Everyone in the room sat in silence for a moment, contemplating everything they had just seen and heard. John got up and moved to the front. "Before we continue," he began, "I think it's important for us all to know what you think about Oliver. So I'm opening up the floor. If you want to speak, please stand up and say a little about yourself before you say whatever it is."

The civilians looked at each other, unsure. Then the man who was sitting next to Felicity, who had been one of the more vocal ones already, stood. "Hi, everyone," he started. "I, uh…my name is Benji Friedman. I'm an electrician, and this is my wife, Beth. We were attending the trial to support Mr. Queen. We really appreciate the decisions he made and the actions he took as mayor, and we also both owe him our lives. The Green Arrow and Spartan saved us during the electrical attack a few months ago. We were in the tunnel when everything just…exploded into chaos, we didn't know what was going on, people were running everywhere. Beth and I got separated, and I was searching the crowd for her, and then I saw her, on the ground, and she was gonna get trampled, and then Spartan was there, pulling her up, directing everyone to the exits. We both got out safely thanks to the city's vigilantes. And we consider them heroes."

He sat back down, and Oliver turned around and gave him a grateful nod, which both Benji and Beth returned. A young man sitting at the back of the room stood next. "My name is Edward Sinclair, I'm a senior at Star City High," he introduced himself. "I do respect Mr. Queen, and the others, for what they've done. It takes a special kind of person to run towards danger instead of away from it. But I don't like the concept of vigilantes. Sure, Green Arrow and the rest seem to have the best interests of the city at heart, but there have been plenty of others who haven't, and there were no vigilantes in Star City until Mr. Queen. I don't think he should be put in prison, but I don't think he should be allowed to continue as the Green Arrow, either, and I think that if he insists on doing that, he should be arrested, for the sake of everyone in the city."

He sat back down, and John moved to say something, but Oliver held up a hand. "Edward? Could you stand up again for a moment?" he asked, and Edward stood, uncertainly.

"I want to thank you for being honest," Oliver said, not unkindly. "Too many people try to hide their true opinions with false faces and deceit. And you're right: there have been times when I have been both the cause and the cure of the disasters this city has had to face. But by no means was I the first vigilante in Star City, nor did I only start being a vigilante once I returned. I first put on the Hood two years into my time on the island, and was active as the Hood in Hong Kong, Coast City, and Russia before returning here. I'm not trying to make excuses, but I am asking that you keep an open mind. There's a lot that I've done that I'm not proud of, and there's a lot I've done that I'm downright horrified by. But slowly, I've been learning to live with the choices I was forced to make, and I'm asking that you give me the benefit of the doubt until you understand the circumstances."

Edward nodded and sat back down. "All right then, mates," John said, "I think we'll continue now, and allow some other people to speak once we've gotten further in. Believe me, at this point in time, nothing is quite as it seems, and I don't think any of you fully realize the things that Oliver is facing at this point in his life."

He returned to his seat, and a moment later the screen lit up once again.

Once again, we see the rolling waves, Oliver's head breaking above water, gasping for breath as he frantically tries to stay afloat. "The day I went missing was the day I died," his voice declares. Shots of Oliver on the island, and then Oliver on the fishermen's boat home are shown. The camera then shows Oliver's lair, as Oliver puts on his suit, getting ready to go out as the Hood. "Five years in hell forged me into a weapon, which I use to honor a vow I made to my father, who sacrificed his life for mine. In his final moments, he told me the truth. That our family's wealth had been built on the suffering of others. That he failed our city, and that it was up to me to save it, and right his wrongs. But to do that without endangering the people closest to me I have to be someone else. I have to be something else."

Oliver flips his hood on, and the screen cuts to a rooftop, Oliver facing off against a group of men. "Who's that?" one shouts.

"Where'd he come from?" asks another.

They attack, and Oliver makes quick work of them all. "What's going on here?" asks a man standing with two other men, behind the men Oliver is beating up.

"Yeah, go, go, go!" he shouts to the men with him, as Oliver finishes dispatching the others. "Get him!"

"Go get the chopper back now!"

"Who's this guy?"

It is absolute chaos. Oliver quickly takes out the other men and closes in on the man who appears to be the boss. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the man shouts, backing away. "Please! Wait! Wait!"

Oliver grabs him and throws him onto an air conditioner on a lower part of the roof. He breaks the grating over the top of the fan and holds the man above it. "No! No, please!" the man whimpers.

"Marcus Redman, you have failed this city," Oliver growls.

"Please don't! Please don't!" the man screams.

"Cell phone, inside pocket," Oliver continues. "Call your partner. Tell him to give those pensioners back their money."

"Please don't!" the man screams, unable to think of anything but the fan whirring inches from his face.

"Do it now," Oliver finishes, and lets him go, disappearing into the night.

"Who's that guy and what'd he ever do to you?" the D.A. asked accusingly.

"I think you're about to find out," Oliver answered, much to her annoyance.

The next morning, Oliver walks into the sitting room, where his mother, stepfather, and his sister are watching the news. "Over the past fifteen years Mr. Redman has withdrawn more than 30 million dollars from the plan's account," the announcer is reporting. "Mr. Redman claims refunding the Halcion Pension Plan has always been his intent, but sources say Redman was coerced by the vigilante."

Oliver gets close enough to see the TV, which is now showing his sketch of "the man in the hood." "This guy gets more air-time than the Kardashians, right?" he jokes.

"Five years on an island and you still know who they are," Thea says, confused.

"I've been catching up," Oliver shrugs. "It's nice to see how much our culture has improved while I was away."

"But the city used to be different," Moira comments. "People used to feel safe."

"Aw, what's the matter, Mom?" Thea dismisses. "Afraid we're gonna be next?"

"Do you have any questions about today, Oliver?" Walter changes the subject, once again playing peacemaker. "It's a simple proof-of-life declaration. You just read out a brief, prepared statement to the judge and then your death-in-absentia judgement will be voided."

"It's fine, Walter," Oliver assures him. "I've been in a courtroom before."

"Four times, by my estimate," comments Tommy, who walks in at that moment. "You know, there was the DUI, the assault on that paparazzi d*****bag, stealing that taxi (which was just awesome, by the way), and who could forget peeing on the cop?"

A chorus of "Ewww!"s rose all around the room. "Seriously, Hoss?" Rene asked incredulously.

"I was a different person back then, Rene," Oliver answered.

"I wish everyone would," Moira says quickly.

"I'd hang, but we're headed to court," Oliver says, putting a hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"I know, that's why I'm here," Tommy clarifies. "My best friend is getting legally resurrected? I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Okay, what about you?" Oliver asks, turning to Thea.

"I think the first four times of you in court was enough for me," Thea teases, leaving.

"Fair enough," Oliver mutters.

"Mrs. Queen?" Diggle walks in. "Car's ready."

Moira walks towards the door. Tommy offers her his arm, but she just give sher a look. Walter follows.

"Walter," Tommy acknowledges as he passes, then holds his arm out jokingly to Oliver, who gives him a nearly identical look to the one he got from Moira. Oliver holds out an arm, and Tommy exits, Oliver following.

Outside the courthouse is a madhouse of reporters. "Mr. Queen!" they are all shouting.

"Can we get a comment, sir?"

"...return to civilization after five years of…"

"Can you tell us what happened on that island, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver flashes back to his cabin, the room tilting, getting thrown off the bed.

"Tell us about the accident!"

"You spent five years on an island."

Oliver flashes back to Sara being swept away, her scream, Oliver reaching for her in vain, shouting her name. Despite the flashbacks, he manages to resolutely walk through the crowd and into the courthouse.

"Well that was horrible," Benji said, and to Oliver's surprise many of the people in the room nodded in agreement.

Oliver is now standing in front of the judge. "There was a storm," he is saying. "The boat went down. I was the only survivor."

He flashes back to watching the boat sink, arguing with his father, screaming for Sara.

"My father didn't make it," Oliver continues, his until now resolutely steady voice faltering.

He flashes back to his father's suicide.

"I almost died, I…" he pauses in an attempt to collect himself. "I thought that I had because I spent…so many days…on that life raft before I saw the island."

He flashes back to seeing the island for the first time. Then there's new footage: him crawling through the water to shore.

"When I reached it," his voice continues, "I knew…I knew that I was gonna have to live for both of us."

He pulls himself back to the present. "And in those five years, it was that one thought that kept me going," he finishes.

Behind him, Moira, Walter, and Tommy are all realizing for the first time just how much he must have gone through. Moira is holding back tears and Tommy looks like his whole world was just ripped in half. Oliver's lawyer stands. "Your Honor," she starts, "we move to vitiate the death-in-absentia filed after Oliver's disappearance at sea aboard the Queen's Gambit five years ago."

Oliver turns back to look at his family as she continues. Moira has managed to pull herself together somewhat and attempts to give Oliver a strong look, but Tommy still looks like he's in shock. "Unfortunately, we will not be requesting that the declaration of death filed for the petitioner's father, Robert Queen, be rescinded. The Queen family is only entitled to one miracle, I'm afraid."

After, Oliver and his group of family and friend are descending the stairs from the courtroom. "Now onto the offices," Moira says, her voice surprisingly lighthearted considering what she had just heard. "Everyone is waiting to meet you there."

"Uh, Mom?" Oliver says, reaching out and stopping her. "That was, uh…a little bit heavier than I was expecting it to be. Could we do that tomorrow? Please?"

Moira looks at Walter for a moment, who nods. "Of course," she acquiesces.

"Thank you."

Moira and Walter give him a smile before descending the rest of the way and leaving.

"Wow, she didn't seem very happy about that, did she?" a woman asked quietly.

"She wasn't," Oliver answered shortly.

Oliver looks at Tommy for a moment, and they continue down the stairs together. "Last week, you couldn't wait to get to the company," Tommy comments.

"Tommy, I'd just spent five years away from civilization. I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

"Still aren't," the D.A. grumbles.

Once again, he almost rams into Laurel, two women flanking her. "Uh, hiii," he says lamely. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?" Laurel says coldly.

Oliver stares blankly at her for a moment before seeming to compute what she's asking. "Oh, uh, they were bringing me back from the dead, legally speaking," he explains. "What are you doing here?"

"My job," Laurel answers shortly.

"Right," Oliver says with a small smile.

"More like the D.A.'s," Jo says helpfully from behind her.

Oliver notices the women behind Laurel for the first time, and holds out his hand to the one he hasn't met before. "Hi, Oliver Queen," he introduces himself.

"Uh, Emily Nocenti," Emily answers, shaking his hand.

"Oliver just got back from five years on an uncharted island," Laurel explains angrily to Emily. "Before that, he was cheating on me with his sister. He was with her when she died, and last week he told me to stay away from him. It was really good advice. Excuse me."

She pushes past Oliver and Tommy, leaving Jo and Emily standing there awkwardly. "It was nice to meet you," Emily says uncertainly.

"Yeah," Jo whispers. "Let's go."

"Awkward," Curtis whispered, but the entire room heard, because Curtis is not very good at being quiet. Diggle shot him a frown.

She pushes Emily past Oliver and Tommy, who make way for them silently. "Come on buddy, shake it off," Tommy encourages him, clapping him on the chest. "Let's go."

They continue their exit, only to see the reporters now swarming another man: Martin Somers. "Mr. Somers, one question sir…"

Eventually, Somers gets them to quiet down. "I don't know what I've done to earn this witch-hunt from Miss Lance and her bosses at the CNRI," he states. "But I can tell you this: I am an honest businessman and I will fight this slander to my last dime and breath. That's all I have to say. Thank you."

He walks into the courthouse, and the reporters see Oliver and Tommy and immediately shift gears to them. "Tell us what happened inside, Mr. Queen…"

"Please step back, sir," Diggle says, shepherding them towards the car.

"Can you give us a couple of comments about the island, Mr. Queen?"

"Before you go, sir, please, a couple of comments about the island."

"Sir, what happened in there?"

Oliver makes it to the car and Diggle slams the door. "Everybody step back!" he shouts.

One man tries to sneak past him and snap a photo. Diggle shoves him back. "Hey, man, I'll make you swallow that Nikon. Back!"

"Vultures," Thea mutters under her breath, and the rest of the room silently agrees with her.

Oliver has clearly had enough, because he screeches away in the car, leaving Tommy and Diggle stranded there with the reporters. Tommy turns to Diggle. "This happens to you a lot, doesn't it," he deadpans.

They both look around, wondering what they're supposed to do now.

There are chuckles throughout the room.

The screen switches to Laurel, making her case. "How much is a life worth?" she asks the jury. "A life of a man, a good man, a stevedore on the docks of the city in which we live."

She gestures to his picture, set up on an easel. The screen flashes back to the man in the picture being dragged before Martin Somers. "A father," Laurel's voice continues. "A man with a daughter."

The screen cuts back to the courtroom. "The plaintiff will prove by a preponderance of evidence that Victor Nocenti learned that his boss, that man sitting right there," she points to Somers, "Martin Somers, was taking bribes from the Chinese Triads to smuggle drugs into our city."

The screen flashes back to Somers and Nocenti. Somers is looking down at a wad of cash in his hand. "And when Victor Nocenti threatened to tell the police," Laurel continues, "Martin Somers had him killed."

On the screen, someone comes up behind Nocenti and slits his throat.

A few of the more sensitive people in the room jumped.

Laurel continues, back in the courtroom. "Mr. Somers is very well-connected and has friends in the District Attorney's office," she states. "Which is why, if Emily Nocenti is to get justice for her father's death, if Martin Somers is to get justice for his crimes, than someone is gonna have to do it for them."

The screen cuts to Oliver's lair, where he is working out. Again.

"I assume this is insinuating that you're the one who's going to get justice for the Nocenti's?" the judge said dryly.

On the screen, Oliver is climbing up a rope using just his arms. "Martin Somers," his voice says.

The screen shows a table with different kinds of arrowheads laying on it. "Laurel's targeted the worst of Starling City, so it's no surprise his name is on my father's list."

The book is lying open on the table to Somers' name. In another area of the lair, Oliver standing in the middle of a circle made up of poles, and practicing fighting with batons. "The city's police and the D.A. can't stop him," he continues. "Or won't. Laurel thinks she's the only one willing to bring him to justice. She's wrong."

Meanwhile, at the docks, Somers isn't nearly as calm as he made himself out to be in front of the reporters. "You, listen up," he tells someone, likely Triad. "The longer this goes on, the more likely the media is gonna crucify me. You shut this trial down, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," the man answers.

An arrow is shot, and the lights go out. "Hey, what…"

The speaker gets shot. One light comes back on, and Somers looks down at the man, and his bodyguards, now dead on the floor, in utter panic. "What?" he says.

He is hit on the head from behind and falls unconscious.

He wakes up hanging upside down, swinging slowly back and forth, the Hood standing in front of him. "Martin Somers," Oliver growls.

"Who the h*** are you?" Somers yells.

"You failed this city," Oliver continues.

"No!" Somers screams.

Oliver shoots an arrow that flies past Somers' head. "No, no, no, no, no!" Somers continues screaming.

"You're gonna testify in that trial," Oliver tells him. "You're gonna confess to having Victor Nocenti killed. There won't be a second warning."

He shoots another arrow, this time grazing Somers' face, and fades into the night.

"How do you do that?" the 12-year-old kid from before asked. "Just…disappear like that?"

"Practice," Oliver answered, slightly teasingly.

The kid gave him an "uh, duh," glare worthy of Felicity.

"It's actually not that hard if you know what you're doing," Oliver gave in. "If someone doesn't know what they're looking for, its easy to hide in plain sight. It's the same way that magicians do slight of hand tricks. You know that one trick, where the man shakes the card, then snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's holding a different card? Snapping his fingers makes your eyes move off the card for a millisecond, and that's all the time he needs to switch the card. I shot him and he was momentarily distracted. All I had to do was move away from where I had been standing before he looked back. If you don't see someone move, then you don't know which way they're going, and you have no idea where to look for them. As long as I was never in his direct line of sight, I didn't even have to go far to just disappear, as you said."

"And it's really not very cool when your husband sneaks up on you when you're busy and then startles you," Felicity put in, glaring at Oliver, who just gave her an innocent, angelic smile back.

"I have never purposefully scared you, Felicity," Oliver teased. "It's not my fault you get so wrapped up in your computer."

"Oliver Jonas Queen!" Felicity exclaimed. "You had better be darn glad that I get so wrapped up in my computer, or you'd be dead a thousand times over!"

"I never said it wasn't cute…" Oliver continued, infuriating her even further.

"Ooh, you…" Felicity growled, but was interrupted by Oliver kissing her full on on the lips.

He pulled back after a moment and smiled at Felicity, who was now thoroughly flustered. He smiled sweetly at her. There were chuckles all around the room at the sweet moment between the married couple. Anyone could see how in love they were.

Meanwhile, at the Queen mansion, Diggle is in trouble. "I hired you to protect my son," Moira is berating him. "Now, I'm not a professional bodyguard, but it seems to me that the first requirement would be managing to stay next to the man you're hired to protect."

"With all due respect, ma'am," Diggle answers, "I never had a client who didn't want my protection."

"I hired you," Moira returns. "That makes me the client. Now, where do you think my son is going on these chaperone-less excursions?"

"Ma'am, I truly do not know," Diggle says.

"And he truly doesn't," Oliver calls from the doorway.

"Then perhaps you'd like to share with me, you know, where it is you run off to?"

Oliver comes further into the room and chuckles. "I've been alone for five years."

Moira bows her head. "I know that, Oliver…"

"Mom," Oliver interrupts. "Alone."

"I see," Moira squeaks after a moment.

"I promise to introduce her if it ever gets to the, uh, exchanging first names stage," Oliver continues.

"No, I'd rather you promise to take Mr. Diggle with you on your next rendezvous," Moira says seriously. "It's not safe. You've already been abducted once. There is a maniac out there hunting the wealthy…"

"That maniac saved my life," Oliver says seriously.

"This isn't a game!" Moira bursts out. "I lost you once. And I am not going through that again."

Oliver looks at her for a moment. "Okay," he finally says. "Dig's my guy."

"Thank you," Moira says, her voice breaking.

She quickly leaves, and Oliver looks at Diggle."Sorry to give you so much grief," he says, still acting like his playboy self, but a little sincerity underneath his flamboyant tone.

"I served three tours in Afghanistan, Mr. Queen," Diggle answers darkly. "You don't even come close to my definition of grief."

He walks around the couch to stand in front of Oliver. "But I tell you what. You ditch me one more time and no one will have to fire me."

He walks away without another word. Thea passes him on her way in. "Where're you going?" Oliver asks her.

"Uh, somewhere loud and smoky," she answers. "And don't bother trying to pickpocket my stash this time because I'm gonna go get drunk instead."

The future/present Thea groaned at herself again.

"Thea," Oliver says gently, walking towards her, "do you think this is what Dad would want for you?"

"Dead people don't want anything," Thea says. "That's one of the benefits of being dead."

"I was dead," Oliver counters, "and I wanted a lot."

"Except for your family," Thea throws at him. "You've been home a week, and all you do is avoid Mom, ignore Walter, and judge me. Don't wait up."

She storms out, leaving a guilty Oliver behind.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," Thea said sadly. "I forgot how horribly we all treated you when you first got back."

"Don't worry about it, Speedy," Oliver said kindly. "It's all in the past. I know you didn't mean it, you were just going through a tough time."

Lance and Hilton have arrived at the docks. "Well, I owe you an apology, Mr. Somers," Lance says sarcastically. "We come all the way down to your docks, and, it turns out, you don't need the police after all."

"Which is exactly what I've been saying," Somers returns with false politeness.

"Yeah," Lance continues. "So I guess that 911 call that we got last night from your stevedore saying that you were getting attacked by a guy in a green hood and a bow and arrow, I, I guess that, well…"

He brushes his fingers over a gash in Somers' desk. "What was that, a practical joke?" he finishes.

"These guys like to fool around," Somers answers.

"Yeah," Lance says. "Well, you know, I'd be very much inclined to believe an honest, upstanding businessman like yourself, except, well…"

He walks over to another officer and pulls an arrow out of an evidence bag he was holding. "One of my men found this at your docks."

He holds up the arrow. "You see, there's this vigilante running around," he continues. "He thinks he's some kind of Robin Hood, he's robbing the rich, trying to teach them a lesson, I guess, I don't know, I don't know, but the point is, the man's a killer. And nothing, and no one, is gonna stop me from bringin' him down. But like you said…" he puts the arrowhead into the gash on the table, and it fits perfectly. "Huh. Clearly, nothing happened here last night."

"Isn't this a conflict of interest, Detective?" Somers asks after a moment. "After all, your daughter is suing me."

"I'm pretty good at keeping my emotions in check," Lance returns.

"I'm not," Somers cuts in.

He stands, staring Lance down. "You and your daughter don't wanna find out what I'm capable of when I get emotional."

Lance stares at him for a moment, as if astonished that he would be so openly threatening to a cop, then scoffs. After a moment, he turns and walks away.

Meanwhile, Oliver is finally getting his tour of Queen Consolidated. "As you can see, Oliver, we've modernized quite a bit," Walter is saying as the family exits an elevator.

Oliver whistles. "Ooh," he says, smiling as two women walk by, his playboy persona on in full force. "Hi," he whispers to them.

Moira smiles happily, holding onto his arm, as if her son is finally acting the way he's supposed to. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, I am," Oliver answers.

They turn the corner to the CEO's office. "I remember when your father used to bring you here when you were a boy," Walter says. "You always were so excited."

"Dad let me drink soda in the office," Oliver explains.

"Ah!" Moira muses. "So that's why you enjoyed coming."

Oliver turned to notice quite a few people staring at him, including the jury and D.A. "What?" he asked.

"Just…trying to imagine Oliver Queen, mayor, or the Green Arrow, as a kid going to the offices with his dad so he could drink soda," the D.A. answered after a moment.

"I wasn't hatched," Oliver laughed. "I had a childhood, just like everyone else. I'm a person, just like everyone else, with thoughts and feelings, and memories. Please try not to forget that."

She nodded in acceptance of his point.

"The Queen Consolidated's success of late is a result of its targeted diversification," Walter explains. "We have been making impressive inroads in cutting-edge fields like bio-tech and clean energy."

"That's…neat," Oliver says mindlessly. "Excuse me?"

He waves at Walter's assistant. "Can I get a sparkling water or something cold, please?"

"Sweetheart," Moira says, holding out her hand. "Oliver, Walter and I have something to discuss with you. Come, please sit."

Oliver's discomfort at that suggestion shows through on his face. "Mom, it makes me nervous when you ask me to sit down," he says unevenly.

Moira looks at him for a moment but lets it go. "The company's about to break ground on a new site for the Applied Sciences division," Walter explains, once again saving them all from an uncomfortable moment. "And we would like to honor your father by dedicating the building in his name."

"Nice," Oliver says appreciatively.

"And…" Moira puts in slowly, "we'd like to make an announcement at the dedication that you will be taking a leadership position in the company."

"No," Oliver says immediately.

"No, your…your company," Moira amends.

"No," Oliver says again. "I don't wanna lead anything. Besides, Walter is doing a very good job here."

This is the first time Oliver has said anything appreciative of Walter, and his gratitude shows on his face. "You said that you wanted to be a different person," Moira pushes him. "And you are Robert Queen's son."

"I don't need to be reminded of that," Oliver says shortly.

"Well, obviously you do," Moira says.

Oliver looks like he just got sucker-punched in the face.

"Everyone here understands that this transition is really difficult for you," Walter puts in, walking forward to support Moira.

"Thank you, Walter," Oliver says, any remnant of his fake persona gone and replaced with the cold voice and hard stare that's more reminiscent of the vigilante. "Which part, though? Everyone fantasizing that I got my MBA while I was on the island? Or the fact that my father's CFO now sleeps down the hall from me?"

Moira shakes her head at Oliver and turns away from him. "You know, five years ago your irresponsibility was somewhat charming," she says angrily. "It is a lot less so now."

"Does no one understand how ridiculous they're being?" Benji asked incredulously.

Moira leaves and Walter follows, leaving just Oliver staring at Diggle, who is looking at him with some semblance of understanding for the first time.

Oliver and Diggle leave the building and are immediately accosted by reporters. "There he is!"

Oliver pushes through without looking at any of them and gets in the car, his jaw set. Diggle gets in after him and closes the door. "The driver will be here in a minute," he reports.

"Okay," Oliver says, a moment later than he should have and about twice as long as it should have taken him to get through the word, as if speaking itself was extremely difficult for him.

"You know, I spent the first 27 years of my life in Starling City, and the next five in Afghanistan," Diggle says, without looking at him. "You wanna know what I learned?"

"There's no place like home?" Oliver says, not really listening.

"No, just the opposite," Diggle says, catching Oliver's attention finally and breaking him out of whatever headspace he was in. "Home is a battlefield. Back home, they're all trying to get you. Get you to open up, be somebody you're not sure you are anymore."

Oliver stares at the seat in front of him, Diggle's words hitting him harder than he expected. Diggle finally looks over at him. "Or I could be wrong," Diggle says knowingly. "Maybe after five years alone you're not as messed up in the head as you have every right to be."

Oliver looks down at the floor, remembering, and the screen flashes back to the island. Oliver is lying asleep on the ground, and is woken up by seagulls. He looks up to see them swarming the life raft, which is pulled up on the shore. "Hey!" he screams. "Hey, get away!"

He runs to the raft, scaring the gulls. "Hey!" he screams again.

He falls to his knees next to the raft, staring at his father's corpse, the head covered by some sort of hood. "Dad," Oliver says sadly.

He grabs his father's hand, then drops it and turns away, retching onto the beach. The gulls start to come back, and Oliver lunges back to his father's side. "Hey!" he screams hoarsely, "Hey, stay away from him!"

He throws his arms around the body and lays his head on his stomach. Eventually, he looks up and picks his father up in a fireman's hold, staggering a little under his weight before walking away. The screen flashes back to the present.

John paused the video as Thea burst into tears. Oliver got up and knelt at her side, and she wrapped her arms around him. They cried into each others' shoulders, mourning their father, as Roy and Felicity looked at each other, unsure of how to help them, while the rest of the room looked uncomfortable at witnessing such a raw moment, both on the screen and in the room. Sara wipes away a few tears herself, remembering how kind Robert was to her when she would come to their house to hang with Thea and Oliver. Eventually, Thea's sobs subside. "I'm so sorry, Ollie," she whispered. "You should never have had to bury him alone."

"I love you, Thea," Oliver whispered back, putting his forehead against hers. "Don't you dare think that any of this is your fault. You are not your father."

The room heard his statement, but didn't understand what he meant. Oliver looked at Roy, who gathered Thea into his arms, and Oliver returned to Felicity's side, where she cupped his face in her hands and gave him a tearful smile, which he tearfully returned. After a moment, Oliver nodded at John.

At CNRI, Laurel and Jo are counseling Emily. "Well, we anticipate that Somers' attorney will try and paint you as blinded by grief or looking to make a buck," Jo tells her.

"But this isn't about the money," Emily says incredulously. "I just want justice for my father."

"Emily, there are a lot of people who don't want this trial to proceed," Laurel states. "Dangerous people."

"My mother died when I was a baby and my father has been the only family I've ever known and they slit his throat," Emily says hotly. "They are going to have to kill me if they want me to give this up."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Laurel says consolingly.

"And it won't," Lance says, coming up behind her with three officers trailing him.

"What's going on?" Laurel asks.

"What's going on is that the three of you are getting round-the-clock police protection," Lance says firmly. "Okay? Get used to their faces, because they're going with you everywhere you go, no arguments."

"I'm a lawyer," Laurel says defiantly. "I live to argue."

"I'm your father," Lance retorts. "I live to keep you safe."

Laurel crosses her arms and bites her lip. "Um, Emily, let's go grab a cup of coffee, okay?" Jo suggests quickly.

"Yes, why not do that," Lance agrees, "thank you."

He turns to the three officers. "Please, go with them," he says to the first two. "Stay there," he says to the third.

"Protective custody?" Laurel says with barely contained rage. "I seem to recall you trying that once I discovered boys. It didn't work then, either."

"This isn't a joke, Laurel," Lance sighs. "Martin Somers got attacked last night."

"What?" Laurel says, surprised.

"Yeah," Lance says darkly.

"By who?" Laurel asks.

"It doesn't matter," Lance dismisses. "Point is, you have whipped up a storm with these guys, and until the dust settles you'll be protected, okay? End of discussion."

He starts to walk away. "That might have worked when I was eight," Laurel calls after him. "But it's not gonna work anymore."

"End of discussion, Laurel!" Lance shouts.

He walks back to her. "You're insistent on doing your job, that's great. But this is me, doing mine, okay, and not just as a father, but as a cop! These people are more dangerous than you are willing to admit. And you've made them angry."

He walks away, and the camera cuts back to the docks. It's nighttime now. A woman in a red dress with snow white hair walks up to Somers, who is sitting at his desk. "Thank you for coming," he says.

"Anything for a friend," she answers.

"We are not friends," Somers retorts. "You smuggle drugs, I let you use my port."

"For which you're paid a lot of money," she answers smoothly.

"I don't get paid enough to have arrows shot at me," Somers says, agitated. "You need to take this guy seriously. He is a bigger threat to your operation than Nocenti ever was."

"Except now it's Nocenti's daughter who's the problem," she reminds him. "Unlike your friend with the hood, we know where to find her."

"Don't be an idiot," Somers says quickly. "You take our Emily Nocenti and Laurel Lance will never let this go. She won't stop until she burns you, me, and then the entire Triad to the ground."

"Then we kill Miss Lance," the woman says nonchalantly.

At the Queen mansion the next morning, Oliver is watching the news in his room. "Attorney for shipping magnate Martin Somers has confirmed his client has no intention of testifying, maintaining his innocence in the wrongful death of Victor Nocenti."

Oliver grabs his shirt off the back of the couch, his mouth set in a firm line. "Nocenti's body was found four weeks ago," the announcer continues.

Behind Oliver, Thea walks in. "We'll keep you updated as more information becomes available," the announcer finishes.

Oliver starts putting on his shirt, but not before Thea sees his scars. "Wait, how did you get those?" she asks, striding towards him.

Oliver grits his teeth. "Don't you knock?" he asks through his teeth.

He continues putting on his shirt, trying to cover up his scars. "No, wait," Thea says, grabbing his shirt from behind and turning him towards her. "Mom said that there were scars…"

She pulls the shirt back off his shoulders and stares at his torso in astonishment as Oliver looks past her, his expression carefully blank. Thea looks back up at him, horrified. "Uh, I'm…" she stutters. "Oliver, what happened to you out there?"

Oliver pulls his shirt back on and buttons it. "I don't want to talk about it," he says tonelessly.

He turns away from her to finish buttoning his shirt and she scoffs. "Of course you don't," she says. "You never wanna talk to me about anything except my social life."

She turns to leave. "Wait," Oliver calls after her. "Where are you going?"

Thea turns back to him. "Why should I tell you?"

Oliver walks slowly towards her. "I'm sorry, Thea," he says quietly. "I need to get better…at talking about what happened to me there. But I'm not ready yet, okay?"

Thea sizes him up for a moment. "Do you have a second?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she says. "I wanna show you something out back."

She leaves, and Oliver grabs a jacket and follows. Outside the mansion, they walk across a green, perfectly manicured lawn. "Sometimes, when I felt…whatever, I'd come here," Thea tells him, stopping in front of two gravestones, one Robert's and one Oliver's.

"About a month after the funerals," Thea continues, "Mom stopped going out. Pretty soon, she stopped talking altogether. The house got so quiet, so I'd come here. To talk to you."

She points to his gravestone. Oliver looks at her, a frown on his face. "I mean, stupid stuff," she says, holding back tears. "Like what I was doing that day, what boy I had a crush on…and then sometimes I'd ask you, beg you, to find your way home to me. Now here you are. And the truth is, I felt closer to you when you were dead. Look, I know it was hell where you were. But it was hell here too. You gotta let me in, Ollie. You gotta let someone in."

She walks away, crying, and Oliver remains, staring at his own gravestone.

"Wow," Beth whispered.

That night, Laurel is in her apartment working when there is a knock on the door. She slowly goes and opens it, to reveal Oliver, holding a paper bag. "Hey," he says. "Are you okay? There are two cop cars outside."

"How am I supposed to stay away from you if you won't stay away from me?" she accuses.

"I…"

"What are you doing here, Ollie?" she asks.

"My sister took…" he starts, then reconsiders. "She pointed out to me that I have been distant since I got back and that it would probably be a good idea if I let somebody in."

"So you thought you'd start with the first person you pushed away?"

"I did that to protect you," Oliver defends himself, "but then I saw you yesterday and I realized that I hurt you."

Laurel sighs and holds the door open for him to come in. "Thank you," he says quietly.

She closes the door behind him and he looks around. "Wow," he says. "This place hasn't changed in five years."

"I haven't really had time to redecorate," Laurel says sarcastically.

She walks away from him. "I'm a jerk," Oliver calls after her.

She stops. "Before the island, I was a jerk," Oliver continues, Laurel slowly turning back towards him with her arms crossed. "And now I'm just a…I'm a damaged jerk."

"What's in the bag?" Laurel asks.

Oliver holds the bag up for a moment before letting his arm fall back to his side. "I thought about many things on the island," he explains. "But there was one thing that I thought about every day. I actually dreamed about it, and I promised myself that if I ever got a chance to do it again, I'd do it with you."

He pulls a carton of ice cream out of the bag. "Eat ice cream," he clarifies.

Laurel smiles.

"You really dreamed about eating ice cream?" the 12-year-old kid from before asked.

"I did," Oliver confirmed. "I've always had a special place in my heart for ice cream."

"Me too!" the kid exclaimed, looking at his parents with a victorious look on his face.

Oliver chuckles, and the kid's parents join him.

Later, they've settled in her living room. Laurel is sitting on the couch eating out of a bowl while Oliver eats out of the carton, sitting on the floor. He puts the carton on the coffee table. "This is as good as I remember," he says, sounding genuinely happy.

He then shifts his focus. "My mother wants me to join the company," he confides.

Laurel scrunches up her lips. "Yeah," Oliver agrees. "take my rightful place."

"I can't exactly picture you as the master of the universe," Laurel muses.

"You know," Oliver hesitates. "After five years…I have plans. I have things that I have to do. I can't do that if I'm…I don't know…attending board meetings and stockholder briefings."

"Oliver," Laurel says in a patient tone. "You're an adult. You can say no."

"Oh, I tried," Oliver agrees. "Didn't take."

"Well, then…" Laurel thinks over his problem. "Don't tell her. Show her. Be the person that you want her to see you as."

"Oh, no," Felicity groaned.

"What?" Oliver questioned.

"I know you, Oliver," she answered. "You're gonna do something really stupid, aren't you."

"Well…"

"Trust me," Laurel continues. "I have plenty of experience with disapproving parents."

"I have been on the receiving end of your father's disapproval," Oliver agrees.

"He blames himself more than he blames you," Laurel tells him, understanding that he's not talking about their ill-fated romance. "He thinks that if, you know, if he and Sara were closer, she would have told him about the boat trip. And he could have stopped her from going with you."

"I am sorry," Oliver says heavily.

"You apologized already," Laurel reminds him.

"And it'll never be enough," he counters.

They look at each other for a moment, and then Oliver looks beyond her. "Did you hear that?" he asks, his voice hard.

"What?" Laurel asks, clueless.

There is a creaking sound, and this time Laurel hears it too. Oliver grabs a kitchen knife off the table and stands up. "There's someone on the fire escape," he tells her.

"W…what?" she asks.

He grabs her arm and pulls her off the couch. "Hey, come on!" he shouts. "Come on!"

He drags her with him out of the living room and towards the door, but a man comes flying through it with a gun. He pivots and drags her the opposite direction while evading fire, only to be cut off by a man that comes through the window of her bedroom. He pulls her back out of the bedroom and stops in his tracks as they come face to face with the white-haired woman from before, holding a knife in each hand, in a fighting stance. Oliver shoves Laurel behind him. Another man comes from the side, cocking his gun, but he is shot by Diggle, who comes running in at that moment. The woman runs in one direction as Diggle comes in another, his gun at the ready. He shoots the man behind Oliver and Laurel, but then the woman comes at him from the side and grabs the gun out of his hand, slashing him across the palm with one of her knives at the same time. He ducks as she swings at his throat and tries to hit her back, but her superior training, faster reflexes, and better maneuverability allow her to evade his strike. She whirls around, causing him to go on the defensive again to evade her knives, unable to get close enough to grab her. She grabs his neck with her legs, throwing him over and landing on the ground with him in a hold. He is able to grab her hand with his free hand and stop her from stabbing him, but she raises her other hand and is about to strike when Oliver throws the butter knife, knocking her knife out of her hand. She bolts for the window. Laurel runs to Oliver, who embraces her. Diggle picks up his gun off the floor. "Are you hurt?" he shouts.

"No," Oliver answers.

"Are you hurt, Mr. Queen!" Diggle shouts again.

"No! No," Oliver yells back.

"This is why it's a good idea to have a bodyguard," Diggle says.

He leaves to make sure there's no one else in the apartment, as police sirens get closer and closer. Oliver puls back and brushes Laurel's hair out of her face. "Hey, you okay?" he asks tenderly.

A few minutes later, the police are there, carting the dead men away. Lance runs in, and he and Laurel embrace. "Daddy," she cries.

"Oh, thank God, thank God," Lance whispers, hugging her tightly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," Laurel answers. "Those cops that you put on me?"

Lance looks at her, shaking his head not wanting to answer, so Diggle does it for him. "I went outside to ask for a light and they were both dead in the squad car," he says.

Laurel covers her mouth with her hand. "It's all right, honey, it's okay," Lance soothes her.

He walks to Diggle. "Mr. Diggle…thank you," he says sincerely. "Feel free to run as many red lights in the city as you want."

"I was just doing my job, sir," Diggle answers.

"No, your job is protecting him," Lance says with a nod towards Oliver.

He storms towards him. "It seems like whenever you're with one of my daughters, people die," he accuses. "You stay away from Laurel, or I swear the next time you disappear, it will be permanent."

"Dad!" Laurel shouts angrily.

"No, Laurel," Lance starts, but Oliver interrupts him.

"It's okay," he says quietly. "I understand."

"Yeah," Lance mutters.

Later that night, at the mansion, Diggle is fingering his injured hand. Oliver walks past and tosses him an icepack, which he holds to his hand. "I'd say thank you, but I don't think that would cover it," Oliver comments.

"Well, like I told your cop friend, I was just doing my job," Diggle insists. "Besides, I think it should be you that I'm thanking.

Oliver frowns, walking slowly towards him. "What for?" he asks, miming puzzlement.

"The knife," Diggle says matter-of-factly.

"The knife," Oliver repeats. "I got lucky."

"That was a kitchen knife," Diggle states. "It wasn't even weighted properly, yet you threw it with accuracy across a ten-foot room."

"Exactly," Oliver says firmly. "I got lucky."

"I'm not the kind of man you wanna take for a fool, Mr. Queen, you understand me?" Diggle says seriously.

"Yes," Oliver says softly.

"And I think I'm just beginning to understand the kind of man you are," Diggle finishes, watching him closely.

"Shouldn't take you very long," Oliver dismisses. "I'm shallow. And very tired. So…"

He walks away, holding up a hand to Diggle. "Goodnight," he calls over his shoulder.

"Goodnight, sir," Diggle says after a moment.

Oliver does not go to bed. Instead, he goes to his lair. He's suiting up as his voice speaks again. "I wanted to give Martin Somers the chance to confess and face a court's justice. But he chose to go after someone I care about instead. He's still going to face justice. It'll just be a different kind."

The docks are utter chaos. Somers is hurriedly packing a bag when one of his men walks in. "Triad b**** screwed up the hit on Lance," he mutters. "Now the Triad is gonna erase every ounce of evidence of their smuggling operation, including me. Except that's not gonna happen. Tell Wallace to get the boat ready. I'm leaving tonight."

The man pulls out a walkie-talkie. "Wallace?" he says. Wallace, you copy? Wallace?"

"Wallace isn't here," Oliver answers. "But I am."

Somers recognizes the Hood's voice immediately. "We need to move, now," he shouts. "Move!"

"Sir, we've got six men out there!" the man reasons, following his boss out of the room.

"That's not enough," Somers shouts back, "move it!"

At Laurels' apartment, she and Lance are in the middle of another argument. "You're gonna go back into that courtroom tomorrow and you're gonna recuse yourself from this case, all right? Or drop it. Either way, you're done," he commands.

"If you think I'm gonna abandon Emily Nocenti, then you don't know me all that well," Laurel argues.

"You don't know me well, young lady," Lance shouts back. "I will lock you in a cell if that's what it takes!"

"Well, I guess that's what it's gonna take then," Laurel says firmly.

She storms out of the room and Lance presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. "D***it, Laurel!" he shouts after her.

She stops, her back still to him. "I thought after what happened with Sara you'd stop being just…so reckless!" he shouts, walking towards her.

"It's not about being reckless!" Laurel shouts, whirling around. "It's just the opposite. I'm trying to make this city safer, just like you."

Lance walks towards her the rest of the way. "Sweetie," he says, quieter. "You're my only daughter, Laurel. You're all I have left to live for."

"But what you want from me isn't living," Laurel retorts, fighting back tears. "Having cops around, not being able to do my job…"

"Your job is not going after people like the Triad or Somers!" Lance yells.

"My job is to use the law to fight for what is right!" Laurel shouts back. "Just like you taught me."

"Well, that's dirty," Lance comments. "Using me against me. You can't do that."

"Well," Laurel says quietly, "maybe I picked that up along the way, too."

Lance sighs, and his cell phone rings. He reluctantly picks it up. "Lance," he answers.

"Sir, we've got a report from the wharf side. Somers Imports," the man on the other end tells him.

"I'll be right there," Lance answers.

He hangs up and looks back at Laurel. "I gotta go," he says, "'cause something's going on at the docks."

Meanwhile, at the docks, things are even more chaotic than before. Shots are being fired from somewhere as Oliver makes his way to a flight of stairs, shooting someone as he goes, and then leaping over the railing and to another walkway before parkouring down a wall and shooting another man. He leaps over another railing to evade more fire, landing on a lower walkway, then shoots yet another man. He then runs down the walkway, shooting the last man as he goes, and runs down the stairs at the end of the path and around in a circle, shooting a man standing a couple stories above. He finally makes it to the ground and stops, looking for Somers. He spots him and shouts his name, running after him. He shoots through his suit, pinning him to a crate. "Oh, G**, no, no, no," Somers screams.

"He can't help you," Oliver growls, shooting an arrow in the other side of his suit. "I want the truth about Victor Nocenti!"

"I can't!" Somers whimpers. "The Triad will kill me."

"The Triad's not your concern right now," Oliver retorts, firing an arrow into his pant leg.

"All right, all right, all right," Somers caves. "It wasn't me that killed him. It was the Triad."

"Acting on whose instructions?" Oliver demands.

Somers doesn't answer. Oliver shoots another arrow, this time just above Somers' head. "Whose!" Oliver bellows.

"All right, all right, it was mine," Somers admits. "It was mine, all right? Nocenti said he was gonna testify against me."

Somers suddenly turns his head. Oliver whirls around to see the white-haired woman again. "Move away from him," the woman says in Cantonese.

"Make me," Oliver answers, also in Cantonese.

"You know Chinese?" the D.A. asked incredulously.

Oliver nodded. "I spent a year in Hong Kong," he said by way of explanation. "Kinda hard to survive in a foreign country long-term if you don't know the language."

The woman attacks with her knives again. Oliver goes on the defensive, blocking all her attacks with his bow. He swings at her and she dodges, and she swings at him and he dodges, but than she catches him with a spinning kick in the back.

Meanwhile, the police finally arrive on the scene.

Oliver is still on the defensive, blocking all of her strikes with ease but unable to get any of his own in because of her constant attacks. Finally, they both hit each other at the same time, sending each other flying to the ground in opposite directions. They are interrupted by the police, a man using a speakerphone commanding, "This is the police, drop your weapons. You are surrounded."

They look at each other for a moment, then run in opposite directions. "Come out with your hands up," the police spokesman continues.

Oliver throws his bow up on a shipping container and then leaps to the top himself, running through the maze of containers scattered all over the docks. He leaps to the ground and is spotted by Lance. "Freeze!" he shouts, aiming his gun.

Oliver freezes, head bowed. "You twitch and you're dead," Lance tells him.

Oliver doesn't answer. "Bow down, hands up," Lance orders.

Oliver turns towards him slightly. In one quick motion, he grabs a flechette off his pant leg and throws it, knocking Lance's gun out of his hand. When Lance turns back to him, he's long gone, and an arrow with an attached recording device is embedded in the shipping container behind Lance. Tentatively, Lance pushes play. "It was mine, it was mine, all right," Somers' voice comes through. "Nocenti said he was gonna testify against me."

"Son of a b****," Lance curses as police backup arrives on the scene.

The next day, at the lair, Oliver puts his bow back in the trunk. "Laurel was right," his voice says, "I can't be the Oliver my mother wants me to be and still keep the promise I made to my father."

He slowly takes off his suit. "I have to be the person I need them to see me as."

"Ooh, you are totally gonna do something stupid," Felicity confirmed her earlier words. "Why can't you go more than 24 hours without doing something stupid?"

The screen cuts to the groundbreaking for the new Robert Queen Memorial Applied Sciences Center. Tommy arrives. "Okay, this is a surprise," he says, spotting Laurel in the crowd and walking over to her. "Did you show up here by mistake?"

"By invitation," Laurel says slyly. "Oliver invited me last night."

"Last night?" Tommy says with an over-exaggerated grin.

"Is that surprise or jealousy I'm hearing?" Laurel teases.

"Look," Tommy says seriously. "I just don't want him to find out anything, okay? Oliver has been through a lot."

"Tommy, we've all been through a lot," Laurel corrects.

Their conversation is interrupted by the start of the ceremony. "Good afternoon," Walter says. "And thank you all for coming. Welcome to the future site of the Robert Queen Memorial Applied Sciences Center."

Everyone applauds. "Now, this is a building that will stand as a monument," Walter continues, "to the man whose company and vision are his greatest legacies."

"Whoa, whoa!" Oliver says, slurring his words as he makes his way through the crowd, grabbing a swig of another drink as he goes. "What about me? Right? I'm a legacy! Hey! Thanks for warming 'em up, Walt."

He climbs up on the stage and takes the shovel. "Alright. Ow! Fine, fine shovel. I got it."

He pretends to almost drop it. "Whoa! Ow! I'm kidding. I'm kidding. I'm kidding."

His family and friends look decidedly uncomfortable. "I got it, I got it," he whispers.

He goes to the podium. "Some of you may not know me, my name is Oliver Queen," he says. "Uh, watch some television, read a newspaper, I'm kinda…famous right now."

He laughs. "Mostly, though, I'm famous because I'm Robert Queen's son. Uh, but as Walter, who's my…my new dad…Huh? Who is…sorry. As Walter was saying, uh, I'm not much of a legacy, per se. And, uh…"

"Oliver, you don't have to…" Walter tries.

"No, sit. Sit!" Oliver shuts him down. "Gosh."

He seems to immediately sober up, his true feelings coming through. "See, I was supposed to come here today, and I'm supposed to take my rightful place at the company. The prodigal son returns and becomes the…the heir apparent. But I'm not my father. I'm not the man he was. I'm not half the man he was. I never will be. So please, stop asking me to be."

He shoves the shovel into the dirt and leaves.

"Were you actually drunk?" the D.A. asks.

"No," Oliver answered. "I haven't been drunk since I returned home. I don't want to be, I can't let myself be. I can't just…give in and stop using my senses at their full capacity. I just can't do it."

"He refuses to use anesthetics either," Felicity put in in an annoyed tone. "Says they dull his senses too much."

"Felicity," Oliver started, but Felicity stopped him with a hand.

"I understand why, but that doesn't mean I have to like it," she explained.

A lot of people looked at him with a new respect. They remembered some of the times that it was reported that the Arrow had suffered serious injuries, and the fact that he was treated and recovered from them without the use of anesthetics was mind boggling to them.

"Martin Somers, the CEO of Starling Port, was arrested last night for the murder of Victor Nocenti," a newscaster reports as Laurel, Jo, and Emily watch from CNRI. "He is also being accused of accepting cash, including over ten million dollars in bribes…"

Jo turns the TV off with a flourish. "Well, we can pursue the civil suit if you want," she tells Emily, "but the D.A. now has no choice, with Mr. Somers' confession, to prosecute him."

"He's going to jail, Emily," Laurel says with a smile. "For the rest of his life."

"Thank you so much for fighting for us," Emily says gratefully.

"Thank you for being brave enough to let me," Laurel answers.

Emily leaves and Lance arrives. "Hey," he says.

"I thought I didn't need police protection anymore," Laurel says.

"I thought I didn't need a reason to see my own daughter," Lance says questioningly.

"You don't," Laurel says, walking away.

Lance follows her. "Hmm, you look tired," Laurel observes.

"Yeah, I was filling out reports on the shootout at the port last night and getting grilled about how I let that archer get away."

"I have to admit," Laurel muses, "I'm kinda glad he did. He brought down Martin Somers."

"He hurt a bunch of people doing it, okay?" Lance returns.

"You weren't killing those men?" the judge asked incredulously.

"No," Oliver said. "I told you, I only killed as a last resort. I have good enough aim to make sure I don't hit anything lethal."

"He is no hero," Lance continues. "He is an anarchist."

"Yeah, well, whoever he is," Laurel states, "it seems like he's trying to help."

"This city doesn't need that kinda help, okay?" Lance argues. "It's like I always told you, you don't need to go outside the law to find justice. Now, I believe that, alright? And I promise you, when I catch this guy, he's gonna believe it too."

In Oliver's room, he sits at his desk and crosses Martin Somers' name off the list, then looks off into the distance, remembering.

On the island, Oliver carries his father's body and lays it in a crook in a large rock. He sees something sticking out of his pocket and pulls it out. It's the book, but as he flips through it, the pages are empty.

"Where are the names?" Rene asked in confusion.

"They're there," Oliver answered cryptically. "You'll see."

On the inside of the front cover is a stamp, in the shape of a circle, with lines running through it in a strange pattern.

Back in the present/past, two cars pull up alongside each other on an abandoned bridge. Moira exits one and enters the other. "Well, you saw for yourself," she says. "My son knows nothing. Robert didn't tell him anything that could hurt us. And he has no idea that the yacht was sabotaged."

The man across from her holds up a book with the same design on the front cover as in Robert's.

At the mansion, Oliver walks up to the gravestones, kneeling in front of his father's. He is holding the book. He chokes back a sob, bowing his head. "All that time on the island, plotting my return, I didn't…realize how hard it would be…to reconnect with Mom, Thea, Laurel…Okay, I didn't…I didn't realize how painful it would be to keep my secrets. You asked me to save the city. To right your wrongs. I will. I swear. But to do that…I can't be the Oliver that everyone wants me to be which means that sometimes…to honor your wishes…I need to dishonor your memory. I'm sorry."

He stares at the gravestone for a little longer, then stands, turning to the workmen who have been patiently waiting for him. "Take it down," he says, nodding towards his own gravestone.

He walks up to Diggle. "Will you be going out tonight, sir?" Diggle asks.

"Definitely," Oliver answers darkly.

The screen flashes back to the island. Oliver has covered his father's body with stones, forming a makeshift grave. He places the last one and stands, staring down at it, when suddenly, an arrow flies into his shoulder. He collapses onto the grave, screaming in pain, and looks behind him to see the figure of a man, dressed in green and wielding a bow and arrow. The man aims again. "No!" Oliver screams, and falls unconscious on top of the grave. The screen goes black.