Pre-Author's Note: Going to be on vacation for the next two weeks, so you get the chapter early since I have a late flight tonight.
They were calling it the Trial of the Century.
Quentin felt that was a bit of a misnomer, or overblown. For one thing, there wasn't a point in having a trial beyond determining the severity of the sentence, if the word from the grapevine about the amount of evidence amassed was true. He had been forcibly recused from the case for multiple reasons, not least of which included his heavy personal involvement — one of his daughters was one of the alleged victims of the suspects, and the other was the wife of one of the said suspects and one of the accusers. All of that in addition to the ongoing investigation of the corruption of the SCPD ensured Quentin was nowhere near so much as a file. For the past few months, he might as well have been on vacation.
No, instead, he was one of those interviewed, both for the corruption investigation and the Tempest investigation. He wasn't a suspect in any way, they just wanted to see what he knew and if it could add to the case. To Quentin's shame, he didn't know much. He had buried himself in both his work and in the bottle for the past five or so years, too absorbed in both to pay attention to the inner workings of Starling. It had been his way of ignoring the pain of Sara's death, his divorce from Dinah, and his ever-growing distance from Laurel.
Laurel. Even now he still didn't know what to think about his eldest daughter. Ever since Sara died it was like she had turned into a stranger. First, she stopped her regular volunteer hours in the Glades to continue schmoozing up to the Merlyns. Then, she started a relationship with a man twice her age. And then, she married the bastard! Fully immersing herself with those elitist bottom feeders, forgetting her roots! Quentin had tried to understand, but it was hard.
Maybe that's why he overreacted the way he did when Laurel rejected Dinah on the eve of her wedding to Merlyn Sr. At the time, he had been desperate and furious at her; this had been their chance to reunite their family, and she had blown it because of something that happened over four years ago that she couldn't get over. To him, it had seemed petty.
But with time and reflection, Quentin had been forced to concede that Laurel's anger at Dinah had been justified. On top of waiting five years to finally confess the truth to Laurel, Dinah had never actually taken responsibility for her own betrayal in letting Sara sleep with Queen, or more importantly, for acknowledging that was in itself wrong. She had only regretted letting Sara go because it had gotten their baby killed. Learning that right before her wedding, it was no wonder Laurel had no desire to let Dinah be a part of what was supposed to be one of the most joyous occasions of her life. Her mother had proven that she didn't care about her daughter's feelings.
When he had made that realization, after his own argument with Dinah over something he could hardly remember, it had left him feeling ashamed. So much so he had been about to go to Laurel to start again on the path of reconciliation when word about Queen's survival hit the news and caused him to chicken out in favor of the nearest bar. Then came all the crap with the Hood and Queen being a suspect, causing another argument between them and… well.
He hadn't even sent her congratulations for her pregnancy, his first grandchild. The fact that it happened around Christmas didn't help and by the time Quentin had escaped his latest drunken haze to recognize what he'd done, the guilt stopped him instead. He'd wait until the birth of the child, he had decided. The birth of the baby would make Laurel more amiable to the idea of forgiving him and welcoming him back into the fold, and it made Quentin feel even more of a coward for taking advantage of that.
And now there was this. Laurel's husband was responsible for the Gambit, allegedly, being the true mastermind behind Chen. Merlyn was the head of some terrorist, Illuminati-lite cabal that had been controlling the city for the past two decades or so. On top of thoroughly corrupting Starling (hence the investigation into the SCPD), they had been plotting to destroy the Glades with some kind of earthquake machine. Robert Queen had been killed because he actually had morals, and Sara had merely been collateral damage. It sounded like something from some bad sci-fi novel, and if it weren't for the mountains of evidence and multiple sources, of which his daughter was one of many, verifying it, he'd never believe it.
How long had she known about this? It couldn't be for long, she would've never married Merlyn otherwise. So when did she find out? It had to be recent, it would've come out earlier otherwise. Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't she come to him for help?
Quentin didn't know why. He felt like he didn't know anything. All he could do was wait and watch the trial, like everyone else. It was a feeling he deeply hated, especially since he knew he didn't have anyone to blame but himself.
"This is nerve-wracking," Tommy declared as the group of watchers angled around the massive television in the Queen Mansion to get the best view. At the center of the storm ever since the news broke about his father's terrorist activities (something Tommy had initially not wanted to believe until it came out that Moira was one of the accusers), he had been staying at his best friend's home trying to evade the reporters and paparazzi alike. Being practically a member of the Queen family at this point, he had been welcomed inside with open arms, especially since they were in the same boat.
Oliver nodded in agreement, arm wrapped around a nervous Thea. Next to her, Walter was rifling through some files, but not even he could hide his anxious, curious glances towards the screen. Surrounding the back of the couch were the various members of the staff, who were pretending to work but were intent on watching as much as they were. At this point, Oliver was just going to tell them to finish their duties and come and join them after they were done.
The trial had just started and both the prosecution and the defense had given their opening remarks. The death penalty was the aim of the former. For the latter, it was not guilty, though God knows how they were going to prove that considering all the evidence and testimony that was about to be mounted against Tempest. The defense had to have some kind of strategy or trick up their sleeve if that was the case; otherwise, they were just wasting everyone's time.
Thea bit her lip as she watched the prosecutor, Deputy-Attorney General for Counter-Terrorism Mellie Fitzgerald, call out her first witness: Brian Nudocerdo, the former Commissioner of the SCPD, now facing decades of jail on corruption charges. "How long do you think it'll take for them to call on Mom?"
"I don't know, Speedy," Oliver admitted honestly. "My best guess is that it's going to be a couple of days, at least. Laurel told me that the purpose of all these early witnesses is to build a narrative that will make the star witness's testimony more convincing. When you combine that with the number of suspects and associates involved in the trial and the cross-examination that the defense will put them through to discredit their testimony, I wouldn't be surprised if it took weeks to reach Mom. Especially since the weekends are off-limits."
His baby sister didn't like the idea of that, and he couldn't blame her. It was only the first day, and they were already a group of wrecks. Oliver wasn't sure if they could last several weeks of this.
Unfortunately, it wasn't up to them.
-DC-
True to Oliver's prediction, It was almost two weeks before his mother was called to the stand. As one of the star witnesses, Moira had been given full immunity for her crimes pending the success of the trial. Oliver wished her the best.
When she entered the courtroom, Oliver was glad to see she looked well. Her hair was a little longer than it used to be, but other than that, you wouldn't think she had been staying in witness protection for the past several months. No, Moira Queen looked every bit like her role as the matriarch of the most powerful family in Starling City. Strong, poised, and graceful. Oliver only hoped she kept those traits through what was to come.
After making her oath to the court that her testimony was truthful, she sat down and waited for Attorney Fitzgerald to start. Surprisingly, they didn't begin with how she first joined Tempest. Instead, they began with how his mother met Malcolm and their relationship over the years before the sinking of the Gambit. Probably to increase her credibility with the jury as an authority on Malcolm's character.
The three of them had heard the story about how their parents met plenty of times over the years, so for the most part they tuned that part out. It's when the attorney started on Moira's brief affair with Malcolm in the wake of Aunt Rebecca's death that they all perked up. This was, after all, when Thea had been conceived and born.
"Why didn't you tell anyone that Thea was Malcolm's daughter after he returned to Starling?" Fitzgerald asked.
"I was planning to originally," Moira admitted. "But then I bore witness to his new character when he returned. He was colder and uncaring. He didn't even so much as hug Tommy or tell him that he loved him when he first got back. The poor boy ended up running away from home three times because of one argument or another with Malcolm in a year alone, and eventually, his father had to hash out an agreement with Robert and me to have him stay with us the majority of the time until he got used to living back at Merlyn Manor again. Once that happened, I knew he would never be a good father to Thea and decided to keep quiet. It was probably one of the best decisions I've made in my entire life."
Oliver felt Thea grab at both his and Tommy's sides, and he held onto her a little bit tighter as the testimony continued. They skipped forward a bit, to just before the sinking of the Gambit. That's when Oliver received his first surprise for the trial — his mother had been the one to convince his father to go against Malcolm.
"Why didn't you and your husband go to the authorities?"
"Well, we couldn't go to the police because Malcolm had them bought and paid for. And as for the federal authorities, we weren't sure if Malcolm had corrupted them too or not. That, and because, truthfully, we didn't want our lives to change. If we had gone to the FBI Robert would have to face questions for manslaughter and any other illegal commitments he made for Tempest. In hindsight, it was selfish of us, and foolish as well. We didn't recognize the severity of the situation, of what Malcolm was capable of until it was too late. If we had known…" His mother's composure broke for a single moment, as a few tears streamed down her cheeks. No doubt, she was thinking of how that decision had not just cost her the life of her husband, but for five years, the life of her son as well.
The testimony continued, though, for the most part, it was stuff that Oliver had either already known or could parse out himself on his own. His brow did raise a bit, however, when his mother claimed that her refusal to turn in Malcolm after the wreckage of the Gambit was discovered by the FBI was the most shameful mistake of her life. He could see why she had regretted not turning on him then, but he couldn't see why she was so ashamed about it. She had been afraid, anyone could see that.
Eventually, the testimony concluded with Moira's decision to turn on Malcolm at Laurel's urging. When she was done, the prosecution asked a few more clarifying questions before finally going to rest. That meant it was time for the defense.
Malcolm's defense attorney, Jonathan Coachman, immediately went on the offensive, cross-examining Oliver and Thea's mother far more harshly than he had for any other previous witness. He brought up all sorts of difficult subjects, primarily their father's (because Robert was Thea's father, no matter what the paternity tests said) extramarital affairs. And then he got into Emiko.
Emiko Adachi, Oliver's paternal half-sister. Biologically, because in the familial sense, she was no sister at all. While Oliver sympathized with her initial circumstances and acknowledged that his father should've done more to support her and her mother, that his mother had been in the wrong for spiting them like that and refusing to let Robert be a part of their lives, that was where his commiseration ended. On top of being a hardened criminal, Emiko had been one of those involved in the Gambit's sinking. She had been offered the opportunity to tell their father about the bomb and had chosen not to, essentially condoning his death and the deaths of every other soul aboard. Diving herself deeper and deeper into crime, when she had been arrested for her membership in the Ninth Circle and confronted with her part in the Gambit, Emiko had shown no regret for what she had done to her father — or her brother. Only bone-deep satisfaction.
But that didn't stop Coachman from using her to try and smear the character of Oliver's mother. He didn't dare insinuate that Moira let her son die, oh no, but he was careful to insinuate that Moira didn't mind the death of Robert as much as she claimed to have. That she was more willingly involved in Tempest's conspiracy than she admitted, that she was much closer to Malcolm than she was being truthful about.
"What the hell is he trying to do?" Tommy wondered, staring at the screen in confusion as he watched his godmother deftly rebuke and refute the defense attorney's claims. "It's almost like he's trying to say that she was the one really behind Tempest."
"I believe that is exactly what they're trying to do, Tommy," Walter mused, watching alongside him with a critical eye. "It does not matter if it is true or not, or if he gets the jury to believe it. As one of the star witnesses, Moira's testimony will be critical to determining Tempest's sentence. If they can create enough reasonable doubt for her testimony, they can ward off the worst of the charges."
Oliver grimaced at his stepfather's words. It was smart — going in, everyone knew about the sheer amount of evidence against Tempest. The only reason for having a trial was to somehow minimize the sentence, perhaps to a point where they could argue for parole. What was working against them for that was the title of terrorist.
There was only one way to get rid of that title, and that was to discredit the testimonies of the two star witnesses. With his mother, the angle was obvious: they wanted to paint her as some jilted lover who was trying to cover up her husband's death by blowing the whole Tempest conspiracy out of proportion. All the files and documents Moira provided as evidence would be meaningless if Coachman could successfully plant the idea that she fabricated them in the mind of the jury.
As for Laurel… Oliver could only guess. Unlike his mother, of whom he had a general idea about her involvement, he had no idea how much Laurel knew. The fact that she was going to be the last witness suggested that her testimony was the most important of all, meaning that she witnessed or found something that would guarantee Tempest's conviction. But when she found out, the veracity of it, and her credibility, would all be the questions that needed to be answered. Depending on what she said, Oliver could see two possible ways to smear her: as a young woman afraid by what she found and intimidated by his mother into going with a certain narrative, or a heartless gold digger who was trying to take down her husband so she could claim his fortune for herself. Maybe even some combination of both.
Either way, the fate of this entire trial would rest on her. Laurel, as a lawyer herself, would know that. Oliver could only hope she had her own tricks up her sleeve to deal with what was to come.
Moira Queen's testimony took an entire day to get through. By the time she was finally done, it was too late in the day to continue, so the judge opted to adjourn the proceedings for the day and continue the following day. And by the following day, he meant the following business day, because Moira's testimony was delivered on the Friday. Quentin had to wait an entire weekend before he finally got to see his little girl on the stand, and it was driving him insane.
The only two things that stopped him from diving back into the nearest bottle and giving up the past couple of years of sobriety were Lucas and Jeannie offering to let him stay with them for the duration of the trial so he wouldn't have to deal with the stress alone, and Dinah's unexpected visit. The Saturday after Moira's time on the stand concluded, his ex-wife called him out of the blue to tell him that she was at Starling International Airport, and was requesting a ride. After a little bit of bluster, Quentin agreed, and that's how Lucas and he met Dinah at the terminal. She had a large piece of luggage, suggesting she wasn't leaving any time soon.
"I was watching the trial back home in Central, but when I realized they were closing in Laurel's testimony, I knew I couldn't watch it alone," she explained, her expression downcast. "So I filed a week's worth of leave, gave my students assignments to do while I was gone, and came here."
Quentin sighed. "Dinah…" He didn't know what to say. What could either of them say?
Dinah's lip trembled. "I'm so worried, Quentin. I know she doesn't care about me anymore, that she's angry and I don't blame her for that. But…"
She didn't finish, but she didn't have to. He knew what she was trying to say. No matter how difficult things were between the three of them, Laurel was their daughter. And right now, she was in a terrible situation without their support. She was going to testify against her husband, recount everything she knew about him and their relationship, every little sign she found in hindsight about his true nature. All of that, plus the horrible moment she learned he had been behind her sister's murder, and this terrible atrocity he had been trying to commit.
For every parent, having their child finally leave the nest to go out and live on their own was a terrifying moment. But this was beyond that, far beyond that. Nobody expected their child to be the star witness in a trial for terrorism. One that involved the murder of their sibling. They had no idea what Laurel knew, what she was thinking, how she was feeling — for Pete's sake, she had been pregnant when all this started! Was the baby okay?
God, there were too many questions and so few answers. Monday couldn't come soon enough.
The moment Dinah Laurel Lance (formerly Merlyn; the divorce had finally gone through) entered the courtroom, it was as if the entire world had fallen silent. More than anyone else, more than even Moira Queen herself, she had been the most talked about of the witnesses. The young, beautiful wife of Malcolm Merlyn, the alleged leader of this conspiracy, and the sister of one of the victims he had supposedly murdered. The former lover of another, the one who had miraculously survived the sinking of the Gambit, against all the odds.
Much like Moira, Laurel was dressed professionally, if solemnly. She wore all black as if she were in mourning, and her hair was pulled back into a waterfall, the bangs held back by a pair of clips. Everyone could see her face, the quiet, neutral expression that betrayed none of her thoughts.
She ignored all the stares as she passed through the opening between the defendants' and plaintiff's tables, seemingly oblivious to the dark glare her former husband shot her. Allowing the bailiff to help her climb up to the witness stand, she delivered her oath with his help, before sitting herself down. Once Laurel was fully situated, Fitzgerald stepped forward herself and began to question her.
Fitzgerald started with the standard questions, confirming Laurel's name and status as Malcolm's former wife. After that was established, she went with her first big question, the one that everyone had been waiting for an answer to: "Could you explain how you came to learn of Malcolm Merlyn's involvement in the sinking of the Queen's Gambit?"
Laurel didn't answer immediately. She paused, gathering her thoughts for a moment, before clearing her throat and beginning to speak. "After the Queen's Gambit sank, I was in a dark place. I had lost my boyfriend and my little sister in a single night, while at the same time learning how they had been sleeping with each other behind my back. How they had both betrayed me. Naturally, unable to deal with so much tragedy, I completely shut down and began pushing everyone away."
The people present remained silent, watching her intently. There was a bit of surprise at how she had started her testimony, but most people brushed it off. Only a few noticed the minute shift in Laurel's expression, and even fewer knew what it meant.
"My best friend at the time, Tommy Merlyn, didn't like that and was doing his best to try and reconcile with me and get me back to my old self. He was so persistent that I eventually caved and agreed to go to a party he was hosting, three months after the shipwreck."
Now there were frowns of confusion across the room, from both the crowd to the defendants' table. What did this have to do with anything? The only people who weren't reacting at all were the prosecution, and Moira Queen, who was sitting in the front row. Instead, they just waited for Laurel to finish speaking.
"So, on December 8, 2007, I went to attend the party at Merlyn Manor. Not long after my arrival, I immediately regretted it; it was too noisy, too loud, and just too much in my current state. I couldn't handle the heavy atmosphere, so I went upstairs to catch my breath and wait out the party there before heading home. Except, when I got upstairs, I overheard something: Malcolm Merlyn, arguing on the phone with Moira Queen over her newly-forced membership into Tempest."
And just like that, the room fell into a deathly silence. As Laurel's words began to sink in, the crowd stared at her in disbelief, with some of them growing into increasingly mounting horror. At the defendants' table, all the color drained from Malcolm's face, his hostility long forgotten. The rest of Tempest, and their defense attorney, were not much better off.
"Moira was chafing against her new role and was arguing with him about some task he wanted her to do. Eventually, Malcolm had enough, and to force her into compliance, he threatened to, and I quote, "deliver the same fate to young Thea" that he had delivered upon her son and husband."
Laurel sounded almost wistful as she spoke, almost as if she was reminiscing over some long-cherished memory instead of a horrible, life-shattering revelation. But as she leaned forward to speak into the microphone to ensure everyone could hear the words that would transform the entire perspective of the trial, nobody could deny her dark expression or the sheer hatred in her eyes.
"That was the night I learned Malcolm Merlyn was behind the sinking of the Queen's Gambit. And so, that was the night I learned Malcolm Merlyn murdered both my baby sister and the love of my life."
All across the globe, there were millions of reactions to Laurel's statement. Jaw-dropping gasps, surprised expletives. Silent, furrowed brows, and wide eyes. A few even dropped food or spat drink. An endless parade of confused, disbelieving, and quite humorous responses that Laurel wouldn't care about when she heard them.
No, the only reactions that mattered were from those closest to her, and those that one day would be but were only now tangentially a part of her life. Over in the Glades, a young man in the throes of turning his life around muttered a single "Woah." Elsewhere in the same neighborhood, a bodyguard, his sister-in-law and nephew, and his newly made teammate collectively gaped — except for the nephew, who only continued to play with his toys. A few dozen miles away, in the midst of one of the most secure bases in all of America, the world's most powerful intelligence director merely smirked, while her right-hand woman let out a slow, impressed whistle.
And in a mountain fortress in the Hindu Kush region, a young woman stared blankly at a screen with an open mouth, before her eyes began to well up in tears.
Meanwhile, back in the city proper, almost all of the SCPD's first precinct was frozen as its inhabitants each stared at the nearest television. In one particular lounge, Quentin and Dinah, accompanied by Lucas Hilton, Frank Pike, and a slew of others, were all equally shocked. "She… she knew? This entire time, she knew he was the one that murdered Sara? Then why did she…?" The detective trailed off as the realization hit everyone present all at once.
Quentin began to hyperventilate. No. No way. She… I… This couldn't be right. Laurel… she… he couldn't have…
Dinah began to hiccup, her sobs suddenly piercing through the quiet. "My baby! Oh, my baby!"
In the Queen Mansion, Oliver, Thea, Tommy, and Walter, along with the rest of the peanut gallery, were all in various states of disbelief. "She… then…" Tommy's mouth fell open, as the color slowly began to drain out of his face.
Barely anyone paid attention to him, too riveted by the scene being played out on the screen. Once Laurel's words had fully sunken in, Fitzgerald prompted her again so she could continue her testimony. They started chronologically, beginning with what Laurel did after she found out about the truth. That's when they began with their first exhibits of evidence: the first recordings Laurel took during her initial visits to Merlyn Manor. The real reason she had started visiting there so much, all those years ago.
As more and more recordings and eventually footage were produced, it gradually became clear the direction of where Laurel's testimony going to go. Oliver recalled the unconcerned reactions both his mother and the prosecution over the hatchet job Coachman had attempted to make on Moira's reputation. At the time he found it odd, but now it all made sense. They knew Laurel's testimony would set the record straight.
On and on it went, with Oliver getting a clearer picture of what those initial months under Malcolm had been like for his mother. The constant threats, the reminders of just what would happen to poor Thea if her mother were to step so much as a toe out of line. Eventually, it seemingly backfired when Moira became so terrified of Malcolm that she decided she needed some kind of insurance if he tried to go through with his threats. Hence, salvaging the Gambit, and giving Laurel her first opportunity to take Malcolm down.
It had been Laurel who had called in that anonymous tip to the FBI about the Gambit. She had been hoping that if forced into a corner with the wreckage and the evidence of sabotage being discovered, Moira would be convinced to turn Malcolm in. Once that was done and Malcolm was arrested, she would've felt safe and secure enough to come forward with her own evidence to ensure he was convicted. A way to keep them all safe.
Except, that's not what happened. His mother had chosen not to turn in Malcolm, to pin the charge on Frank Chen instead, after Oliver's godfather had the head of security at QC at the time, Josiah Hudson, killed. The murder happened even before the news about the Gambit made the airwaves, and had suitably spooked Moira enough to comply with the frame-up, much to Laurel's anger and devastation.
That was the moment when Laurel realized that she couldn't rely on Moira to do the right thing. That the older woman's fear would always run the risk of overriding her logic and morality. It had been a debilitating blow, and faced with the sheer corruption of the city and the seemingly insurmountable might of her foe, Laurel came to believe the only way she was going get justice for all the people who died at Malcolm's hands was to take matters into her own hands.
Laurel's voice grew flatter and flatter the more she spoke. The conclusion she came to was that she both needed more information and concrete evidence of Malcolm's plans, and credibility for her testimony. And the best way to get both was to become a member of Tempest herself. She quickly discarded the idea of confronting Malcolm with her knowledge outright and asking to join, knowing he would be too smart to fall for that ploy considering who he had taken from her. No, the only way in was if Malcolm brought her into the group himself.
And for a young woman with no money or connections, there was only one way to make that happen. It made Oliver go green just thinking about it.
When she started explaining her search for a husband, her determination that she would have to marry directly into the Merlyn family, and her initial consideration of Tommy as a spouse before realizing Malcolm was an option as well after she saw him discreetly staring at her with lust — that proved to be the final straw for most of the audience. While some, like Thea and Raisa, were unable to look away, others couldn't bear to watch another second. One of those people was Tommy, who fled to the nearest bathroom, obviously to throw up his lunch. After a moment's hesitation and debate, Oliver followed him.
Sure enough, he found Tommy bending over the toilet and vomiting everything in his stomach. Oliver quickly dropped by the kitchen to get him a glass of water to rinse his mouth. Something his best friend accepted gratefully. "I'm sorry, Ollie," Tommy quickly apologized. "I just couldn't…"
"I know, Tommy. It's fine." Oliver swallowed. "It was a bit much, wasn't it?"
"Too much," Tommy agreed. "It… I… God, I feel so guilty now. I spent all these years angry at her, I insulted her to her face so many times, and it turns out she was…" He couldn't finish his words.
The other man nodded. "I get it, Tommy. But don't be. You heard it yourself — Laurel knew how you were going to react. She was prepared for that, expected it even. I don't think she's going to hold it against you."
"Yeah, well, I'll still hold it against me," the Merlyn heir muttered. "You know what the most shameful thing is? Part of me is still angry at her. Not for doing what she did, I get that. But for not telling me about what she was doing. I mean — didn't she trust me?"
"She did. But she was afraid, Tommy, just like my Mom. As far as she knew, Malcolm had killed me, Sara, my dad, and God knows how many people. He killed Hudson in retaliation against Mom for the Gambit's discovery before the news even found out. He had both the police and the city government paid for, leaving her with practically no legitimate authorities to turn to. Faced with those kinds of odds, with that kind of loss, wouldn't you do anything to make sure the people you still had left were in the least amount of danger as possible?"
He watched as Tommy's expression turned thoughtful, indicating that the message was going through. Maybe he was just laying the groundwork for when he confessed his sins, but never before had he felt more kinship with another person. Just like when he came home and became the Hood, Laurel had been living a lie these past several years, trying to use all her wits and skills to defeat a danger the rest of them hadn't been aware of. It explained why she had never confronted him over being the Hood; she had known what he was going through and didn't want to put any more undue stress on him. That, and perhaps make sure Malcolm wouldn't figure out the truth either.
That didn't make it right, though. Laurel should have told someone and should've gotten help. Should've told him so he could've helped her. Doing this all on her own, with barely any training or resources, was a reckless thing to do. Maybe if she had, they wouldn't have cut it so close, she wouldn't have had to endure Malcolm's attention for so long. Then again, could he really blame her considering what had convinced her that this was the only path forward?
His mother had called her refusal to turn on Malcolm after the Gambit was salvaged and submitted to the FBI to be the "most shameful mistake of her life". At the time he thought it hyperbole, but now Oliver understood where she was coming from. If she had turned on Malcolm that day, Laurel would've never chosen to do what she did. She would've never whored herself out to her sister's killer, just to make sure she could have the opportunity to gather the evidence needed to send him and everyone associated with him to jail where they belonged. No doubt, that was what Laurel had used to convince Moira to finally turn on their mutual tormentor, and just as well.
One thing was for certain, though. Oliver no longer had to worry about the outcome of the trial. Laurel had made sure of that. Knowing his ex-girlfriend, the recordings she had presented today were only a taste of what was to come. Every insinuation, every single diversion and subversion Malcolm's defense had been planning in hopes of planting doubt into the jury, it was all shut down before it could even truly begin, thanks to the hard, cold evidence. The irrefutable proof that Tempest was exactly as they had been accused of being: a cabal of heartless, classist, and greedy terrorists.
"You know what's funny, in a kind of ironic way?" Tommy mused, breaking Oliver out of his thoughts. "She said she didn't pursue me because she didn't want to lead me on or hurt my feelings. But knowing what I do now, I wish she had used me. Better hurting me than having to sleep with the middle-aged asshole who murdered her sister and her boyfriend."
Oliver cringed. "Yeah, when you put it that way, I would've preferred she'd chosen you too," he admitted. Anyone, just about anyone, would've been better than Malcolm. "But what's done is done. All we can do now is wait for the trial to be over and for Mom and her to come home. Then we can think about finally putting this all behind us and moving forward with our lives."
That was all he wanted now. With the mystery of the Undertaking solved and the threat over, Sara and his father and all who died with them given justice, and Laurel finally free from Malcolm, they could finally move on and look forward to the future. It wasn't going to be easy, but with most of their secrets finally out in the open, they had a real shot of making this work.
They just need to be a little patient. And after five years of hell, Oliver had all the patience in the world.
Laurel's testimony lasted days. She had made sure to collect every single scrap of evidence she could, including all of Tempest's meetings that she attended and practically every conversation she ever had with Malcolm about the Undertaking or anything tangentially related to it. She had even given up Malcolm's status as the Dark Archer, the one that the Hood had fought at Christmas, supported by the secret bunker in his office, which she told the authorities about during her initial confession to the FBI. It had been such a treat, seeing the look on her ex-husband's face when the dummy where his League uniform hung was displayed to the entire courtroom. Almost as hilarious as watching her former co-conspirators inch away from him in terror.
By the time Laurel was finally done, no stone had been left unturned, not a single shred of truth left to chance. The entirety of the conspiracy had been left bare for the entire world to be judged. Already, she could see the silent discussions between the jury and the glares being shot in Tempest's way. They had already made their decision, she could see it in their eyes. None of those bastards were getting out of this, Malcolm least of all.
Fitzgerald announced that the prosecution was at rest. It was time for the cross-examination. Laurel turned to the defense expectantly, narrowing her eyes at Coachman. The other lawyer met her gaze head-on, but whatever he saw caused him to gulp. Then, "The defense waives the right to cross-examine this witness."
Murmurs broke out. Laurel resisted the urge to grin. Part of her mourned at the loss of the chance to rip apart the bastard who had tried to smear Moira and defend Tempest from their richly deserved desserts, but she knew this was for the best. No cross-examination meant no chance to plant any doubt into her testimony, the most important of them all. The trial was won. The rest of it was just prolonging the inevitable.
"Very well, you are dismissed, Miss Lance," she was told.
But she didn't leave quite yet. "If I may say one last thing to the defendant, off the record, your honor?"
The judge eyed her but nodded. Laurel smiled, and then turned to the defendant's table, her gaze zeroing in on her ex-husband immediately. "I have been waiting to say this to you for a long time, my dear husband," the young woman announced to the courtroom. Once she was certain she had Malcolm's undivided attention, she continued.
"I hate you, Malcolm Merlyn," Laurel said with deathly seriousness, her cold eyes meeting Malcolm's harsh ones without relenting. "I hate you with every single fiber of my being. I hated every single moment we spent together, and every time you touched me filled me with disgust. There is not a day that has gone by these past five years where I haven't fantasized about this moment, and now that it's finally here, let me make one thing clear: I hope you rot in the deepest, darkest hole our government can find for the rest of your days. Because that is the only way I will ever be satisfied, after what you did to Sara, to Ollie, and to the countless other innocents you've harmed throughout your wretched life."
Malcolm's face turned red, and Laurel watched as he fumed, his nostrils blowing out smoke. But he didn't dare speak in fear of being held in contempt of court. Not that it would matter much for him, and they both knew it.
"Goodbye, Malcolm."
And with that, Laurel got up from the stand and walked away. She exited the front of the courtroom and headed directly toward Moira, seating herself next to the other woman. Moira smiled at her and linked their arms together. Laurel leaned against her shoulder and finally allowed herself to breathe.
The rest of the trial was a mere formality. Oh, the defense tried to put up a fight, bring in their character witnesses and others paid off to present a different narrative, but it was all put into doubt thanks to the evidence Laurel had presented to the prosecution. Fitzgerald seemed to relish cross-examining every single witness, exposing their testimonies as unreliable and catching many of them in perjury. Not a single one managed to turn things around and from her spot in the audience, Laurel could see that Coachman was getting desperate. That was the only explanation when two days removed from the conclusion of her testimony, he sent the members of Tempest to the stand.
It was a mistake, perhaps the biggest mistake of the trial thus far. They all knew it was over, now it was just a matter of saving their own skins. Something Carl Ballard made blatantly clear when the first thing he said the moment after he was sworn on the stand was, "It was all Malcolm's idea! I just wanted to gentrify the Glades, he's the one who wanted to kill everyone!"
He wailed on for a few more minutes like that, trying to pin all the blame on Malcolm, before he was finally dismissed. Fitzgerald hadn't even bothered cross-examining him, while Coachman buried his face into his hands. This time, Laurel really did grin.
The rest of Tempest followed suit. Some wailed and bemoaned their fates like Ballard, others raged and cursed, but the unifying thread was that they all tried to redirect the blame at Malcolm (and at Laurel and Moira and the Glades and whoever else they could think of). All the while, the man himself grew more and more apoplectic with rage. He had been restrained in all manners of cuffs and chains at the behest of the marshals ever since the trial had begun and was straining against them in the earnest desire to kill them all. Laurel didn't pity him in the least.
Finally, it was Malcolm's turn. Laurel's ex-husband ascended the stand, still in chains as he was sworn in. This time, Coachman didn't even bother with any questions. "Just say whatever it is you want to stay."
Malcolm glowered down at him, furious that his lawyer had given up on defending him. Like he had any leg to stand on. "Fine. Then let me say this — everything I did, I did for Rebecca. The love of my life, who I now know is my only true and faithful wife. I did it all in her memory, in hopes of making sure that what happened to her never happened to anyone else ever again. From the bastard who shot her to the people who walked by while she was bleeding out on the pavement, they deserved to die! The same way she died!" He roared.
Shouts and gasps broke out, a cacophony erupting in the courtroom. The judge banged his gavel, calling for order. Finally, the room quieted, allowing Malcolm to continue. "But I was foiled. Foiled by a scheming harlot, a snake that I never realized was there until it was too late. And now, I know for certain that Starling cannot be saved. It won't be long until the entire city is infected with the refuse that took my darling Rebecca away from me. And when that day comes, I will be there, and I will do my duty — I will not just destroy the Glades, but all of Starling City!"
The mass of noise returned as the judge called for order. Malcolm was dragged off the stand, his speaking privileges now revoked. Not that he cared, continuing to rant and rave as he was. Mostly at Laurel, hilariously enough. "I will never forgive you, Dinah Laurel Lance!" he screeched in her direction. "Once I'm free, it is you I will go after first! You have my word on that!"
Laurel rolled her eyes and gave him a mocking wave, which only made Malcolm shriek louder. There was a bit more chaos as Malcolm was forcibly restrained with even more cuffs and gagged until things finally reached a certain level of calm. The judge called for the prosecution and the defense to give their closing arguments (Coachman didn't even bother, having effectively given up), and then ordered the jury to leave for their deliberation.
They were back with their verdict in five minutes. "We of the jury find the defendants guilty on all accounts," the foreman announced to much applause. Laurel smiled.
The judge nodded and turned to the courtroom, ready to give the sentencing. "Then the defendants shall be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Gregory Kullens, Emily Pollard, Carl Ballard, and Jacob Whorrsman, I hereby sentence you to life in prison in Slabside Penitentiary, a maximum security facility for which you have no hope of escape, without possibility of parole."
"But as for you, Malcolm Merlyn, I hereby sentence you to death by lethal injection as soon as the law allows. Until then, we will abide by Miss Lance's wishes and find the deepest, darkest hole to throw you in for the rest of your relatively short life." He banged his gavel, confirming the sentencing and ending the trial in one fell swoop.
The courtroom cheered, as Laurel slumped into her seat in relief. She felt Moira do the same next to her, and the two women exchanged smiles. It was over. Finally, after all this time, it was over.
They were free. All that was left to do, was go home.
It was a few days before they could go back to Starling. After fending off the press, they needed to finish up some last-minute business with the prosecution. The finalization of their immunity, some paperwork they needed to fill out, and also promises of delivering testimony at some of the other, less-profile trials that sprung because of the Tempest conspiracy. Plenty of people had been taken down alongside Malcolm, and all of them needed to be charged and convicted as well. But the worst of it, the most dangerous of them all, was behind them, which meant they could leave witness protection and finally go home.
As the trial had taken place at Olympia, about an hour away from Starling, Moira and Laurel opted to charter a private car and just be driven there instead of the private plane they had initially planned for. The FBI had offered to take them, an offer they had accepted gratefully. So it was that they exited their hotel through the backdoor entrance, a black SUV already waiting for them. It was outfitted with a car seat for little Olivia, one that Laurel was quick to strap her in before sliding in herself. Moira, carrying the baby bag, soon followed her.
"Ready to go home?" the older woman asked her younger counterpart as the doors locked and the engine revved up.
Laurel blew a lock of her hair out of her face and shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be," she said, a little solemn. Now that the euphoria of Malcolm's death sentence had faded, Laurel was back to facing reality. Her life had been completely transformed for the second time, and she had no idea what was awaiting her at home. A hero's welcome? Or a villain's scorn?
Laurel might have stopped Malcolm and saved the city, but she had done so through despicable and deplorable means. She had lied to every single person she cared about, pushed them away, abandoned them, and in some cases even deliberately hurt them, all for the sake of her revenge. Every single one of them would have every right to hate her, and she wouldn't blame them at all if they did.
"Moira," Laurel said once they were on the road, breaking the peaceful silence between them. "About what I said at my house all those months ago…" She trailed off, biting her lip.
But it seemed Moira wouldn't have it. "Don't, Laurel. You had every right, and I deserved every single word you said. I was going to let all those people die and let Malcolm get away with his crimes just for the sake of saving myself and my family. My cowardice forced you to take lengths you should never had to, under any circumstances, to make sure that he wouldn't succeed. You had every right to be angry at me. If anything, I should be grateful you were willing to give me another chance to make things right."
"Right," Laurel echoed, swallowing. "Do you think the others will be as forgiving to me?"
Moira took her hand and squeezed it tight. "We won't know until we arrive at the mansion. But I don't think you need to be worried at all, my dear. They'll understand, I'm sure of it."
It was words of comfort. She could only hope they weren't hollow.
Oliver nervously paced across the foyer of his family home, biting the tip of his thumb. Over at the corner, John Diggle stood at attention, ever the attentive bodyguard, while Tommy sat on the bottom steps of the house's staircase, lost in thought. Thea, the ever-present teenager, was on her phone texting her boyfriend. Even Walter couldn't hide his anxiety, shooting looks at the door whenever he wasn't speaking with one of the staff. He was on edge just like the rest of them.
His mother was coming home today. And coming with her was Laurel, and her new daughter. Already a room had been prepared for Laurel and the baby, Oliver's ex-girlfriend having requested she and her daughter be allowed to stay with them for an indeterminate amount of time. She wanted to avoid the press, along with any other potential enemies of Malcolm or hers that might seek revenge on them now that Tempest had been taken down. With no desire to return to Merlyn Manor, the Queen Mansion was the largest, most secure place to stay.
Oliver still didn't know what to think about it. He would never refuse to give Laurel help if she truly needed it, but now there was so much they needed to talk about. Malcolm, the Hood… she had a baby with the man who murdered her sister. He didn't even know how to unpack that.
And then there was what she had called him. The love of her life. Even after all he had done, every stupid little thing he had tried to do out of some misplaced sense of guilt and selfishness, she still loved him. This, all of this, she hadn't just done it for Sara. She had done it for him, too.
It warmed his heart almost as much as it filled him with an unbelievable amount of guilt. If he hadn't gotten on that godforsaken boat or taken Sara along with him, none of this would've happened. Laurel would've never gone near Malcolm, had forced herself to suffer his… attentions, all for the sake of stopping his plans and getting the revenge she believed had been the only thing she had left. She wouldn't have willingly put herself under all that suffering for all those years.
He didn't even know where to start when it came to making it all up to her. But he was willing to try, and this time, he hoped it would be enough.
The foyer fell silent as the sound of a car pulling up into the driveway reached their ears. Oliver steeled himself and prepared. The muted sound of conversation reached his ears, car doors opening and the crunch of gravel, before finally, the front door of the mansion opened. He inhaled a deep breath.
His mother was the first to appear at the door. Almost immediately, the group converged to greet her, hugs exchanged, and cries of relief. As much as his mind had been on Laurel these past several months, his mother had elicited an equal amount of Oliver's worry.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Moira assured all of them. "I'm just glad to be home."
She paused for a moment. "Oliver, Laurel would like to speak to you first. There's… something she needs to tell you. Something very important."
The room fell silent at that. Oliver swallowed and nodded, and allowed his mother to guide him outside the door, presumably where Laurel was waiting. Sure enough, there she was, nursing her child. Oliver did his best to avert his eyes, feeling like he was intruding on an intimate moment.
Laurel seemed to feel otherwise, though. She perked up when she saw him, a tentative smile gracing her lips. "Ollie."
"Laurel," Oliver greeted back with a single nod. "I…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say. What could they say? How did they even start?
She didn't seem to mind, though. "We can talk about all that later," Laurel promised, stepping forward, the baby still in her arms. "Right now, there's something much more important we need to talk about. Something that involves you and me both."
Oliver blinked, confused. "What could that be?" Maybe it was the Hood? But no, Laurel knew better than to speak about that in the vicinity of an FBI agent. Both of them did.
"You remember the party last year? The one you had while you were on house arrest on suspicion of being the Hood?"
He blushed. He remembered that night very well. "Yes, but what does that have to do with…" Oliver's eyes widened in realization.
"I forgot to take the morning pill after," Laurel confessed.
"And I didn't use a condom," Oliver followed, watching silently, achingly as Laurel closed her blouse and presented her child to him.
No. Not her child. Their child.
"Her name is Olivia," Laurel revealed. "Olivia Sara Lance-Queen."
And just like that, it hit Oliver all at once. As he slowly gazed into the wide, blue eyes of his daughter, the vigilante felt his trepidation and fear melt away almost instantaneously. Their child. Laurel's child. His child.
He was careful, taking Olivia into his arms. It had been many years since he held a baby, the haphazard memories of Thea's birth echoing in his head. But Laurel was there to help him, and soon enough there Olivia was, in his embrace as if it was where she always belonged. Maybe it was.
"I love her," Oliver whispered, completely entranced. Then, almost instinctively, he turned to Laurel. "I love you."
Laurel blinked, then blushed. "Ollie…"
But Oliver wasn't going to stop now. He had been waiting so long for this moment, and now that it was finally here, there was no way in hell was going to chicken out. "I love you, Laurel," he repeated. "Do you love me?"
She stared at him in disbelief for a brief moment, before nodding slowly. "I do. I do love you, Oliver."
"Then right now, that's all that matters. We can figure the rest out later."
It was just what Laurel needed to hear. She smiled at him again and leaned against his shoulder. Together, they just stayed like that and marveled at their little daughter. A simple, perfect moment that Oliver wouldn't change for the world. Finally, finally, he felt like he was home.
So, this was supposed to be the last chapter, but as it turns out this was a lot more than I thought it was going to be, so we have enough material for one more. After all, we still need Laurel talking to Tommy, to her parents, settling back into her life, discussing her future relationship with Oliver — and, well, a little sister to return.
Next chapter: Settling back into Starling.
