A/N: I don't own Arrow or its characters. Please remember to review ;)
xxx
The second time Roy sees Thea it's a coincidence that only occurs because of a string of seriously bad luck.
He's walking through the Glades after running some drug money for a guy he knows. Roy's not in a gang but he'll happily do a job for the money. He'll work for any of them, which means he knows all the major players in the Glades and has their respect but isn't beholden to anyone.
He's done for the night and thinking about swinging by Big Belly Burger on his way home when he comes across a gangbanger knocking around a girl in an alleyway.
The girl looks terrified, crying for help and flailing her arms in an attempt to escape, and before Roy knows it he's running right into them.
The guy doesn't even see his fist coming.
Roy yells at the girl to run and turns his attention back to the man, who swings wildly at him. Roy ducks the punch easily and strikes out, kicking him behind his kneecaps. The guy falls to the pavement and Roy is on him in an instant.
His punches are brutal and he doesn't stop. He strikes over and over, until all he can feel is the rage and everything around him bleeds red.
He comes back to himself in the backseat of a police car.
He's so drained from his rage-out and disoriented at what's happening that he doesn't even try to fight it.
When you grow up in the Glades getting arrested is par for the course.
At the station a detective with a tough accent and a world weary gaze books him, taking his wallet and phone and putting them in a plastic bag.
"You can get these back after your arraignment," he tells him.
"My what?"
The detective sighs. "Your arraignment, Mr. Harper."
"What's that?"
"You have to talk to a judge, plead your case. And no one gets arraigned until the morning, so get comfortable."
Roy blinks, suddenly feeling nauseous and way out of his depth. "Can't someone come bail me out?"
"Your bail will be set by the judge at the arraignment."
He rubs his eyes. "Don't I get a lawyer? I want a lawyer."
Detective Lance winces. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that."
He's put in a holding room to wait for the lawyer. Roy's hungry and sleepy and all around pissed the fuck off. He was helping someone, isn't there some Good Samaritan loophole he can exploit?
After what feels like an eternity the door opens and a slim, elegantly dressed woman glides in, a file in her hands.
"Mr. Harper," she says coolly, taking a seat opposite him. "My name is Laurel Lance. I'm your attorney."
He stares at her. "You're my lawyer."
The diamond studs in her ears gleam. "That's right."
"You don't look like a public defender."
"That's because I'm not. I do pro-bono work on behalf of CNRI."
"What does that mean?"
She sweeps her honey blond hair over her shoulder and gives him a smug smile. "It means that I'm excellent at my job. All you need to do is keep your mouth shut and everything will be fine."
She opens his file and skims it. "They charged you with assault with a deadly weapon-"
"What the fuck?" Roy interrupts.
She sighs impatiently. "Please be quiet, Mr. Harper while I explain this to you-"
"I didn't have a weapon!"
She raises a perfectly tweezed eyebrow at him. "The man you attacked is in the hospital right now. If a person is capable of fighting the way you fight their fists can be declared a weapon."
"I didn't attack him," Roy says sullenly.
"Then how did he get two black eyes, a broken nose, and a nasty concussion?"
"He was to hurt some girl in an alley and she was crying for help, and no one did anything! What, was I just supposed to walk away and let her get raped likes girls do every night in the Glades? Where were the cops then, huh?"
She frowns. "Be that as it may, it's not your job to enforce justice."
"Then whose job is it?"
"The law's," she says primly.
"You know, that guy I hit was working for the Bertinelli's."
That gets her attention. "How do you know that?" she asks quickly.
Roy gives her a sly smile. "I get around. I have a lot of friends."
"Friends," she snorts. "Sure."
"Aren't you interested in what I know?" he asks. Maybe he can flip a mid level dealer for a deal.
"I'm not a detective Mr. Harper, I'm not interested in leveraging any information you may posses for a lesser sentence."
"Why not?" He scowls.
She smiles widely at him. "Because I don't need it. Sure, you have a few misdemeanors, but you've never committed a violent crime before. And when I explained the circumstances to the D.A. he was willing to work out a deal."
He stares at her blankly. "You already got me a deal?"
"I told you I was good at my job." His new guardian angle slides a piece of paper and a pen across the table to him. "Sign on the dotted line, please."
He picks up the paper, skimming over the legal jargon. "What's this?"
"Your plea bargain."
"What's it say?"
"That you plead guilty."
"What, I thought you said-"
"I've bargained you down to aggravated assault which is a lesser charge, and based on the identity of the man in question I'm confident that the judge will be lenient in your sentencing."
Roy's hand freezes halfway to the pen. "Sentencing?"
She gives him a soft smile and suddenly she's not sharp and hard looking, she's beautiful. "I'm recommending court ordered anger management and parole."
"Sounds fun," he sighs, and signs where Laurel tells him to.
Laurel works her magic in the courtroom and by nine the next morning Roy's released into her care, following her out of the courthouse and blinking in the harsh sunlight.
"Come on," Laurel says, leading him to her car. "I got you an appointment in an hour."
"Huh?" he says. He snatched a few hours of sleep in a jail cell before the arraignment but it obviously wasn't enough, because he trips over his own feet getting into her car.
"Anger management," she reminds him. "Ten sessions. First one is today."
"Wow, you really waste no time," he grumbles. "Any way we can fit in a caffeine fix?"
She smiles. "You got it."
"Isn't this kind of above and beyond?" he asks, leaning back in his seat. "Or do you give all the criminals rides around town?"
Laurel shrugs. "You're just a kid."
"I'm nineteen."
"A kid."
"So? What do you care?"
"My boyfriend died in the earthquake last year," she says casually.
"I'm sorry," he says, shocked by her willingness to open up to him, a stranger.
"It's alright," she says with a wan smile. "I was a mess, for months. And then I realized that I couldn't bring him back, but I could make a difference. I could honor him by helping other people, especially in the Glades."
Roy stares at her in shock. "Your boyfriend dies and you deal with it by giving legal advice to losers in the Glades? You need your head checked, lady."
Laurel laughs and swings the car into a drive-through McDonalds and buys him a breakfast sandwich and a large coffee.
"So," Roy says, taking a large swing of his coffee. "You're helping me because you're on some Mother Teresa mission to make a difference?"
Laurel shrugs. "What can I say, work is my life."
"You should really get out more," Roy says.
"You're lucky I don't," she says. "Or you'd be in a jail cell right now."
She drives them to downtown Starling City and pulls up to a four story building with glittering glass windows.
"This is you," she says. "Here." She pulls a pile of papers out of her handbag and gives them to him. "You need to get these signed after each session, okay?"
"Okay," Roy grumbles.
"Hey, one last thing," Laurel says. "What you said before, about knowing things about certain people in the Glades."
"Yeah?"
"I have a friend who might be interested in that information."
Roy raises an eyebrow. "A friend?"
"That's right. Would it be alright if I tell him about you?"
"Sure," Roy shrugs.
"Great." Laurel pulls a business card out of her wallet. "I'll be in touch."
xxx
Roy's appointment is in a fucking therapist office on the third floor of the building, specializing, according to the plaque on the door, in adolescent behavioral problems.
Roy can't help but sneer and give the secretary attitude when he checks in.
Where he comes from, therapy is for pussies.
He takes a seat on an uncomfortable chair in the waiting when it happens. All of a sudden the hairs on the back of Roy's neck stand up and when he looks up there she is.
Thea.
She stands in the doorway staring at him. When he notices her she raises a hand up in greeting. Roy lifts his hand up to mirror her, and is overcome by a strange feeling, like he can feel her hand touching his hand from across the room.
"Thea." A tall guy with sandy blond hair snatches her hand. "Come on, you're going to be late for school."
The guy drags her into the hallway and Thea waves goodbye, and then she's gone.
xxx
"What were you doing?" Ollie inquires, holding her hand tightly as they walk into the elevator, like she's a toddler who can't be trusted.
"I thought I forgot my sweater," she lies, thinking of Roy's surprised face at seeing her.
He gives her a weird look. "You're not wearing a sweater."
"Exactly."
Her brother sighs as they exit the elevator and walk down the hall and out into the morning sunshine.
The last thing Thea ever wants to do on Thursday mornings is get up extra early for a seven am therapy appointment, but it's the only time Oliver is free to take her.
"How was it today?" he asks tentatively as they get in the car.
She shrugs, toying with the hem of her plaid skirt. The only thing worse than going to therapy is talking about therapy.
"Okay, then," he says, turning onto the main road. "Excited for school?"
He smirks at her and she glares.
"Whatever," she drones. "School's lame."
Oliver laughs. "Don't I know it."
"Then why do I have to go?" she whines.
"Because Mom would roll over in her grave if I let you bail on school."
"That's low, Ollie. And way too early in the day to play the dead mom card."
"You're going to school, Speedy. End of discussion."
"Can we at least stop for muffins? I want a blueberry muffin. Starbucks is right across the street from school."
"We're already running late from your little space-out in the hallway."
"Please?" She pouts at him. "My parents are dead. I'm just a poor orphan girl who has to live with her sadistic big brother. Don't you think I deserve a muffin?"
"I'm not a sadist," Oliver grumbles, but he stops at Starbucks anyway and buys her a blueberry muffin and a latte to go, just like she knew he would.