and acknowledgements from the other SUVs. Oliver looked out the window, resigned to the truth. Tonight was likely the night that he died. He wondered if it would be quick or if Malcolm had ordered his people to take their time. If he had, then there was a chance that Oliver might actually get out of this. If not… well, he had put his contingencies into place. Sara would take control at the new base underneath his old/future campaign office and take the fight to Tempest. Naomi had been sent to the new base with Sara's gear. Oliver mused over the fact that Sara might keep the new gear he had ordered for himself (a suit like the one he had worn from after he took down Count Vertigo following H.I.V.E.'s fall to the end of his conflict with the Ninth Circle and a new recurve bow) as a sort of memorial to him. Diggle would keep Laurel safe from Malcolm until the bastard was taken down by Sara, and Oliver knew Laurel would do right by his family company.

He had also made out a will when he set up those contingencies. Half of the Queen fortune as it stood would go to charitable foundations all across the world to help as many people as possible in the world. A fund would be set up that would support C.N.R.I. for years to come, delivering an annual sum into it. The remainder would be split evenly between Thea and Laurel, with Thea's half being held in trust by Laurel until Thea turned twenty-one. Eighteen was simply too young to have access to that kind of money, as Oliver's antics when he was younger had proven. Better for Thea to gain some life experience and appreciate the money when she finally had access to it rather than let her use it to party. If she wanted to party, she could use whatever she got from the Merlyn estate, or what was left of it after Malcolm was dealt with. *2*

They had been traveling about fifteen minutes when bright headlights glared into Oliver's eyes. He had only a moment to register what was happening before the dump truck smashed into the SUV he was in, sending it crashing onto its side, the door on Oliver's side bent inward, pressing on his right thigh. Oliver was thrown sideways and hung there, held in place by his seatbelt. He looked down and saw Alex had been knocked unconscious from hitting her head against the inside of the car. He could hear both Trimble and Rossi stirring. The SUV was on its side, and Oliver could hear the sound of gunfire outside. So, this was it. Well, if he was going to go out, it was going to be going out fighting. He refused to just sit here helplessly. Oliver dislocated his right thumb and slipped his hand through the restraints, albeit with some difficulty since they were tightened quite a bit. He put his thumb back into place, then dislocated the left one and did the same. He let the handcuffs drop down onto the window beside Alex's head and then unbuckled himself, dropping down. "What do you think you're doing?" Trimble groaned.

"Going out with a fight," Oliver replied. "It's me they want, Agent Trimble, so I'm going out there. Tell Alex I'm sorry about this." Oliver stooped down and seized Alex's weapon from the holster at her waist.

"You do this, they'll go to prison," Trimble said.

"Wrong," Oliver said. "I fulfilled the terms of the deal, Agent Trimble. You and Ms. Novak failed to make my appearing before a judge to plead guilty to everything a condition of the deal, assuming that with everything else in there that that was implied. But implied doesn't mean solidly there. If you attempt to arrest Dig, Sara, or Laurel on charges related to my activities again, then Jean and Laurel will both tear you apart and leave the F.B.I. with a second black eye, since you're already getting one thanks to this ambush. Now, sorry, Agent Trimble, but I have to be going. I have a date with destiny."

Oliver slid between the roof and the seat into the back of the SUV and shot the window in the back with two bullets. He kicked the compromised window out. If he remembered right, the Sig Sauers issued to federal agents carried twelve nine-millimeter rounds, so he had ten bullets left. He exited the back of the SUV and moved into cover behind the front of the dump truck, spotting men in combat gear ahead of him. Once he was in cover, he considered his options. No one would question his decision to kill these men since he was outnumbered and even the F.B.I. would have been shooting to kill. But on the other, he was still trying to be an inspiration, and taking the easy way out would compromise that. He had already decided when he returned that he would kill only when necessary, and the truth was that he was a good enough shot with any weapon that he could kneecap every one of the attackers.

Oliver ducked out of cover, lining up his shots and taking down three of the attackers as they moved towards him, kneecapping them. They went down with screams of pain. Oliver moved to the other side of the dump truck and checked that side. There were four more coming up on him. Seven men? That was all? Then again, it looked like they had used a rocket launcher to take out the escort vehicles since they were nothing more than flaming husks now and there was no sign of the F.B.I. agents that had been inside of them. Clearly, Malcolm and Tempest were trying to make a statement to anyone who might get an inkling to betray them. Oliver ducked out of cover and squeezed off a pair of shots, kneecapping two of the men before ducking back into cover as rapid-fire bullets struck the side of the dump truck. Oliver waited until there was a lull in the gunfire, then ducked back around and caught the final two attackers in the knees. Well, that was that.

The sound of a gun cocking behind him caused an instant reaction. He ducked even as the gun fired, causing his ears to ring, and disarmed the man behind him. He grabbed the man by the top of his vest and delivered three quick punches to the man's face. "So, you hid behind the others like a coward," Oliver said, forcing the man to turn around and catching him in a chokehold. "Typical mercenary." The mercenary struggled in Oliver's grip, then slackened. Oliver let him fall to the ground and searched him, finding a burner phone in his pocket. This would be the phone he was meant to call Malcolm on, and Malcolm's number would the last one to have called this phone. Oliver pulled up the call history, found the number, and dialed it, putting the phone to his ear.

"I hope you're calling with good news, Mr. MacGregor," Malcolm's smooth voice said as he picked up.

"Sorry to disappoint, Malcolm, but your mercenary is going to wake up with one hell of a headache and his men will be laid up in the hospital on top of being charged with the murders of eight federal agents," Oliver said coolly.

"Oliver," Malcolm said coldly. "I have to admit, I'm impressed that you managed to deceive me all of this time. But then, I suspect Talia al Ghul imparted as much knowledge on you as possible. It was she who trained you in Russia, was it not? It could only have been her or Lady Shiva, and the latter is highly selective about whom she trains."

"What, and those are the only two world-class female martial artists?" Oliver asked sarcastically. "The misogyny of your League training is showing, Malcolm."

"And you show you lack the conviction that I would have expected from a student of Talia al Ghul," Malcolm returned. "Clearly, she's grown lax in how she imparts her training, thus proving her father right, that she is unworthy to become the Demon's Head."

"You should have left well-enough alone, Malcolm," Oliver said. "I was going to prison. I had made my peace with it. But now you've given me the opportunity to escape and start planning a comeback. And I promise you, Malcolm, that when Green Arrow returns, he won't be going for outliers anymore. He'll be targeting your precious cabal of allies. I will bring them down, one by one, while you can only watch and fume impotently, unable to act without attracting Sarab's attention, and thus Ra's'. This is the end of Tempest, Malcolm."

"I promise you, Oliver, that should Green Arrow return, I will target those you care for," Malcolm said. "I will kill John Diggle, Laurel Lance, Sara Lance, Samantha and William Clayton… I will find anyone and everyone you care about and kill them, save for Thea. Thea, I will continue to teach the proper way of the world, and thus, in your eyes, corrupt your sister as the ultimate form of revenge. And I do not fear you, Oliver. You lack the conviction to do all that is necessary to win this war. You will lose everyone, breaking your spirit, and then breaking your body will be a mere formality."

"We'll see," Oliver said, knowing his loved ones were safe for the time being. "Good luck, Malcolm. You're going to need it." Oliver hung up and tossed the phone aside before tossing Alex's gun on the ground. He turned and began jogging away. He had a long journey to the Glades and the new base of operations. It was only after he had left some distance between himself and the scene of the attack that he realized he should have called Laurel and Sara, let them know he was alive. Well, he could do that when he reached his new base, and that's if they didn't hear about it from Quentin beforehand. Not to mention, it might be very late (or perhaps very early) before Oliver reached his new base. It was going to be a few hours' walk, after all, and he was going to have to avoid detection.

*DC*

Laurel Lance was morose, her expression haunted, staring into space. Sara had held her as she cried out her grief at losing Oliver for a second time, this time permanently, and now she was simply lifeless. Sara was trying to get her to eat the Chinese food they had ordered, but Laurel wasn't hungry. She wasn't anything. Very soon, someone would come and tell her that Oliver was dead, or worse, she would find out from the evening news. Laurel tried to imagine what the funeral would be like, how she would have to watch Malcolm Merlyn act like he was mourning Oliver when in fact he had been the one to have him killed. Thea would never know her father killed her brother. Tommy, at least, would have to live with the guilt that by exposing Oliver he got his best friend and brother in all but blood killed. The thought of Oliver lying cold and still in a coffin brought a renewed sense of grief to Laurel, but she couldn't cry anymore. She had cried herself out.

Finally, there was a knock on the door. Laurel stood and moved woodenly to the door, checking outside through the peephole to make sure it wasn't mercs or something. It was her father, and he had officers with him. Why did he have officers with him? Had he finally decided to arrest Sara for what she had told him? Laurel reluctantly opened the door. "What do you want?" she asked hoarsely, Quentin studying her red, puffy eyes and reddened face.

"I need to search your place, Laurel," Quentin said.

"No," Laurel said. "Get a warrant. And you can't charge me with anything, anyways, Dad. A deal's a deal. Nudocerdo can complain all he wants, but the F.B.I. trumps the S.C.P.D."

"This isn't about the deal Queen made to save you and Sara," Quentin said. "Thanks for telling me you were released, by the way. I had to find out from the news."

"Well, it's not like we're on speaking terms after the last time you were here," Laurel said caustically. "If it's not about Oliver's deal, what is it about?"

"The convoy transporting Queen got hit," Quentin said.

"A rescue? Or a hit?" Laurel asked, playing dumb since she wasn't to know what had likely happened.

"Looks like it was a hit," Quentin said, and despite herself, Laurel's lip trembled. "Eight F.B.I. agents are dead, and the attackers were all kneecapped except for one who looks like he got put in a chokehold. But Queen's M.I.A."

"What?" Laurel whispered.

"Queen escaped," Quentin said. "And we need to make sure he's not hiding here. If only so you don't get into any more trouble."

Laurel studied her father a moment, then her expression hardened. "As I said, get a warrant," she said icily.

"I won't be able to get one until morning," Quentin scowled at his oldest.

"Then I'll see you in the morning," Laurel said tightly. "Thanks for the update on Oliver. Goodnight, Dad." She shut the door in his face and locked the door. She heard him curse and the sound of footsteps heading down the hall. She moved slowly to the living room, feeling light-headed, and stumbled, falling to her knees as she entered, hands going to her mouth as her sobbing renewed, this time in relief.

"He's gone," Sara whispered, tears trickling from her eyes.

"No," Laurel managed, breathing out the word in a sob. "He-He escaped. The convoy got attacked but he escaped." Sara stared at her older sister for a moment, then she was down on the floor with Laurel, the sisters clinging to each other as sobs of relief shook their bodies. Diggle lowered himself onto the couch, a relieved smile on his face. Oliver was alive, which meant they hadn't lost a man yet, and with any luck, they wouldn't. Oliver would head to the secondary base, Dig knew, and boy, was Naomi going to be in for a surprise when he showed up. For now, Dig would stay and celebrate this small victory with the Lance sisters. Tomorrow he began his new job as Laurel's bodyguard and driver, which he had talked to her about, informing her that it was Oliver's last request of him. Laurel had accepted, especially after Diggle and Sara had explained the very real danger she was in from Malcolm Merlyn now that she was the only thing standing in the way of him seizing control of the Queen fortune and Queen Consolidated through his connection to Thea. *3*

This long day was finally at an end, and that end was not as grim and hopeless as Diggle had feared would happen when Oliver told him what Clean Slate Protocol was.

*DC*

Oliver entered the empty space that had been used as a campaign office for both Sebastian Blood and him in the previous timeline, but which would see a new purpose if Oliver's plans for this space went through. He needed something to cover the base, after all, because the F.B.I. would be searching empty buildings and the like that could be used as an entranceway to a new underground base. It was about midnight now, and Oliver had had to hide from a handful of patrol cars on his way here, taking detours through alleyways and down one-way streets, avoiding the more crowded streets and keeping his head down, hoping that if someone did recognize him that they wouldn't call the cops or would be sympathetic to Green Arrow. Oliver moved a panel aside and flipped the switch to the hidden elevator, stepping onboard. The false wall/elevator door closed behind him, and the elevator descended to the underground base that in another lifetime had been called the Bunker. But he felt he should call it something else. Maybe… the Quiver? Yes, that sounded about right.

The door in front of him slid open, and he stepped out, noticing Naomi Singh hiding behind a table, a handgun in her grasp and pointing shakily at the elevator. "Mr. Queen?" she asked in surprise.

"Hello, Naomi," Oliver said. "Long story short, Tempest's attack failed and I'm back in the game. I'm sorry, but it looks like we're going to be roommates for a while."

"Well, at least I won't have to adjust to having someone new in charge or worry about going back under Waller's thumb anytime soon," Naomi said, standing and setting the gun on the desk. "You did a good job setting up this place, Mr. Queen. It's about as good as the Bunker was. Gonna call this place something? Bunker 2.0, maybe?"

"I'm thinking of calling it the Quiver," Oliver said with a smile, thinking of how that was a name that Felicity, Barry, Cisco, and Kara would all have approved of while Sara would mock him for giving his base of operations a 'cute nickname'.

"Sounds good," Naomi said. "Well, you stocked this pretty well. Food, changes of clothes, you even put in a washer and dryer, which is more than A.R.G.U.S. did. You really wanted to make this a full-service place, didn't you?"

"I knew there might come a day when I needed to take refuge here and wanted it to have all of the amenities of home," Oliver said with a small, sad smile. "I suppose we should turn in. We're going to have an early day tomorrow, since we have to talk to Waller and start setting this place up as a combat command center."

"Waller is not going to be happy about losing the Bunker," Naomi warned.

"Waller's never happy," Oliver returned. Naomi tilted her head from side to side, considering that, then nodded. The two retreated to the cots that had been set up on the second level, near the training area, and laid back on them. Naomi fell asleep pretty quick; apparently, she had been waiting for Sara or someone to show up and now that someone had, she was out. Oliver, meanwhile, remained awake, looking up at the ceiling of the room and thinking about what had happened. This was always going to be what had happened, he reflected as he considered his current circumstances. His open and public actions would always have led to him being exposed eventually, especially once he started to break under the pressure. In hindsight, he could see where it had started. It had started during his therapy session right before the mob war began, and it had continued through it, resulting in his oversharing with the Daily Planet reporters and even the F.B.I. agents, his increasing conflict with Thea's attitude and Malcolm's psychopathic nature, culminating in his and Malcolm's conversation tonight. At least now, Oliver reflected, it would be an open and honest conflict between them, like he had wanted.

Oliver smiled slightly as a phrase he had said many times in the past few weeks came to mind, a phrase that had special meaning now. Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow, and the Green Arrow is Oliver Queen. His two identities were one now, perhaps as they should always have been, just as Dr. Green had said would need to happen as no man could deny his true nature for long. What that would bring about in terms of him being able to inspire heroes to rise up, well, only the future would be able to show him that.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.

Chapter Notes:

*1* This was a tough scene to write even though I knew what would come later in the chapter. Laurel's been through an emotional and physical ringer in this story, methinks. But at least that means she gets to grow and develop as a character, which is more than Guggenheim and co ever did.

*2* Oliver would obviously make sure his will was iron-clad in the case of his death so that things would go the way he wanted, and since he wouldn't want Malcolm to have any chance of seizing control of things, just like with his contingencies for his being arrested or disappearance, he wouldn't allow Thea any sort of control regarding the Queen fortune and, since Thea technically *isn't* a Queen, she can't really challenge the will of the only Queen left (that people know of) as to what happens to the fortune and the company.

*3* And there's the pay-off to the first scene's moment of despair, the joy at learning Oliver is alive and has escaped.