Tommy stared out across the nightclub's crowd. His wrist was throbbing. The Oliver he knew was truly dead, but Tommy had helped put him in the position to have to help the crazy-ass Helena. He turned his drink with his uninjured hand.

Oliver came up close with that stiffness that said he didn't know what to do, but he was going to do something anyway. "Tommy."

Tommy smiled at him to keep Oliver from thinking he was still pissed at him. "Oliver."

"How is your arm?"

Tommy shrugged. "It'll heal." He turned to cover what they were saying from anyone watching. "Busy with...things?"

Oliver tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "Little bit, yeah."

Tommy blew out a breath. "I shouldn't have called you a murderer."

"You were right." Oliver frowned down at his hands. "I...Tommy, I wasn't alone on the island."

He grabbed Oliver's arm. "Come on. Let's go somewhere with less people."

Oliver sat down next to Tommy on the bench next to the roof access door. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it because it wasn't...good."

Tommy leaned back against the building. "No, I get that. I get that you'd want to leave it behind you, but Oliver...killing the men that kidnapped us? The people you've killed since then? What's all of that?"

Oliver sighed. "I made a promise to my father. He...died giving me a chance to live. I can't just let him down."

Tommy frowned and looked out over the roof. "So, what? You go around scaring everyone...Wait. Wait a minute. You attacked your own mother! Oliver!"

Oliver put his head in his hands. "There's some things that don't add up. I was trying to find out what she knew." He looked at Tommy. "She shot me."

"Well, good for her." Tommy rubbed his forehead. "No, sorry. I just..." He threw up his hands. "Oliver, what the hell happened to you?"

Oliver grimaced. "I...survived."

Tommy sighed. "Yeah as what? As who? I didn't expect you to be the same. I was really surprised when you said you wanted to go out after you got back, but Oliver you are so different that I feel like sometimes you are Oliver and sometimes not-Oliver. Do you know what I mean?"

Oliver nodded. "I get it." He reached under the bench and pulled out an arrow. "I'm not trying to kill people just to kill. I'm not...I'm trying not to be too crazy."

Tommy took the arrow from him and looked it over. "This is all black. I thought yours were green?"

"That one is from the Dark Archer that nearly killed me."

Tommy turned it over in his hand. "You nearly died? How many times have you almost died since you've been back?"

Oliver shrugged. "A few."

"A few? Oliver." Tommy put the black arrow back. "Oliver, I don't know how to help you."

"Just...keep talking to me? Please?"

Tommy sighed. "Fine, fine." He clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "I'm still not listening to any of it. I just...can't. Okay?"

"Fair enough."

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek as not-Oliver told him 'fair enough' because it wasn't fair. He was Oliver's best friend. He should be the one person Oliver could talk to, but it was just...He wasn't sure he could stand knowing what had changed Oliver so completely.

Diggle wasn't sure what to make of Tommy sidling up to him as Oliver schmoozed at the club. "Sir?"

"I, ah, wanted to ask you to do me a favor."

Diggle lifted his chin slightly. "What is the favor?"

Tommy gulped and held onto his elbow with his other hand. "Oliver. He needs help. I can't...I can't listen to what happened to him from the island." He gestured to Diggle. "I thought...He seems to trust you and you were military, I'm sure. So...could you listen to him?"

Diggle blinked. "If he'd talk to me, of course, I'd listen."

Tommy huffed. "I just...he's not him now. And I don't think I can know what he went through. I can hardly stand to deal with the not-Oliver as it is."

Diggle put his hand on Tommy's back. "Sir, I'll watch over him. Alright?"

Tommy nodded.

Oliver fired another arrow at the tennis ball Felicity had thrown. "You could throw them harder, you know."

She rolled her eyes and the next ball bounced funny. "That better?"

"More interesting." Oliver struck that one as Diggle came down the stairs. "Diggs, would you tell Felicity that she can actually throw the balls for me?"

"Felicity, hit him in the head with one and see if he can shot it."

Oliver ducked. "Don't."

Felicity froze with her arm half pulled back to throw. "Why not? I can't hurt you with a tennis ball, Oliver."

Oliver straightened up and sat the bow down. "My reflexes aren't always my friend, Felicity." He turned towards Diggs. "What's up?"

Diggle fidgeted with the button on his suit jacket. "Your friend Tommy just asked me, as a favor, to listen to anything you wanted to talk about because he says he can't do it."

Oliver frowned and touched the bow. "I couldn't talk to him even if he could listen."

Diggs sat down next to Felicity and took a tennis ball from her. "Why not? Throw."

Oliver waited for the first bounce before picking up the bow and hitting the ball with an arrow. "He wouldn't understand."

Diggle threw another ball and nudged Felicity. "Throw one right after I throw." He eyed Oliver. "How do you know that if you don't actually say anything, Oliver?"

Oliver fired arrows after each ball. "Do think think Tommy would understand warzone battles if you tried to tell him about it?"

Diggle sighed. "It isn't the same thing..."

Oliver pulled his quiver off and dropped it with the bow on the workbench. He came over and leaned against the desk Felicity had claimed. "Diggle, what do you think I did for five years?"

Diggle frowned. "Got a lot of scars you didn't give yourself."

Oliver ran a hand over his face. "Diggs..."

"Look, Oliver, we aren't stupid. You aren't dumb. So tell me exactly where in this you want me to believe that you were alone on that island. Tell me how you want me to swallow that you ended up with scars from torture and have me believe it was, what, wild animals? Is that your current story for it?"

Oliver stepped into Diggle's personal space. "I don't have a story for it! I don't talk about it!"

"I know!"

Oliver whirled around and hunched over, his hands on his thighs as he struggled to just breathe. "Just go. Out."

Felicity glanced up at Diggle, who wasn't moving. "Uhm. Look, I hate to get into the middle of the macho pissing match you two have started, but maybe, you could go about it a different way?"

They both looked at her.

She shrugged. "Maybe start with just an answer to a small question?" She made a face at Oliver. "What was your first meal on the island? Was it coconut?"

Oliver smiled ruefully and sat down on the floor right where he'd been standing. "No. I...had to kill a bird. I hadn't killed anything before. Never with my bare hands."

Diggle squeezed her shoulder as he went to Oliver. He pulled Oliver's head in to lean against Diggle's knee. "Were you able to cook it?"

Oliver closed his eyes. "I roasted it over a fire. At that moment it was the best thing I'd ever eaten, but I still felt really guilty that I killed the bird to eat it."

Felicity rolled her chair over and touched Oliver's shoulder. "See? I totally would have used a rock."

Oliver snorted and blinked really fast for a few moments. "I wasn't allowed a rock."

Felicity and Diggle exchanged looks over Oliver's bent head.