Pre-Author's Note: Here's the second chapter everyone. I've just published the TV Tropes page. Search for "best served cold Nyame" on that particular site if you want to find it, and I'll be posting the link in the AO3 version.
Also, watch the new live-action One Piece show on Netflix. You won't regret it.
Oliver had to admit that his return thus far had been something of a mixed bag.
Not really surprising — everyone had changed, him most of all, as last night had proven. He had a new stepfather, and his baby sister was seventeen-going-on-eighteen and was now into drugs. And that was the tip of the iceberg. After all, there was still Laurel to contend with, and Oliver already had a fairly good idea of how that was going to go.
"…so what did you miss most?"
"Laurel."
Suddenly, the car came to a sudden stop. Oliver grunted as he lurched forward, his chest painfully constricted by his seatbelt. They skidded on the road briefly, before continuing as they were before. "What the hell, Tommy?" Oliver demanded.
His best friend didn't answer at first. Oliver glanced at him and blinked in confusion and worry. Tommy was staring straight ahead on the road, his grip on the steering wheel knuckle white. His face was starting to turn red from what Oliver was beginning to realize was rage.
"You miss Laurel," Tommy said, letting out a bitter laugh. "Of course you missed Laurel." He spoke the name of Oliver's ex-girlfriend with no small amount of derision and resentment.
"Tommy," Oliver started slowly, panic slowly beginning to creep into him. "Did something happen between you and Laurel?"
Tommy grunted. "It's better if I just show you."
They left the Glades and drove downtown, to some kind of event that was taking place in the middle of Kirby Plaza. Tommy parked their car on the side of the street before gesturing to a bewildered Oliver to follow them. They trekked over to the crowd of bustling workers, and Oliver blinked. It took him a moment to recognize her with her now-blonde hair, but yup — there was Laurel, directing the traffic like a well-bred commander.
She was different too. The Laurel he remembered was a young woman barely out of college, bright-eyed and eager for the future he had so stupidly and selfishly destroyed. Now, she was a woman grown, with everything that entailed. Dressed smartly in a white blouse and black pantsuit, an air of confidence around her, she was… striking.
Before they could announce themselves, Laurel noticed them. Her lips pressed into a firm line and her gaze turned cool, but other than that there wasn't much of a reaction. Not a hint of the anger Oliver so duly expected and deserved. That was a promising sign, or so he hoped.
"Tommy," she greeted politely, before turning to Oliver. "Ollie. Welcome back."
"Laurel," Oliver started, stepping forward. "I…"
Laurel, and Tommy too for that matter, were staring at him expectantly. Oliver tried to gather his thoughts, but it was hard. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Cheating on her with her sister, getting her sister killed, and right before they were due to move in together no less… God. That was just the beginning, wasn't it?
In the end, he didn't have to say anything at all. The universe had decided it was time for another unpleasant surprise to land on his doorstep. One that he would never expect, not even in a million years.
"Mrs. Merlyn, Mrs. Merlyn!" One of the workers called out. Another wave of confusion hit Oliver — Mrs. Merlyn? The only Mrs. Merlyn Oliver had ever known was Aunt Rebecca, and she was long dead. Had Tommy gotten married?
But then he saw Laurel turn around to speak to the worker, and Oliver's heart stopped. "You and Tommy got married?" he blurted out.
Tommy burst out laughing, but there was no mirth in the sound. Meanwhile, Laurel ignored them both, instead continuing to speak with the worker to deal with whatever issue had come up. Oliver was left in the cold, feeling like he was the butt of some joke, one that only he was unaware of.
Eventually, his best friend's laughter subsided, and he began to speak. "Oh, no," Tommy said, and there was a sardonic, cutting edge to his voice. "She didn't marry me."
"Then who—" Oliver stopped, and stared.
By that point, Laurel had finished speaking to the worker. She returned to them, completely unruffled, composure still in place. Oliver almost envied her, but right now, he was too busy freaking out.
"Ollie, meet my new stepmother, and the new Mrs. Malcolm Merlyn," the other man spoke with faux aplomb. The genuine anger he had over this situation couldn't be any more apparent. "Dinah Laurel Merlyn. Laurel, I'm sure Oliver and you have met."
Laurel sighed in exasperation. "Oh, Tommy. Are we really going to start this now? It's been years now, almost six months since the wedding. You can't be angry forever."
Tommy snapped his head towards her, expression seething. Laurel braced herself for another argument. Oliver, meanwhile, did the only thing he could in this situation.
He went to the nearest trash can and threw up.
Oliver's little episode cut off the burgeoning argument between his best friend and his ex-girlfriend before it could start. Obviously, in no mood to speak any further, Oliver cleaned himself up with a paper towel offered to him by Tommy and then skedaddled. He wasn't ready to speak to Laurel right now, not until he could process everything he had just learned. Then Tommy and he got kidnapped, sidetracking him for the rest of the day.
No, Oliver didn't get the chance to have his heart-to-heart with Laurel on the night of his welcome-back party. Tommy had made it an open invitation, something he had regretted when he saw the arrival of Laurel and her bodyguard. He hadn't been able to refute their entry, as Laurel was now as much of a custodian of the Merlyn fortune as he was. She was technically funding it, just like him.
That was fine. Now that Oliver had time to come to terms with the idea, he desperately needed to talk to Laurel. He knew what he'd done would hurt her irreparably, but how had it led her to marry Malcolm Merlyn of all people? Tommy's dad, Oliver's godfather, a man they'd known since they were literal children. Oliver had expected she might seek comfort with someone else during the years he was gone, but… but…
"Ollie, you're looking ill," Thea noted, her expression suddenly turning concerned. They had been in the middle of an argument over her attendance at the party, but Oliver had gotten distracted by Laurel's appearance. His little sister followed his gaze and winced. "Ah. Found out about that, huh?"
"Couldn't any of you have warned me?" Oliver turned to her, almost begging.
The younger Queen shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, Ollie, but there's no easy way to come out and tell you that your ex-girlfriend got married to your best friend's dad. I mean, we had a hard enough time telling you that Mom got remarried. How were we supposed to tell you about this?"
A valid point. At least his mother had married someone in her age range. It was hard to look at Laurel, knowing that she might as well have married a cradle robber.
Laurel, ignorant of their conversation, walked up to the Queen siblings and gave them a polite nod. "Ollie. Thea. It's good to see you both."
"Yeah, nice to see you too, Laurel," Thea replied awkwardly. She cleared her throat. "Well, I better get going. School and all." With that, she was gone. Whatever interest she had in staying for the party was lost in the presence of her brother's ex-girlfriend. Oliver could only wonder what else had gone on these past five years; Laurel and Thea had always been close, so for Thea to not want to be around his ex-girlfriend was… well, it was something.
Once the younger woman was out of sight, Laurel turned to him. "Can we talk?"
"Alright, this should be private enough," Laurel announced. They were in the upper deck of the convention center where Oliver's party was being hosted, the area almost devoid of any guests. The only people there other than them were their bodyguards. "So, go ahead and say your piece."
"Laurel, what the hell," Oliver demanded, his previous hesitation and awkwardness gone. "Tommy's dad of all people?"
Laurel glared at him, and that was almost comforting. It was something he had been expecting. "You're the last person in the world who has any right to judge my choices, Ollie. Did you think I was just going to up and move on after my sister and my boyfriend died fucking each other behind my back?"
Oliver flinched at those words, the harshness of her tone almost physically striking him. He didn't even bother to defend himself for his actions; what he'd done was unquestionably wrong, no matter the consequences that came after. Instead, he focused on something else Laurel said. "Wait. You and Malcolm don't…"
"We love each other in our own way, Ollie," Laurel responded with a sigh. "Not that it's any of your business, but we do care about each other. We're happy. It's not the fairytale true love of my dreams, but I'm going to be honest, Oliver — after what you did to me, I stopped believing in that a long time ago. What matters, what truly matters in a relationship, is respect, and it's all too obvious now that you didn't respect me."
Not like how Malcolm does now, was what wasn't said. Another flinch. "Laurel, I am sorry," Oliver apologized. "Truly. I was being selfish, doing what I did. And I know there's nothing I can ever do to make up for it, but… I just wanted you to know."
Her expression softened. "I know."
A brief silence passed. Oliver swallowed. "Are you really that happy with Malcolm?"
Laurel nodded, and Oliver almost felt run through at the sight. "He trusts me, has faith in me and my abilities. We're a partnership, in every single way that matters, and we're building something good together. And I know you were probably expecting something else, but… I'm sorry too, Ollie. Things have changed, I've changed, and you can't expect things to go back to the way they used to be after everything that's happened."
No, he couldn't. And it only made him hate himself all the more. "Laurel…" He trailed off and then sighed.
His ex-girlfriend stepped forward, and to his surprise pulled him into a hug. After a moment, Oliver returned it, reveling in the warmth. This was what he'd missed, more than anything else: Laurel's kindness and comfort.
After a moment, they separated, and Laurel caressed his cheek. "I'm not saying this to hurt you, Ollie. I'm just saying this so you'll understand. And for what it's worth, I'm glad to see you here, alive and well. No matter how angry I was at you or Sara, I never wanted either of you dead."
Oliver closed his eyes, reveling in Laurel's touch once more. But then it was gone, and he saw her moving to leave. "Laurel, wait!"
She glanced back at him. He swallowed again. "About Sara…" Oliver struggled to say something but eventually gave up. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her," he said instead.
Laurel's gaze flickered down to the floor for a moment, before flickering up towards him. "Did she suffer?"
Another moment of hesitation. "…no."
Her gaze lingered on him, and Oliver wondered if she'd seen through his lie. Whether she did or not, she decided to let it go. "Thanks, Ollie."
And with that, she left.
Laurel's mind blanked out on the way back to the manor. It was… a trial, seeing Oliver again like that. She was unable to show her true feelings about his return. Like always, he managed to affect her so much, and it was only the years of mastered control that prevented her true feelings from surfacing.
Part of her had wanted to scream at him. Shout at him. Demand that he'd tell her why, why had he done it? How could he? And Sara, of all people? Even after all these years, it still hurt.
The rest of her had wanted to bury herself in his arms and never let go. To pull him down and give him the most searing kiss she could muster, to bask in his warmth and touch. No matter what he'd done, Laurel knew she was still in love with Oliver Queen, and that she always would be. And after all these years of having to endure Malcolm's touch, she wanted nothing more than to be with Oliver again.
But she couldn't. Not yet, and depending on how long things took, perhaps not ever again. Things were closing in on the endgame. The Markov devices were projected to be completed soon. Once they were constructed and thoroughly tested, the Undertaking would finally be conducted. Laurel had to make sure Malcolm and everyone else involved in the project went down before things reached that point. The lives of thousands depended on it.
When she arrived at the manor, Laurel was directed to Malcolm's office. She had told him what she was planning on doing before she left, and he wanted her to report back to him to see if the younger man let anything slip. "So, how did it go?" Malcolm asked her the moment the door to his home office shut behind them.
Laurel shrugged. "He didn't say anything incriminating, so all I ended up doing was give him a harsh dose of reality," she answered candidly.
"Oh?" Malcolm got up from his seat and approached her, looking suspicious. It put her off more than she liked to admit. "Is that all there really was to it? I remember quite well how you felt about him before, Laurel."
"Yes, Malcolm," Laurel responded, rolling her eyes before giving him a flat look. "Everyone did. But that was before he cheated on me with my sister and got her killed. Did you think I would want anything to do with him after that?"
Malcolm smirked. "My apologies," he purred. "Let me make it up to you."
As he pulled her into a kiss, Laurel did her best to put Oliver out of her mind and focus on the neverending chore of faking sexual desire for a man twice her age. It wouldn't do to call out Oliver's name while they were having sex, and truth be told Laurel needed to keep her mind off her ex and anything else that might distract her for the next couple of months, especially when it might piss off her husband. She had a terrorist attack to spoil, and that had to come first.
Besides, after everything she'd done, it was doubtful Oliver would still want her anyway.
Laurel's decree of no distractions hit a snag when the city found itself with something unexpected: a new vigilante. The last one, some brawler in the Glades, had hung up his mask months ago after he and his sidekick got into some fight with a gang that saw someone dead. Apparently, Tigercat or whatever didn't have the stomach for killing and disappeared soon after.
This particular vigilante, nicknamed "The Hood" by the news, had no such reservations. Already he was building a body count, one that would make even the most hardened criminals wince. To say nothing of his targets, which were of a much higher profile. The city's one percent was in for a reckoning, and privately Laurel somewhat approved, even if she had to publicly decry the man's endeavors to match her husband. Being a high-profile defense attorney who had been forced to defend many of these assholes, she wasn't losing sleep over how many were suddenly unable to afford her services.
Speaking of her husband, Malcolm was taking a particular interest in this vigilante. Probably because he was an archer, much like Malcolm himself. Unlike the rest of Tempest, Laurel was privy to Malcolm's greatest secret: the Dark Archer, his enforcer, was in reality him. After Rebecca's death, her husband left Starling to find himself, and that journey led him to an ancient fortress in the Himalayas, manned by a powerful cult: the League of Assassins.
Completely devoted to the eradication of evil and corruption through death, they trained Malcolm in their arts for two years. Malcolm learned quickly and ascended the ranks at astronomical speed, becoming the leader's chief enforcer. Through that, he managed to accumulate enough goodwill to be released from his vow and return to Starling to begin his work with Tempest.
It was a skeleton in the closet that only Laurel knew, and it had been her greatest victory yet. The greatest sign of Malcolm's complete trust in her and proof that he wasn't suspicious of her in the slightest. Laurel swiftly took advantage of the knowledge and convinced Malcolm to train her and teach her how to fight like him. She had argued that she needed to be able to defend herself in case she was ever in a vulnerable position. In reality, she wished to have those skills in case she ever needed to defend herself against him.
He agreed, much to her relief. With that, she had gained the necessary skills needed to protect herself should worse come to worse, and brought them closer together as a couple. Malcolm had grown only more attracted to her as her competency as a fighter increased. Not long after she defeated him in a hard spar, he had proposed.
Laurel knew that it wouldn't be long before Malcolm challenged this Hood to some kind of duel, for the sake of feeding his ego if nothing else. As arrogant and self-absorbed as he could be, Laurel had to admit that one of her husband's few positive traits was his endless determination to reach greater heights. Malcolm had an amazing work ethic, and he loved a challenge. It was such a shame he had used those traits to commit evil instead.
A complication showed up a few weeks later after the Hood's first appearance. While Laurel had already completed her training under Malcolm and was a reasonable enough fighter under him, she felt the need to improve her skills more. In addition, while she had religiously displayed her "devotion" to the Undertaking, she couldn't expect to spend all her free time working with Malcolm to make it a reality, lest her husband get suspicious. Not even he spent all his time preparing for the Undertaking. Even the great Al Sa-her had hobbies too.
So, she began enrolling in other martial arts classes to improve her skills, such as tai chi and jiu-jitsu. It was a way to enhance her newly acquired combat skills, in addition to being an effective outlet to deal with her inner conflicts without arousing Malcolm's suspicion. Laurel could only suppress herself for so long a time. There were moments when she needed to drop the mask, or else she feared going insane.
It was while leaving one of the classes with her bodyguard that the Hood struck. He incapacitated young Maven with ease before directing his bow at her. Laurel held up her hands in a defensive measure. "Now, no need for there to be any trouble," she insisted. "How much money is needed for me to repent? What sin have I committed, Hood?" She was doubtful he knew — Laurel had gone to great lengths to make sure no one knew. If the new vigilante was aware, then she was slipping.
"None," the Hood finally said after a moment. His voice was disguised with a modulator, his tone unusually soft. "I need your help."
Laurel frowned. "I doubt there is much I could help a vigilante like you with — well, besides representing you if you get caught," she said rather carefully. While she was confident in her ability to defend herself if it came down to a fight, her potential opponent was much better armed than she was. She couldn't die here, not when the Undertaking was still a threat.
"The prisoner that's to be executed soon, Peter Declan. He's innocent."
"Oh? Do you have any proof?"
The Hood fell silent for a moment. "None that you would believe. Or would hold up in court."
"I see. Well, if you're being sincere, then I wish you all the best. But I can't help you. I don't do pro bono work and even if I did your word alone is not enough for me to convince me of his innocence." With that, Laurel dropped her hands and turned to tend to young Maven. Malcolm was going to insist he be fired, she just knew it. She needed all her wits to convince him otherwise — she had spent years cultivating Maven's friendship and loyalty for when the time came, and a new bodyguard was a complication she just didn't need right now.
"Miss Lance, wait!"
She snapped her head towards him, narrowing her eyes. "It's Mrs. Merlyn now," she corrected him, and her suspicions increased when she saw the way he wilted at her words. He almost seemed sad about what she said.
"Right," the Hood swallowed. "Is there really no way I can convince you to take on his case?"
He really did believe Declan was innocent, didn't he? Laurel faltered for a moment and wished she could help him. But chafing against Malcolm now would only compromise her position. She couldn't afford to do that, no matter how much she wanted to.
But that didn't mean she couldn't direct him toward someone who could help him, right?
"Look, I'm sorry, but I really can't help you," she said, and his shoulders slumped upon hearing that. "But I know someone who can."
The Hood immediately perked up upon hearing that. "Really? Who?"
"Joanna de la Vega," Laurel answered. "She's a friend of mine from law school, and she works for the City Necessary Resource Initiative, aka CNRI. They're a legal aid office located in the Glades. I know her, and she has a good heart. If you can convince her of Declan's innocence, then she'll do anything and everything in her power to help him."
The Hood nodded. "Thank you, Laurel." With that, he aimed his arrow upwards and ziplined to the roof, disappearing from view. Laurel let out another sigh and returned to Maven.
After getting Maven to the hospital to get checked out (only a minor concussion, thank God), Laurel returned home to report everything that happened to Malcolm. She told him just about everything, from Maven getting knocked out to the Hood's request for her help. The only thing she kept silent about was him calling her by an incorrect name, and his reaction to being reminded of her marital status. She wasn't sure what it meant, and it wasn't relevant either way.
He had been furious that the Hood had gotten so close to her, even if she hadn't been in any real danger, and just as Laurel predicted, made plans to fire Maven. Laurel soothed and convinced him not to, doing her best to emphasize that it wasn't Maven's fault and that she didn't want another bodyguard. After a bit of an argument, Malcolm reluctantly conceded.
And as for the other thing… "Declan is innocent?"
Malcolm nodded. "His wife was going to blow the whistle on Brodeur dumping toxic waste in the Glades, so he had his fixer kill her and frame Declan for the murder. Since it had to do with the Glades, I saw no reason to do anything about it."
Of course. Malcolm's ever-present hatred of the Glades had struck once again. No matter how many times he peddled his Undertaking as being for the Greater Good, revenge was at the heart of his motivations. It was one of the few things where they were truly alike, much to Laurel's eternal shame.
But still. This information provided an opportunity to help Declan. All she had to do was frame it the right way. "I say we let the Hood save Declan," Laurel declared.
Malcolm turned to her in surprise. "Laurel?"
"Think about it, Malcolm. If we let the Hood have this victory, a victory that I helped him claim, then that will make him more amenable to me. Make him trust me when he needs something else that I might be able to provide him. It'll allow us to find out more about him and what he might know. And whether or not we can turn him to our side or burn and get rid of him before he gets too troublesome."
Her husband turned thoughtful upon hearing those words. Upon seeing that, Laurel pushed the envelope a little further. "Plus, we can set up Brodeur as an example to the other members of the List. I know the List is no longer Tempest's main method of operation, but that doesn't mean we can ignore it and what it represents. It's been years since we've properly enforced our rule over the criminals in this city, and without the threat over their heads, they've begun pushing against the boundaries, wanting more. Brodeur's actions are an example of that. If he gets away with this, what's stopping him from dumping toxic waste somewhere else in Starling and killing people to make sure you don't find out?"
Nothing, and they both knew it. Malcolm was as powerful as ever, but that meant nothing if those below him weren't constantly reminded of that. With the Undertaking on the way, they could not afford some criminal on the List screwing things up, getting themselves caught and accidentally blabbing about Tempest in hopes of a reduced sentence. Which they might do if they weren't reminded of what awaited them if they did.
"You raise valid points, Laurel," her husband finally conceded. "Very well — I take it you will be giving a call to Joanna?"
Laurel nodded sharply. Despite their differing jobs — Laurel a member of a powerful defense firm and Joanna a member of a legal aid office — the two women were steadfast friends. Under different circumstances, Laurel would be working at CNRI alongside her, pinning to the wall the very bastards she was forced to defend every single day. Instead, her current circumstances required her to convince Joanna to do so in her place.
"Go ahead. I'll see about getting the evidence to get Declan's name cleared."
It worked. Declan's name was cleared, Brodeur under investigation, pending an arrest thanks to his fixer, Ankov, flipping on him. That particular development came about from a short-sighted move by Brodeur, who sent Ankov to kill Declan before the whistle could be blown. To be fair to him, he had played it smart by instigating a prison riot right before the assassination was to be conducted. A way to obscure the true culprit of his death. Had the Hood not been there, it might've even worked.
The vigilante appeared to her the night after Declan's release to thank her for her cooperation, and she had been more amiable in his presence. After all, she needed to go through with her plan as proposed to Malcolm. Whether anything came of the connection was beyond her control, which in this case would prove to be a benefit, since she didn't actually want to oppose the Hood.
Just when Laurel thought things were going to calm down again, she found herself in another pickle. Or rather, Oliver did. A few weeks after Declan, the news reported about her father arresting her ex-boyfriend under accusations of being the Hood.
Oh, Ollie, Laurel moaned in her thoughts as she watched the scene. Whether he was guilty or not, she just knew she was going to get involved in this somehow. A prediction that was proven true when she was summoned to join the meeting between Malcolm and Moira to discuss the matter.
"The entire case is a sham!" Moira declared to them both, furious and desperate beyond belief. "The arresting detective has a grudge against my son, something I'm sure both of you are well aware of."
"Indeed, but I must admit the evidence is very compelling, Moira," Malcolm noted calmly, leaning forward to lace his hands together. "Your son returns from five years away from home, five years where he could've developed all sorts of skills, and a few days later the Hood appears on the scene? That's quite a coincidence. And that's not getting into the Hood's encounter with Laurel."
Moira's gaze turned sharply to the younger woman upon hearing those words. "What encounter?" she demanded harshly. Her relationship with Laurel had not been the best since Laurel's relationship with Malcolm had become public. Especially when Laurel officially joined Tempest not long after.
"The Hood sought me out to take on Peter Declan's case," Laurel explained neutrally, easily meeting Moira's eyes head-on. She lived on the edge of danger every day, being married to an insane assassin with a god complex whom she eventually intended to betray — compared to that, Moira Queen was nothing. "I refused him, of course. What's strange is why he sought me out specifically, even though I am a member of a distinguished firm focused on corporate and occasionally criminal law. Hardly someone aligned with his… ideals."
They all knew what she was implying. The Hood sought her out because of a personal connection to her — because he knew of her original dreams of being a crusading lawyer who desired to help people with law and was unaware or at least unused to the person she was now. All traits applied liberally to Oliver, and as much as she didn't want to throw her ex under the bus, she couldn't outright deny it and expect Malcolm to believe it.
Moira was glaring at her in heartbreak and betrayal. Laurel ignored it and squashed her burgeoning guilt as she continued to speak. "Then again, I know Ollie. And I've seen how he's been acting around town. He hasn't changed that much, being the same irresponsible playboy as ever. Unless it's an act, I highly doubt he's the Hood."
Her elder sagged her shoulders in relief. "See," Moira pointed out, gesturing to Laurel. "If even Laurel believes Oliver can't be the Hood, then how can you?"
The argument volleyed back and forth for some time. Eventually, it was cut off with Moira got a call on her cell phone. That led to another strange argument with whoever was on the other side of the line, and when it was done, Moira was turning to her again.
"Oliver wants you to be his attorney," she told Laurel.
Laurel blinked. "What? No way, my father's the arresting detective. The conflict of interest—"
"It's either you or no attorney at all."
Dammit, Oliver. Laurel exchanged looks with Malcolm, who looked thoughtful. "Perhaps that's for the best," he finally said, much to her surprise. "It's as Moira said — you know Oliver. If anyone can figure out he's the Hood, it's you. Become his attorney, talk to him. See whether or not he's truly as innocent as he claims or if he's hiding something. If he isn't, then we'll leave him alone, and brush this all under the rug. If he is… well." Malcolm glanced back at Moira. "Something will need to be done, then."
Laurel's heart was pounding as she watched Oliver exit the interrogation room, eyes stinging with tears. Her confusion and worry had piqued when she realized Oliver had lied about previously visiting Iron Heights, though she had caught herself before calling him out on it. However, whatever anxiousness she felt over the falsehood had been lost in the face of everything that she had learned today. During his time away, Ollie had been tortured. Tortured.
"Are you satisfied now?" Laurel hissed to her father the moment they were alone. "Enough with this! This… this grudge of yours has gone too far! I know you hate to admit it, but Sara's death wasn't his fault! He didn't cause that damn boat to sink, Frank Chen did, and the bastard responsible is already dead, remember!"
"If he hadn't gone after your sister—"
"He didn't force her at gunpoint, Dad! As much as I love Sara, as much as I wish she were here, the reality is she chose to go with him! You trying to pin a crime on him just because you aren't willing to own up to how your and Mom's bad parenting convinced Sara it was a great idea to betray me, her sister, by sleeping with my boyfriend is not going to change that!"
Quentin snarled at her and didn't bother continuing with the conversation. He got up from his chair and left instead, slamming the door behind him. The moment he was gone, Laurel slumped into her chair, rubbing her temples. It was low, using Sara like that, but it was probably the only way she was going to get through to her father. Not like they had closest the relationship these days.
Much like everyone else, Quentin had not taken her relationship with Malcolm well. The row they had when the news came out had been volcanic, with her father calling her names that she dared not repeat. In return, Laurel had snapped and let out her own suppressed feelings about Quentin, things that she had done her best to ignore or downplay, only for them to come boiling back up to the surface in that one moment. By the time they were done, things were so raw that they didn't speak for months.
It hadn't done any favors for Quentin's job at the precinct. Without Laurel to mind him, he spiraled and nearly got himself fired until she pulled a few strings to force him on a sabbatical and rehab instead. When he came back, he was sober, and while things between them were still tense, they had begun speaking again. When Malcolm proposed, Laurel had no qualms about inviting him to the wedding (happily acquiescing to his request to not have to walk her down the aisle), and after a moment's hesitation, had invited her mother as well.
That, in a way, had been a mistake. Right before the wedding, Dinah had a breakdown and revealed a devastating truth: she knew Sara was going to sneak onto the Gambit. No, it was worse than that — she had let Sara go, let Sara betray her sister, simply because her younger daughter thought herself 'in love'. Never mind the fact that Laurel had been in love with Oliver too. Her feelings hadn't mattered.
This time, there was no need to feign her anger. Laurel had been furious beyond belief, furious and heartbroken. She had screamed at Dinah, demanding why. How could she? Ollie and Sara were one thing — with all she had matured in her own right, she could see what they were: two dumb kids, high off their hormones and too spoiled to realize the consequences, whether the Gambit made it to China or not. But Dinah… Dinah should've known better.
She had disinvited her mother from the wedding and sent her away. There was no way she wanted to be anywhere near her after what she'd just heard. Dinah hadn't protested, but Quentin had. He had begged Laurel to forgive Dinah, to give them a chance to reunite their family, but Laurel had refused. There was no point in reuniting a family if they weren't going to value each other's feelings equally. She needed time to process before she could even begin considering giving her mother another chance.
Quentin didn't like that and disinvited himself from the wedding as well. Fully estranged, they hadn't spoken since. It was a state of affairs that Laurel didn't enjoy, but once the anger had mostly faded and she had time to reflect, she had to admit it was for the best. Better they keep their distance than entangle themselves in the web she was already in.
And yet, here they were again. Entangled back in the web, whether they realized it or not. Regardless of whether or not Oliver was the Hood, Laurel was not going to sell him out to Malcolm. She needed to find some other way to resolve this before her husband got impatient and took things into his own hands.
Laurel was no stranger to scars.
Her father had a few scars from his time as a police officer, the result of too many bad scrapes with the criminals that he hunted. Malcolm had more than his fair share, a product of his time with the League; to him, they were a source of pride, a sign of his strength. Laurel had called it attractive to his face while rolling her eyes in private at his self-importance. Even she had her own scars because when it came to training. Malcolm had been a complete demon as a teacher. She did her best to keep them hidden, not because of shame but rather because it would cause too many questions if anyone found out about them.
Here and now, seeing the scars on Oliver's chest, made Laurel ill. Whether it was the number, the size, or the knowledge of where they came from, they were nothing to be proud of at all. They were just another reminder of how much Oliver suffered — of what Malcolm had put him through.
"How did you survive this?" Laurel found herself asking.
Oliver diverted his eyes. "There were times when I wanted to die. In the end… I wanted something more."
She could feel his gaze burning into her and looked up. They were so close. For a moment, Laurel found herself leaning in to kiss him. But before their lips could touch, she stopped herself, blocking his mouth with her fingers.
"I'm sorry, Ollie," she said. "But we can't."
The hope in his eyes plummeted into despair. "Laurel, please…"
Laurel could barely stop herself from crying. God, she wanted to. She wanted it more than anything else in the world. But she couldn't.
"We can't, Ollie," she repeated. "I'm married now. Whatever we had… we can't."
But even as she said that she couldn't bring herself to pull away. Oliver lowered her hand, taking it in his and… and…
She didn't know who moved first. But suddenly they were kissing and kissing and God, it felt so good, so right. Like all the years of being claimed by Malcolm was melting away from her skin, leaving the real her, the part of her she had to bury away for so long. Clean and pristine, alive.
It was quick, a little rough, a little desperate. But even with all that, it was a million times better than every night she had shared with Malcolm these past three and a half years together. Laurel didn't want it to end. All she wanted right now was to be with Ollie, like in the old days before that bastard ripped their lives apart.
When it was over, they just lay there on the bed, basking in the afterglow together. Laurel wanted to stay there forever. It was all she had dreamed of for so long.
Unfortunately, the logical part of her brain took over. The reality was, she couldn't stay, no matter how much she wanted to. "I need to go."
She got up and changed into her clothes, ignoring the way Oliver was staring at her, begging her not to leave with his eyes. "Laurel…"
"I'm sorry, Ollie," Laurel told him as she turned around, genuine tears in her eyes. The first time she had been herself around someone else in so long. "I truly am. I wish… I wish things could be different. But I can't, not yet. And by then…"
Laurel couldn't bring herself to finish. If she did, she'd tell him everything, and she just wasn't ready for that. It was too much, and it was too risky anyway.
So like a coward, she left.
Oliver's name was cleared later that night. The Hood was spotted downtown while he was at his little party. Of course, Malcolm had gotten hasty and decided to send an assassin after Oliver at the same time, which led to another little snafu with her ex-boyfriend. Luckily, Laurel's father killed the man before he could get around to finishing the job.
Moira visited them at Malcolm's office, enraged. She ripped into Malcolm for sending the assassin, and when Malcolm tried to wave it off, she issued her threats. "I've been the good soldier. I've done everything you asked. But if any member of my family so much as gets a paper cut, I will burn your entire world to ashes," the Queen matriarch declared, before making her leave.
"She always did have a way with words," Laurel mused once she was gone.
"Indeed," Malcolm agreed, before turning to her. "While I'm mostly satisfied with the police's findings, what about you? Any indication that Oliver pulled another elaborate ruse over us?"
Laurel shook her head. "No," was her answer. "He went through some… difficult times on the island. He's too busy trying to cope and recover from his PTSD to be some vigilante."
"I see," Malcolm hummed, nodding with satisfaction.
That pleased Laurel. It meant he bought her lie. Her mind flashed back to that moment when the Hood had called her "Miss Lance", his almost downcast mood when she corrected him. Then to the polygraph, where Oliver had lied about having never been to Iron Heights when they both knew very well they had gone to the prison for a field trip in eighth grade. And of course, how could she forget the strong, rippling muscles where his scars lay, so reminiscent of Malcolm's own powerful physique?
Oliver Queen was the Hood. She didn't know how he managed to fool everyone else into believing he wasn't with that decoy (though she had a feeling it had to do with that bodyguard of his), but she knew in her bones that it was him. And if there was something else Laurel knew, it was this: for the life and safety of the man she loved, Malcolm could never, ever know.
Now that Queen Consolidated had acquired Unidac, the last leg of the development of the Markov devices could begin. Malcolm and she began regularly meeting with the scientist at the head of the project, one unwilling Brion Markov. Being a regular person who cared about the well-being of his fellow man, he had wanted no part of the slaughter that would come about with his project. However, with his daughter, Tara Markov, in the firing line, he had no choice. Laurel sincerely pitied him.
And then, about two weeks after the mess with Ollie being accused of being the Hood, Malcolm dropped a bomb on her: he wanted to try for a child. "I know you wanted to wait a few more years, but with the Undertaking nearing, I felt it best to start trying now. I want to know that our child will be in the world when their birthright is prepared, ready for them to inherit when the time is right."
Laurel wanted to throw up. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, unfortunately, but it was the first time in years that she really struggled with the urge. "That's not all, is it? Did something happen?"
Malcolm smiled. It was the smile he used when he was holding back something that he felt would upset her. "Nothing, my dear. I just want us to start our family as soon as possible," he smoothly replied.
Translation: he was jealous. She had seen hints of it ever since Oliver's survival had been announced, and the recent hiccup with her being Oliver's attorney had only made it worse. Malcolm wanted to stake his claim, and nothing sent a better message than a child. It made her want to claw his eyes out.
It wasn't like she hadn't considered the possibility. Malcolm's only two children were an irresponsible layabout playboy, and a hard-drinking party girl addicted to drugs. Neither of them was exactly what one would call an ideal heir, and it had been one of the reasons why Malcolm married her in the first place. He wanted more children, children worthy of his name and legacy, and thought Laurel the perfect mother to accomplish that with his first bride dead.
She had done her best to delay her mandatory motherhood as long as possible. Citing her youth and career, the fact that she would have to take the reins of the Undertaking should something, God forbid (but not), happen to him. Eventually, he had agreed to wait until after the Undertaking before they began seriously trying.
But like any other man, Malcolm thought with what was in his pants when he saw his claim on her suitably threatened. Oliver's appearance meant the Undertaking was too long to wait. He needed his promised children now.
"Okay," Laurel conceded. "We can start trying."
She couldn't piss him off right now. Not at this critical time. If he wanted kids, she was going to give him kids. Besides, it would make him look at her less critically, banish the last of any doubts about her loyalty. Surely his wife and the mother of his soon-to-be-children would never betray him, right?
It wasn't like she didn't want kids herself. She just didn't want them with him. But if she didn't want to be nailed to the wall, she had to go through with it. In any case, if things went to plan, she'd be able to have an abortion before the child could come to term.
Not that Malcolm knew that.
Within a month, Laurel fell pregnant. They announced in December, to much fanfare. All sorts of congratulations and gifts were sent to the Manor, many people hoping to curry favor with Starling's new power couple. Like they weren't all whispering behind her back and calling her a gold digger. Laurel was well aware of what the rest of Starling's elite thought of her.
Surprisingly, along with the gifts was an invitation from the Queens to attend their newly-revived annual Christmas Party. The party in itself wasn't a surprise, Oliver had always enjoyed that particular holiday more than any other. No, the surprise was the invitation. Even if she helped out Ollie a few months ago, that didn't mean bygones were bygones. The reception she usually got from that family was… chilly.
But that was before Ollie came back. Clearly, he felt differently about how relations between their families should be conducted. She had to wonder how much of that had to do with Tommy (who quite frankly was a hop, a skip, and a jump away from defecting to the Queens completely), and how much it had to do with her. That night at the party still haunted her mind, and part of her wished she hadn't gone through with it, that she had been stronger. As wonderful as her brief time with Oliver had been, it made enduring Malcolm's… attentions all the harder.
She shouldn't go. God, she shouldn't go. Every single day, it was getting harder and harder. If she saw Oliver now, Laurel feared her resolve would break. That she'd try to turn on Malcolm now instead of when the time was right, turn on him before the Markov devices were completed and it was undeniable what he was trying to do. That she'd tell Ollie and accidentally convince him to deal with it and get him killed. She couldn't let that happen, she just couldn't.
Unfortunately, Malcolm felt otherwise. He was up to something, one of those little schemes he conducted on the side by himself. The kind of plans even she wasn't privy to, due to her disapproval, usually because it compromised their 'plans'. What made them a great 'team' was a combination of his flair and ruthlessness and her logic and pragmatism; and while normally those traits complimented each other, in certain instances they clashed, because Malcolm's ego tended to get the better of him at times. Outwardly, Laurel found it exasperating; inwardly, it was the best thing about him. It was what helped her keep her cover for so long.
So Laurel attended the party. People went quiet when they saw her. Over the years, she had earned a questionable reputation, and it warranted respect, derision, and even a touch of fear. She could only imagine what it would be like after this, attending a party hosted by the ex who supposedly got her sister killed.
"Laurel, hey," Oliver greeted her, though his smile looked a bit forced. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you too, Ollie," Laurel replied, smiling. "Thanks for inviting me."
"It was no problem. Consider it a thank you for helping me with the whole Hood thing a few months back," was the justification. Her ex-boyfriend cleared his throat. "Oh, and congratulations on the baby. You and Malcolm must be over the moon."
"Yeah," Laurel agreed, trying to keep her expression from faltering too much. "We are."
She failed. Oliver's brow furrowed as he frowned. "Laurel, is something wrong?" he asked in concern.
"No," Laurel denied. "It's just… you know. Christmas was Sara's birthday. Even though I have a lot to celebrate now, I'm still sad she's not here to share it with me." A lie. The biggest lie in the world. On some level, she was glad Sara wasn't here — she wouldn't have to share in this false joy, and she wouldn't have to feel any guilt once she learned what Laurel had done in her name. Sara, for her faults, had been a good person. She'd probably feel ashamed over what her death had caused Laurel to do, even though it hadn't been her fault.
The host's expression softened. "Yeah. I can understand that. My dad—"
"HEY! LOOK!"
They both flinched as a drunk Tommy appeared on the scene, startling the guests. He approached them both with a slight swagger, though he only had eyes for Laurel. Laurel resisted the urge to sigh. Please, Tommy. Not now.
Of course, her former best friend didn't listen to her silent pleas. He was too pissed off about his impending half-sibling to care. "Congrats on baby-trapping my dad," he snarled, voice cruel. "He must've been overjoyed you finally provided a replacement for me."
Despite the relative truth in his words, Laurel couldn't help but visibly flinch. Oliver noticed, and his entire demeanor turned dark. "Tommy, enough," he demanded, a calm fury in his tone. "That was out of line. Apologize."
Tommy snorted. "And of course, you side with her. You two, always and forever. Let me guess — she's screwing you on the side too?"
Oliver snarled and grabbed his best friend by the lapels of his jacket. Without a word to Laurel, he dragged Tommy away and out of sight, handing him off to one of the footmen and ordering them to take his best friend home. Once that was done, he returned to her, visibly apologetic.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Laurel. Even if he was drunk, that's no excuse."
"That's fine, Ollie," Laurel said, waving the apology off. "He and I haven't been on the best of terms since… since he learned about Malcolm and I. Did he ever tell you why?" she abruptly asked.
Oliver slowly shook his head.
"He had feelings for me," Laurel revealed, much to his shock. "After your… death, I shut Tommy out for a few months. He didn't like that — I was the only close friend he had left. Eventually, I felt too guilty about it to continue and I started hanging out with him at Merlyn Manor more to compensate. That's how I got to know Malcolm. But, at the same time, I was spending a lot of time with Tommy, and he thought…"
"…you were there just for him," Oliver finished, suddenly understanding. He was solemn.
"I was, at first," Laurel admitted. "But… things changed. I knew how he felt about me, but I didn't feel the same, and then Malcolm and I got closer… I didn't know how to tell him. I knew he would be hurt either way, which is why I didn't bother to let him down at first, even though I should have. If I had, maybe he would've felt less betrayed when he finally learned about his dad and me. And now…"
She couldn't finish. Oliver clasped his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Tommy will come around," he said. "Just give him time."
"Yeah," Laurel agreed, replying with a shaky smile. "Whatever you say, Ollie."
As if the night couldn't get any worse, the news reported an abrupt hostage crisis being perpetrated by some copycat of the Hood. They had initially reported the recent arrow-related murders as the Hood's doing, which Laurel had found strange considering Oliver rarely killed his targets, but the hostage crisis had clarified everything for her. Malcolm was finally initiating his little ego-driven showdown with his chosen rival and had sent Laurel to the party so she could provide some kind of alibi for him.
The cameras hadn't been able to get any footage of the fight, but she knew which way it had gone when the Christmas party abruptly ended after the host suddenly ditched and got into a "motorcycle accident" a few hours later. Laurel winced when she heard; at least Oliver was still alive. One thing to be grateful for.
Laurel had followed the Queens to the hospital to visit him. Moira had nearly refused her, but one pointed look at the other woman had Oliver's mother stilling her tongue and letting Laurel come along. As a caveat, she wasn't allowed to join them they went to check in on him with Mr. Diggle, Oliver's bodyguard. Instead, she had to wait outside for her turn.
Eventually, she was admitted into the room and nearly gasped at all the bruises and bandages. Oh, Ollie. It made her want to rip Malcolm to pieces all over again.
"Laurel?" Oliver blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected her to visit.
"Once I heard, I couldn't stay away," she admitted. She went over to the side of his bed, pulling over a chair for her to sit. "Are you alright?"
He quirked a smile for her. "I've been worse."
That was not comforting in the least. When she failed to smile back, his expression faltered. Laurel swallowed.
"Ollie," she started. "Even though we aren't together anymore, I want you to know I still… care about you. Deeply. Please, don't worry me like that again."
Oliver swallowed back. "I won't," he said. "I promise."
It was a lie, and deep down they both knew it. The life of a vigilante was fraught with danger and even though Oliver thought she didn't know… well, at least he would try to be more careful. Hopefully.
"Laurel," he suddenly said. "There's something I need to tell you."
Laurel blinked. "What is it, Ollie?"
"It's about… It's about what I did. With Sara. Why I did it."
Her breath hitched. "Why?"
He nodded glumly. "Several months before the Gambit, I got drunk and slept with one of your classmates. Samantha Clayton. I… I got her pregnant."
Laurel's heart stopped. What?
"She lost the baby," he said, and there was a certain pain in his eyes that she couldn't shake off. "So that's why I never told you. But… I could never forget it. I felt guilty. You were always so good to me, I loved you so much, and then I… I did something like that. I felt so guilty afterward, and that's why I started acting out. As much as I loved you, I knew I wasn't good enough for you, and I was just waiting for you to finally figure it out and leave me for someone else."
She couldn't breathe. Her head was spinning, she didn't know what to think. It was like learning the truth about the Gambit all over again. Even though the news wasn't quite as devastating or life-changing, Laurel felt as if her entire world had been turned on its head again. "Why are you telling me this?" she finally asked, heart pounding in her ears.
"Because you deserve to know," was the claim. "You're right, Laurel. I didn't respect you. Instead of telling you how I felt or asking you about how you felt, I made assumptions and acted as if I knew what was best for both of us. I ignored the way I kept on hurting you time and again with my actions and brushed it off because I figured you'd finally have enough and leave me. Instead, all I did was make sure I lost you anyway."
"And now, you're married to another man and having his baby, and I'm not going to deny that it hurts. But it's my fault things turned out the way they did, and it's time I accepted that."
"Ollie…" Laurel didn't know what to say, her eyes welling up with tears.
Oliver smiled sadly. "You don't have to forgive me, Laurel. I don't deserve it. I just want you to know that… I love you. I'll always love you. And that as long as you're happy… well, that's all that matters."
It took all of Laurel's self-control to not break down then and there. To just collapse and cry and finally tell Oliver the truth. That she didn't love Malcolm at all, that she hated him and was only married to him to make sure he paid for the Gambit. That she still loved Oliver, that it was him she wanted to be with. That it was his baby that she wanted to have, not Malcolm's, never Malcolm's. God, she had never wanted anything more in the entire world.
But she couldn't. Instead, she just gave him a watery smile. "Thank you for finally telling me this, Ollie," Laurel said evenly. "I… I need some time to process this. Is that okay?"
He nodded. Laurel swallowed and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. Then she got up and left, and didn't dare look back.
Well, we finally get a look at Oliver's reaction to all this, and his confusion and heartbreak over Laurel's decision to marry Malcolm. Along with everyone else's reaction to the relationship. Understandably, nobody is happy except Malcolm, but that's just par for the course in S1.
Fun fact — Laurel originally wasn't going to cheat on Malcolm. But the Lauriver discord pointed out that the story needed more Lauriver to be a Lauriver story, and after some thought, I agreed. Plus, it felt it made more sense if Laurel's carefully constructed facade broke when in the presence of the man she actually loved and thought dead. The sheer drama and heartbreak of Oliver and Laurel subconsciously knowing they still love each other but being unable to get together because of Laurel's plan to take down Malcolm… well, it felt too good to pass up.
Next chapter: the second half of S1.