The boys arrived in one of Tommy's cars, the newest model of some designer label that Laurel hadn't bothered to memorize even before the Gambit. What mattered was that it was large enough to fit all four of them comfortably and that Tommy had no intention of breaking the speed limit using it (on pain of death from Sara). One life-changing accident was more than enough for one lifetime, thank you very much.

"We're heading to the Glades first," Oliver explained as Tommy pulled out of the Lance driveway. "That's where the place we want to show you is. After that, we'll head over to the Palm for lunch—my family still has that standing reservation, and I've already called to tell them we're coming over. Then, if you're still up for it, we'll head to the theater to watch a movie. There's a new comedy out that Sara thinks you'll like, but they're also doing a special showing of the Avengers movie if you want to watch that, instead."

"I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you all choose for me," Laurel replied diplomatically. She had heard about the Marvel movies, vaguely, during her cross-country road trip while on a four-way video call with Babs, Jason, and Dick, but hadn't bothered watching one. It was important to keep a low profile, which meant not being careless and spotted by security cameras just because she couldn't wait to watch a movie on DVD in three months. Her fellow vigilantes had enjoyed them, however, so they couldn't be that bad.

The drive through the Glades was filled with chatter, and it went through one ear and out the other. Laurel made sure to chime in at all the right places during the conversation, but most of her attention was focused on the passing streets. She hadn't ventured into the Glades often, her father wouldn't allow her to, but she had seen enough to know that things were… bad. It was the poorest neighborhood in Starling for a reason. But there was a difference between bad, and, well, this.

"Has it always been this bad?" she asked.

Sara grimaced. "No. It's gotten worse these past five years. Things are getting more expensive, the poverty line has risen, and the disparity between the wealthy, and, well, everyone else is growing."

"And local government?"

Her little sister winced, and Laurel's frown deepened. Bruce had sent over a file detailing the corruption within Starling, highlighting two individuals in particular: Police Commissioner Brian Nudocerdo, and District Attorney Kate Spencer. The former was no surprise, Laurel had heard enough of her father's gripes over the years to be tangentially aware of where Nudocerdo's inclinations lay, and having official confirmation hardly warranted a blink.

But Kate Spencer's was a punch in the gut. Back in her younger, more innocent days, Laurel had considered working for the DA's office in her neverending pursuit of "trying to save the world". Prosecuting criminals of all kinds and bringing the law down on their heads—there was a certain appeal to that even now.

But even if she had, she would've never gotten the chance. Apparently, Kate Spencer was on the take, and well-known to dismiss cases that inconvenienced the wealthy of the city. She was one of the main sources of that economic disparity that Sara had been talking about. The kind of disparity that led to the poor turning to crime, which led to the wealthy cracking down on the poor—a vicious cycle. If she needed any more proof that her efforts were better focused on her vigilante pursuits than spending three years pointlessly languishing in law school, this was it.

The car came to a sudden stop, and an excited Sara started tugging on her arm, urging her to exit. Laughing, Laurel followed her out the door and onto the street. They were in the middle of the Glades, though the area looked vaguely familiar. Laurel turned around, trying to find whatever it was they were here for—

And stared.

They were at QC's old steel mill, she realized. Except, instead of the abandoned factory Laurel had known it to be, the entire building had been renovated. The logo had been changed to a beautifully lacquered sign with "The Dinah Laurel Lance Foundation" etched into it in elaborate script. Laurel mouthed the words, genuinely astonished, before turning to her friends. "What's this about?"

Oliver rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, before launching into a story about a family called the Restons and how they had lost everything when Robert had closed down the factory and pivoted away from paying out their severance packages. That eventually led to Oliver realizing that he—all of them, really—could be doing more for this city. Which planted the seed for a charity foundation, one that could provide much-needed services to the poorer sections of the city.

"But why did you… you know…" Laurel couldn't even bring herself to say it out loud, instead gesturing to the sign.

Her ex(?) laughed awkwardly. "Because… you know… you always wanted to save the world. And we always thought that this was the kind of thing you would want to do."

Laurel blushed deeply at those words. "I'm sorry," she told them all, "I'm just a little overwhelmed. This is a lot."

The other three members of their group exchanged looks. Tommy suddenly clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "How about we go inside and show you what the foundation does?" he suggested.

The Dinah Laurel Lance Foundation—and Laurel had no idea how she was supposed to get used to that, why the hell hadn't Bruce and the others told her—provided various free and reduced-price services to the good people of Starling. They had food drives, blood drives, free tutoring (through willing volunteers from local schools and colleges), financial planning, and workshops for life skills, ranging from resume-building to cooking. In addition, they had partnered up with some of the already preexisting local outreach programs in the area, such as the Rebecca Merlyn clinic and the City Necessary Resource Initiative, which provided free legal aid to Starling's citizens.

When they went inside, they found it filled with both volunteers and patrons alike. The steel mill had been a big building and the founders had made sure to outfit it with everything they thought the people of the city, specifically the Glades, could need. Laurel could barely keep track of the number of people flittering through different rooms.

Almost immediately, they were met with one of their more frequent patrons, a man that Tommy introduced as Rene Ramirez, a navy veteran who worked odd jobs to support his wife and daughter. "My wife is a recovering drug addict," he explained to Laurel. "I had no idea how I was going to get her help until the foundation opened. Signed her up for their rehab program the first chance I got, and started going to the resume and interview workshops so I can find better-paying work."

Well, then, Laurel thought after he finished speaking. She was torn between blushing in embarassment and dissolving into a puddle of tears, and was grateful she had the self-control to refrain from doing both.

After Rene, they bumped into Thea. She was one of the volunteers for their tutoring program. Every Friday after school, she and her friends went down to the foundation and stayed until closing time, tutoring children, teens, and adults enrolled in the program. "Made a lot of friends this way," she told Laurel with a cheeky grin.

"Who's in charge of all of this?" Laurel asked after the teenager left, glancing over at her guides.

"We split the responsibilities," Tommy explained. "Though I do the lion's share because I have the most free time since Ollie and Sara are in grad school."

"Oh?" That was rather uncharacteristic of Tommy. "You enjoy working here?"

Tommy nodded. "It makes me useful, and it also helps keep my dad off my back. You know how he is, always demanding when I'm going to do something constructive with my life. Well, nothing's more constructive than this, right?"

Laurel arched an eyebrow. "I'm guessing your father is as cold as ever?"

"If not worse," her friend grunted resentfully.

She winced.

Besides Thea, there was another volunteer at the foundation Laurel recognized. It took all her training and self-control not to give the stink-eye to Barbara Gordon, CNRI's new Legal Librarian and the teacher for the foundation's tech workshops. She had also helped design their computer lab (complete with free wi-fi) and printing lab. Fast friends with Oliver, Sara, and Tommy, and Laurel was going to kill her later.

After a subtle wink and a shaken hand, Laurel asked if anyone knew of a gym nearby where she could work out regularly. "If they have a self-defense program, even better," she added. She needed information on how to get the necessary certifications to become a self-defense instructor.

"You should head down to Wildcat's, then," Rene suggested, having overheard the question from nearby. "It's a popular gym here in the Glades, one of the safest places in the neighborhood. I work out there myself."

"Do they have a licensed self-defense instructor?"

Rene nodded. "The owner, Ted Grant. He's a former champion boxer, and after he retired he opened up the gym here in the Glades so people could work out their issues without getting into some bad shit. He should be able to help you."

"Thanks, Rene," Laurel said, her expression thoughtful as she turned to her sister. "I'm going to need a new bus pass soon," she noted.

Sure, she was planning to get her driver's license as soon as possible, but the reality was that her family could only afford one car right now. And that car better served her mother and Sara, who had to travel far-off college campuses (one in an entirely different city) and regularly run errands. Laurel wasn't planning on leaving Starling anytime soon, didn't have a job, and the Glades weren't that far.

Besides, she already had alternative transportation prepped and hidden near the house. Not that anyone knew that, of course.

The perks of having a paranoid, crazy-prepared, billionaire of a mentor…

After they finished their tour of the Foundation, they drove to the Palm for lunch. Unsurprisingly, the maître d' had a private table waiting for them when they arrived, along with a selection of their favorite (non-alcoholic, because it was midday and one of them was driving) drinks and a carefully curated menu. Laurel's in particular was personalized to only include options with organic ingredients and minimized amounts of spice and other additives. She wondered if Oliver mentioned her dietary restrictions when making the reservation or if one of the spooky all-knowing restauranteurs who catered to Starling's elite pulled the information from the hospital to win favor with the Queens.

Once that thought ended and Laurel briefly contemplated the possibility she had learned too well under Bruce, lunch ended and she was whisked off to the theaters. Hours later, they were exiting the movie singing off-key to Pitch Perfect covers, and Laurel hadn't felt this relaxed in five years. That was probably what caused her to miss the conspiratory smiles Tommy and Sara exchanged before booking it to the car, leaving her and Oliver by their lonesome.

"They're unsubtle as ever," Laurel mused, doing her best not to show her nerves.

Oliver chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah. It's not their strong suit."

He cleared his throat, and there was a brief silence. Anxiousness emanated from them, the elephant in the room looming over them both. "So…" she started, trailing off.

"So," Oliver agreed. He swallowed. "There really wasn't anyone while you were gone."

"Same," Laurel blurted out before she could think it over. "I mean… there were other people, but they were only friends." Even though one of them really, really didn't want to be.

Another pause.

"I love you, Ollie," she breathed out, that impossible, swelling feeling in her chest finally finding an outlet after all these years of longing. Oliver smiled and took her hands and held them in his own.

"I love you too, Laurel," he replied earnestly.

She blushed and looked down. Oliver brushed a lock of hair from her face. "How do you want to do this, Laurel?"

Laurel swallowed. "I want to pick up where we left off," she admitted honestly, "but I know that we can't. So much time has passed, and we've both changed. I'm not ready to be in a relationship right now."

"Right," Oliver agreed. He looked tense.

"Is something wrong?"

He bit the corner of his lip. "There are some things I need to tell you," he told her, almost ominously. "Things you should know before we try to start anything."

The vigilante frowned. "Ollie, is something wrong?"

Oliver smiled sadly. "I don't deserve you, Laurel."

It was like having a bucket of water dumped over her head. Laurel knew that look. It was the sad, guilty expression Oliver wore whenever he had done something particularly stupid or selfish and only realized after the fact what a terrible idea was. The kind of face he wore when he was really sorry about something.

"Ollie," she said, carefully, "whatever you did, it doesn't matter. No matter where we go from this point forward, even if we don't become a couple again, you'll always be my best friend."

He squeezed her hand tightly at those words. "We need to talk," Oliver asserted. "Not now, but… soon."

"And we will. Once I've settled in a little bit more, we'll find a private place for just us and hash it out. But no matter what you say, my stance won't change: I'm always going to need you in my life, Ollie."

It was all that needed to be said. Oliver nodded one last time and pulled her into a hug. Laurel buried her head into his chest, and breathed.

"A free weekend and then back to the grind," Sara said, stretching her arms. Next to her, Laurel patted her on the shoulder.

Their night at the movies, Oliver and Tommy had dropped the sisters back home, where they watched another movie, this time Sara's copy of The Half-Blood Prince. Mom and Dad arrived home in that order somewhere through the third act, and it was another hour before dinner was prepped and ready to go.

"How was the Foundation, Laurel?" Dinah asked, curious.

"It was… good," Laurel replied, after a moment of thought. "A bit overwhelming, to be honest."

"I just hope the four of you were careful," Quentin said, frowning heavily. "The Glades are dangerous, especially now."

Sara glanced at him. "Something you need to tell us, Dad?"

He grimaced and grunted. "It's the mobs. They're acting up again. I can't give you any details, but you should probably up security down there for the next couple of months until things die down again."

Well, wasn't that something? Laurel wondered if it had something to do about the "Black Canary". Nobody had mentioned the vigilante around her yet, which was why she couldn't bring the subject up herself, but Laurel knew she had to be operating here in the city. After all, she was the one who had arranged her presence.

Something to deal with later tonight, when everyone was asleep.

The issue, as always, was Dad. Mom and Sara turned in not long after, while Dad, ever the workaholic, stayed up to work on some last-minute paperwork and review some old case files. Despite Dinah's ever-persistent wish to keep work away from home, nothing could stop Quentin Lance from hunting down a lead once it was in his grasp. A real dog with a bone, and that was why Laurel had to wait until he was asleep before making her move.

Finally, the telltale snap of his father turning off the lights in the hallway and the click of the bedroom door became her signal. Laurel's eyes snapped open, and she listened carefully to the bustling sounds in the master bedroom. When they died down to silence, Laurel slowly slipped out of her bed, making sure there was not so much as a creak. She stuffed her pillows under her duvet just in case, before taking out a slip of paper from under her sleeve, the note Barbara had discreetly handed to her half a day before. In a small, legible script were two addresses. The first one was at the corner of her neighborhood, and the latter smack dab in the Glades.

It was child's play sneaking out. If Sara could manage when she was a rebellious sixteen-year-old, then Laurel could manage as a twenty-six-year-old ex-master assassin and vigilante. She slipped out her window and climbed down the side of the house without triggering any of the alarms, before using the shadows of the streets to hide herself as she headed a few blocks down to the first address. When Laurel arrived, there was a large, abandoned shipping container sitting there, half-forgotten by the rest of the residents and far enough that none of them would be able to notice her presence.

There was a lock on the container, the only bit of it that looked new. Laurel looked around to make sure she was truly alone, before taking the lock and putting in the combination. The numbers had been inscribed on the back of the slip of paper, and Laurel had memorized them, repeating them under her breath until it was impossible to forget.

The lock opened, and Laurel pocketed it before pushing one of the doors. Almost immediately, a hatch made itself known, forming an opening big enough to let her inside. A handle popped out, and Laurel pulled on it, opening the hatch. Not a peep—Lucius Fox was a goddamn miracle worker.

She stepped inside, locking the hatch behind her, and the entire room illuminated.

A miniature base. A motorcycle, a small closet for her normal clothes, and most importantly, her Black Canary suit, complete with a mask. It was hanging on the side of the closet, looking as freshly cleaned and pressed as it was when she first got it. Perfect.

Laurel rolled her neck and put on her most determined expression.

It was time to get to work.

Laurel gets reacquainted with Starling, learns about the foundation named after her memory (and God, that must be so embarrassing considering she wasn't dead), and gets some ominous words from Oliver. This should be the last of the setup chapters, and then we'll get on with the fun stuff.

Constructive criticism is welcome. Don't be afraid to comment or review.

Next Chapter: Laurel heads to her new vigilante base.