The room was silent for a moment. Slowly, an older man stood up from the back of the room. "Mr. Queen," he began, his voice somehow quiet and strong at the same time, "my name is Thomas Fairfax, and I'm a retired pastor."
Oliver closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable tongue-lashing. "I can see by your expression you're expecting me to condemn your actions," Thomas continued, "but I won't."
"You won't?" Oliver repeated.
"No," Thomas said gently. "Mr. Queen, I expect we are going to see for ourselves, but I cannot imagine the trials you have faced, the terrible things that you have experienced. And yet, you still returned to your city to help the people in it. You chose to fight for those who cannot protect themselves. Could you have done it better? It's not my place to praise or condemn you. That is between you and God. I expect that your conscience is quite heavy enough as it is without adding my words to it. But, as a citizen of Star City, I would like to thank you for giving so much of yourself for our city. The burden that you have carried for so many years is a heavy one, and if there is ever anything I or my wife can do for you, please, just ask. I would love to speak with you more at some point, as well, if you're willing."
"Thank you, Sir," Oliver said, a surprising weight to his words.
"Thomas," Thomas corrected.
"Thomas," Oliver repeated with a small smile.
Thomas sat back down and put his hand on his wife's knee. She smiled at him. "Well, Ollie, I, for one, say good riddance to Helena," Barry put in.
"We're not done with her yet," Oliver said darkly.
"No indeed, but we have some time," Constantine put in. "However, we're getting to the part where things start to be explained. Does anyone else have something to say, or shall we continue?"
No one said otherwise.
In a small, beat up apartment, Adam Hunt is talking on the phone. His bed is covered in news headlines detailing his fall from grace. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," he is saying. "Look, all I'm doing is looking to get something going again. Yeah, I know. I know, but this time. . ."
There is a creak behind him, and he whirls around to face the door. He goes white. "I'm gonna have to call you back," he mutters into the phone.
He hangs up and drops his hands to his sides. "What?" he asks. "What, you come back for another pound of flesh? You're gonna be disappointed, pal. Thanks to you, I'm. . ."
He is cut off as three arrows are shot into his chest. He falls dead onto his bed. In the doorway, an archer, dressed in black, lowers his bow.
"What. . .just happened?" the D.A. spoke for the first time in awhile.
"Malcolm Merlyn," Oliver growled.
In the lair, Oliver and Diggle are sparring with knives. "Nice, picking up the pace," Oliver says as they gradually get faster.
"I could say the same thing about you," Diggle answers. "You crossed three names off your father's list this week alone."
"Yeah, well, some of these guys are just giving it up now," Oliver responds. "All I gotta do is pay 'em a visit."
"It seems the Vigilante's reputation is beginning to precede him," Diggle quips.
Oliver gets him in the arm with his knife and Diggle groans. "Another round?" Oliver asks, looking almost happy.
Diggle pants, looking at him incredulously for a moment. "No," he says firmly.
Oliver walks over to the desk and puts the knife down. "Gonna take my nephew over to the mall so he can let Santa know what he wants for Christmas," Diggle explains as Oliver sits down at the desk.
"Christmas," Oliver repeats, and lets out a breath. "I didn't even realize."
"Probably because you've been logging in so many Hood hours ever since that thing with Helena," Diggle offers.
Oliver glares at him. "I meant," he says firmly, then loses the sharp edge to his tone, "there were no holidays on the island. There just. . .every day was. . .how do I stay alive? And to do that, you had to forget things. Like Christmas. My dad threw a party every year, and he would put a Christmas tree in every room. The whole mansion smelled like. . ." he trails off. "It smelled like Christmas."
"Maybe you can give the list a rest and just enjoy the holidays with your family," Diggle suggests. "Besides, I hear Saint Nick has a list of his own. I wager you're in the 'nice' column."
He leaves, clapping Oliver on the shoulder on his way out. "Go home, Oliver," he calls over his shoulder.
Oliver stares at the desk, remembering.
On the island, he is slouched against the wall of Yao Fei's cave, passed out. He is awoken by a clatter as Yao Fei clears away the rocks covering the entrance. He slowly walks inside and takes Oliver in. "You not dead," he observes. "Good."
He puts a can of water and a dead rabbit on the floor of the cave. "Where the h*** have you been?" Oliver demands weakly. "I ran out of food and water days ago."
Yao Fei turns and heads back towards the entrance. "Hey, hey, where are you going?" Oliver calls after him, his voice scratchy.
He briefly considers chasing him, but opts to attack the water instead. However, he is interrupted by Yao Fei, who drags Fyers in by the scruff of his neck and throws him onto the ground in front of Oliver. They stare at each other for a moment. "You!" Oliver growls, and punches him so hard that, in his weak state, he falls over in one direction as Fyers falls in the other.
He scrambles to his knees and pounces on top of him, but Yao Fei drags him off. "Stop!" he commands. "Stop."
"He's the one who tied me up and had me tortured!" Oliver shouts. "All 'cause he was looking for you. He would've killed me if you didn't show up!"
"Then you kill him," Yao Fei says calmly, holding out a knife to him.
Oliver glances at him, then at the blade. He sags backward and coughs. "Or he can take you home," Yao Fei finishes.
"What?" Oliver croaks out.
Yao Fei crouches down in front of Fyers, hovering the knife near his face. "He has a plane," he explains. "A way for you off this island."
In the present, Oliver arrives back at the mansion, now in a suit. Thea comes into the entryway to greet him. "Hey," Oliver says, then takes her in. "You look very pretty. What's the occasion?"
"Mom and Walter are having a dinner party with some big muckety-mucks," she tells him.
"Oliver sucks in a sympathetic breath. Thea nods. "Best night of my life," she says sarcastically.
Oliver looks around for a moment. "Thea, why aren't there any decorations up in the house?" he asks.
"What do you mean?" she asks uncomfortably.
"No wreaths, no trees. . ." he lists.
"Everyone has just been really busy lately," she answers. "I'm sure they haven't got around to it yet."
"I'm sorry for all of this too, Oliver," Thea groaned.
"Thea, for the last time, stop apologizing," Oliver said with mock sternness. "All of this was a long time ago, and I get it."
"I know, but I'm still sorry," she insisted.
Oliver nodded, and reached back to squeeze her knee before returning it to its place around Felicity's shoulder.
"Does Mom at least have some of those boxes of candy canes?" Oliver asks. "Remember we used to race to see who'd finish first?"
Thea laughs. "Yeah, I always won," she says.
"No, you cheated," Oliver returns, shaking his head.
"Well, she went sugar-free last year, so I doubt you'll be seeing any of those around," she answers his question.
Now that the eldest Queen sibling is home, she makes her escape upstairs, and Oliver takes her place in the large dining room.
"The thing that people forget is that Robin Hood was a criminal," the police commissioner is saying.
"And stealing from the rich to give to the poor is really the job of the Democrats," another man jokes.
Everyone, including Oliver, chuckles politely. "All joking aside, commissioner, crime is down for the first time in five years," Malcolm puts in.
"That's because of the changes my department has implemented," the commissioner somehow manages to swagger while seated at a table.
"Or perhaps it's because the Vigilante's activities have had a chilling effect on the city's criminals," Walter suggests.
Malcolm nods as Oliver looks down at his (Thea's) plate, trying not to smile. Malcolm notices. "What are your thoughts, Oliver?" he asks.
Oliver immediately puts on the mask of the billionaire's son, locking eyes with him and responding immediately. "I think the Vigilante needs a better code name than The Hood, or The Hood Guy," he jokes.
"I agree," Malcolm chuckles. "How about. . .Green Arrow?"
"Lame," Oliver responds immediately.
"Wait, seriously?" the D.A. said incredulously. "You got your name from Malcolm Merlyn?!"
Oliver shrugged. "The guy was smart. Had to be, to get where he was. He had some good ideas."
"You don't seem too hot about it there," Benji observed.
"Yeah, well, I changed," Oliver answered. "Things happened, I needed a new name, and that was as good as any."
Malcolm didn't seem bothered by Oliver's response, simply taking another sip of his wine. Walter's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, apologizing.
He walks out of the dining room and into the foyer. "I'm in the middle of a dinner party, Miss Smoak, so I hope this is of some importance," he says by way of a greeting.
"I guess that depends on how you define important," Felicity answers. "See, most people would consider finding a list of names written in subsonic ultraviolet invisible ink important."
"But then I already know that, don't I," he returns.
"Did you know seven of the names on the list are guys the vigilante's had in his crosshairs?" she asks. "That is, if bows had crosshairs. Which they don't."
Behind Walter, the doorbell rings and a servant goes to answer the door. "Well, it is a rather long list, Felicity," he continues, lowering his voice, "so I would expect there to be some overlap."
"Like Doug Miller."
"Head of Applied Sciences at Queen Consolidated," Walter nods slightly. "What of him?"
"Mr. Miller may end up getting an arrow in his stocking, because he's on the list."
Behind Walter, the servant lets in a police officer, who he leads into the dining room. Walter glances over, wondering what's going on. "So. . .important or not?" Felicity asks rhetorically.
In the dining room, Oliver watches closely as the officer whispers something in the commissioner's ear. So does Malcolm. The commissioner immediately gets up. "I'm sorry," he said to Moira. "Something's come up."
"Is everything okay?" Oliver asks, barely managing to mask his interest in the situation.
"The vigilante has struck again," the commissioner answers. "He just put an arrow in Adam Hunt."
Oliver cocks his head to the side.
"Uh-oh," Barry muttered. "I know that look."
"What look?" Kara asked.
"The 'I don't know what's going on but I'm gonna deal with it no matter what' look," Barry answered.
Oliver turned around and raised his eyebrows in a 'seriously?' look at Barry.
The commissioner leaves as Moira, Malcolm, and Oliver do their absolute best to act normally and fail utterly. Oliver's phone begins to buzz and he quickly pulls it out. "I really do need to take this call, it's my contractor," he apologizes to Moira.
Moira nods and he quickly leaves. Malcolm glances at Moira, who shoots him a fearful look before putting on a normal face for her remaining guests.
In Adam Hunt's apartment, he lies dead on his bed with three arrows in his chest. The police are taking pictures and collecting evidence. Lance is updating the commissioner. "Well, the daughter came over, used her key, found Dad," Lance sums up. "Hat trick to the chest."
"The hood guy," the commissioner says.
"That's what I thought at first," Lance counters, "but these black arrows aren't consistent with his MO, and neither is the fact that the Hood took Hunt for $40 million a few months ago. It doesn't make sense to kill him now. Something doesn't add up. We're dealing with a copycat."
Outside, Oliver is listening in.
In the foundry, Oliver has just brought Diggle up to speed. "Who would kill Adam Hunt with an arrow?" Diggle asks rhetorically. "I mean, other than you?"
Oliver answers him anyway. "A setup, maybe."
"You mean someone looking to cover up killing Hunt by making it look like the work of the Hood?"
"Whoever it was, he's good," Oliver tells him. "The grouping on Hunt's chest was tight. It's a compound bow, most likely, the guy is a. . .the guy's a legitimate archer."
"So someone who would be particular about his choice of arrows," Diggle suggests.
"We get an arrow, we get a bead on where he purchased them," Oliver agrees.
"So what are you gonna do?" Diggle asks.
Oliver gets a mischievous glint in his eye. "What anyone does when they need help," he says. "Call a cop."
At the police station, Lance is working at his desk when a man walks up to him with a package. "Quentin Lance?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Sign here, please," the man requests, handing him a clipboard and pen.
Quentin does as requested and the man leaves. Lance stares at the package for a moment before opening it to reveal a burner phone. He stares at it for a moment, and it starts ringing. Blocked number. He slowly answers it. "I didn't kill Adam Hunt," Oliver says, his voice disguised.
"You," Lance growls.
"You call me the Hood," Oliver confirms his identity. "It's not a great nickname. You told Commissioner Nudocerdo that you might be dealing with a copycat. Another archer, which makes me your best bet to take him down. But I need your help. I need one of the arrows from his murder."
"Yeah, we're pretty good at pulling leads off evidence, thanks," Lance says sarcastically.
"Not like I am," Oliver counters. "I can do things the police can't. Go places they won't."
"Like I said, I don't even know who—"
Oliver cuts him off. "If this archer doesn't stop with Adam Hunt we both have a problem. Think about it. Then call me. Number's programmed in."
Lance slowly lowers the phone.
At Queen Consolidated, Walter is working in his office when a man walks in. "Doug," Walter greets him. "Thanks for coming."
"Of course," he says as they shake hands.
"How is the construction coming along on the Applied Sciences Center?" Walter asks.
"Over-budget and behind schedule, exactly as expected," Doug says jovially. "Is that what you wanted to see me about?"
Walter shakes his head and wordlessly gestures for him to sit down. "Adam Hunt," Walter starts without preamble. "He was murdered last night by the vigilante."
"I read about that," Doug confirms.
"I've been concerned by the idea that the vigilante might target an employee or officer of this company," Walter continues. "Security red-flagged you."
"Me?" Doug asks. "Why would this guy go after me?"
"Well, that's a point I was hoping you could shed some light on," Walter says dryly.
"You got me," Doug answers quickly, too quickly. "From what I've read, this vigilante only goes after white-collar criminals."
"Well, let's just hope he doesn't decide to branch out," Walter says meaningfully.
They stare at each other for a moment, each realizing that the other knows more about this than previously thought.
At Big Belly Burger, Oliver and Thea are having lunch together. "I think there should be a national holiday for the guy who invented french fries," she says as she eats one. "Or at least a statue or something."
"There is no Christmas party, is there," Oliver says rhetorically.
Thea just sighs. Oliver leans forward. "Thea, Dad threw one of these every year!" he exclaims. "Did people think I just wasn't gonna notice?"
Thea licks her lips to respond, but is interrupted. "Hi, Thea," a boy calls, walking over to them.
"Hi, Shane," Thea greets him. "Uh, this is my brother, Oliver."
Oliver turns to him with a smile that looks more like a grimace. "Nice to meet you, Thea's brother," Shane says flippantly. Oliver nods, his lips still pressed tightly together. "I bet the food on that island is better than the stuff they serve here, huh?" Shane continues.
"You'd lose that bet," Oliver says in a tone that makes it clear he's not amused at all.
Shane turns his attention to Thea. "We're heading down to the bay to hang out if you wanna come," he invites.
"Thanks, but, uh, I'm spending the day with my brother," she declines, giving Oliver a soft smile, which he returns.
Oliver reached back and gripped Thea's hand. She squeezed his hand gently and gave him the same soft smile.
"Another time," Shane, at least, leaves gracefully. "See you."
Thea returns to her french fries as Oliver stares at her, a smile on his face even though the vein popping out on his forehead gives his true state of mind away. "How do you know that Shane guy?" he asks.
"We rob banks and smoke crack together," she jokes.
"That's funny, Thea," he says, his entire face turning red. "I have a feeling I'm not gonna be a fan."
"You don't even know him!" she is starting to get frustrated too. "Let's change the subject."
"Fine," he agrees. "You were gonna tell me why we're not having the annual Christmas party."
Thea sighs. "When you and Dad disappeared. . ."
Oliver's face darkens as he waits for Thea to collect her thoughts. ". . .by the time Christmas rolled around none of us felt much like celebrating, so we kind of skipped Christmas that year," she eventually continues. "Every year. And it's really fine, so. . ."
"No," Oliver whispers, then continues on louder. "No, it's really not."
At the mansion, he has somehow managed to gather all three other members of the household in the middle of the day. They are sitting on the couch and he is standing in front of them. "We're celebrating Christmas," he states firmly. "I went five years without it, and then Thea tells me you didn't have it either and I'm the reason. So, maybe now I can be the reason we have Christmas again. I thought I would throw the Queen Christmas party."
Thea scoffs. "You?"
"I know that I haven't been the son, or the stepson, or the brother, that all of you deserve," he says, nodding at each one in turn. "Especially lately. But this, this feels like the right moment to start making up for lost time. What do you say?"
Moira looks at him for a moment, smiling softly, tearing up. "I say yes," she says through tears.
"Yes!" Oliver exclaims with the excitement of a 10-year-old. "Okay. I will take care of everything. You don't have to do anything, just show up, look fantastic, and bring some Christmas cheer, okay?"
"Okay," Moira says, happy at her son's excitement.
"I don't understand," Ann said quietly. "I mean, I understand why you wanted to do it, but you're always so. . .I don't know, so dark, so. . .oppressed by your past, and here you're acting like an eager little kid."
Oliver shrugged. "I wasn't lost enough that I didn't notice the state my family was in," he answered. "Here was something I could do about it, one thing about our lives that I could make normal again. Of course I was excited. Besides. . .look, I was 22 when the Gambit sank. 27 when I came back. By all accounts I was not a very mature 22 year old. And yeah, those five years changed me. A lot. But there was still that giddiness that a kid has for Christmas. That's what you're seeing: excitement about celebrating Christmas, that I could still have something good, something light, in my life, and happiness that I could do something to give my family some normal."
Ann nodded understanding.
Oliver looks at Thea, who rolls her eyes. "Fine," she agrees too.
Oliver smiles, a real smile. "You're a good man, Oliver," Walter tells him.
Oliver cocks his head slightly with that look that many of the people in the room notice he has right before he has a flashback.
On the island, Oliver, Yao Fei, and Fyers are walking through the forest. Yao Fei is leading the way with Oliver holding a knife and guarding Fyers, who is handcuffed. Oliver is curled in on himself, obviously still in a lot of pain. "You're a good man," Fyers tells him. "I can see it. Well, beneath the privileged upbringing and the wealthy veneer. I saw it when my man tortured you and you wouldn't give up your friend. Not even a friend, really. Someone you just met."
"Shut up," Oliver mutters.
"What do you know about him?" Fyers pays him no mind. "Nothing, I suspect. Do you even know what this island really is? It's a prison. I mean this literally. Until eight years ago, the Chinese military operated this island as a penitentiary for criminals deemed so dangerous they couldn't be safely incarcerated on the mainland. When the military shut the program down my unit came in and disposed of all the inmates. With the exception of two. Your friend was one of them."
Oliver puts a hand on Fyers' chest, stopping him. His face is tight with pain, and he speaks with effort. "Who was the other?"
"You met him," Fyers tells him. "He presided over your interrogation."
"He tortured me," Oliver growls, regaining some of his old fire in his anger.
"You had information I needed," Fyers returns without emotion. "What would you do in my position? What would you do to capture the man who had slaughtered dozens of people?"
Yao Fei, who had been ignoring them, looks back at Oliver. Oliver glances at him before shoving Fyers forward.
In the present, Moira and Malcolm are meeting again. "Douglas Miller came to see me today, quite concerned," Malcolm tells her. "He said your husband interrogated him and his questions suggested a knowledge he shouldn't have of the list."
"Let me talk to him," Moira pleads.
"I think we're past the point of conversation, Moira," Malcolm fires back. "A month ago you came to me and you told me to stay away from your family and I did. But your family isn't staying away from me! Which means something must be done about it. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, I do," she answers quickly. "And I'll handle it."
"I guess what I'm wondering is whether it's time for our associate to handle it."
Elsewhere, a man is walking through an alley on the phone. "H***, yeah, I returned the money," he is saying. "$70 million isn't worth getting an arrow in the chest. And you can tell him if he's got a problem with that, he can. . ."
He is interrupted by the arrow protruding from his chest. As he falls, the Dark Archer is revealed behind him. Satisfied the man is dead, he walks away.
Later, the police are on the scene, including, once again, the commissioner and Lance. "Commissioner, this is Nelson Ravich," Lance explains. "The Hood hit him earlier this week. Ravich wired back the money he embezzled less than five minutes later."
The commissioner stares at the body for a minute. "Alright," he mutters, jerking his head to get Lance to follow him to a secluded corner. "We tell the press the Hood did this. Hunt's murder is a page 10 story, at best. But Ravich makes this a serial murder case. We can't let the public get wind of the idea that there are two of these nut jobs running around."
"Are you kidding me?!" Beth exclaimed.
Oliver just shrugged.
"You want me to ignore a serial killer," Lance says, unimpressed.
"Just catch one of these psychos," the commissioner snaps. "I don't care which one. That is a direct order from your commanding officer."
He starts to walk away. "Well, you can forget it then," Lance calls after him.
The commissioner whirls around. "Fine. It's forgotten. And you're off this case, Sergeant, effective immediately."
At the station, Lance sits at his desk staring at the phone Oliver sent him. Eventually he makes his decision and grabs it. He walks to a deserted hallway and calls. Oliver, in his room in the mansion, picks it up. "Don't bother trying to trace this back to me," he says quickly. "You'll never make it through the encryption."
"There's a heating vent on the corner of O'Neil and Adams," Lance tells him. "You'll find what you're after there."
"It'd be a mistake to set a trap for me, Detective," Oliver returns.
"I'm trading away just about everything I believe in here 'cause it's the only way I've got to get this b******," Lance growls back. "And you got till Christmas. And then, copycat or not, I'm coming after you."
The next day at the foundry, Oliver is examining the arrow when Diggle walks in. "So your friend Lance gave you a Christmas present after all," he observes.
"Mm-hmm," Oliver hums absentmindedly, then straightens up. "Teflon-coated titanium blade serrated to split the bone, shaft is some type of specialized polymer which is stronger than your typical carbon fiber. This. . .this is a custom job."
"Wow," several people muttered after Oliver's technical analysis.
"So Lance gave in after the other archer dropped another body," Diggle continues putting the pieces together.
"Nelson Ravich," Oliver confirms.
"Which is another name you crossed off your dad's list," Diggle unnecessarily reminds him. "So is this guy trying to frame you or call you out?"
Oliver shakes his head. "Either way, I need to find him."
At Queen Consolidated, Felicity is working on her tablet. She has transcribed all the names from the list into a document. Focused on her work, she doesn't notice Oliver come in. He cocks his head to the side. "Hey," he says after a moment.
She jumps a mile. "Don't you knock?" she hisses.
"Felicity, this is the IT department," he says, amused. "It's not the ladies' room."
"Right," she says with an embarrassed chuckle. She shuts down her tablet and gives him her full attention. "What can I do for you?"
"My buddy Steve is really into archery," Oliver starts. "Apparently, it's, you know, it's all the rage now."
"I don't know why," she comments. "It looks utterly ridiculous to me."
Barry laughed out loud. "Barry!" Oliver exclaimed.
"What?" he protested.
Beside him, Kara was giggling. Sara shot Oliver an amused smile at both of them, and Oliver faced back to the front, shaking his head.
"Mm-hmm," Oliver answers, obviously unimpressed. "Anyway, it's Steve's birthday next weekend and I wanted to buy him some arrows. The thing is, he gets these special custom-made arrows and I have no idea where he gets them."
As he is talking, he pulls the arrow out of a cardboard tube and holds it up. "I was hoping you could find out where this came from," he finishes, holding it out to her.
She reaches for it, but he instinctively pulls it back before trying to cover for it. "Careful," he says, and she whispers her acquiescence, a little confused, as he gives it to her.
She examines it for a moment. "The shaft's composite is patented," she observes, turning on her tablet again. "And that patent is registered to a company called Sagittarius," she finishes after doing some research. "That's Latin for 'the archer.'"
She hands the arrow back to him. "Really?" Oliver says interestedly, putting the arrow back in the tube. "Could you find out where and when this was purchased?"
She turns back to her tablet. "According to Sagittarius company records that particular arrow was part of a bundle shipment. Two hundred units."
She grabs a piece of paper and writes an address. "Sent to this address," she finishes, handing the paper to him.
"Felicity," he says with a smile, taking the paper with a flourish, "You're remarkable."
"Thank you for remarking on it," she smiles.
"You guys are so cute," Kara commented.
Oliver smirked and Felicity giggled, pulling herself closer to Oliver and leaning her head on his shoulder.
Oliver stands up. "And Merry Christmas," he adds as an afterthought.
"I'm Jewish," she informs him.
He turns back. "Happy Hanukkah," he corrects.
In Laurel's apartment, Lance is sitting at the table listening to the news on the TV. The commissioner is giving a statement. ". . .of the significant resources of the Starling City Police Department, it is clear that this vigilante's cycle of violence has escalated. I'm asking our citizens to keep a close eye out and to report anything suspicious. A tip line has been set up and a reward will be offered to anyone who aids the authorities in the capture of this madman."
Behind Lance, Laurel appears, staring at the TV incredulously. "It isn't him, is it," she asks rhetorically.
"We are all frustrated with the crime. . ." the commissioner continues on the TV.
"The Man in the Hood, he didn't kill those people," she continues.
"You're the one who said he was a monster," Lance comments.
"Yeah, but he was protecting me," she states. "It's different."
". . .the apprehension of this so-called 'Hood' that has been terrorizing our city," the commissioner drones on. "As police. . ."
There is a knock on the door. "It's probably Joanna," Laurel tells Lance, turning the TV off and heading for the door. "She said she was gonna come by with some files."
However, it's Tommy at the door. He smiles softly at her and glances at Lance warily. Lance is giving him a disgusted look, which he ignores to look back at Laurel for a moment before quickly walking in and holding out his hand to Lance. "Merry Christmas, sir," he says. "How are you?"
"Proficient with firearms," Lance growls, shaking his hand.
There were chuckles throughout the room. While everyone knows in theory that this was their current mayor, he was very different here from how he was now in the public eye, and they found themselves enjoying his care for his daughters and his dry wit. The tragedy of his life hits them fully for the first time – both the people in the room with him, one of them his daughter and the other a boy he knew from childhood who had a very high chance of becoming his son-in-law, are now dead. In fact, all of these people who had been, more or less, in the public eye for as long as anyone could remember have far more layers and feelings than most took time to consider – that is, until now.
Laurel gives him an exasperated look. "Dad?" she questions.
"Yeah," he takes the hint, for now, and leaves the room.
"I told you I wanted to spend the holidays with my dad," she says to Tommy.
"Right, because of Sara," Tommy agrees. "Because it makes the holidays a tough time. But when you are with someone, as I wanna be with you, then there aren't tough times. There's just times. Something is holding you back."
She glances timidly at him, but he doesn't push the issue. "The Queens are having a last-minute Christmas party and I would like for you to be my plus one."
She smiles, and he looks vaguely reassured. He pulls something out of his pocket. "I, um, was looking through some old photographs and. . .I found this."
He holds up a package with a bow on it. She takes it. "Merry Christmas," he whispers, kissing her tenderly on the cheek, and leaves.
Lance immediately comes back, making it obvious he's been hovering the whole time. "Bad enough you're friends with this guy and now he's your. . .what?"
She sighs. "I don't know what he is," she answers. "But he's not wrong. Something is holding me back."
"Right," he agrees. "Keep listening to that something."
There were more chuckles around the room at Lance's continued distaste for Tommy.
"I try to stay out of your personal life, Laurel," he continues, walking back into the living room, "I really do, but these guys, Merlyn, Queen, I mean, they're selfish, they think they can treat people any way they d*** please."
Laurel has been ignoring him and opening the package. She walks over to him, staring at what's inside. "It's you, me, and Sara," she says, breathless.
"What?" he stops in his tracks.
She holds up the picture for him. Lance stares at it, a stricken expression coming over his face.
Oliver is investigating the address Felicity gave him. He enters the building. It's abandoned. He slowly walks inside. A considerable distance in, there is a light shining on a black arrow stabbed into the floor. Oliver stares at it for a moment, then quickly whirls around, hand on an arrow and bow ready, as the door slams shut behind him.
Behind him, there is a spark and the sound of liquid bubbling. He slowly turns back around. Beyond the arrow, on a table, is an intricate bomb. He only has seconds before it goes off. He runs for the door, drawing an arrow and firing at the door. The arrow explodes, blowing the door outward, and he throws himself through the doorway as the bomb explodes, chasing him out with fire. He rolls on the ground outside and slowly gets up.
At the mansion, Oliver's party has started. The mansion itself is extravagantly decorated. Oliver lets himself in and runs into Diggle. He's walking stiffly. "I see the halls are decked," he observes.
"You okay?" Diggle asks, noticing his stilted walk.
"I'll manage," he answers. "Is everyone having a good time?"
"You sure you wanna do this, man?" Diggle asks pointedly. "I mean, maybe now is not the best time for you to be Martha Stewart's elf."
"My family needs this party, Diggle," Oliver counters, "which means that I need it."
Diggle nods acceptance, and then signals Oliver to look behind him. Shane has just arrived at the party. "Hey dude," he greets Oliver. "Uh, Thea invited me. I hope that's cool."
He's carrying a large bouquet of flowers which Oliver pointedly looks down at. "These are for your mom," Shane explains.
Oliver turns back to an amused Diggle. "Smooth," he whispers, raising his eyebrows, then walks into the main room of the party.
Diggle smiles at Shane. "Good luck, kid," he jokes.
Both Diggle and Shane follow Oliver, who immediately seeks out his family. "Oliver," Walter greets him.
"You guys look great," Oliver smiles. "Merry Christmas."
They all respond in turn. "Let's get a holiday photo," Oliver suggests.
"I've already sent out our Christmas cards, Oliver," Moira says slowly.
"Mom, let's get a picture just for the four of us," Oliver pleads.
"Of course," she acquiesces.
The photo is taken and Shane takes the opportunity to introduce himself. "Excuse me, Mrs. Queen? These are for you."
He hands her the flowers. "Well, thank you," she says politely. "I'll go put this in water."
Thea takes Shane by the arm and leads him away. Walter stops Moira as she goes to leave. "Is everything all right?" he asks.
"You and I should talk alone," she answers softly, and walks away.
Oliver watched the whole thing and now approaches Walter. "Everything okay between the two of you?" he asks.
"Yeah, I'm sure it'll work itself out," Walter answers.
He walks away. On the other side of the room, Thea and Shane quietly leave. Oliver is now alone in the party he threw for his family. Laurel and Tommy walk in, and he makes his way over to them. "So glad that both of you could make it," he says.
"Merry Christmas, pal," Tommy says, going in for a hug.
"Merry Christmas," Oliver answers.
He then turns to Laurel. "Merry Christmas," he says, a little awkwardly, and hugs her platonically.
"So, how long do you guys think it'll be 'till this isn't so weird?" Tommy asks. "You know, the three of us."
"Ah, it's not weird at all," Oliver jokes.
They all laugh and the tension is broken.
Upstairs, Moira is putting the flowers on a table (not in a vase nor in water) when Walter finds her. He looks at her questioningly, waiting for her to start. "You lied to me," she says in a low, slightly dangerous voice.
"An odd accusation coming from you," he returns.
She whirls around. "When you came home, you said you were through investigating Robert's death."
"Robert was my oldest friend. Do you take me for a man who wouldn't avenge his best friend's murder?"
Moira just stares at him. He huffs and sits down. "I thought I could forget about it," he expands. "Go back to the way things were. But you told me too many lies, Moira. You embezzled money from the company. Salvaged the Queen's Gambit. Why, Moira? What was it all for?"
"For leverage," she struggles to get the words out.
"Against whom?" he asks.
She doesn't answer. "Against whom?" he asks, more forcefully.
"People you've made very angry," she answers vaguely.
"Well, then, let me help you fight them."
"I can't fight them! I am them!" she exclaims. "I have tried so hard to convince myself that I'm not. And loving you. . .you were my salvation."
She is close to tears. Walter stands up and reaches for her, but she pulls her hands away. He reaches for them anyway and clasps both her hands in his. "Moira," he says gently. "Whatever you've done, and whoever these people are, the time for lies is over. You need to tell me exactly what's going on."
She struggles to say something, but eventually gives up. "Let's just get through the party," she pleads. "And I promise I will tell you everything."
She cups his face and they kiss.
Downstairs, Oliver is still talking with Tommy and Laurel. "Tommy, do you mind if I talk to Oliver for a minute?" Laurel asks.
"Yeah, I'll go grab us a couple drinks," he agrees, walking away. "And drink them both," he mutters as he leaves.
Laurel and Oliver both chuckle at his comments and Oliver gestures for them to move to an out of the way corner to talk. "I know it's probably not easy for you to see Tommy and I together," she starts.
"Ah, the invitation said 'plus one,' not 'minus Laurel,'" he tells her.
"I've been wanting to move forward with him, but something's been holding me back," she admits. "I keep making these excuses that it's my dad, it's my work, when really. . .it's you. But for five years I was emotionally. . .off, because you had died. And the truth is the last person that I expected to make me feel again. . .has."
Oliver smiles softly and kisses her, a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'm happy," he tells her. "For both of you."
She smiles. "Thank you," she says meaningfully, and goes to rejoin Tommy.
Oliver watches her go for a moment, then heads upstairs, knocking on Thea's door. "Thea, I have something to tell you," he calls, opening it.
Inside, Thea and Shane were in the midst of something that makes Oliver absolutely furious. He jerks to a stop in the doorway, his face taking on a look that the Hood usually fixes on his victims. "Oliver," Thea gasps out as they both hurriedly throw their clothes completely on.
Thea cringed and looked uncomfortably at Roy. "Um," she started, but he shook his head with a smile. "I love you," he said simply.
"I love you too," she said, relieved.
Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but his wife's hand on his knee stopped him. "Not now," she whispered.
Oliver ignores her, fixing the look on Shane and pointing his finger at him. "Hit the road," he says lowly, dangerously.
He runs out without a word. "What are you doing?" Thea yells at Oliver.
"Funny," he says, still angrily, walking further into the room. "I was gonna ask you the same thing, because there's a party going on downstairs that I threw for you!"
"I told you, I didn't want a party!" she growls back, the Dearden intimidating genetics coming through in both of them. "But you didn't care. Because you came down with the holiday blues. I've been trying to get you to open up for months. All this party is doing is bringing back memories I've been trying to forget!"
"Thea!" he exclaims, holding up his hand. "Why would you want to forget?"
"No matter how fancy the party is you throw, things will never be the way they used to be in our family," she answers. "Ever again."
She says the last part through gritted teeth as Diggle appears in the doorway. "Oliver?" he calls.
Thea stomps off, and Oliver turns, clenching his jaw. "What is it now?" he asks grumpily.
Diggle just leaves, beckoning him to follow. Diggle leads him to Oliver's room. "The other archer's moved to the next level," he tells him, turning on the TV. "He's taken hostages. This just hit the news."
Oliver quickly looks towards the TV. A scared young woman reads off a paper, her voice trembling. "Happy holidays, Starling City. For the past three months, this city has been laid siege by a vigilante. But the police have been unable to bring him to justice because they lack the will to do what justice demands. I will kill one hostage every hour in the name of this vigilante until he surrenders himself to my authority."
Diggle turns off the TV. "Police are on the scene, Oliver," he tells him. "You should let them handle this."
"Those people are there because of me," Oliver growls quickly. "I have to end this."
"Oliver, this guy. . ." Diggle considers his words. "This guy, he's very dangerous."
"Diggle, there wasn't anything on the island that wasn't twice as dangerous as this pretender, and I survived there for five years," Oliver says harshly.
"I was so arrogant," Oliver shook his head. "So convinced that by then, I had to have seen it all. The world is a lot bigger than I realized."
Most of the room stared at him incredulously, but he ignored them.
On the island, Oliver and Fyers are still walking through the forest, following Yao Fei. Yao Fei stops and pulls out Fyers' radio, holding it up. "Call your people," he orders. "Tell them to bring the plane."
Fyers scoffs. "There's no need, Yao Fei," he says. "My people will be here shortly. Did you not think it convenient you captured me so easily?"
Oliver's torturer steps out from behind a tree. "Go!" Yao Fei shouts.
"What?" Oliver asks, confused.
"Run!" Yao Fei orders, pulling up his hood.
Oliver runs off, and Yao Fei rushes the masked man. Fyers runs out of harm's way. As Yao Fei fights the masked man, several other men emerge and shoot at the fleeing Oliver. Missing, they give chase.
Oliver runs fast enough that he manages to lose Fyers' men and hides behind a tree, clutching the knife, his hands shaking. He watches through the leaves as multiple men subdue Yao Fei and take him away. His face betraying his utter panic, he looks around helplessly, now truly alone. After a moment, he continues to run.
The news is still reporting on the hostage situation: "Starling City holds its breath as the hostage crisis unfolds," a reporter is saying. "Police have attempted to enter the abandoned structure in the Glades but found rigged explosives preventing them from doing so. At the moment, there's been no sign of the vigilante as his one hour deadline nears."
Outside the building, the commissioner watches as officers attempt to pilot drones around the building. Lance strides over to him. "I count three thresholds, each wired by Mercury switches to Semtex charges," one of the officers reports over the radio.
"Can you diffuse one for HRC to use as a breach point?" the commissioner asks desperately.
"Well that's gonna take awhile, and then he's gonna know which way we're coming in," Lance scoffs.
"You got a better idea, sergeant, now would be a lovely time," the commissioner snaps.
Constantine looked around. His entire audience was on the edge of their seats. At this point, most seemed deeply invested in these events from the past. 'Good,' he thought, satisfied.
Lance doesn't answer. He doesn't have to, because there is a zipping sound as Oliver zip-lines his way into the building through a window. He lands directly into the room where the hostages are being kept. He quickly unties them. "Where is he?" he asks as he does so.
"I. . .I don't know," the woman who had read the message stammers.
"It's gonna be okay," Oliver tells them. "Follow me."
He leads them through a maze of hallways and up some stairs. "Get up on the roof," he orders.
"What about. . ." the same woman starts.
"I'll handle him," Oliver interrupts her. "Move."
Outside, the officers see the hostages. Lance grabs the radio. "Hostages, we've got five hostages on the roof!" he says authoritatively. "Repeat, five hostages on the roof."
Inside, Oliver is threading his way through the building, looking for the other archer. Suddenly he stops, turning around and looking back the way he came. Sure enough, at the other end of the hallway stands the other archer. "Thank you for coming," the archer says, his voice disguised. "After the warehouse, I knew I'd have to do something dramatic to get your attention."
"What do you want with me?" Oliver demands.
"What any archer wants," the other archer drawls. "To see who's better."
He reaches towards his quiver, but Oliver is faster, and fires his first arrow before the other archer has even gotten the arrow out of his quiver. The archer dodges the arrow and fires one of his own, which Oliver dodges. Oliver fires another arrow, which the archer dodges as effortlessly as before. The other archer fires again and Oliver ducks behind the wall. The other archer gives chase. The hallway opens up to a wider room, and the archer pulls back his bow, searching for Oliver, who is above him, somehow managing to get up into the rafters. He aims, but the archer catches a glimpse of him in shards of a broken mirror and whirls around, firing as he does so.
He manages to knock away Oliver's bow with his arrow. He continues firing as Oliver parkours across the rafters, trying to get back to his bow. Oliver dodges multiple arrows but is eventually shot in the back. He groans in pain and drops to the ground, barely managing a clean-ish landing on top of a table. He jumps off the table, dodging another arrow, and grabs his bow off the floor. He quickly whirls around and fires, but the other archer dodges his arrow and runs for cover. Oliver fires again, tracking him as he runs around the edge of the room. He disappears behind some construction and Oliver slowly advances, but the other archer has come around behind him and fires, shooting him once in the leg and then placing another arrow in his back. Oliver stumbles forward and the other archer kicks him in the back, sending him crashing through whatever construction was being done.
Oliver scrambles to his feet, but the other archer kicks him again, forcing him through boards and drywall. Oliver crumples to the ground, now panicking, scrambling to get away. The archer grabs his arm and twists, dislocating something. The archer then begins kicking him repeatedly as Oliver curls into a ball, hopelessly trying to protect himself. "First Hunt, then Ravich, and now you!" the archer growls. "I know about the list, and the man who authored it wants you dead!"
He kicks him once more for good measure. "They call you the Hood," he continues. "Let's see what you look like without it."
He reaches towards Oliver's head, but Oliver manages to get enough leverage to reach one of the flechettes on his leg and stab it into the archer's leg. He then punches him in the head, knocking him out.
Oliver drags himself to his feet and stumbles out of the room. He finds a doorway and breaks off the arrows, screaming in pain. He throws himself out the nearest window, hitting a dumpster hard on his injured back and rolling onto the ground. He coughs, pulling a small radio out of a pocket. "Dig," he gasps, coughing in the middle of every word. "Help. Help."
He drops the radio, finally succumbing to unconsciousness.
Constantine stopped the video, understanding that everyone probably needed a minute after that. William buried his face in his father's chest and Oliver wrapped his arms around him. Felicity cupped Oliver's face, a solitary tear running down her cheek. Raisa had both hands over her mouth as she tried desperately to cry silently. A row behind, Roy rubbed Thea's back as she choked, almost throwing up. Barry rubbed his hands over his face as Kara covered her mouth. Sara didn't have as big of a reaction, but she did look vaguely green. Curtis, Rene, and Dinah just looked shocked, as the Oliver they knew was not so easily beaten by Malcolm Merlyn. "So. . ." the DA stopped, for once thinking over her words. "I remember seeing that on the news, the footage of the hostages. . .you're saying all of that had to do with your father's list?"
Oliver nodded as best he could while embracing William and Felicity. "Yes," he answered. "Once Merlyn figured out that the Hood. . .that I. . .was targeting the list, that I knew about it, he knew he had to take me out, but he had to do it in a way that wouldn't cause suspicion. Making it about a copycat archer was, frankly, a genius move on his part, but it was just a misdirect, just like everything else Merlyn ever did."
After that, the room is silent, allowing Oliver's friends and family to collect themselves.
Oliver wakes up with a start in a hospital bed. Still unsure of his surroundings, he surges upward and groans in pain, his back arching. Diggle quickly rushes over to him and pushes him back down. "Hey, relax, relax," he says calmly. "Just relax. You're safe. You're in the hospital."
Oliver groans, his head tilted back, waiting for the pain to fade. He tries to breathe through it, taking a couple ragged breaths. "What happened," he asks when he can think again, his voice tight with pain.
"I back-traced your signal, I cleaned you up and I got you out of there," Diggle answers. "You've got a pneumothorax, three broken ribs, and a concussion, but the doctors say you're gonna be fine."
Oliver lets out another harsh breath as Diggle quickly turns to look behind him. "Some people here to see you," he says quickly before pulling away.
"What?" Oliver barely manages to gasp out before Moira, Thea, and Walter enter, slowly walking to the side of his bed.
Oliver groans. "Are you all right?" Moira asks, her voice trembling.
"Oh, G**, you look terrible," Thea whispers.
"Well, thank God you were wearing your helmet," Walter says after a moment.
Oliver freezes, eyes fixed on Walter, before slowly moving to Diggle, the plea for help obvious. "I told them how you were on a bike and a semi pulled right in front of you," Diggle subtly provides him with the cover story.
Oliver licks his lips, looking helplessly at Moira. "What were you even doing out?" Moira asks.
"You bailed on your party," Thea adds.
Oliver groans again before speaking, sounding vaguely nasal. "It seemed like the right move," he says slowly. "I mean, like you said, it. . .wasn't the best timing."
Thea sighs. "Okay, but when I was saying that, that was me being a b****," she tells him.
Moira puts an arm around her. "The truth is, I don't think any of us were at our best," she says.
"The real truth is, you wanted to have a party to bring us closer together," Walter adds, walking over to Moira's other side. "Well. . ."
He and Moira, awkwardly and not convincingly at all, lean their heads on each other. "Here we are," he finishes.
Oliver tries to laugh but instead makes an odd snorting sound and lets out a brief shout of pain before clamping down on it, arching his back again, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillow until the pain recedes. "We're gonna let you get som rest, hmm?" Moira suggests, kissing him on the forehead.
Walter puts a hand on Oliver's shoulder and follows Moira out of the room. Only Thea (and Diggle) remain. "So. . ." she draws out the word, "we never got to the exchanging presents part."
Oliver smiles and manages a small, nasally chuckle. "I don't think I deserve a present," he says.
"Look," Thea says gently, "I know that I've been hard on you about being different from the way you were. But the truth is, Ollie, I'm not the same person I was five years ago either."
"So maybe we can just accept each other," Oliver suggests. "Not for who we were, but for the people we are now."
Thea smiles. "Yeah," she whispers.
She holds up two candy canes. "Ohh," Oliver whispers, a real smile appearing on his face. "No cheating."
"You're on," she says happily.
"Come here," Oliver says, weakly lifting his arm so she can hug him. Her face buried in his shoulder, she can't see his eyes filling with tears.
Thea teared up, smiling at Oliver, who turned around to smile at her.
Elsewhere in the city, the other archer has returned to his lair. He limps to a table holding his arrows and take his mask off, revealing him to be, as everyone knew he was, Malcolm Merlyn. He pants, obviously not having expected Oliver to put up as much of a fight as he did, but he also has a strange look in his eye, almost like he enjoyed it.
At Queen Consolidated, Walter is on the phone with Felicity as he heads from his office to the elevators. "Thank you, Felicity," he is saying. "It was good of you to call. But Oliver's gonna be fine, he's already on the mend."
"Good," she says. "I'm glad to hear it, sir."
"I'm stepping into an elevator, so I'll probably lose you," he tells her. "I'll call you straight back."
He steps into the elevator, acknowledging the man already inside. As the doors close, the man lunges for him, injecting him in the neck. Walter collapses into his arms.
"It's done," Malcolm tells Moira, both of them standing in an abandoned part of the city, near a large limo.
"And he won't be harmed?" Moira asks, tears falling but her voice steely and dangerous.
"Nor will he ever discover your involvement," Malcolm promises. "You have my word."
"Forgive me if I don't find that comforting," she spits the words, whirling around and starting to walk away.
"You were warned, Moira," Malcolm calls after her. "I told you to get Walter under control, and you couldn't. Steps had to be taken."
"That's what you said to justify Robert's murder," Moira whirls back around. "And you wonder why I don't trust you?"
"Quite a bit of judgment coming from the woman who had her son kidnapped and tortured," he fires back.
"To prove to you that Oliver didn't know anything!" she insists. "And what does it matter now? What's done is done."
"No, Moira," he says, an evil smile coming over his face. "It's just beginning. In six months, the organization's vision of what this city should be will be complete."
"And you won't feel a thing, will you?" Moira realizes. "Thousands of innocent people will be dead and you'll feel nothing!"
"That's not true," he says, taking a step towards her. "I'll feel a sense of accomplishment. And you'll have Walter back."
He gets in the limo and leaves as she stares after him, devastated.
In Oliver's hospital room, he slowly gets up, groaning and using a cane for support, and walks to the window as Diggle watches. "You know, Dig," he starts, "when I confront somebody on the list, I tell them that they failed the city. But tonight it was me who failed."
"Oliver, five hostages are home tonight with their families enjoying the holidays, because of you," Diggle reminds him. "This guy, the other archer. . .he'll get his. And you'll give it to him."
"We might have a bigger problem," Oliver says slowly. "The other archer told me that somebody compiled the list. I always assumed it was my father. But what if it wasn't?"
"What do you mean?"
"I think there's someone else out there. Someone who's more of a danger than the archer. And I am going to take him down."
The screen goes black.