As Oliver walked up the sandstone stairs to the great double wooden doors of the Queen Mansion, his enhanced senses picked up the livid tone of his mother berating Diggle.
"I hired you to protect my son. Now I'm not a professional bodyguard but it seems to me that the first requirement would be managing to stay next to the man you're hired to protect."
Oliver tried not to laugh ironically, his mother was the last person who should scold someone for failure of obligations – she was already a failure of a mother, he could attest to that.
She was also wilfully oblivious to the impossibility of the task she had set for Diggle, no bodyguard, no matter the experience, would be able to keep him in his sights if he did not want them to.
"With all due respect, mam, I never had a client that didn't want my protection." Diggle's dulcet voice vibrated through the air, an underlying resentment building under the calm professional façade
Oliver neared the room, intending to intervene, but it was Robert who spoke up, "I hired you to protect my son. That makes me the client. Do you have any idea where Oliver could be going?"
"I truly do not know, sir."
"And he truly doesn't." Oliver entered with a disrespectful drawl, playing up the playboy trust-fund baby card.
Oliver had known that his parents would eventually get suspicious of his chaperone-less excursions, and had planned the perfect believable excuse for his 'alone time'.
Moira rounded on Oliver, intent on getting an answer, "Then perhaps you would like to share with me where it is you run off to?"
He laughed somewhat bashfully, "I've been alone for five years."
"I know that." Her annoyance only building.
"Mum. Alone."
Robert chuckled quietly, half-amused at Oliver's answer and half-entertained at his wife's deflated face.
"I see."
While Oliver was tempted to continue the train of thought, he suspected that more detail would only alienate his mother further.
"Please Oliver, you have already been abducted once. This isn't a game. I lost you once, and I am not going through that again."
Oliver was vaguely aware that his mother was trying to appeal to his emotions and humanity.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Slade rolling his eyes, "Just play along for now, Kid. When the Club is ready, she will be less likely to be so paranoid."
"Ok." Oliver motioned towards Diggle, "Dig's my guy."
"Thank you Son." Robert ended the conversation, leading Moira out and up to his Study. While Oliver was tempted to listen in, he needed to deal with Diggle first.
"Sorry to give you so much grief." He managed to say in his most insincere tone.
"I served three tours in Afghanistan, Mr Queen. You don't even come close to my definition of grief."
Slade was laughing, amused that Diggle could match Oliver's mendaciousness with finesse, "I really like this guy."
Diggle had now moved across the room to stand in front of Oliver, looking him in the eyes in a manner that would frighten most lessor men, "But I'll tell you what, if you ditch me one more time, no one will have to fire me."
Oliver watched Diggle leave, already planning his next escapade away from the body guard, wondering if he would be able to ditch him after the fiasco that tomorrow's visit to the Queen Consolidated Building was going to be.
As he stood in the doorframe of the lounge room, Thea skipped by wearing a chiffon mid-thigh strap-less peach dress.
"Where are you going?" Oliver frowned, clearly his warning words to her had had no effect on her nightlife.
"Somewhere loud and smoky. And don't bother to try and pickpocket my stash this time cause I'm going to go get drunk instead."
The Mirakuru pumped harshly through his bloodstream at the insolence of his younger sister.
"Thea, do you really think that this is what anyone wants for you?" Oliver asked frankly.
"Don't pretend you know anything about what anyone else wants. You've been home a week and all you do is avoid Mum, ignore Dad, and Judge me. Don't wait up."
Thea stalked out, and once more the Mirakuru pressed for Oliver to go after her and punish her for disobedience.
The possessive and dangerous nature of the Mirakuru was only strengthening with time, and soon he would need to kill again in order to settle his bloodlust.
…/|\...
With the unsettling feeling of walking into a lion's den lingering overhead, Oliver allowed his parents to escort him into the Queen consolidated skyscraper, the playboy mask firmly in place.
Also the orange glass décor elevator reached the top floor, Oliver let out a whistle as if in appreciation for the high technology and unique architecture on display.
Walking past two blushing female interns, he could not resist flirting lightly with a suggestive "Hi." Smirking as the girls clutched their clipboards to their chests and watched him with longing eyes as he moved deeper into the building.
"Well you're enjoying yourself?" Moira almost scolded, while Robert smiled at his son's antics.
"Yes I am."
"I remember when I used to bring you here when you were little. You were always so excited." Robert remarked, effectively changing the subject like the brilliant businessman he was.
"You let me drink Soda in the office." Oliver explained mischievously.
"Let me introduce you to Queen Consolidated's best CFO, and a good friend of mine, Walter Steele." Robert announced as a tall dark-skinned mild-mannered man entered through the glass doors. Oliver vaguely remembered him from dinner parties and from his infrequent excursions to QC during his rebellious teenage years.
"Good day, Oliver." His British accent was slightly off-putting as the last Brit Oliver had met, he shot an arrow in his neck, but the instincts of the Mirakuru told Oliver that the man before him was nothing like the mercenary Edward Flyers.
"Walter." Oliver acknowledged.
"Your father has asked me to give you the run down, so to speak, of QC in the past few years."
Oliver nodded civilly.
"Queen Consolidated's success of late is a result of targeted diversification. We have been making impressive inroads in cutting edge fields like biotechnology and clean energy."
"That's neat." Oliver cut in, deciding that politeness was pointless, and well aware that the longer Walter talked, the more likely his parents would believe that he was actually interested in the company.
"Sweetheart, Oliver." Moria tried in vain to placate him.
"We have something to discuss with you." Robert continued, "Come, sit."
Oliver gingerly sat, "Dad it makes me nervous when you ask me to sit down."
"The company is about to break ground on a new site for the applied sciences division, and we would like to honour your return by having you chose the dedication of the building." Walter explained.
"And we'd like to make an announcement at the dedication. That you will be taking a leadership position in the company." Moira said with a tinge of defensiveness as if aware that Oliver was not going to take this declaration well.
"No." I've been fighting this for so long, is it really worth it? Oliver wondered.
Moira sighed disappointedly, "You said that you wanted to be a different person."
"You are my son, Oliver." Robert Queen asserted.
"I don't need to be reminded of that." Oliver bitterly snapped.
It was Walter, surprisingly that tried to defuse the tension, "Oliver," He said gently, "Everyone here understands that this transition is really difficult for you."
"Thank you Walter." Oliver said civilly before turning to his parents, "Which part though? Everyone fantasizing that I got my NVA on the Island, or the fact that everyone is acting like the person I've changed into is a perfect one."
"Five years ago your irresponsibility was somewhat charming. It is a lot less so now." Moira ignored Oliver's last words, still angry that he was refusing to cooperate with her perfect plan for his future.
She turned to leave, and Oliver was surprised that it was Slade that spoke, "Don't let her leave."
Blindly trusting, Oliver called out, "Wait, Mum."
She turned, her face haggard but proud.
"This is an opportunity." Slade said, "Ask to work with Walter, he will be easier to convince to help with the Club. It will keep your parents out of the way and further our goal."
"I get it? Okay? You want me to join the family business, you always have. But that isn't who I am. And I'm not sure I'm ever going to be the person you have wanted me to be – you set out my life before I was even born. And I know you think that one day I'll magically change and start to follow that plan to the letter."
The room was silent.
Robert spoke first. "Oliver, we understand that you aren't perfect. But this is important to both of us. Please can you just try?"
Oliver took a breath, "I'll work with Walter."
Both of his parents blinked in surprise, after Oliver's first declaration against working in the company, they did not expect him to give in so easily.
"Are you sure, Oliver?" Walter asked startled.
"If I am to work with the company, than I want to be able to have both discreet and detached direction, as well as having the freedom to work on my own."
Moira frowned, "But why Walter?"
"Because I like him." Oliver said somewhat dishonestly, he was actually fairly ambivalent towards Walter, but he would prefer to work with him rather than with anyone that his parents would choose.
"If that is all, I will take my leave now." He spoke stiffly and formally, in the insufferable polite tone that his parents had tried so hard to drill into him.
Walking out without bothering to wait for their answer, Oliver motioned for Diggle to follow him out of the office.
…/|\...
Diggle was intrigued by the enigma that was Oliver Queen.
Before taking the job, Diggle had been wary, believing that this would be as boring and frustrating as his previous jobs babysitting rich self-entitled trust-fund brats.
He, as every citizen of Starling City, knew the Queen family and their troublemaking son, Oliver Queen, who had a habit of leaving a trail of broken hearts.
He was also aware of Oliver's many brushes with the Law, and aware of how he would most certainly have a criminal record if his parents did not pay off the Police department, DA's office, and/or the victims.
This, paired with the intense drug, alcohol, and party culture that Oliver, and now his younger sister Thea, engaged in; made Oliver Queen an undesirable man to guard.
If not for Diggle's need to support his nephew and sister-in-law, he would not have even considered the job. But the pay was excellent, and Oliver's disappearing acts had lessened over the weeks.
But the Oliver that had come back from the island was far-removed from the media image of a reckless party-playboy.
After the first few days Diggle noticed that Oliver was a surprisingly good actor.
Wearing the mask of expectations – of carelessness, of being a playboy, of being a trust-fund baby – Oliver had effectively fooled his family, friends and the Media that he had not changed at all.
In fact, Diggle believed that he only knew that Oliver was acting as it mirrored the actions of returned soldiers eerily.
He was calmly calculated in his every action, he scanned the world around him for threats unconsciously, he preferred to keep his emotions hidden, and he had an anger that boiled beneath the surface – an anger against those that wasted their lives like his sister, against those that tried to push him into someone he was not like his parents, and against the world in general for the suffering he had been through.
Diggle studied Oliver, who was walking in front of him, straight backed and proudly set. Even his hair cut was military regulation short, and his build was strong and lean like that of a flexible fighter.
Diggle could not deny that whatever had happened to Oliver in the past five years had changed him unequivocally, and that no one aside from himself had noticed it.
Diggle could not even fathom what could happen to a person to change them so, or how damaged Oliver had to be for him to try and hide that change from everyone that mattered to him.
Diggle was also intrigued by the angry outburst Oliver had only movements ago against his parents; how they were always trying to force him to be something he was not, and when Oliver said that they could not even begin to understand what he went through.
While the other Queens had tactfully ignored his words, likely believing that Oliver was being over-dramatic, but Diggle had experienced hard-ships during his tours in Afghanistan and he did not doubt that the experiences Oliver suffered would be far worse, if only because Diggle was somewhat prepared for what he was going to face on the battlefield, but Oliver had no mental or physical preparation for a crucible that really should have killed him.
As the pair approached the exit of Queen Consolidated, both noticed the hordes of Paparazzi and journalists that were crowding every available exit.
Diggle texted the Driver to be ready to leave, while he attempted to shield Oliver from the over-excited crowds.
The yelling was irritating but after some days of this, Diggle was used to ignoring them and forcing them away from his client.
Diggle opened the Bentley door and semi-shoved Oliver into the back seat before following himself. Bodies pressed grotesquely against the glass, and the noise was barely muffled by the car.
"The driver will be here in a minute."
"Okay." Oliver answered despondently
Taking a deep breath, Diggle decided that Oliver need the reassurance of another's advice, and if no one else was going to even recognise that Oliver had changed, than it fell to him to speak, "You know I spent the first twenty-seven years of my life in Starling City, and the next five in Afghanistan. You wanna know what I learned?"
"There's no place like home?" The statement positively dripped in sarcasm, and Diggle was once more reminded of returned soldiers and how many deflected questions that edged on their weakness or emotions with cynicism.
"No. Just the opposite. Home is a battlefield, back home their all trying to get you. Get you to open up, be somebody you're not sure you are anymore." Diggle allowed for a moment of silence before continuing, "Or I could be wrong? Maybe after five years alone, you're not as messed up in the head as you have ever had the right to be."
