They ended up back at Danny's apartment. Oliver approved of the change of location and not just because, as Danny said, it was more comfortable than Talia's apartment. It also had the advantage of being the last place the Hand would think to look for her once she was discovered missing.

Nyssa and Talia would join him and Danny at the apartment once they were done sanitizing Talia's place.

An hour later, Danny tossed his pen aside. "That's everything I know about the Hand, from locations they'd used to people - both living and dead - I know associated with them."

Oliver picked up the notepad and scanned the list. It was longer than he'd expected, but also less specific than he'd expected.

One entry made him frown. "What's this - Metro-General Hospital cover-up?"

"I don't know the details," Danny answered. "Claire does."

"Claire. Temple?" Oliver prompted when he found the name on Danny's list.

"She's a nurse there - or she was," Danny corrected himself. "She'd know more about it - it caused her to quit."

"We need more information if we're going after the Hand."

"How much more?"

Oliver chuckled softly, without humor. "As much as we can get."

Danny sighed, so shallowly Oliver almost missed it. "Then we need to talk to Colleen, too. She was a member for a while."

"You're friends with a member of the Hand?" Oliver kept his question as neutral as he could.

Danny blew out a breath. "We were more than friends, once - before I knew she was Hand. In her defense, she didn't know everything about them. They have - had - a shelter for abused and runaway kids. They did a lot of apparently good work there, but I'm sure they used it for recruitment, too."

"That's rough," Oliver acknowledged. He hesitated before asking, "Do you want to question her?"

Danny's silence was answer enough.

Oliver nodded, once. "I'll call Nyssa and ask her and Talia to talk to Colleen."

Danny relaxed, however fractionally, and Oliver knew there was more to that situation than his new friend had said so far. Still, he wouldn't pry.

Instead, he reached for his cell phone and tapped Nyssa's number. It still amused him that the League was fully up-to-date with modern telephone and computer technology, despite living in near-medieval conditions otherwise.

As he expected, Nyssa answered immediately. "Husband."

Oliver wondered whether she said that for his benefit, or whether Talia was nearby. Putting that thought aside, he said, "Will you and Talia visit someone who may have information about the Hand?"

"How would this person know?"

Oliver had to answer honestly. "She used to be a member."

There was a pause before Nyssa spoke again. "What kind of visit are you requesting?"

"Non-violent, preferably," Oliver told her. "She's - Danny knows her pretty well."

"We will not be the ones who make it violent," Nyssa promised. "Who and where is she?"

Oliver gave her Colleen's name and the address of Chikara Dojo. "She's a martial artist," he added. "Probably trained with Danny some."

"I see." Nyssa's tone carried no overtones. "We will speak to her - and not hurt her without cause."

It was, Oliver decided, probably the best offer he'd get. Not that it was actually an offer. "We're going out to talk to someone else Danny knows. Meet back here when we're done?"

His inflection made it a question, and Nyssa agreed readily.

Oliver ended the call and turned to Danny. "This Claire - not a member?"

"Farthest thing from," Danny answered. "Except for us."

Oliver chuckled, briefly and without humor. "Let's go talk to her."

=A=IF=A=

It wasn't far enough past noon for the sun to cast much shadow as Nyssa turned down the street where Chikara Dojo sat. Thankfully, the day wasn't so warm that her clothes stuck to her body. Even more thankfully, this was New York City, so her clothing - a mix of League armor and Western trousers - didn't attract so much as a blink.

Talia's Spider-Bride armor, however, did - if only because of the black leather bustier. Her sister glared at those who stared too long, and Nyssa wondered whether she should say something, anything, to distract her sister from the passersby.

Before she could decide on something appropriate to say, Talia spoke.

"Who is this woman we are to question?"

Grateful for the topic, even if it was an unpleasant one, Nyssa answered, "Colleen Wing. She was a member of the Hand."

Beside her, Talia stiffened for a moment before catching up with her in two quick steps. "Then why are we not treating her as the enemy she is?"

"Because she admitted her error in joining them," Nyssa said. Then Oliver's phrasing returned to her, and she added, "And Rand-Kai has some affection for her."

"Then he is a fool," Talia snapped, and Nyssa had no idea what to say in response.

They walked in silence a few more steps before Talia blew out a breath. "Rand-Kai may have some affection for her, but the Iron Fist must not."

Nyssa kept her tone carefully neutral. "He is both, just as you are both Talia and the Spiders' Bride."

"That is why we two were sent, then? To be both?"

"Perhaps." Nyssa swallowed, then paused in her steps to face Talia. "I have missed you, Sister."

Talia cocked her head. "I would have thought you would be glad to see me gone, so you could have all of Father's attention."

"I was never going to have that - not when my only use to him was as a brood mare." Nyssa resumed her trek toward Chikara Dojo. "But, please - let us not argue. Not when the Hand threatens us all."

"And certainly not when you saved me from slavery to the enemy," Talia admitted. "My apologies, Sister."

Nyssa couldn't help smiling, however sad and bittersweet it might have been. "Long habits do not easily change."

They completed the trip in a silence that was, if not entirely comfortable, at least companionable. Like many buildings in New York that Nyssa had observed, this one had a lock on its ground floor entry. This one was somewhat more advanced than others - it was a keypad rather than an old-fashioned lock.

Just as Nyssa was ready to pick the lock, the door opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out. Nyssa nodded to her, and she and Talia slipped inside before the door closed.

A class was in session when she opened the door to the dojo proper, and Nyssa moved silently to her right, keeping along the wall so she would be behind the students when they faced their sensei. Talia took a place beside her as she settled in to wait for class to end.

Nyssa counted a half-dozen students in attendance, and noted that the sensei - Colleen Wing, if Oliver's information were correct, and she didn't doubt that it was - spent a few moments with each one, correcting form or offering encouragement as appropriate.

She didn't know why she was surprised that Wing's students all displayed a discipline she'd found lacking in the world outside Nanda Parbat, but that just meant she could enjoy watching the practice without worrying overly much about her own safety.

Then the students were bowing to their sensei and, with curious glances toward Nyssa and Talia, drifted out of the room. The sensei, a woman of apparently Japanese descent, crossed the tatami mats to them, offering a smile.

"Hi, I'm Colleen Wing. Are you interested in lessons?"

Talia gave a delicate snort. "We have neither the time nor the inclination to teach you."

Wing blinked, seeming both bemused and amused by Talia's response. "That's not - I mean, I'm sensei of this dojo."

"We saw," Talia said. "But that does not mean you could not learn more than you know already."

Before the discussion could become an argument, Nyssa stepped in. "I am Nyssa. My sister and I are here on behalf of Rand-Kai."

Wing's brows slammed together. "Danny? What's happened? Is he all right?"

"He is," Nyssa assured her. "Tell us all you know of the Hand."

Now Colleen looked irritated. "Danny knows I was a member-"

Talia stepped forward, and though she made no overtly threatening moves, Wing's eyes widened and Nyssa could see her fighting the instinct to step back. "Do not test our patience. We wish names, addresses, and everything else you may have seen or heard."

"Why isn't he asking me this himself?"

"Because," Nyssa said sharply. "He fears his affection for you might be a … hindrance."

"We are not so hindered," Talia said, "and I have more grievance against the Hand than he."

"What do you mean?" Wing demanded.

Nyssa glanced at Talia, watched her sister nod tightly, and turned back to Colleen Wing. "You know of the Grand Duel?"

"Yes, I - yes."

"I am the champion for Zhizhu Wangguo, and the Hand forced me to fight against Rand-Kai - a man I should have fought beside." Talia's voice hardened. "I will have justice for that betrayal."

Wing flinched, but swallowed hard and met their gazes. "All right. I'll tell you what I know, but it's not much."

=A=IF=A=

The last time Danny had been to Claire Temple's apartment, he'd been bleeding - bleeding out, even - thanks to an injury sustained in a fight against the Hand, and his old friend Davos had been at his side - half-carrying him, to be exact.

This time, Danny stood straight and healthy, uninjured, and his new friend Oliver Queen stood beside him.

Danny shoved the comparisons away and knocked on Claire's door.

The door opened wide, and Danny found himself staring dumbfounded at Claire as she ran a quick assessing gaze up and down first his body and then Oliver's. Then she met his gaze.

"You're not hurt?"

And Danny flushed, regretting that more of his interactions with her had been about medical needs than not. Still, he swallowed and straightened his shoulders before he answered.

"No, not this time. I'd like you to meet Oliver Queen. Oliver, Claire Temple."

"Ms. Temple." Oliver offered his hand.

Claire took it, her eyebrows climbing. Then she looked from Danny to Oliver and back. "What is this, Danny? Some kind of billionaire boys club?"

"Something like that," Danny murmured, even as he noticed Oliver biting back a grin. "Can we come in?"

Claire hesitated only a moment before stepping back to let them into her apartment.

Danny blinked at the piles of boxes that hadn't been evident during his last visit. "Moving?"

"I quit my job at Metro General," Claire said. "I've got an offer in Harlem."

"Why'd you quit?" Danny asked.

Claire glanced at Oliver before looking back to Danny. "Managerial differences. How can I help you, gentlemen?"

Danny suppressed a sigh. She'd effectively cut off any inquiry into her personal life, and he supposed he couldn't blame her.

Before he could respond to her question, Oliver spoke. "Danny said you know of an organization called the Hand. We'd like to know everything you do - names, places, everything."

"Oh, no." Claire shook her head. "They're dangerous and into some freaky shit. Stay away from them."

"Claire." Danny stepped forward before Oliver could speak again. "You know I'm trained - groomed, even - to fight them. It's my duty. And now I'm not alone in it."

"I didn't tell you everything I saw, before," Claire said. "And some of it - Danny, you're my friend, and I don't want you to get hurt."

Danny frowned and guided Claire to a seat on her couch. He sat beside her and Oliver took a seat in a chair across from them.

"You weren't this upset before," Danny said. "What's changed?"

Claire laughed - a sound more helpless than amused. "I think it's just finally hit me - just how depraved they are."

"What happened?" Danny prompted, and when she glanced at Oliver rather than answering immediately, he added, "Oliver thinks his father might have been involved, somehow. We're trying to figure things out, that's all."

"You're not going after them?" Claire asked.

"I can't promise that," Danny said. "But if I do, I'd rather know as much about them as possible before I do."

"Forewarned is forearmed," Oliver murmured. "Or knowledge is power. Either one applies."

"Please, Claire. Anything you tell us might help."

With a last lingering look at Oliver, Claire turned back to Danny once more. "I said I quit my job at Metro General."

Danny nodded, wordlessly encouraging her to continue.

"I didn't tell you why." She blew out a breath. "The police brought in some kids - they'd been held at a place called the Farm, where the Hand was doing … something to them."

"What?" Oliver asked gently.

Claire shook her head. "I don't know. There were eight different organic substances in their bloodstream that we couldn't identify. All of the children had lost a lot of blood. No, that's not right. Someone had drained almost all of their blood."

Danny flicked a horrified glance at Oliver, whose expression was surely a mirror of his own. "I'm - I don't know what to say."

Claire shook her head, looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. "Hand ninjas came after the kids. One of them died in the fight - I knocked him out a window and the fall killed him."

Danny had no idea what to say to that, either - of course he was glad that any member of the Hand couldn't hurt anyone any longer, but Claire's obvious distress at killing halted anything he might have said in comfort. Instead, he reached out and rested a hand over hers and squeezed gently.

She offered him a weak smile. "But that's not the worst of it - when we got the body into an autopsy room, it had a Y-incision scar. And the hospital administrators decided to cover it up, so I quit."

Danny didn't know what a Y-incision scar was, but Oliver's indrawn breath told him he did, and he glanced at his new friend.

"A Y-incision," Oliver repeated. "From a prior autopsy?"

Claire nodded. "It was still reddish, so it might have been fairly recent. I don't know."

"Wait," Danny said. "You mean this operative - this ninja - had been killed before?"

"That's what it sounds like," Oliver said. "I can't think of any other reason for anyone to have a Y-incision."

"What exactly is a Y-incision?" Danny asked.

"It's from shoulder to shoulder in a V-shape, and then down the center of the body," Claire explained, tracing the pattern on her own body as she did. "It allows the medical examiner to peel back the skin for access to all the internal organs."

Danny frowned. "That means he was somehow … resurrected?"

Claire spread her hands in a helpless gesture. "It makes no sense, but I can't think of any other explanation."

Oliver cleared his throat softly, and Danny followed Claire's lead in looking at him once more. "I'm impressed you handled that as well as you did, Ms. Temple. What else can you tell us about the Hand?"

"I don't know much more," Claire admitted, but she looked thoughtful when she finished.

"Do you know someone who might know more?" Oliver asked gently.

Claire looked from Oliver to Danny, then gave a small sigh. "Give me a minute."

She rose and crossed into another room. After a moment, Danny heard her voice, but the words were indistinct.

"How'd you know?" Danny asked. "That she knew someone else?"

"I had to get good at reading people," Oliver replied. "What did she mean, you're not hurt?"

Danny felt his cheeks flushing. "The last time I brought someone here, I was bleeding after a fight with the Hand. She helped."

"That explains the crash kit in the corner," Oliver observed dryly.

"Crash kit?" Danny frowned at the unfamiliar term, then followed Oliver's gesture toward a corner of the room where a large duffle bag sat in front of a small bookcase filled with bandages, gloves, and other medical paraphernalia.

"I've seen the ones that special forces use," Oliver admitted. "This isn't quite that good, but it's up there."

Danny's opinion of Claire Temple - already high - rose another couple of notches, but before he could say anything, she came back into the room.

"He'll meet you tonight at ten on the roof of 54 St. Mark's."

"You trust this guy, Claire?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," she said, then straightened her shoulders. "Yes. I have trusted him with my life more than once, and he's come through every time. Listen to him, and don't judge until you hear him out."

Danny nodded and rose to his feet. There were hours yet until the meeting at ten o'clock, and he'd have to find some way to fill that time.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Temple." Oliver, too, stood. He lingered a moment, glancing toward what he'd called the crash kit. "If you need to restock, I'm happy to offer a consultant's fee."

Claire stared, obviously surprised, before laughing. "Consultant's fee. What, exactly, am I consulting on?"

"How to bring down the bastards who killed my father."

The intensity in Oliver's tone made Danny pause. Claire swallowed, the movement of her throat loud in the suddenly quiet apartment.

"I'm … sorry to have to consult on that project, but grateful that maybe I can help," she said finally, her voice soft but steady. "And yes, I could stand to restock."

With a tight nod, Oliver pulled a wallet from his pocket and extracted a few bills to offer to Claire.

She took them without glancing to see how much he'd offered, instead holding Oliver's gaze, and Danny mentally kicked himself.

He'd taken advantage of Claire's skills, had put her in danger when he sent her to fetch Jeri Hogarth, and he'd never thought to offer to help her. Colleen, he'd helped without thinking - even if only indirectly by buying her building - but Claire … Claire he'd ignored.

Sure, he'd offered her a credit card when she was trying to save Radovan, but when she'd used it as a makeshift medical device instead of buying something with it, he'd assumed - stupidly - that she didn't care about the money.

And maybe she didn't, Danny amended silently as he and Oliver took their leave. But that didn't mean he couldn't be grateful for her assistance.

Just as he was grateful to Oliver for the reminder, however unintentional that reminder might have been.

=A=IF=A=

Nyssa decided to take advantage of the time between the ending of her and Talia's conversation with Colleen Wing and the meeting Oliver and Danny had at ten o'clock by exploring the city with her sister.

Surprisingly, Talia hadn't objected to the idea, and the afternoon found them exploring the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

They'd begun at the Temple of Dendur, where Nyssa had agreed with Talia when she suggested the Egyptian temple reminded her oddly of Nanda Parbat. They'd moved through displays of weapons from various periods, and finally found themselves in a display dedicated to Buddhist ritual art from Burma, Laos, and Thailand.

Personally, Nyssa found terming it art a misnomer, and offensive in the extreme, akin to calling the Pope's miter art. Certainly the items had artistic merit and worth, but they were primarily religious objects and shouldn't be trivialized with an inaccurate, incomplete description.

But she put her annoyance aside, in favor of speaking to her sister. In public, it wasn't likely that Talia would escalate a confrontation much beyond the level of argument.

As they studied a priest's crown, ornately wrought in gold with a relief of Buddha under the bodhi tree centered in a wreath of sapphires taking pride of place, Nyssa took a slow breath.

"You have questions," she said. "About Oliver."

"Don't you mean Al Sah-him?" Talia's sharp question nonetheless managed to be low enough that no one near them would've made it out.

"My husband," Nyssa said. "Father performed the ceremony himself."

"Why?"

Nyssa was surprised to hear only curiosity from her sister, no anger, no recrimination.

"He survived - he did not perish at the blade of Ra's al Ghul. Marrying me cemented his position as Father's heir, and ultimately as Ra's himself."

"And is he?"

This - this was the moment she dreaded, the moment when she told her sister all, and then could only wait for Talia's reaction.

Nyssa didn't look up from her study of the crown. "I am Ra's al Ghul."

When it came, Talia's response was simpler than she had expected. "How is that possible? No woman has led the League before."

Nyssa chuckled softly. "It is a long, complicated story. But the gist is, Al Saher took over the League. I challenged his leadership. As my husband, Oliver fought him. He cut off Al Saher's hand and took Father's ring from it to give to me."

"Pity," Talia murmured. Before Nyssa could do more than bristle at the comment, Talia continued, "He should have killed him."

Finally, Nyssa dared raise her eyes to meet her sister's gaze. "Oliver - Al Sah-him - will kill if he must, but he prefers not to."

"Leaving an enemy with the ability to strike at you again is the very definition of must."

"To us," Nyssa agreed readily. It was one of the tenets they'd both learned at their father's knee: Never leave anyone with a grudge against you able to do anything about it. Nyssa had taken it to heart as, it seemed, had Talia. "Not necessarily to him."

"It is good, then," Talia said finally. "That he allowed you to lead the League, rather than lead it himself."

It was as good an opening as Nyssa could have hoped for. "But if I am to lead, I will need an heir. Ibn al Shatan."

"A son of the demon," Talia murmured, then lapsed into silence for a few moments. Then she blew out a breath. "And that son must be from Al Sah-him - from Oliver Queen."

"Yes." The alternative - Oliver's death at Talia's hands and finding another husband - was something she did not - would not - choose to contemplate.

"You wish me to forget that he killed Father," Talia said.

"No," Nyssa said. "I wish you to understand that he faced an impossible choice, and the choice he made speaks to the man he is. In truth … I cannot say I would have done any differently at the time."

The words lingered in the silence that grew between them once again, and Nyssa could only hope that Talia's time away from Nanda Parbat, or even her own experiences at the mercy of the Hand, might sway her to another point of view - one that did not include the death of Al Sah-him Oliver Queen.

"It is a shame," Talia said finally.

"What is?" Nyssa asked, for once not ashamed to display her ignorance before her sister - her older, more skilled, more preferred sister.

"That Father's views were so old-fashioned that he could not envision a woman as his heir."

Nyssa's heart leapt at her sister's words, but she forced herself to remain calm. Her words were, after all, simply one opinion out of many and did not mean that Talia understood or would forgive anything else.

Talia took a few steps toward another priest's crown, and Nyssa followed. She blinked at the central relief on it. For a moment, it looked more like Shiva than the Buddha, but that was a trick of the light. It was the Buddha and, unlike in the previous relief, in this one he seemed more than simply content. He seemed happy - which, upon reflection, was not a state she would normally associate with the Buddha. Content, yes, but not happy.

Nyssa shook off that momentary distraction and chose to follow the subtle opening Talia had given her.

"That was not, I think, the only way Father's views were old-fashioned."

Talia stiffened so minutely Nyssa almost missed it, and would have if she weren't so focused on her sister after so long apart.

"What others?" was all Talia asked.

"Most importantly? That the world remained as it was when he first became the Demon's Head."

"Of course it is," Talia retorted. "The names on the maps may change, but the people don't."

"I speak of the expression of the changes - and lack thereof."

Talia shot her an inquiring glance, and Nyssa met it without flinching. "From the earliest days of the League, even until Father became Ra's al Ghul, the nature of the world remained the same. There were cities that were centers of power, and culture, and knowledge, and when those capitals became too corrupt, too decadent, it was easy to strike back, to sack Rome, to load plague rats aboard ships, to burn London to the ground. The League cut off the head, so to speak, and the body died and was reborn."

"It is what the League has always done," Talia said.

"Yes," Nyssa agreed. "But now - where is the head? New York? Washington? London? Brussels? Beijing? Moscow? And even if we could identify a single head, the snake is now a hydra, and cutting off one head only begets two more. The body has become the head, as it were."

Talia's mouth quirked. "That is the most mangled metaphor I believe I've ever heard."

Nyssa chuckled with her. "Perhaps, but the meaning is clear. Father's plan to destroy Star City, so it could rise anew like a phoenix, was flawed from inception."

"How?"

At least Talia seemed willing to listen. It might be only for a moment, but Nyssa would pack as much into that moment as she could.

"It used to be that people were separated by distance, and therefore by time. What happened in Rome might not directly affect what happened in, say, Britannia, for months. But now, no matter how large the distance between people, they are not separated by more than minutes. If the League were to sack, say, Washington today, by nightfall, we would face retaliation for it - and with the resources available now, they would find us. And destroy us."

Talia frowned at the mandala she stood before, and Nyssa waited for her sister's response.

"I suppose you're correct," Talia said finally. "It is not pleasant, but truth rarely is. What, then, will you do with the League, Ra's?"

That was the question Nyssa had been contemplating since Oliver had given her the ring of Ra's. She hadn't yet found a definitive answer, but there was one thing she could tell her sister.

"Destroy the Hand."

There was a predatory edge to Talia's smile. "An excellent beginning."