Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing you recognize.

Captain Lance sat in his car within the minimum distance for the surveillance equipment he had planted in Thea Queen's apartment. As a police officer, he was aware that he was breaking several right to personal privacy laws, but he needed the information. Lance needed to know for sure weather or not he should be hauling Oliver Queen's ass to the precinct in handcuffs at gun point.

He had considered planting the equipment in Felicity Smoak's apartment before thoroughly dismissing the idea when he remembered that the blonde could hack in to the NSA in twenty minutes flat on a bad day. The loft belonging to John and Lyla Diggle had been his second thought. This thought had taken a nose dive out the window when he had managed to dig up the fact that both halves of that particular couple were ex-special forces. Roy Harper was sleeping god knows where and Ray Palmer had 140 IQ points and 3 PhDs. Besides, the owner of Palmer Technologies wasn't exactly buddy buddy with the Arrow.

There was no point in bugging Verdant because of all of the noise distortion. Besides, after a quick inspection Lance had concluded that getting through the door to the basement required either the code, or extremely heavy fire power. Laurel would have known about any surveillance equipment the second it was in place. Hell, he had taught Laurel where cops put surveillance tech himself for Christ's sake.

So, Thea Queen's loft it was.

The images on screen were a bit grainy, but he could see enough. Enough to know that the image being displayed was one of the strangest he had ever seen. After twenty plus years as a cop in Starling City, that was saying something.

Oliver Queen stood in the center of an array of training matts that the Queen siblings apparently saw fit to keep in storage. He was wearing cargo pants and no shirt and Lance would have believed he was in the middle of training if it weren't for the fact that he's holding Diggle's infant daughter Sara in one arm. In the other, he held a two foot long metal sword with a wickedly sharp edge. Lance had seen enough stabbing reports and collected enough switch blades as evidence to know that this was a weapon designed to deal out quick, efficient death.

Sara was crying and Oliver was wearing an expression of semi-repressed panic. It was actually almost funny. Face the man up against an unlimited army of deadly assassins and you would be met with nothing but a tightened jaw and blank gaze. Hand him a crying baby, and suddenly absolute terror started to set in.

"Shh..." Oliver said, bouncing up and down slightly on the balls of his feet. He crossed the training matts and placed the practice sword on in a rack that looks a bit like an umbrella stand. He shifted the baby so that he was up against his shoulder and sighed. "I don't know how to make you stop crying," he said tiredly. "I've never actually been that good at fixing things."

He paced across the room, still bobbing up and down. "I can't get you to stop so we're going to try something a little bit different. Just..." he paused. "Work with me for a minute okay?" Queen shuffled Sara so that he was holding her against his chest with one hand and shuffled through a bag on a tall bar stool in front of the kitchen counter before extracting a soft pink blanket.

With movements gentler than Lance had ever thought Queen would be capable of, he wrapped Sara carefully in the blanket and formed his arms in to a rough cradle around the crying baby. With a huff of breath, he leaned back against the stainless steal counter. "I don't know how to get you to stop," he repeated. "So how about you just cry? Go on. I'm not about to let you go." Lance saw him duck his head down and press a kiss in to the downy brown air on her head. "Just go ahead. You're safe. I've got you."

The crying continued and Oliver tipped his head back with his eyes shut. "I don't sing," he stated. "So lullabies are out. And I don't know any nursery rhymes." He joggled Sara gently and Lance very nearly called him up to share a few of his own patented baby calming methods if only for the sake of clearing up the audio feed. Then Oliver spoke, sounding defeated. "Well, we know your lungs can't be the problem. I'm sure Diggle will be thrilled." He looked down at Sara, "Do you think you could at least try to fall asleep before he shows up? I'm preparing to beg here malen'kya pitchka."

The crying paused. Sara took a deep breath and sniffed quietly, looking up at Queen expectantly. Oliver looked down at her like he had been handed a tiny miracle. "Russian?" he said with slight disbelief. "Twenty minutes of crying and you stop when I speak Russian?" Sara sniffled more loudly and seemed ready to burst in to another fit of cries. "Khorosho, khorosho," Oliver said quickly. "Net angliyskogo. I get it. Just no more crying khorosho malen'kya pitchka."

Lance spared a brief moment to wonder when the hell Queen had learned Russian. He knew for a fact that it hadn't been a class in Oliver's high school and not one he would have taken even if it was an option. Probably around the same time he was figuring out how to put Arrows in criminals.

Oliver continued to murmur in a quiet language that Lance didn't understand. He doesn't understand a word of it but the kid made the language rhythmic and gentle, like it's own lullaby. Eventually Sara drifted off to sleep and Oliver paused, checking to see if the crying was actually done. Lance could watch, even on the grainy film as Oliver let out a breath of relief. "Spokoynoy nochi," he said. "Sleep well malen'kya pitchka."

The sound of the door of the loft opening and high heels clicking along the floor came across the mike before Felicity Smoak entered the range of the button camera. Queen's gaze locked on her the second the door opened and his back stiffened as though he was half way ready for a fight. "You got her to sleep," Felicity said in a hushed voice. "According to Digg that's been almost impossible lately."

"That would have been a good warning to have when Digg asked if I could watch her," Oliver said in a tone that suggested he was more than used to getting news a little later than he would have liked to, and had, at this point just plain stopped expecting to find out anything important on time.

Felicity shrugged and put down her brightly colored hand bag. "It looks like you managed just fine."

She shucked off her coat and Queen looked back down at Sara. "Yeah well, I think at this point it's safe to say we've reached an understanding."

"I noticed," Felicity stepped closer to him and peered down at the pale pink bundle. She reached out carefully with thin hands that were more suited to typing than throwing a punch and brushed across the baby's forehead, tucking the blanket back from her face. The nails were tipped with bright blue polish and they contrasted heavily with the sleek, dark, surroundings of the loft. She looked back up and met Oliver's eyes. "Can I take her?"

"Yeah," Queen said quickly. Lance watched as the two of them shifted awkwardly as Oliver attempted to maneuver Sara in to Miss Smoak's arms without waking the baby up again. "Just- be careful," he said. Lance could hear a touch of anxiety in his voice. "Getting to... this. Took a little while."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "I know how to hold a baby Oliver, and considering the number of nannies you probably had I ay even know better than you."

Oliver shrugged and picked up a shirt from the couch and threw it over his head. "It was only ever one nanny actually. Raisa. She cooked for us to." He leaned back against the edge of the couch and his face was in profile to the camera. "I did my best to set her up with a different job after..." he trailed off and swallowed. "Everything."

Felicity hummed and the room went silent for a moment. "You never did tell me when you learned how to speak Russian."

"It's-"

"A long story," Felicity finished. "I'm sorry," she backtracked. "You might have been going to end that differently but you don't. Not generally. I mean, sometimes it is but normally you finish either with 'long story' or 'complicated' so I just figured I would save us some time." She slowed down her stream of words and Lance was able to get through a full count of three before she spoke again. "Which I have no longer done since I took the time to explain that." She sighed. "Sorry again."

Oliver shook his head and Lance could see that he was smiling in a way that was smaller and more genuine than he had ever seen before. "Don't apologize."

"Why?" Felicity asked. "Do you have permanent dibs on apologies these days? Because personally I think those would be pretty hard to own."

"No," Queen said. "Because you're right." He waited for a long moment and then stood up straight and made his way back over to Felicity, standing closer but still outside of the general range of appropriate personal space. "There are... a lot of things I haven't told you. Things I haven't told anyone." He took a deep breath, "I learned how to speak Russian from a man I met on a prison freighter the year that Ivo came to the Island. I saved his life and because he thought he owed me, he made me a part of the Bratva... and he taught me the language."

Lance froze. The Bratva? As is the Russian mob. How was it possible that that connection had been missed? Suddenly, his thoughts spun back to the first time Thea had been arrested for possession of Vertigo. Oliver had claimed he had paid money to a low level Russian for information, but if he was a Bratva member then no payment would have been necessary. The Bratva didn't run on money. It depended on debts, loyalty, and favors.

Felicity nodded. "Is that where you were?" she asked. "When you weren't on the island I mean. You said Hong Kong before, but only for part of it."

"I spent enough time in Moscow to be made a captain," Queen said, flattening the emotion out of his voice. "I still have connections. People who owe me favors and since Alexi is now in Jail, I may even be back in their good standing again," he pushed himself lightly off the back of the couch and then fell back against it. "Frankly I'd rather not have to find out the hard way."

"Makes sense," she agreed. "Especially since I have a feeling that the hard way for the Russian mob probably means- you know... death, and bullets, and pointy things.

Oliver shrugged. "Something like that." Lance had been a detective long enough to note that Oliver had bitten in to his lower lip and though his arms were relaxed the first two fingers on his right hand were rubbing against his thumb. Body language said everything. Whatever memories Queen had of the Russian Mob were clearly not pleasant ones.

Felicity shifted Sara in her arms and sat on the stool Oliver had just vacated. They were silent for a few minutes and Oliver moved to stand in front of the wide wall of windows, back to the camera. "What did you call her?" Felicity asked. Oliver turned to her with his eyebrows raised slightly, clearly asking for a clarification. "When you were talking earlier," she expanded. "It just seemed like a nickname. Malka pitcha?"

"Malen'kya pitchka," he corrected with a small smile. "It means little bird. It just..." he trailed off. "Seamed to fit."

Lance felt his breathing tighten. Sara, his Sara had been called canary. Now this tiny baby that shared her name was sharing it in spirit as well.

"What's Arrow?" Felicity asked.

Queen crossed his arms and leaned his body against one of the support pillars. "Arrow is Strelka, but they didn't call me that there. I wasn't the Arrow there. I was a lot more like the Hood there," he shook his head once and glanced down at the floor. "And I wasn't even that yet."

Felicity fidgeted slightly, and Lance got the idea that she was searching for a slightly happier topic to lighten the sudden darkness that had crept in to the loft. "What would they call me?"

"You are never going to find that out," Oliver said. His voice seemed to drop octaves by the syllable. The cold emanating from his tone made even Lance shiver and it wasn't directed at him. The owner of this voice- this person. Well, it was easy to see why criminals in the city had started running scared.

Felicity looked like she wanted to be affronted or push the subject but Oliver cut her off. "Please Felicity just-" he took a half step forward as his words broke off. "That is... a part of my life I have never wanted to get near you. In Russia when I had you go to the hotel instead of the meeting with Anatoly," he swallowed. "There was a reason."

Quentin's blood went absolutely cold. The Russian Mob had all sorts of nasty connections. Drugs, murder, and money laundering all made the list. The most disgusting organized crimes of all were different though. Half the Bratva and the Triad were knee deep in human trafficking and prostitution.

"Oh," Felicity said in a hollow tone of realization. "That's either very considerate of you or completely gross and I'm not exactly sure which one I want to go with." She walked carefully past Queen, brushing her arm against his as she went. It could have been a casual movement, but from the way the tension relaxed out of Oliver's shoulders Lance could see that the one movement was much more reassuring than that.

She tucked Sara gently between two couch cushions to keep her from moving and stood up. "Well, I was only here for my lunch break. Which," she checked her phone. "Is about to end. So I had better go and meet Ray."

The corner of Queen's mouth tightened but he stood to the side in order to completely clear her path to the door. She had just opened it when Oliver spoke. "Solnyshko" he said finally. A small smile played at the edges of his mouth. "It means light, warmth, sunshine. Moye solnyshko."

Felicity paused for a moment in the door and gave Oliver a bright smile before stepping out.

Lance quickly terminated the video feed and started his car, pulling away from he loft and turning back towards the precinct. A lot of what he had heard that day would be just cause to arrest Oliver Queen and throw him in jail for vigilantism, murder, assault, assault with intent, assault with a deadly weapon, B&E, drug trade, theft, money laundering, and human trafficking.

But for some reason he just couldn't.

What he had feared had become a reality. The Arrow had become a person. A real person with another life. People he cared about who cared about him.

So no Oliver Queen was not a hero. Lance was convinced about that. Now he just had to decide if the man was a villain.

A/N: Hey guys! Let me just start by saying that I was originally only going to do a one shot but the response was so incredible that I felt like I had to keep going. Who else is totally freaking out over this week's episode!? I'm trying to come close to cannon because it looks like 3x19 is going to be majorly epic and I want to use as much material from the show as possible. That meant I had to give Lance some conflict. Everyone on this show has internal conflict! Hands up if you think they could all use a hug and some group therapy. Review for me! I'll answer questions if you've got them. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxo

P.S. Sorry about any typos. I'm really tired while writing this and I'm not great at catching typos on a good day.