They couldn't stay outside staring at their daughter forever, unfortunately. People were waiting for them inside the house. Oliver returned Olivia to Laurel's arms and carried the baby bag inside, opening the doors to the Mansion to let the three of them in. Almost immediately, all conversation in the foyer ceased as everyone zeroed in on Laurel. She gulped and held up a hand in greeting.
"Laurel," Tommy almost gasped, the first one to catch himself. He approached her slowly, almost afraid, only to still when he noticed the bundle in her arms. "Is that…?"
A sheepish expression crossed Laurel's face. "Actually, no."
Her ex-stepson (a thought that nearly made Laurel ill — she always did her best to try and not think about Tommy in that fashion in just about any way possible) blinked. "Wait, so the baby is not yours?"
"No, it is hers," Oliver answered for Laurel. "You see, you remember that party I had after I was accused of being the Hood? Laurel and I had a moment, and, well…"
"Wait, so the baby's yours, not my dad's?" Tommy butt in, asking for clarification. His two friends nodded. Almost immediately, he seemed to slump in relief. "Oh thank God."
There was a beat of silence. Laurel raised an eyebrow while Oliver crossed his arms, staring at his best friend expectantly. Tommy held up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, but I have to be honest — I much prefer having an honorary niece to having another, much younger half-sibling."
The new parents exchanged a look. "That's fair," Oliver admitted, Laurel nodding in agreement.
It seemed that was all everyone else needed. The dam broke as people began to approach Laurel and Oliver. Thea was bouncing off the walls, squealing when she got her first look at her niece. "What's her name?" she asked, peering into the child's face.
"Olivia Sara Lance-Queen," Laurel told her, rocking her baby a bit. "She can shorten it when she's older if she wants."
"It's a beautiful name," Walter commented, smiling. "Congratulations to you both."
Oliver smiled back. "Thanks, Walter."
The next several minutes were spent cooing over the baby. Laurel carefully handed over her child to Thea, teaching the younger girl how to hold her niece. She watched over the two for a moment before noticing Tommy beckoning her over to the living room. Exchanging a knowing look with Oliver, she left everyone else in his care to go join her… well, that was the question, wasn't it?
"I'm glad you're alright," was the first thing that came out of Tommy's mouth once they were alone. "I…"
He was struggling with what to say. Laurel placed a comforting hand on his arm. "It's okay Tommy."
Tommy swallowed. "But it's not. I've been treating you so horribly all these years, and all this time…"
"Tommy, that wasn't your fault," Laurel pointed out. "I'm the one who chose not to tell you the truth. I knew right from the beginning how you were going to react and I did it anyway. I deliberately hurt you and pushed you away to keep you safe and make sure you didn't go down with me if he somehow figured me out. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you."
"No, Laurel," Tommy instantly denied. "You don't need to do that. What happened to you—"
"—was horrible, I know. But I chose to go through with it, Tommy," Laurel reminded him. "I'm not saying that made it any easier, because it didn't, but I knew what I was getting into. And despite everything, I don't regret it. He and everyone else involved with him got what they deserved, and I got Olivia out of it. It was worth it."
"Right." Tommy swallowed again and nodded. He spread his arms. "Friends again?"
Laurel smiled and hugged him. Tommy hesitated for a moment, before returning the embrace. "Best friends. Always and forever."
She didn't have to look up to see his smile.
After settling into her new room at the mansion, Laurel and Olivia joined everyone else downstairs for dinner. The table was covered with all of Moira and Laurel's favorites, and a high chair for Olivia was thoughtfully set up at the end of the table so Oliver and Laurel could sit at both sides of their daughter. Thea quickly claimed the seat next to Laurel, wanting to be near the baby.
It wasn't long before the meal was underway, with food being passed around. Easy conversation flowed through attendees, with everyone doing their best to catch up with the two returnees on what they missed while they were gone. One particular sticking point came up almost immediately. "What are you going to do with Malcolm's stuff?" Thea piped up, genuinely curious.
Laurel blinked at the question, before glancing over at Tommy, who was sitting on the other side of Oliver. The new custodian of the Merlyn fortune shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure. Technically everything's mine now that he's in jail pending execution. Or, well, everything that's left."
"Everything that's—oh, right the divorce." Thea turned to Laurel. "How much did you get?"
"Half of everything," Laurel answered. "Most of the properties are Tommy's, but I got most of the liquid cash, which is truthfully more valuable to me anyway. About half of that is going to charity, mainly for the Glades. The rest I'm keeping for myself and Olivia, so I can quit my job."
That got everyone's attention. "You're quitting your job?" Oliver asked, a little aghast. "But you always wanted to be a lawyer! You always wanted to help people with the law."
"And I still do, but the reality is I can't. Not after everything with Tempest. I was involved in multiple illegal activities, and doing it to take Malcolm down is no excuse. Not for the Bar Association, at least. I'm surprised I haven't been disbarred yet." She shrugged. "Truth be told, I don't mind. After having to spend the last couple of years defending unrepentant criminals and corporate scumbags — no offense — I'm kind of disillusioned with the law. I can do much more good going into charity work and being a stay-at-home mom for Olivia."
Oliver pursed his lips, letting out a small sigh. "Alright. If you're sure."
Laurel nodded and turned to Tommy again. "What about you? What are you going to do with your half, Tommy?"
The young Merlyn rubbed the back of his head. "I'm not entirely sure. The only thing I'm certain of is that I'm selling the company. I want nothing to do with it after what he tried to use it for."
That got a hiss from Laurel. "Thanks for reminding me. I need to sell my shares too," she noted and turned to Walter and Moira. "Are you two up for buying them? I'd imagine owning Malcolm's company after all he did would be a great final 'screw you' to him."
Walter hummed, thinking it over. "Perhaps, but not now. Queen Consolidated is still recovering from the fallout of the trial. Our projections indicate that business should be back to normal soon enough, and I'd like things to settle a bit more before making a big acquisition like that."
"That sounds fair. You won't mind if we end up selling to someone else?"
"Do what you feel is best for you," Walter assured them both. "The company is yours now, Tommy, Laurel. Whatever happens to it is your decision, and yours alone."
"Right. Thanks, Walter," Tommy answered for them both, before glancing over at Laurel. A silent agreement to discuss it later, once they had more of an idea of what their options were.
They had time, after all. All the time in the world.
The next couple of days were spent easing back into life in Starling. Laurel sent in her resignation letter to her old job and got into contact with the few friends she had left, the ones she knew actually were her friends and not schmoozing up to her because she was Mrs. Merlyn. That, as it turned out, amounted to all of one person: Joanna, who expressed all sorts of relief upon seeing Laurel again. "I can't believe you, girl," Joanna blurted, running her hands down Laurel's shoulders and arms. "Do you know what they're calling you down at the Glades?"
"A witch?" Laurel guessed.
"What? No! A hero! You saved all their lives, remember?"
"Right. Sorry, Jo. After years of getting vilified, the complete 180 is a bit hard to get used to." She paused. "Well, not a complete 180. Starling's high society still hates me, at least. They're also terrified of me, but that's an entirely different matter."
Joanna snorted. "Of course, they're terrified of you Laurel. Your ex-husband was their crème de la crème and you took him down and ruined him on national television. And not a single one of them cottoned on to what you were doing until you were on the stand. If I were them, I'd be scared too."
Laurel hummed in agreement. "What are you going to do now?" Joanna asked, crossing her arms. "I heard you quit your job."
"Yeah. I'm done being a lawyer, to be honest. After everything that's happened, there's no way I can practice law again, nor do I want to. Besides, Olivia is more important."
"Olivia?"
"Yeah. You see, I cheated on Malcolm with Ollie two weeks or so before he decided he wanted more kids. The baby is Ollie's, not his."
"Girl," Joanna gave her friend a mocking push, both scandalized and impressed in one fell swoop. Laurel blushed and gave her friend a shrug.
They spent the rest of the day catching up, and Joanna dropped Laurel off at the Queen Mansion once they were done — but not without going inside to coo at her friend's child before she left. Olivia, it seemed, was capturing everyone's hearts. Laurel was glad; Joanna had been so down ever since Danny's death, and while she had been doing better before Laurel had to go into witness protection, she couldn't help but worry about her friend. Seeing her now, however, it looked like Joanna would be just fine. It was heartening to see.
But as nice as reuniting with Joanna was, there was something else that was weighing hard on Laurel's heart. Oliver and she had reconciled for the most part, reunited over the love they had for their daughter, but there was still a barrier between them. They were affectionate, keeping each other close and exchanging kisses, but they hadn't exactly defined what was going on between them. The reason for it was obvious, and she was just waiting for him to finally make the first move.
That day came about two or so weeks after her return to Starling. At the rest of the family's insistence, the two of them took the night off and a night on the town. Moira and Walter offered to watch over Olivia that night with Raisa's help, eager at the chance to spend quality time with their (step)-grandchild. Seeing the opportunity for what it was, the two of them quickly agreed.
They didn't go to dinner like they told everyone, at least not immediately. Instead, Oliver took her to Verdant first. Laurel didn't question him, instead following him quietly into the club. He took her to a service side entrance, one that was locked, and opened up a hidden keypad there. He punched in a code and then gestured her inside.
The place was already illuminated by the time she walked in. It was outfitted with racks of weapons and a high-tech apparatus, one arguably even more advanced than what Malcolm kept in his office. There was a dummy where Oliver's suit as the Hood was displayed, and a salmon ladder. Already present was John Diggle, Oliver's bodyguard, and a young blonde in glasses. "Laurel, you've already met John. And this is Felicity Smoak. She's our tech support."
"It's nice to meet you," Laurel said, shaking the other woman's hand.
"Same here. I got to say, what you did was crazy," she babbled, before cringing. "I mean, crazy but awesome. Really awesome. Cool… yeah, I'm just going to stop talking now."
Laurel giggled, before taking in another sweep of the room. "So, this is where the magic happens."
"Yeah," Oliver confirmed, following her gaze. The two slowly turned to look at each other, and he cleared his throat. "So… when did you figure it out?"
"I've known since you were first accused, Ollie," Laurel admitted. "Malcolm let me be your attorney because he wanted me to find out whether you were really the Hood. He already suspected you even before you were an actual suspect, after I told him about how you tried to get my help for the Declan case. You were acting too familiarly with me even then."
Oliver sighed. "And nothing I did after that threw you off the scent?"
She shook her head. "Nope. On the contrary, it only convinced me further. Your lie detector test, for one — you said that you'd never been to Iron Heights, but that was a lie. We went there for a field trip in the eighth grade, remember?"
He winced upon hearing that. "I guess you couldn't tell me you knew because of Malcolm?"
Laurel nodded. "It was just too risky. I was already trying to sell him the lie that I was over you after what happened with Sara and the Gambit. If I told you and involved myself in your crusade, that would involve spending way more time with you than he was comfortable with back then. He was doing his best to hide it, but he was jealous of you. That's why he decided he wanted kids."
"Wait, what?" Oliver exclaimed, sounding incensed. Next to him, both John and Felicity scowled. "You're telling me he tried to force you to have his kid?"
"Not exactly," Laurel clarified, cringing. "When we were first discussing our relationship, we both agreed we wanted kids — not with him for me, not that I told him that — but that I was too young for it. We were supposed to wait until after the Undertaking was completed so our children could have our undivided attention. But when you came back, he got all insecure and stuff and decided he needed to stake his claim. I only agreed to keep him complacent and happy, figuring I could get an abortion after I turned on him."
"Bastard," John hissed. Nobody disagreed with him.
"What changed, then?" Felicity asked, curious about how those last months before Malcolm's downfall went on the other side of the equation.
"Walter," Laurel stated, and the team immediately fell into grim silence. "You know what happened; Walter dug too deep and someone found out. Moira was still too afraid to turn on Malcolm then so they made a compromise — Malcolm would take Walter hostage until after the Undertaking so things could continue running smoothly, and your family would have him back once the Undertaking was completed. What he didn't know was that Walter was a hostage against me too. I know Malcolm would be petty enough to kill him out of spite if I turned on him then, so it was important to find him before I made my move. But by that point Malcolm had stopped confiding in me, focusing on the Undertaking since it was so close to completion. I guess he thought that since I was pregnant, I was now an invalid or something."
"He kept Walter's location close to the vest, and I tried my best to find any clues I could to it but nothing shook out. The closer we got to the Undertaking's due date, the more desperate I was, and I was about to throw all caution in the wind and turn to you for help when Moira came in with the claim that Malcolm had Walter killed. He revealed a feed of where Walter was being held, confirming that he was alive, and I knew I had to figure out where I came from. Once I did, I was going to pass the information to you, but I knew would have to turn on Malcolm immediately after. If that had happened, likely, I wouldn't have had time to bring Moira on board to strengthen my case. It was only thanks to all of you that didn't happen. You all know the rest after that."
Oliver nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. "And because of you, my job has become much easier. A significant portion of the List was taken down because of your testimony. I can take breaks now."
"Happy to help, Ollie," Laurel teased him, and the two exchanged smiles.
John cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "So what now? Malcolm's done for, the List has been pared down, and you two have got a daughter to raise. I'm guessing you're going part-time, Oliver?"
"I have no desire to neglect my daughter, John," Oliver replied diplomatically.
"And I'm not saying you should. But even with all this good stuff coming our way, the city still needs help, Oliver."
His friend grimaced. Meanwhile, Laurel adopted a thoughtful expression. "If you need help, I'd be willing to join you," she offered, much to everyone's surprise.
"Laurel?" Oliver blurted out, shocked.
"I had Malcolm teach me how to fight while we were together," Laurel explained. "I told him it was so I could defend myself if I was ever in danger. I just never told him that danger was likely going to be him. I'm not bad, either — I beat him in several of our spars. The first time I did is actually what prompted him to propose."
"Well, when you put it that way then maybe it's not a bad idea," he noted, looking far less reluctant after hearing her out. "But still, you just gave birth, Laurel. And there's still Olivia to consider."
"I'm not saying I would join you in the field immediately, Ollie. I still need to get back into shape, and Olivia always comes first. But, in a few months from now, when Olivia is older and doesn't need so much our supervision…" She trailed off, then shrugged. "I wouldn't mind joining you guys at all. I have no doubt I'll enjoy my work with you far more than I ever did my work with Tempest."
"Laurel, that's not a high bar to aspire to," Felicity pointed out honestly.
Laurel shrugged again. "Maybe, but it's true."
The room fell silent, as every eye turned to Oliver. The reality was that while they were a team, the final decision almost always fell to him. He was the leader, after all.
"If you're sure this is what you want to do, then I'm fine with it," Oliver finally said, causing a smile to grace Laurel's lips. "But you're not going on the field until you're both back in shape and after we've got a suit for you. Until then, you're only coming down here for training and strategy. Is that alright?"
"That's fine, Ollie. As I said — a few months from now, when Olivia is a bit older and we can stand to part with her more often, then I can consider going into the field. But until then, I'm happy just to stay on the sidelines or at home being a good mom."
Oliver smiled and reached over to take her hand. "Then welcome to the team, Laurel."
Laurel grinned. "Thanks, Ollie."
They left the base after that, to go on the date that everyone back in the Mansion assumed they were having. John went with them, fulfilling his official function as a bodyguard. After some discussion, they decided they didn't want anything fancy. They just wanted something familiar and intimate, a place where they could relax and be themselves.
Which is how they ended up at a Big Belly Burger nearby. More specifically, the Big Belly Burger where one Carly Diggle worked. It had been something of a hangout for Oliver, Tommy, and John over the past several months, a hidden place where they could talk in semi-privacy and wind down. As Laurel Merlyn, she wouldn't be caught dead in this place; as Laurel Lance, however, it was a long-due return to normalcy. She didn't remember the last time she had Big Belly Burger, and she dearly missed it.
"Scrumptious," Laurel declared as she dipped her french fry into her shake. Across from her, Oliver shook his head.
"Some things really do never change."
"Nope," Laurel chimed, before taking a bite. Ten dollars spent and yet might as well be the most gourmet meal she had ever tasted. After years of having to nibble on fine dining while playing the poised, sophisticated, and austere wife, finally being able to devour greasy fast food like a normal person was a balm on her soul. It was like slipping off an ill-fitting suit she had been forced to wear for far too long, and being finally allowed to be herself.
For the first time in five years, Laurel felt human. Real.
In between bites of fries and burgers, Oliver and she talked about all sorts of things. What their plans for the future were, from Laurel's hypothetical charity work to the success of Verdant. Tommy's latest hijinks, along with worry about how the city would view him as the son of both the man who tried to destroy the Glades and the woman he tried to destroy the neighborhood for. Thea and her new boyfriend. Moira and Walter. And of course, Olivia.
They had gone through several cups of fries and were playing a game of tossing them into each other's mouths when John interjected and reminded them of the time. If they wanted to be functional tomorrow for Olivia, they needed to head home soon.
"Tonight was fun," Laurel said as they exited the restaurant, waiting for John to pull up with the car. "I needed tonight."
"Same here," Oliver agreed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "So."
"So."
The two stared at each other for a moment. "Are we sure we still want to do this? I'm a different person from I was before, Ollie."
"So am I, Laurel. But we haven't changed that much, have we?"
"No," was the response, a slight tilt to Laurel's head. "I guess not. And I know how I feel about you."
"And I you, Laurel." He reached over to take her hands. "We'll keep it slow for now. Is that okay?"
"It's fine, Ollie," Laurel replied, leaning against his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
A few days after that, there was another visitor to the mansion. Someone who had been on Laurel's mind ever since the trial ended, but also someone she hadn't wanted to think of at all. After all, Laurel had an even more complicated relationship with her father than she did with Oliver or Tommy.
Quentin Lance looked out of place amongst the fine furnishings of the Queen Mansion, dressed messily in his usual trousers, shirt, and jacket. Not really any different than what he usually was, though he seemed to be more clean-shaven than usual, and there wasn't a stench of alcohol surrounding him, much to Laurel's relief. The last thing she wanted was for her to be responsible for her father falling off the wagon after all the work he put in to claim sobriety. If it weren't for the bags under his eyes, Laurel would even dare to say he looked better than he usually did.
"Laurel." He seemed stunned to see her.
"Dad," Laurel replied carefully, crossing her arms expectantly.
He didn't reply. Much like Tommy when she first returned, he didn't know what to say. Her father kept repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, struggling to string a single word together, before clearing his throat. "Your mother was here a little while ago. While you were at the trial. She couldn't bear to watch it alone, so she came here to watch it with me."
"Oh." She had no idea what to do with that information. "I guess she's back in Central City then."
"Yeah. She couldn't stay away from work for too long, and she wasn't sure whether or not you wanted to see her."
That made sense. Laurel still wasn't sure if she wanted to see her mother either. "And you?"
The question made Quentin uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, well aware of the open area they were in. "Can we speak in somewhere more private?"
A reasonable request. Laurel thought it over for a moment, then nodded. She gestured him up the stairs, guiding him to a specific room: Olivia's nursery.
It was almost funny, seeing the look on her father's face when he realized what room they were in. He almost immediately zeroed in on the cradle where Olivia was taking her afternoon nap, swallowing. "Is that her?"
"Your granddaughter? Yes, it is."
"What's her name?"
"Olivia," Laurel answered, pure joy briefly flickering across her face. Her baby never ceased to brighten her mood. "Olivia Sara Lance-Queen."
Quentin was stricken upon hearing his granddaughter had been named after his dearly departed youngest. Not wanting to linger on Sara's death, he quickly latched onto the other interesting aspect of her name. "Queen?"
"Oliver's the father," she confirmed his suspicions. "You remember when he had that party after you accused him of being the Hood. Well, he and I had a moment, and, well…"
She trailed off, suddenly feeling very awkward. Quentin stared at her for a moment before sighing. "Well, better him than Merlyn Sr."
"Dad?" Did Laurel hear that right?
The detective sighed. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you say I like the bas—the guy," he quickly amended his last words, mindful of who was with them to her relief. "But if there's anything these past couple of months have proven, that you've proven, it's that he wasn't responsible for Sara's death. And if he's the father of my grandbaby, well — I guess I'm going to have to learn to tolerate him, won't I?"
Laurel pursed his lips. "If you want to be a part of her life, then yes."
"Yeah, see?" He paused. "Are you and him…?"
"Trying again? Yeah, we are. Now that there are no longer any more secrets between us — at least none that involve me — we both felt more comfortable about the idea."
"Right." He looked around. "Where is he, by the way? It's way too early for him to be at that club of his."
His daughter winced. "Yeah, see, he's in Central City too right now."
"…what?"
It had been a trial, explaining everything about Samantha. Her father clearly didn't understand why Laurel took Oliver back after learning about Samantha and her pregnancy, but all of that had been lost when she found out the other woman had lied about her miscarriage at Moira's behest. Meaning that Oliver now had a son he had been completely unaware of for the past five years.
"And you're the one who told him about this?" Quentin questioned her, his brow furrowing. "How did you figure it out?"
"I've spent a lot of time with Moira over the past couple of years, and have gotten to know her pretty well. After I learned the story, something about it just didn't sit right with me. The miscarriage was too convenient, and then Ollie told me the only other person he told about the pregnancy was his mother, and, well…" Laurel shrugged. "When Ollie and I decided we wanted to try again, I knew I couldn't keep this from him, so I went to Moira and asked her to tell the truth. It took a bit of cajoling but eventually, she agreed."
"So he's in Central City to see his son, and you aren't with him because…?"
"We agreed Olivia was too young to travel for something like this and ultimately what's happening with William is between only Oliver and Samantha. So I offered to stay behind with her."
Quentin sighed. "Well, honey, it's your life so I guess I can't argue. Just be careful." He took on a more thoughtful expression. "One question, though — why didn't you tell him about your suspicions earlier?"
Laurel winced. "Well, I couldn't risk it while Malcolm was still out and about. The last thing my ex-husband needed was another hostage."
That put an immediate damper on the mood. Her father's expression fell almost immediately. "Laurel…"
"Dad, if you're going to apologize—"
"I am," he stated, cutting her off. When she tried to protest, Quentin gave her a look, silencing her. "Laurel, you deserve an apology. I failed you."
The former lawyer sighed. "Dad, you didn't fail me. I'm the one who decided not to involve you."
"Because you couldn't trust me," Quentin noted sourly, though his anger was directed at himself rather than at her.
Laurel shook her head in denial. "No, Dad, I did trust you—"
"No, you didn't Laurel," was the firm response. "Yeah, you might've trusted me to believe you, but you wouldn't have trusted me to conduct the investigation. You were afraid I would've gotten myself killed, and who could blame you? I mean, look at me." He gestured to himself.
"Dad…" Laurel didn't know what to say.
"I haven't been a good father," Quentin declared solemnly. "I've been so stuck on myself, drowning myself in work and the bottle that I didn't even notice the conspiracy that was brewing right underneath my nose for five years. And because of that, you had to… to…" He couldn't even bear to say it.
"That was my choice, Dad."
"Yeah. And it should've never been one you had to make."
The room fell silent at that. There were no truer words than that. In a better world, a kinder world, Laurel would've never had to cleave herself to Malcolm. She would've never had to take all those risks in hopes of taking down the man who had murdered her sister, who had stranded the man she loved in hell for five years.
But Laurel had long since come to terms with the reality. That world didn't exist, and might never really exist. At least not in this lifetime. She had already dedicated herself to bettering the world they did have, and that was enough for her.
"I forgive you, Dad," Laurel finally said, completely sincere. "I don't want us to fight anymore. I just want us to be a family again."
For the first time since he arrived, Quentin smiled. "I want that too, honey."
Laurel's expression brightened upon hearing that. Before she knew it, she was burying herself in her father's chest, wrapped up in his embrace. It had been so long, and she had missed it so much.
They stayed like that for a bit, enjoying each other's presence for the first time in forever. It had been well worth the wait.
The months passed. And life went on.
Quentin became a frequent visitor at the Queen Mansion, eager to become a part of his granddaughter's life now that he had fully reconciled with his daughter. Oliver and he had quickly reached an accord to Olivia's sake and were very cordial with each other, at least in her presence.
Honestly, things were more awkward between Oliver and Moira. He had spoken with Samantha and had come to a reluctant agreement with the mother of his older child that, with Olivia in his care and the constant media scrutiny on his family, it would be safer to keep William at a distance for now. When the fervor around the Queens died down and his daughter was a bit older, they could hash out a new agreement, but for now, it was better to leave little William alone. Oliver hadn't liked it, and it had naturally translated into his relationship with his mother, the person partially responsible for the situation. Only Olivia or Laurel could get him to lighten up in his mother's presence these days.
It would fade with time, Laurel was certain. Oliver loved his mother too much to shut her out forever. But for now, a complicated genialty would have to do.
In the meanwhile, Laurel went about rebuilding her life. True to her word, Tommy and her ended up selling Merlyn Global to QC once things settled down. Tommy had also gone ahead and sold most of the properties he inherited from Malcolm, and together they had used the collective money from the sale to establish a charity foundation dedicated to the improvement of the Glades in Rebecca's name. Rebecca Swann, to be exact; one of the first things Tommy had done after his father's conviction was change his last name to his mother's maiden name. He had then done the same with Rebecca's name on her headstone. "Her legacy shouldn't have to be forever characterized by Malcolm's actions," had been his declaration, one that Laurel had wholeheartedly agreed with.
As for Oliver and her, things were going well. It was almost like before the Gambit, except more… open. There was no longer any self-doubt or fear. Just honest and comfortable companionship. On top of dating again and being parents to Olivia, they were teammates. True to her word, Laurel had yet to join the field, but she was down at the base as often as possible, working out and getting back into shape. Ollie and she had begun sparring, and it had been hilarious to see his face when she put him down on the mat for the first time after more of her muscle definition had returned. Then things grew a little more heated, and, well…
Well, in short, they were happy. Life was good.
And then a strange vigilante woman started showing up in the Glades.
Laurel didn't think much of it first, other than concern for what the other woman's motives might be, and whether or not they could bring her onto the team. The actions of one like-minded individual could reflect upon another in the eyes of the public, something Laurel knew all too well. This woman might have good intentions, but all it would take was one misstep for the city's opinion to turn on a dime and for all of it to come crashing down their heads.
Oliver had agreed, especially after the woman ended up killing a rapist one night. While none of them necessarily disagreed with that action (rapists were scum), there was a fear that she might go further. Early on in her membership with the team, Laurel (with John and Felicity's backing) had managed to convince Oliver that minimalizing the killing was the best course of action for everyone. It was one thing when he killed in the heat of battle or defense of himself or others, but outright murder wasn't something he should commit himself to due to how easily it could escalate. Not to mention, the police would be less likely to go to more extreme lengths if he kept his body count down. Oliver had seen the appeal in that logic, in part because he could see how uncomfortable it was making the other members of the team, and agreed.
Press coverage over the Hood had gradually improved over the past few months ever since he committed to this new methodology, though Laurel had also attributed it to the fact that the city's opinion about its elite had shifted drastically after it was revealed several of its premier citizens were planning to blow up a neighborhood for the sake of classism and profit. Either way, it made their lives easier, which was why it was unnerving to have another vigilante going around killing others. She could easily undo all the work and progress they made thus far with the public's opinion. Oliver was going to confront her and see if he could get her to stop. Laurel sent him off and wished him all the best.
When he came back, however, he looked haunted. "Laurel," Oliver asked, swallowing, "could you come with me for a bit?"
Before they left, Oliver had dressed back into his civvies at first. Laurel thought it strange but didn't comment. Whatever his reasons probably had to do with what he'd seen on his earlier excursion. He'd explain soon enough.
They took his motorcycle and headed down the streets of the Glades to an abandoned clock tower. Laurel blinked when she saw it. "What are we doing here?"
"There's someone here you need to see," was Oliver's cryptic answer.
Entering the building and climbing up the stairs, Oliver began to speak. "Do you remember when I told you the truth about what happened to Sara?"
Laurel stiffened. "Yes," she answered quietly. She remembered it very well. Much like how the renewal of their relationship had prompted her to confess her suspicions about Samantha and the truth of her miscarriage, it had prompted him to tell her the truth about Sara's last moments. How they had managed to reunite on the island, what Sara had gone through on the Amazo (and what he suspected she'd gone through to Laurel's eternal sorrow), and the promise they made to each other should the other die. It had hurt to hear, all of it. As angry as she'd been at her sister, she had never wanted Sara to suffer like that.
"Well, it turns out I was wrong," Oliver continued, shocking her into silence. "She's not dead."
As if on cue, they made it to the top of the clock tower. Oliver opened the door for a stunned Laurel to reveal the insides of the clock, and the woman standing in the center of it all. She looked older, the planes of her face harsher and worn, but it was undoubtedly her.
Sara.
"Laurel," her little sister, nervous and quiet and yet so hopeful.
Instantly, Laurel put her hands to her mouth as tears gathered in her eyes. "Sara."
She strode across the room in a rush and practically threw her arms at her sister. Her baby sister. Sara. She was warm and real and in her arms. Alive.
"Laurel, Laurel, I'm so sorry, Laurel," Sara chanted on her shoulder, squeezing her tight.
"It's alright, it's alright. I forgive you, Sara. You're alive and you're home, that's all that matters," Laurel answered back, squeezing back just as hard. She felt Sara's tears beginning to soak her shirt, but couldn't bring herself to care. Her sister was alive. She wasn't going to let go until she absolutely had to.
They stayed like that for several minutes, just taking comfort in each other's presence. Eventually, they did let go, and Laurel pulled away to get a better look at her sister. Despite the solemn air around her, Sara looked stronger than she was before the Gambit, more muscular. There was a certain look in her eye that Laurel recognized as the same in Oliver and Malcolm. It wasn't hard to connect the dots after that. "You. You're the other vigilante, aren't you?"
Sara nodded, a bit bashful. "I've been with a… group for the past couple of years. They're the ones who taught me how to fight, in exchange for service to them. But when I heard about the trial and everything, I couldn't keep away. I had to check in on you and Dad, make sure you were safe."
"Sara…" Laurel swallowed. "Are you in trouble?"
Her sister looked down. "They're not a good group, Laurel. When I saw you guys, everyone, I couldn't bring myself to go back to them. It's been months since then, and it's only a matter of time before they come after me."
A flare of anger rose in Laurel's soul. "I'd like to see them try," she hissed, clinging to her sister even harder.
"No, Laurel, no," Sara denied her, backing away in panic. "They're far more dangerous than anything you've ever dealt with. You won't stand a chance against them."
"Sara, I took down a seventeen-year conspiracy precipitated by the city's most powerful citizens to avenge you and Ollie," Laurel said, expression firm. "Whoever it is, I can handle them."
But that didn't sway her sister at all. If anything, she looked more scared. "No, sis. These guys are even worse than Merlyn. None of you will stand a chance." She fisted her hands at her side. "The only way to keep you all safe is for me to leave. I've stayed here for too long, made you all targets. If I leave now, I can draw them off."
Leave? No, no! "Sara—"
"No, Laurel," and there was the Lance stubbornness, and Laurel always hated being on the receiving end of it. "It's the only way."
She was going to leave. Laurel had just gotten her sister back, and she was going to leave because whoever it was coming after her would kill them all if she didn't. If things were as bad as Sara said they were, then Laurel knew nothing she could say would sway her sister's mind.
But… maybe she could delay her departure a little bit. "Then at least come see Ollie and I's daughter before you go," Laurel asked, much to Sara's surprise. "You have a niece, Sara. Or are you really going to go without at least seeing her once? I named her after you, you know?"
"You did?" Sara's voice was much softer this time.
"I did. Her name is Olivia Sara Lance-Queen."
Her sister seemed stunned hearing that. Laurel didn't hesitate to take the opening. "Please, Sara. Just this once. Before you leave."
A moment of hesitation, and then, "Okay."
Laurel resisted the urge to cheer.
With Oliver's help, they were able to sneak Sara into the Queen Mansion to see Olivia. It had been all worth it to see the pure joy light up on Sara's face when her niece was delivered into her arms for the first time. Immediately, everything about the younger woman seemed to soften into something more peaceful and gentle.
"She's beautiful, sis," Sara whispered to her, mindful of Olivia's sleeping state. "And she's yours and Ollie's?"
Laurel hummed in confirmation. "I cheated on Malcolm with him right before we started trying for a baby seriously."
Sara thought that over for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine with me." She didn't have a leg to stand on, and they both knew it. Besides, better Ollie than Malcolm.
They marveled over the baby a bit more before suddenly a panicked Oliver stuck his head through the nursery door. "Gotta go. Quentin and Tommy just arrived at the mansion — they want to see Olivia too."
Almost immediately, Laurel's sister froze. Laurel herself made an audible swallow, torn. On the one hand, she wanted to respect Sara's wish to keep her survival a secret. On the other hand, her father had missed Sara just as much as Laurel. He deserved to know she was alive.
In the end, it was Sara's decision. She slowly lowered Olivia back into her cradle and sighed. "I better go, then."
"Right," Laurel sighed, suddenly sad. "Right."
They rushed through the hall and to one of the farther rooms, one that had a window. Sara was going to climb down using one of the pipes that ran down the outside of the mansion. Before she could take a single step outside, however, the power suddenly cut out. "That was strange," Oliver noted, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
But Laurel was looking at Sara. Even accounting for the moonlight, her sister looked unnaturally pale all of a sudden. "We need to go back downstairs," she whispered.
"Sara?"
"We need to go back downstairs, now!" she said, this time louder. Almost shouting.
Before Oliver and Laurel could react to her words, however, a scream of pain suddenly echoed throughout the house. "That was Tommy," Oliver realized, and just like that the three of them were out like a rocket.
"Laurel, head to the nursery, guard Olivia!" He shouted to her. "Sara and I will find your dad and Tommy!"
Laurel was reluctant to leave her lover and her sister to whatever it was downstairs that could cause Tommy to scream like that, but she had to admit that Olivia's safety was paramount. With a nod, she quickly changed course for the nursery, darting inside and locking the door behind her. Without hesitation, she grabbed all the nearby furniture and used it to begin blockading the door. Once she had pushed practically everything she could in front of it, she headed to her daughter's cradle and pushed it against the wall as gently as she could and as far away from the only opening in the room.
Her daughter woke up at the sudden movement and began to cry. Laurel quickly picked her up and did her best to calm her down. "Shh, baby, it's okay, it's okay. Mommy is just making sure we'll be safe while your daddy and your Aunt Sara take care of something. You just need to be quiet for a little bit, alright?"
It took a bit of rocking and more whispers, but eventually, her baby began to calm down. Relieved, Laurel slowly lowered her daughter back into the cradle — just in time to shield her from the sudden blast through the door. Laurel whirled around, finding a sight she never expected to see again: the Dark Archer.
No. "You're supposed to be in jail!" Laurel shouted.
The Dark Archer observed her for a moment, tilting his head. "You're Al Sa-her's ex-wife," the man noted. "The one who brought about his downfall."
Laurel stilled. Al Sa-her. That was… "You're a member of the League," she realized, all color draining out of her face.
His posture sharpened. "So he told you of us. I see his transgressions truly did know no bounds." He took out a knife. "A shame." He then rushed forward, seeking the kill.
She was ready for him. Laurel met him head-on, calling upon every single bit of fighting knowledge that had been imparted to her over the last several years. She blocked the knife from piercing her heart and quickly disarmed the assassin, before jabbing him once, twice in the kidneys. The shots were hard, debilitating enough even with his armor. He grunted and backed away, giving Laurel an opening to roundhouse kick him in the chin.
He landed hands first but quickly retaliated with a kick of his own, catching Laurel flush in the face with the blow. She grunted and backed away, giving him a moment to recover. Shaking out the cobwebs, Laurel quickly re-engaged him again.
She didn't know how long they fought, the tide turning back and forth. All she knew was that he couldn't let him win. She didn't know why he was here, but if he was after her daughter…
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the room. The man collapsed with a groan, the force of the bullet crippling him. It hadn't pierced his armor, but the impact was enough to keep him down with everything he had suffered during his fight with Laurel. The woman in question, a little bruised and bloody, kicked him in the face once, twice, and knocked him out.
"Laurel, are you alright?" Quentin Lance, worse for wear with torn clothes and a black eye, asked as he holstered his gun and rushed over to his daughter, ignoring the unconscious man on the floor of his granddaughter's nursery. "You're hurt."
"I'll live, Dad," Laurel corrected, wincing slightly. "Check on Olivia for me?"
"Right, right," Quentin said, turning to the cradle. He headed over to Olivia's cradle, face going slack with relief. "She's fine, honey. Just sleeping."
"Good. How are things downstairs?"
Her father winced. "Could be better, but at least we're all alive. We need to talk, by the way. When were you going to tell me your boyfriend was the Hood?"
Laurel winced. "One thing at a time, please?"
After some quick first aid on her injuries, they walked downstairs. Laurel carried Olivia, having no desire to leave her daughter alone for even a moment, while Quentin followed her, dragging the unconscious assassin behind him by the nape of his neck. They headed to the living room, where a ghastly sight awaited them.
Tommy was on the couch, being treated by Raisa for a nasty cut that ran down his face. One look at it and Laurel knew it was going to scar. Over by the fireplace, two more assassins had been restrained, a bruised Oliver guarding them with a bow and arrow aimed at their faces in case they tried to move. The entire area around them was wrecked, furniture knocked down and torn apart, ornaments shattered on the floor. Laurel didn't even know how they were going to explain this to everyone else when they returned.
In front of it all was Sara, pacing back and forth under the arch that served as the gate between the foyer and the living room. She immediately perked up when she saw them. "Laurel, are you alright? Is Olivia safe?"
Laurel nodded. "We're fine, Sara-bear."
Sara sighed in relief. "Thank God."
"That being said, Sara, why are three members of the League of Assassins attacking our house?"
Oliver looked up. "The League of Assassins? Isn't that the cult that trained Malcolm?"
"A cult trained my dad?"
Her baby sister cringed. "Maybe we should start from the beginning?"
"Okay, so it's the League that's after you?" Laurel clarified.
Sara nodded, trying to make herself look small. Laurel's heart broke at the sight. She didn't have to be a genius to see that her sister had been afraid and ashamed of her time in the League. It made Laurel furious just thinking about it — none of it was her sister's fault, after all. She had no choice.
"And they'll keep on coming after you unless you're either dead or come back with them? Because you haven't been released from your vow?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, alright," Laurel said, breathing out, mind running a mile a minute as she tried to think up some kind of solution to her family's latest predicament. She did her best to try and recall everything she remembered about the League from Malcolm's lectures on them. Laurel never thought any of it would be useful to her, and yet here they were. "Then the answer to this is that we need to get you released from your vow. Which is easier said than done."
"What do you mean, Laurel?" Quentin asked, from where he had his arm around Sara in comfort. He hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her ever since they had reunited in the living room. Laurel didn't blame him — she'd be doing the same thing in his position. "Didn't Merlyn manage it?"
She shook her head. "He only managed it after two years of dedicated service as Ra's al Ghul's chief enforcer. And even then, it came with a ton of strings. He had to make multiple promises to uphold the League's values and act as Starling's own personal League custodian — all of which he broke, by the way."
"Of course he did," Tommy grumbled, completely unsurprised. He'd been in a mood ever since finding out about Oliver's vigilante secret and more about his father's past but had put it aside for the time being for Sara's sake. Next to him, Raisa patted him on the shoulder.
Oliver grimaced. "Okay, so we need to offer him something else. Sara, can you think of anything?"
"Nothing. Trust me, if I had something to offer him for my freedom, I would've given it up a long time ago. And after what I've done…" Sara winced and shuddered.
"What you've done?" Quentin questioned, glancing at his youngest. "Honey, you haven't done anything wrong. You just left and decided you didn't want to go back!"
"And that is a betrayal of our code, Dad. When I made my vow to them, I promised to cast off my former life and devote myself entirely to the League. Me being here is a spit in the face to that." Sara shuddered again. "Even if I go back, there's no guarantee of my life. Ra's al Ghul is not known to be merciful to traitors."
As their father did his best to comfort her, Laurel was frozen in place. Sara's words echoed in her head. Ra's al Ghul is not known to be merciful to traitors.
Traitors. Of course.
"What if we traded a bigger traitor to the League than you for your freedom?" Laurel asked, blurting out the question before she could think it over. "Someone he would hate far more than he would hate you?"
The room fell silent upon her words. "Laurel, what are you talking about?" Oliver asked, glancing over from where he was still guarding the unconscious assassins.
"Sara, tell me — just how furious was Ra's when he found out about Malcolm's plans?"
Her sister stared at her, expression gradually overcome with realization. "Beyond belief," Sara answered. "He nearly considered having someone break him out so they could take him back to Nanda Parbat and deliver a more personal punishment. It was only him being convicted of the death penalty that changed his mind, though he wasn't happy about it."
"But he definitely wants to kill him?"
"For certain."
"Do you think he'd be willing to accept him as a sufficient trade for your freedom?"
"Maybe, but all of this is hypothetical, Laurel. Merlyn's in jail—"
"I can get him out."
Everyone turned to Oliver. His expression was serious. "I can get him out," he repeated. "I picked up a few powerful government contacts while I was gone. One of them owes me a big favor. All I have to do is call her, and within a couple of hours, they'll fake his death and deliver him to us with a silver bow on top."
"Perfect." She turned to Tommy. "Tommy? He's your dad."
The former Merlyn looked conflicted for a moment, but one look at a desperate Sara was enough. He nodded, giving his consent. "He's already been sentenced to death. He's dead either way. At least this way, we'll get something out of it."
"Truer words never spoken," Laurel agreed, before turning back to her sister. "Sara?"
Sara, looking much better than she had all night, shifted her gaze to the assassins. "We'll need to wake them up. One of them should have a direct line of communication to Ra's — we'll make the deal through them."
Raisa cleared her throat and got up from her spot on the couch. "I shall get the peppers and onions," she declared.
How did it all go wrong? Malcolm Merlyn raged within his mind as he leaned against the walls of his small solitary jail cell. It was all he could do — his legs were cuffed and chained to his bed, and his arms were restrained in a straitjacket. Malcolm could literally do nothing by himself, not even go to the bathroom. They didn't trust him on his own. It was smart of them, as much as he hated to admit it.
Just a few months ago, he was Starling City's First Citizen, upon the cusp of his greatest achievement and with a child, a new heir, on the way. Everything had been in place. The Glades were soon to be destroyed, Rebecca avenged. Laurel was pregnant with his baby, the first of many to inherit the grand empire he was about to build for them. He had just been named Humanitarian of the Year! It was supposed to be the beginning of everything!
In a way, it had been, Malcolm supposed. Pride goeth before the fall, as they say. He had been so proud, so self-assured of his victory after Robert's death and Moira's submission. As much as he lamented and mourned the act, it had sent a necessary message to all his associates. Not even his best friend was spared any mercy once his betrayal came to light. They should expect the same, should the idea of backstabbing him ever cross their minds as well.
So high off his victory, he didn't think anything of the sister of the girl who had been collateral damage in his actions. Laurel's increased appearances at his home hadn't been worth any acknowledgment. Considering her constant forgiveness of Oliver for his transgressions, up until that tragic day, Malcolm had assumed she had become jaded and was parsing out Tommy as a potential spouse. If she couldn't have one billionaire, might as well have the other, right? And Tommy's own growing affection for her had only cemented the idea in his mind.
But then she turned her attentions to him, and it had been surprising, but amusing. She thought herself being subtle, but he could see the interest in her eyes. Malcolm had only thought to have a little fun with her before sending her on her way, but Laurel was persistent. And then she had shown sides of herself that were… comforting, in his darker moments. Understanding his pain over Rebecca, agreement with his ideals, and even admiration for his vision for Starling. It had been a debate, whether or not to take her on as a wife. Malcolm knew he would need a new heir eventually, Tommy had long since proven himself incapable and Thea was quickly going the way of both her brothers. Neither of them was suitable, so a new child would have to do.
So he allowed her in, to see if she would be a worthy enough mother for his child. He needn't have bothered — Laurel proved herself more than capable, carrying out every task he gave her with ruthless efficiency and competency. She provided insight into their various plans, the kind that he had never considered. In the end, Tommy's childhood friend had proved to be the perfect partner he needed in this new world he was about to create. It was too good to be true.
As it turned out, it had been. Right from the beginning, that bitch had been playing him. Laurel had always known that he had been the one behind the Gambit and had devoted the last five years to taking him down by any means necessary. She had played the perfect partner, the perfect wife, all while secretly and painstakingly collecting every single scrap of evidence she could find, every single scrap that he had given her, all for the sake of stopping him and his cabal. And on the eve of his triumph, she ripped the rug from right under him and brought it all down around him, leaving him to rot in this hellhole as he slowly inched to his inevitable death. If he weren't so angry, he'd almost be impressed.
"I swear to God, Laurel, when I get out of here…" He hissed, not for the first time cursing his ex-wife. It was one of his favorite pastimes, imagining all the ways he would destroy her the moment he got his hands on her. Because he would. There was no way in hell he was going to die in this pit — he wouldn't allow it. He would break out, reclaim his power, and then claim his revenge. He was Malcolm Merlyn, after all — nothing in the world would stop him.
A sound came from the vents. Must be the rats again. Just another reason to hate this place.
That was his last thought before he blacked out.
When Malcolm awoke again, he found himself in the back of an armored truck. Before he could even comprehend this fact and figure out how to take advantage of it, the truck suddenly came to a stop. The doors flew open, and two men dressed in armor and carrying guns grabbed him by his shoulders and marched him out of the vehicle.
For the first time in months, Malcolm felt the cold night wind brushing against his face. He barely had the chance to revel in it before he was dragged away to a nearby building. It looked vaguely familiar, but Malcolm didn't have the chance to get a good look at it. Instead, he was taken inside.
It was a store of some sort. The proprietor took one look at them behind the counter and then nodded, and then stepped aside to let them through the back door. It wasn't until he showed them another door hidden on the floor beneath that he realized where he was, and when he did began to panic. "No, no!" Malcolm shouted, trying to scurry away. "What are you doing!"
They didn't answer. Instead, they shoved him forward. "Go," one of them grunted, a gun shoved into his back to make the threat clear. Unable to protest, Malcolm did exactly as he said.
They descended the staircase. With every step they took, the dread in Malcolm's heart grew. Why were they here? Had Ra's al Ghul come to seek retribution for his transgressions? If there had been any silver lining to his fate, it would be that Malcolm would not have suffered the slow, torturous death the master would have in store for him for betraying the code. It seemed that was no longer the case.
When they finally arrived at the Sacred Grounds, Malcolm felt a brief moment of relief upon seeing that Ra's wasn't there in person. Instead, there were two members of the League he didn't recognize and Al-Owal. All three were glaring at him in hatred, but he paid them no mind. As long as Ra's wasn't here—
"Here is Merlyn, Mr. Queen."
"Thank you, Colonel Flagg. Give my regards to Director Waller."
"Will do."
And with that, Malcolm was handed over to the last person he ever expected to be: Oliver Queen. His godson looked nothing like the spoiled playboy he had continued to be since his return. No, his expression was severe and unrelenting, and his grip on Malcolm was strong. The truth dawned on him at that moment, and he growled. "You are the Hood, aren't you? She lied to me!"
Oliver gave him a flat look. "Please don't tell me you're surprised about that," he said, distinctly unimpressed. Malcolm gave him a snarl, but the younger man paid him no mind. Instead, he dragged him away from Flagg and his partner and marched him over to a group of people that Malcolm only now noticed were standing across from Al-Owal and his men.
There was Tommy, wound dressings across his face. It was only the glare he was wearing that stopped Malcolm from feeling a modicum of concern. It was obvious now who his son had chosen to stand with. Next to him was an even more surprising face: Sara Lance. She had her arms crossed, and the loathing was rolling off her in waves. For Pete's sake, had the Gambit killed anyone?
And next to her…
"LAUREL!" Malcolm screamed as he pulled himself out of Oliver's grip, adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was his chance! Finally, the bitch who betrayed him was going to pay—
He didn't even see the punch that hit him. Malcolm was sent careening backward, landing and sliding on the floor with barely any grace. With blood running down his nose, he was barely able to hear the following words over the pounding in his ears.
"Nice shot, Sara-bear. And thanks."
"No problem, sis. I figured I owed him one anyway. He ruined my life too, and I'm the only one here who hasn't gotten one over him yet."
The terrorist groaned, and he was pulled back to his feet by a rough hand soon after. As he woozily tried to recover, Oliver gripped him by the shoulders and glared at him with venom. "Try that again, and you'll get much worse than a punch to the face, understand me?"
Malcolm didn't get a chance to respond. As soon as Oliver was done, he grabbed the older man by the front of his straitjacket and threw him back onto the floor, this time face first and in front of Al-Owal. "Here he is. Per our deal, you release Sara from her vow, and he's all yours."
What? "No, you can't do this—!"
"We can and we will," Laurel cut him off, voice velvet and unforgiving. "It's your fault she was forced to join the League in the first place. It's only fitting you'd be the one to free her from it."
"You bitch!" Malcolm turned around to scream at his ex-wife. "Wasn't destroying my life on live television not enough for you? Are you going do this to me as well?"
Laurel crossed her arms, glowering at him with pure hatred in her eyes. "I'm not doing anything to you. You did this to yourself when you decided to play God and slaughter thousands of people just because your wife died. When you decided to murder your own best friend and everyone who happened to be with him just because he had a conscience and decided he didn't want to become a mass murderer like you. When it comes down to it, Malcolm, the only person to blame for all your troubles is you. The sooner you accept that the sooner you can find some peace in your life. Or at least what's left of your life, that is."
"Damn you, Dinah Laurel Lance!" Malcolm shrieked. "Damn you to the lowest circles of hell!"
"Right back at you, my dear ex-husband."
Before he could say more, he found two more strong grips dragging him up by the shoulders. He didn't have to look to know they were Al-Owal's men, and his panic returned. "No, no! Please, mercy!"
They ignored him. Al-Owal stepped forward and beckoned Sara to approach, and Malcolm had to watch as his former teacher conducted the ceremony of release with Laurel's sister, sealing his fate. When they were done, Sara stepped back and was immediately bombarded with hugs.
"Come, Al Sa-her," Al-Owal said as he returned to the sides of his fellow League members. "The Master is waiting for you."
No! "Laurel, please! Are you going to do this to the father of your child?" Malcolm called, momentarily forgetting his hatred in favor of his desperation.
Laurel glanced at him and smirked. "Oh, right. Forgot to tell you. I cheated on you with Ollie at his party a few weeks before we started trying for kids. The baby is his, not yours."
What? Was there no end to her insults? "LAUREL!"
But Laurel ignored him, giving him a mocking wave. "Goodbye, Malcolm. Enjoy hell."
The rest of her friends joined her, including Tommy. Each of them had wide smiles on their faces. Malcolm roared one last time as a sack was shoved over his head.
Then, there was a pinprick of pain, and he knew no more.
Honestly, I couldn't think of a better way to end this story. The whole story was about Laurel's revenge on Malcolm, and I thought it would be best to end it with her final revenge — sending him off to the League and a slow torturous death in exchange for her sister's freedom. Oh, and a final parting shot, revealing that Olivia is Oliver's, not his. What a way to end things.
On another note, if you're wondering how Raisa was involved in the League thing, I borrowed the headcanon from Ray's one-shot Raisa's Secret, where Raisa is an ex-KGB agent. If you're wondering how Oliver and Sara were able to take down those two League agents while simultaneously protecting Tommy and to a lesser extent Quentin, she was the reason why.
As for future villains:
Slade: I keep my promises kid!
Laurel: (on the phone) Hey, is this ASIS?
Chase: You killed my father!
(Proceeds to get his ass kicked because he never had training from Talia)
Everyone else is not an issue. The Ninth Circle was taken down because Laurel outed Malcolm's connection to them, making the US Government aware of their existence and allowing them to hunt them down. Ra's has no reason to go after Starling, Darhk won't make his move with Ra's alive and wouldn't go after Starling anyway since the city isn't anywhere near as damaged as it was in canon. Diaz and James will never be a threat because no NC, meaning Team Arrow is home-free — at least, in their city.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a really unique experience and I enjoyed it a lot. Please, leave as many comments/reviews as you want, and don't forget to update the TV Tropes page!