EVIL AUTHOR DAY DISCLAIMER: Read at your own risk - especially since I have a contrary muse: the more other people want something written, the more said muse mule-sits (i.e., sits down like a mule that doesn't want to be led anywhere. Good luck getting it to move once it's made up its mind…). That said, I never say never, so any of these might be completed. I just don't know when/if.
Further to that, if anyone should be inspired to continue any of these, or write your own with a similar concept, or take any other inspiration from them, please do! Just drop a comment so I can go read it. *grin*
CONTINUITY NOTES: Clearly, this is AU. Very AU. Completely, totally, and in all other ways AU. Set roughly in Season 4 of Arrow, after 4.16 "Taken" and after season 1 of Iron Fist, this story differs somewhat from both canons.
Specific points of Arrow canon divergence include: (1) Oliver kept control of Queen Consolidated (because he wasn't stupid enough to sign a general power of attorney giving control of everything Queen-related to Isabel Rochev, thanks), and (2) I have chosen to locate Nanda Parbat in Tibet per DC Comics canon, rather than the Hindu Kush per Arrow canon.
Specific points of Iron Fist canon divergence include: (1) Danny went to K'un Lun by himself at the end of Season 1, and (2) I have tweaked the details of 1.06 "Immortal Emerges from Cave" just a little bit.
All of that said - yeah, for this one, canon and continuity are at my discretion to make the story work. I trust y'all can follow along. *grin*
As always, all rights in this work belong to the creators of both shows.
Oliver Queen treasured nights like this, when Star City was relatively quiet so he didn't have to make an appearance as Green Arrow and could instead spend the evening working out in the bunker while Felicity … well, did whatever she did with her array of computers. Oliver had some skill with computers thanks to his time with ARGUS, but Felicity zipped past his skill with any given sentence she spoke. He was happy to leave her to her work - whatever that might be on this quiet night.
For his part, he practiced katas alone in the darkened corner that served as a gym. Sparring with Dig was his usual preference, but tonight Dig was home with Lyla and Baby Sara - where he should be, Oliver reminded himself. Just because he devoted himself to his crusade rather than having a family or social life didn't mean Dig had to do the same.
Felicity's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Somebody beat your record."
"What record?" Oliver continued his movement without looking to where she sat at the bank of monitors.
"Longest time before a billionaire returns from the dead," she said.
That made him turn, frowning at the back of her head. "What are you talking about?"
"Remember you told me that Tony Stark sent you a gift basket after you got back?"
Oliver thought for a moment. He could have told her about it, even if he didn't remember it immediately. "So?"
"On the card, you said he wrote, Congratulations on beating my record for longest time before a billionaire returns from the dead. Looks like your record just got beat." Felicity gestured to the screen in front of her, where a headline proclaimed Danny Rand Returns from the Dead.
Oliver grabbed a towel and crossed to her better-lit workstation to look over her shoulder. He wiped sweat from his neck as he skimmed the article for the salient facts. Danny Rand, then aged ten, had been presumed dead with his parents, Wendell and Heather Rand, in a plane crash over the Himalayas. Now, fifteen years later, he'd returned and taken up his role as majority shareholder in Rand Enterprises.
"D'you think Tony Stark sent him a gift basket, too? And if not, then you should," Felicity mused. "I mean, it's a silly tradition, but if you billionaires are going to make a habit of coming back from the dead, maybe you should start a club or something."
Oliver let Felicity babble while he read the article more thoroughly, and then he froze as one detail caught his attention: The Rand family had been en route to Anzhou, China, when their plane went down.
"Billionaire Boys Club? No, that's taken. Mostly Dead Billionaires?" Felicity was muttering. "No, too Princess Bride. Undead Billionaires? No, too zombie. Or how about-?"
"Felicity." Oliver cut her off before her rambling could go on full autopilot, and she started.
"Yes?"
"Look up everything you can find on Rand, his parents, their company, and any connections they might have had with my parents or Queen Consolidated."
Felicity turned a questioning gaze upward to meet his own. "Why?"
Oliver forced his answer past a too-dry throat. "Because we were headed to Anzhou when the Gambit went down."
=A=IF=A=
Three days later, Oliver stood in the lobby of the Rand Enterprises building at Vanderbilt and East 46th Street in New York City, waiting for someone to escort him to the executive offices. While he waited, he idly catalogued the security - both technological and human - and decided that if New York required that many security measures, he'd happily remain in Star City.
Then an attractive black woman was approaching him from the bank of elevators. "Mr. Queen? I'm Megan, and it's my pleasure to escort you to Mr. Rand's office."
"Pleased to meet you, Megan." With the ease of long habit, Oliver noted the differences between her employee badge and his visitor badge even as he offered his hand. He didn't expect to have to infiltrate the building later, but he'd be prepared if he was wrong.
Megan stared wide-eyed at his offered hand for a moment, but took it in a firm, brief grip before turning back to the elevators.
"Is this your first time in New York?" she asked as they stepped inside.
"The first time in a long time," Oliver answered. "I think I was in junior high the last time I was here."
"Then welcome back," Megan said. "I'm certain your people have everything handled for your trip, but if there's anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant, please let me know."
Oliver blinked, mildly surprised that the offer didn't come across as a come-on, but was spared having to answer when the doors slid open onto the 45th floor.
Rand's executive lobby was as starkly modern as the one at Queen Consolidated, Oliver decided, but a coppery world map added what Thea would call a touch of warmth.
A door opened to his left, and instinctively Oliver turned to meet the newcomer.
Not Danny Rand, unless the news photos were startlingly wrong. Instead, a man with dark, slicked-back hair and an expression caught somewhere between desperation and determination approached.
"Oliver." The man extended a hand, and Oliver felt his eyebrows rising at the man's familiarity. "Ward Meachum. Good to meet you, finally."
"Finally?" Oliver took the offered hand, tried not to wince at Meachum's sweaty palm. At least he had a firm grip.
"We've been trying to arrange a meeting for a while. Some of what Queen Consolidated is doing looks like it would dovetail nicely with one or two of Rand's projects. A joint venture could be very profitable."
If Walter Steele hadn't brought a joint venture proposal to him, Oliver certainly wasn't going to jump into one blindly. Still, manners dictated that he not shut Meachum down entirely.
"I'm willing to explore the possibility," Oliver said. "But that's not why I'm here."
Meachum's frown was almost a scowl. "Why are you here?"
Another door, behind and to Oliver's right, opened. "Mr. Queen?"
This was Danny Rand, and Oliver smiled as he offered his hand. "Mr. Rand. Good to meet you."
Rand hesitated, as though unaccustomed to the gesture, then shook it with a hand as callused as Oliver's own.
"Danny." Rand smiled more openly than Oliver had expected. Whatever happened to him during his fifteen years away couldn't have been too bad. At least, Oliver hoped, those years were better than his own five years away.
"Oliver, then." From the corner of his eye, Oliver caught Ward Meachum's expression - not hostile, exactly, but certainly not welcoming. Whatever internal squabble Rand Enterprises might have, Oliver wanted no part of it.
Fortunately, Megan had given him a way out of it, at least for now.
Rand was standing aside so Oliver could precede him into the office, but Oliver smiled slightly.
"As your assistant reminded me, it's been a long time since I've been to New York," he said. "Could we see some of the city while we talk?"
Rand looked surprised for a moment, but nodded. "Sure."
"I'll call a car," Megan said, and Oliver wondered if he actually saw a frown skitter across Meachum's face or if he imagined it.
"I'm up for walking, unless there's some reason we shouldn't," Oliver countered, and there was no mistaking the lightening of Rand's expression.
"No," Rand said. "Come on."
=A=IF=A=
Danny emerged onto the street and paused in a narrow strip of sunshine to wait for Oliver Queen to turn in his visitor badge and sign out. Why did he feel so much better outside, even if the Rand building had been almost as much his home as the building where Joy now lived?
Was it just that he'd spent so much of the last fifteen years in the open air of K'un Lun? Or was there more at play than he consciously recognized? He'd have to meditate on that, preferably sooner than later.
Surprisingly quiet footsteps approaching him brought his attention back to the moment and the man who'd traveled halfway across the country just to talk to him - about what, though, Danny had no clue. So he fell back on social niceties.
"What would you like to see?" Danny asked.
"What did you find most interesting when you got back?"
The question shouldn't have surprised Danny as much as it did, given Oliver's own history - the one he'd looked up when he saw Oliver's name on his appointment calendar. Still, it took him a moment to review the changes and decide on Chinatown.
"This way."
Oliver fell into step beside him and said, "My friend Felicity wants to know something."
"What's that?"
"Did Stark send you a gift basket, too?"
Danny had to laugh, even as he nodded. But there was one puzzle he hadn't solved about that gift basket, and since he hadn't felt comfortable just calling Tony Stark, he glanced at Oliver in hopes of enlightenment. "Do you have any idea why there was a cheeseburger in it?"
"A room-temperature, soggy cheeseburger," Oliver corrected. "He said the first thing he wanted when he got back was an American cheeseburger, figured it might be the same for me."
"Was it?" Danny asked.
"Not that cheeseburger," Oliver admitted. "But I did get to Big Belly Burger within the first week I was back. You?"
"It's New York. Pizza, not cheeseburgers." Danny grinned briefly, but let it fade. For almost a block, they walked in silence. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Is that why you wanted to see me? To swap stories of our returns?"
"No," Oliver answered immediately, but it was another few steps before he spoke again, and when he did, his words were a shock. "In some ways, it's a result of your accident that my father and I had ours."
Danny blinked, felt a hint of the anger he'd lived with most of his life welling up. "How dare -?"
"A result of," Olive cut him off. "Not because of."
"What's the difference?"
"We read about the accident," Oliver said, and it was only because his tone was devoid of the pity Danny had faced too often since he returned that he let Oliver continue. "And it made Dad kind of hate airplanes after. So he bought a yacht."
Understanding replaced anger. "The one you were on when your accident happened."
"The Queen's Gambit," Oliver confirmed. "If it had been a plane, we all would have died. I suppose I owe your family thanks for that."
Some of the sass Danny'd had as a child made him say, "I suppose you're welcome."
Oliver chuckled briefly, not apparently offended, then sobered. "And now we get to the part where I didn't want anyone listening in."
"You think someone would? At Rand?"
"I think it's possible. I'm not taking chances."
"But why -?"
"Because my father was on his way to a meeting in Anzhou, just like yours."
"It's a big city," Danny blurted - and then the implications of Oliver's statement registered fully.
"With absolutely nothing to offer QC," Oliver finished as Danny turned the implications over in his mind. "Not unless they were willing to spend millions to build factories and infrastructure to support the technological innovation that was QC's main business at the time. What did they have to offer Rand?"
"I was a kid," Danny countered. "How would I know?"
"You're not a kid now. What did they have to offer Rand?"
Danny considered the question as they moved out of downtown and into Chinatown. As a child, the question would never have occurred to him. As a man faced with it, he could see the answer clearly. "Nothing. Absent similar conditions as you named."
"Then why were our fathers going to Anzhou?"
Danny studied the other man from the corner of his eye. Oliver Queen seemed sincere enough, but the question itself suggested layers he had yet to reveal.
That was fair; Danny had secrets of his own. Not, he admitted privately, that he'd considered them secrets until his return to New York. But Oliver's question lingered, and Danny had a decision to make.
The decision came more easily than he would've expected.
"I said they had nothing to offer Rand," he said. "But they might have had something to offer Harold Meachum."
"Your father's business partner?" Oliver sounded puzzled.
Danny let out a silent breath before adding, "Harold arranged to poison the pilots so our plane would go down and he would control Rand."
"I'm sorry."
The words came quickly, but if Danny were any judge, Oliver meant them.
"I know what it's like to be betrayed by people you trusted, even loved," Oliver continued more quietly. "I found out my father wasn't what I'd thought he was - as much as any teenager ever thinks about what their father is."
Danny heard the pain lingering beneath Oliver's words and ventured, "That's why you want to know about Anzhou."
"More or less." Oliver met Danny's gaze. "And it sounds like you know more than you've said so far."
Danny studied him for long moments, before giving a shrug that was as much mental as it was physical. "It starts with an organization called the Hand."
=A=IF=A=
An hour later, they'd explored most of Chinatown and Danny had told Oliver everything, even about K'un Lun and the dragon Shou-Lao. Oliver listened attentively, but that he didn't even blink at the mention of heavenly cities or a dragon made Danny arch an eyebrow.
"When I've told this to other people, they usually start thinking I'm crazy at the mention of monks in the Himalayas, let alone the dragon."
Oliver smiled, a grim expression. "I've seen some pretty strange things, too."
"Such as?"
Oliver looked away, and for a moment Danny thought he wasn't going to answer. Then, Oliver gestured to the building where they'd stopped.
"Tell you over lunch?"
Danny glanced up, saw that they'd stopped outside a run-down noodle shop, and quirked an amused eyebrow at his companion. "Not the kind of place people would expect two billionaires to have lunch."
"In my experience, those are the best places."
Still not accustomed to being a billionaire, Danny decided to defer to Oliver's judgment, if only because the aromas coming from the shop were exquisite, and led the way inside.
This far into Chinatown, Danny wasn't surprised that the menu chalked on a blackboard was written in Hanzi only. He glanced sideways at his companion and suspected that Oliver's too-intent concentration meant he couldn't read the symbols on the menu.
They'd spoken plainly enough until now, and Danny figured that meant he could simply ask, "Any preferences or restrictions?"
Oliver glanced at him, surprise quickly fading to wry amusement. "Nothing so spicy it'll eat away my stomach from the inside?"
Danny chuckled and turned back to greet the elderly gentleman behind the counter in Mandarin. The old man seemed more surprised at the amount Danny ordered than at his flawless accent.
Once he'd ordered, he led Oliver to a table away from the storefront window. Oliver seemed to have overcome whatever reticence he'd had, because they'd barely taken their seats before he began to speak.
Oliver spoke of a yacht, an island, a semi-secret government agency, the Russian mob, and more - and that was all before he returned to civilization. Danny could only raise his eyebrows at things that happened since Oliver's return and hope he listened with as much respect as Oliver had shown his tale - and admit, however privately, that Oliver's tale was stranger than his own.
Finally, Oliver concluded and Danny stared at the dregs of tea remaining in his cup while he processed all that Oliver had said.
"We heard about Lian Yu in K'un Lun," he said after a while. "Purgatory."
He felt Oliver's surprise, though the other man's expression hadn't changed. "Oh?"
Danny grinned briefly. "I just didn't realize it was a real place."
"I can take you, if you want to go."
"Rather not, thanks." Danny blew out a breath and met Oliver's gaze. "Tell me more about Nanda Parbat."
This time, Oliver's frown creased his forehead. "Nanda Parbat? Why?"
"Humor me." It came out abrupt, but Danny had no explanation to offer, just a whisper of awareness that made the dragon scar on his chest tingle.
Oliver gave a half-shrug. "A city built into the mountains of Tibet. Home of Ra's al Ghul and the League of Assassins. Why?"
"K'un Lun is one of the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven," Danny said. "I think Nanda Parbat may be another."
"Why do you think that?"
"Gut instinct." Danny rested a hand on his chest. "And an itch here, where the dragon's heart marked me."
Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Assuming that's true, even though I can't associate anything heavenly with Nanda Parbat - what impact does it have on the Hand? On us?"
"Why do you assume Heaven is all good?" Danny countered. "As for impact - they would be sworn enemies of the Hand, as well. I was trained to defeat the Hand, but having allies never hurts."
"No," Oliver said. "It doesn't. I can take you there, too. Or I can call the current Ra's and arrange a meeting."
"That might be good," Danny said, and then sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead.
"You okay?" Oliver asked.
"A little overwhelmed." Danny blinked when he said it, surprised he'd spoken the words aloud.
"I know the feeling."
"Know any tricks to get rid of it?" Danny asked, half-joking.
"I usually work out," Oliver said, and Danny suspected that meant push himself until he collapsed from exhaustion. "Or spar."
"Want to?"
"Work out or spar?" Oliver asked.
"Sparring's a workout, if you do it right." Danny didn't try to stop his grin.
Oliver grinned back. "You have a place?"
"Let's go."