Oliver had scaled the closest building in moments despite the lack of Mirakuru power in his bloodstream.

While he was tempted to sink into the shadows completely and return to the Queen Mansion, something made him unusually curious to how Laurel would portray the killer who had saved her to the police, in particular her father.

He watched like a silent guardian as police cars pulled up, and unsurprisingly, Detective Lance be the first man on scene.

Father rushed towards daughter, forgetting his training in favour of instinct. Laurel buried her face in her father's chest, looking every bit like a naïve young girl.

Her idealism will get her killed, Oliver thought, his cold jaded outlook warned him of the danger of becoming attached to someone so weak.

Detective Hilton also rushed out onto the scene but with considerably more caution than his partner.

He checked each of the victims, shaking his head at Lance when he discovered the two dead men.

"What happened? Are you hurt Laurel?" Detective Lance, while (in Oliver's opinion) an idiot who relied on the unreliable Law, was at the very least a father that undeniably cared for his daughter with the fatherly compassion and kindred closeness which was missing from Oliver's relationship with his father, Robert Queen.

"I'm fine, dad. I'm okay."

"What happened to you?"

"After the dead body was found at the party, I gave my statement before waiting to make sure that everyone was okay. I spoke with Tommy and then began making my way home."

"Merlyn? What were you doing with him?" Lance's eyes brightened with disgust and anger.

"Don't act ignorant Dad. He was asking about our relationship now that Oliver is back."

Oliver tilted his head, so Laurel and Tommy had gotten together after he had 'died'.

It wasn't much of a surprise to Oliver, especially with the scent of Laurel pervading Tommy's clothes, and the intimate way they acted.

"And what did you say?"

"That is not necessary right now, Dad."

"And what happened to these men Laurel?" Hilton rescued Laurel from her over-protective father by the means of a professional interruption.

"When I entered the alley, four men jumped out – one of them had a gun and the other's had knifes. I remember screaming, and then a man came. He jumped out of nowhere, he fought the men."

"Did he talk to you?"

"Yes. I asked him who he was and he said he was a concerned citizen."

"Why were you even walking home alone in the first place?"

"My car had suddenly broken down. I thought that is was bad luck, but now I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?"

"Those men – they were hired by Adam Hunt.

"I told you not to go after him, Laurel. And look it almost got you killed."

Laurel turned away from her father, "Do we have to do this here?" She said exasperatedly, walking away to lean against the nearest Police car.

Hilton moved towards Lance, "Two of them are dead, the other two unconscious. One of them was tortured. Whoever saved your girl was a professional."

Lance flinched at the notion that a professional, likely mercenary, killer had saved her daughter.

"The only thing he left behind was a knife in one of the men's throat. It is of plain but good quality metal – unfortunately I doubt we will find anything on it, if this was really a professional, he would not be so careless of leave fingerprints or any identifying marks." Hilton continued.

"I'll get her home." Lance said quietly, "And return to the station afterwards."

Oliver watched as Lance and Laurel left, it was worth staying behind if just to see the face of Detective Lance when he was told that a killer had saved his daughter's life.

While Oliver did not have any true vendetta against Lance, he had always clashed with the man on pure principle.

It was strange that a man working in the police force had such a black and white view of the world, and what had always frustrated Oliver was that Quinton had indoctrinated his daughters into that same naïve belief.

Even when he was Ollie Queen the playboy billionaire scion, he had a more realistic view of the world – at least in terms of what could be considered good and evil.

Habitually, Oliver re-checked the gun in his waistband and the knife in his boot.

Once certain that the weapons were secure, he began to make his way towards the Queen mansion once more but this time he remained out of sight on the rooftops.

…./|\...

It was almost daylight when Oliver flitted through the second floor window of the Queen Mansion.

He quickly changed out of his street clothes, transferring the knife from his boot to his belt, and keeping the gun in his waistband, careful to wear a long jacket to conceal the extra balk.

He slipped quietly down the sweeping staircase, not wishing to wake any of the few occupants of the house or alert Rasia who was undoubtedly in the kitchen or laundry, readying the household staff for the day ahead.

A soft smile crept onto his face as he saw Thea curled up on the lounge in the sitting room. Make-up smudged, hair tousled, and her blue dress rumpled, her body covered by a soft chenille blanket.

Dangling in her clutched grip was the Hozen.

Oliver crept out of the room and up to her bedroom, intent on getting something to surprise her with.

He gathered a simple pair of black leggings, short brown boots, and a thin green shirt patterned with an elegant design of creeping poison ivy.

Sneaking down to the kitchen, he cornered Rasia and had breakfast transferred onto a tray.

She was still asleep when he re-entered the room. Light dappled the carpet, not quite reaching her face.

He lay the tray on the coffee table and placed the folded clothes beside her, before retiring to a comfortable armchair on the edge of her vision.

With the patience of a hunter, he waited for well over an hour before Thea finally woke from her restful slumber. Her eyes fluttering against the bright morning light.

A soft groan escaped from her mouth as she lifted her weary body up on its trembling muscles.

Running her hand through her dishevelled hair, she was assaulted by fatigue, yawning and stretching her body like a lithe cat.

Eventually her eyes rested on the breakfast tray and the clothes, and subsequently widened in surprise.

Thea thought idly, No one had done that since Oliver died on the Queen's Gambit. Oliver!

Her head whipped around, scanning the room carefully.

Lazily kicking his feet, Oliver greeted his little sister with a rueful grin, "Good morning, Speedy."

"Says who." Thea grumbled, the events of last night finally catching up, the room spinning and her head pounding from her excessive hangover.

A comfortable silence settled over the room as Thea began devouring the delicious food Rasia had laid out for her.

"Where were you?" She finally asked.

"I needed to clear my head."

"So you run off? There was a dead man, Ollie!"

"I know." He calmly replied.

Thea glared tiredly at Oliver, torn between wanting to interrogate him more and the exhaustion that settled over her body, "Just… please don't do that again. I can't lose you – not again."

On impulse, Oliver spanned the room with three quick strides and wrapped his arms carefully around her, "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"Don't." Thea yelled back angrily, "Don't make promises that you can't keep."

"I'm not." Oliver said firmly, "I promise you, Thea, that I will not leave, not if you need me."

Tears spilled from her eyes and she buried her face in his shoulder, "I waited for you. Last night."

"I'm sorry, Speedy. You were already asleep when I came back, I didn't want to wake you." Oliver twisted the truth easily, not mentioning that he had only arrived back less than three hours ago.

"If you ever need me. Yell my name. Call for me. No matter what I'm doing or where I am, I will come."

Thea smiled weakly in reply. Before whacking Oliver's hand as he grabbed at her toast, "Get your own."

Oliver grinned back, munching on the stolen toast, he had not felt such lightness since the Mirakuru had poisoned his body and mind.

"You're looking happy." Thea noticed.

"I used to dream about this, you know? On the Island." Oliver said wistfully, "Just being together, as brother and sister."

Thea beamed at him, "Did you dream about anything else?"

"Ice cream." Oliver laughed.

Once again a comfortable silence fell over the two siblings as Thea drank her coffee and Oliver devoured the last of the buttered toast.

"You said you wanted to talk later." Thea spoke suddenly, "At the party."

Oliver sighed, "Thea, I'm not sure this is the right time-"

"Ollie!" Thea whined.

Relenting, Oliver rubbed his neck warily, "Thea. I understand that you haven't had a particularly… stable past few years. But I don't want you to make the wrong choices."

"Wrong choices? You have no idea what it was like. Dad was in hospital for weeks, mum ignored me, and you? You were dead."

"I know."

"No, you don't. Mum had Dad, I had no one. You guys act like it is all cool, forget about the last five years, well I can't. For me its kinda permanently in there. So I'm sorry if I turned out some major disappointment, but this? Me? This is the best I could do, with what I had to work with."

"Thea!" Oliver snapped, "You are not a disappointment, you'll never be a disappointment to me. But I cannot in good conscious let you make mistakes that will either kill you or haunt you for the rest of your life. On that Island I was able to reflect on my fucking pathetic life and I realised that I don't want that. And neither do you. You aren't the only one who was damaged by these past years – and you're not the only one who doesn't want to lose a sibling."

Thea stared at Oliver in a mixture of sudden shock and numb surprise; while Oliver was always an expressive person with his emotions, Thea had never seen Oliver get so angry and self-righteous – and he had certainly never swore or insulted anyone, let alone her, in this way.

With a deep breath he continued his rant of pent-up aggression and loneliness, "Look, Speedy. I get that Mum and Dad want to forget the last few years, and in some ways I wish I could as well. As much as everyone wants to believe that I haven't changed, they are wrong. But I- I became something on that island, someone you wouldn't recognise. So I letting them all see me like I was because it is easier and kinder for them. I'm not sure who I am now, but I can't let you become who I was or who I am now."

He stood up, storming out of the room, his body shaking – and he wasn't sure if it was in anger, sadness, or the instability of the Mirakuru.

…/|\...

A lone man walked quickly down the sweeping stairs into one of the Queen Mansion's many gardens.

His scruffy white tinged bread and balding head were the only indications to his age. Wearing a simple brown jacket and dark jeans he lurked in the shadows, ready to report to his superiors.

"The police failed to identify the men I hired to kidnap Oliver. They never will. Should we arrange another abduction?"

"No." Robert spoke with a finality that belayed his worry for his son.

"There are other ways of finding out what my son knows." Moira clarified somewhat ominously.

Robert Queen dismissed the subordinate with an indifferent nod of his head, and he waited until he was out of earshot before turning worriedly to his wife, "What are we going to do about Oliver?"

"You're going to do nothing." Moira all but sneered coldly, "Don't think I don't know about you and the new secretary."

Robert clenched his jaw but made no attempt to deny the accusation, "That has no relation to our son. What are you planning Moira?"

"Nothing that will hurt him, I assure you."

"I'm afraid that I find no assurance in your words. It was, after all, your idea to have him kidnapped by those thugs."

"It was a mistake, it will not happen again. Besides it has become quite clear that Oliver has not changed his nature, even after the last five years. Besides, violence will not be necessary to truly test Oliver's knowledge."

"And pray tell, what is necessary?" Robert scowled.

"Time." Was the simple calculated reply.