Chapter Eight: Like a Lance to the Heart

Perhaps running headfirst into the unknown was more of a Harry Potter thing than it was an Oliver thing, unfortunately. At least it felt that way as Oliver sat there gazing at the father of both Laurel and Sara, Detective Quentin Lance. None of the interrogations by shady figures with a mean streak that was a mile wide he'd endured could hold a candle to the death glare of a protective father. If looks could kill, Oliver would have been dead a thousand times over by now.

"Long time no see, Detective…" he greeted with a half-baked smile, rising to his feet. "You look good."

"How about we cut the small talk, Queen? We both know it's not going to do either of us any good." Lance clicked his tongue, glancing over at Harry with a curious expression. His eyes lingered on the raven-haired teen longer than expected; a touch of red filling the detective's cheeks as he turned away.

"Right," Oliver said weakly, thinning his lips and lowering his head in shame. There was so much he wanted to tell Lance – to try and make things right – but he knew there was no reason to bother. His words would fall on deaf ears since he lost the privilege of apologizing the moment he took Sara on the yacht.

On the sidelines, Harry was waiting for the yelling to start at any moment as he rose to his feet and walked over to Tommy. The playboy was finally waking up from the dart's effects and currently sported a look of horror at the sight of Oliver and the Detective.

"Yeah-ha," Harry chuckled nervously, patting him on the shoulder. "I think we need to step away before we get caught in the crossfire."

"A-agreed," Tommy yawned. Once they were out of the way, the two sat down and took stock of the ambush's aftermath. "What the hell happened?"

"Not too sure about that. It's all a bit of a blur, really."

"No kidding."

"You alright?" the teen asked, noting a similar expression of concern on the man's face as he glanced around the room.

"Y-yeah. Drowsy, but otherwise I'm good. You?"

Harry winced to fake an injury as he rubbed where the man had struck him. "Dick decided to ram a gun into my stomach. Wish I'd gotten the chance for some payback, but it's a bit late for that."

"So, do you have any idea what happened?"

"A couple of guys in hoods showed up and killed them. Whoever they were, they were fast." he explained, trying to imagine how it must have looked like as a bystander to see him and Oliver in action. It wasn't something he thought about often, but in retrospect it probably would have been helpful. "Bastards never saw it coming."

"Wait, how many were there?" Tommy asked, to which Harry held up two fingers. "I'm sorry, it was just two guys that saved us?"

"That's what it looks like, but there could have been more of 'em."

"I suppose it's not the craziest thing I've ever heard of. The stuff coming out of Gotham alone takes the gold prize on that."

"Really? I figured rumors of a giant humanoid shark would have been the winner for that."

"Dude, you've gotta hear about that place sometime– wait, where the hell was the humanoid shark at?"

"Hawaii. I saw it when I got on the computer last night," Harry explained with a smirk. "Apparently it's a walking-talking great white."

"Huh, I was imagining a hammerhead."

"That'd be badass." Oliver probably wouldn't agree given the scar on his abdomen. He didn't hear much about that adventure other than the fact Oliver had to swim to this wrecked ship and a shark attacked him on the way there. He'd definitely hate the idea of a giant humanoid shark roaming around. Harry, on the other hand, had grown fond of the beasts he'd encountered in the past few years as he'd made use of them for combat practice since he often found himself without a challenging enough opponent.

"You know, I like you. I can see why you click so well with Ollie," Tommy declared as the teen noticed the billionaire now had a shade of red across his face as the Detective bit his lower lip.

Oliver must have said something wrong…

"Oh yeah? I could say the same," he replied, leaning back against the wall. "I'll admit though, we didn't always get along. Even when we were forced to work together it just didn't seem like we were capable of doing so."

"Couldn't have been too bad, right? It wasn't like there was anyone else there with you to complicate things."

If only you knew half of the truth, Harry thought to himself with crossed arms. His hand grazed over the tatau sleeve on his right arm and he couldn't help but chuckle at the memory that followed concerning his meeting with Mathias. It seemed that Harry Potter and complications were two things that often walked hand-in-hand..

"To be honest, being the only people around sometimes made it worse."

"Well, if it's any consolation… If Oliver trusts you, then I trust you. From what I've seen you seem like a good kid."

They continued to speak for a few minutes as the emergency services continued to show up to the scene until Tommy asked a simple question:

"So, with no electricity or any form of modern technology, what were you doing to keep yourself occupied?"

Harry laughed dryly, his mind still focused on the memory of what transpired after the attack on the waterfall.

"Running. Lots and lots of running…"

It needed to be known that, despite Harry's adventures, he was not one to enjoy running around as if his life depended on it. Doubly so when it did. The moments that followed his escape from the waterfall were a blur as he sprung out of a secret opening underneath a pile of brush and into the woods like a bouncing rabbit. Unfortunately, he was not as nimble as one meaning he fumbled his landing and nearly face plated into the dirt.

He wasn't sure where he was going, other than hopefully as far away from the waterfall as humanly possible. The distant crackling of what he could only assume to be gunfire echoed through the trees like a demonic cackle.

Once again, the island began to shift before his eyes as the forest melted from a verdant green to a dreary, near borderline dead gray. Every tree in sight was pallid and they loomed over him with their peeled barks and barren branches like twisted, grasping arms. Harry's heart, fuelled by adrenaline, beat rapidly in the back of his throat as he vaulted over a fallen branch that would have struck an unaware fool.

Soon enough, the sound of gunfire and engines faded and Harry skidded to a halt atop a hill. His hands found purchase on his knees as he panted heavily. His eyes scanned the landscape that spread out in front of him in muted shades of gray and green. His lungs were on fire and he couldn't catch his breath. If he had a moment to stop and think for more than two seconds then he might have been able to remark that this was perhaps the most running he'd ever done in a single day. Normally, Dudley would have given up after three blocks knowing they'd see each other at home and the only time he ever truly ran for his life was at Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest…

Who were those people? He hadn't seen anyone during the attack, but there were vehicles. If there were vehicles, then there had to be some kind of base they were operating out of. If there was a base then there was a way off the island. Now the question was where this base was located at? There was nothing that stood out on the horizon, which dampened his spirits, but Harry knew there was a lot of space to cover and plenty of trees that could conceal one.

As he felt the cold wind blow against his face, a strange sensation suddenly washed over him: his arm became warm almost to the point of burning, all centered around that tatau… and just like that everything became clearer. His heart no longer thumped in his eardrums, his breath evened, and he could hear the world around him acutely. Primarily: the sound of a twig snapping behind him.

It was then that Harry's eyes widened in realization – he hadn't lost them after all. They were keeping track of him the entire way, and perhaps that was to be expected. Before he could react, a hand clasped around his mouth and he was lifted into the air. Struggle seemed futile as he wriggled against the assailant. They were strong; capable of lifting him with only one arm with little to no effort.

Harry felt the assailant's arm squeeze tighter around him like a boa constrictor. While he couldn't escape, he did notice that the arm was moving closer to his neck with every bit of resistance he threw their way.

In his struggle an idea came to him. Admittedly it was a stupid idea that most wouldn't have gone with and it likely wouldn't work, but it was the only thing he could come up with and on the fleeting chance that it might…

Harry glanced down at the assailant's forearm and bit down as hard as he could, a rush of warmth filling his mouth as he felt the skin break. The man hissed as his grip loosened enough for Harry to fall to the ground then he awkwardly stumbled to his feet and rushed for the hill.

"Get back here!" came the attacker's voice as Harry weaved through the trees, leaping over fallen limbs and ducking beneath thick branches. Every ounce of his being was telling him not to be caught and his body seemed to be acting on instinct.

Fighting would not be an option. His frail figure wasn't optimal for combat and without his wand Harry wouldn't stand any chance. Right now his best option was to run and he only hoped he could find a way to escape them. He did know it was unlikely, but he wasn't going to stop now.

With every step Harry took the warmth in his arm increased and began to spread to the point his arm soon felt like it was going to spontaneously combust. He gasped as he slid to a stop before he reached a steep decline. There was no way he'd safely get down the hill without sustaining further injury; not at the speeds he needed to run in order to escape.

"C-come on," Harry groaned lightly as he examined his surroundings. If he had time he would've been able to hide in one of the hollowed out tree trunks nearby —but he had long run out. He'd curse his rotten luck if the last few days hadn't proven that Lady Luck was giving him the cold shoulder already.

Harry could hear the man approaching and, for the first time, he turned to get a good look at him: decked out in camouflage cargo pants, jacket, and a rather out of place ski mask. The man was clearly not a soldier. On his left forearm was the bloodied bite mark and, for reasons Harry couldn't quite explain, he felt a sense of pride. The man's demeanor was of an animal on the hunt closing in on his prey. Although he had a pistol holstered to his side and a rifle slung over his back, the man hadn't bothered to pull either in his pursuit. In retrospect, it should have been clear that the masked man wasn't intending on killing him.

It was just too bad Harry hadn't realized that in the first place, because what followed could have transpired differently…

Harry was pulled from his memories as Tommy waved Oliver over once his discussion with Lance had come to its end. Oliver, for all the talk of maintaining his composure, had a red sheen to his face and a scowl that would have put Slade to shame. While Harry couldn't be sure of what had been said, he knew Lance's side had been antagonistic throughout it all.

"Haven't seen that look on him since Samantha broke up with him…" Tommy muttered under his breath as Oliver approached. Harry raised an eyebrow, recalling the brief talk about the old flame. If there ever was a woman that could have made Oliver settle before Laurel came along, it was Samantha Clayton. In fact, Oliver had been willing to drop everything to settle down with her when he found out she had gotten pregnant, but unfortunately she'd suffered a miscarriage. In the aftermath, they'd broken up and Sam moved back to Central City which left Oliver heartbroken.

A part of Harry wondered if that was why Oliver was so hesitant to move in with Laurel all those years ago. It didn't excuse what Oliver did, but it'd explain some of it.

"Yeah, wonder what the Detective said to him?"

"If I had to guess, nothing short of a death threat." Tommy replied sheepishly, rubbing his neck, to which Harry could only nod in agreement.

"Probably."

As Oliver returned to their side, Harry could feel the heat radiating from the billionaire, making him nearly chuckle. It wasn't often he got to see Oliver that frustrated and he loved to tease him over it. After all, with how much Oliver prodded him over his anger issues the last few years, he'd earned teasing rights—-not that Oliver would agree on the matter.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Tommy asked which earned him a burning glare in response. "Ohhhh, that's not good."

Oliver growled in frustration and Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from throwing out a remark. The last thing he needed to do right now was add fuel to the flame.

"I'll consider myself lucky to have walked away without getting shot," he replied after a moment of silence. "We were the ones that got kidnapped and yet I felt like the bad guy."

"Yeah, he's good at that." Tommy clicked his tongue which drew their attention to him. "What? You weren't the only one that was close with Laurel. Somebody had to take the heat while you were dead, and I'm your best friend so-"

"Right…" Harry cut him off then crossed his arms. "What'd he say?"

"Well, he really didn't say much besides the fact he hates my guts."

"I could've guessed that much. I was mainly referring to all this." Harry snorted then motioned to the destruction around them.

"He asked me if I was on something—-otherwise seemed to take my statement at face value." he shrugged then sighed tiredly. Now, whether it was Harry or Tommy that audibly snickered neither really knew as both of them grinned. Oliver's displeasure towards them grew, but it was undercut by his lips reluctantly spreading into a cheeky smile.

Unfortunately, whatever amusement any of the trio had evaporated as they were approached by even more officers. In the end, Harry considered himself lucky to have avoided talking to Lance. While his anger might have been aimed towards Oliver, Harry found that a grieving parent even years later could lash out at a moment's notice. The fact he survived in Sara's place could have been enough for Lance to turn his anger towards the teen and, quite frankly, Harry didn't feel up to dealing with that.

The trio finished talking to the police then stepped outside when they caught sight of Moira who had just stepped out of a limo parked right outside the property. Oliver had known this moment was coming and, now that it had arrived, still found himself dreading it. She did look neither pleased nor upset, so there was that. Her eyes were narrowed, her cheeks were sucked in, her head was tilted back some to make herself appear more authoritative, and she even seemed to be standing straighter than usual. The last thing Oliver noticed about his mother was the way she clenched her purse tightly with both hands in front of her. That told him everything he needed to know: Moira was on the verge of a breakdown.

As he'd found out over the years, Moira was not a woman to break down in tears and fall apart… No, Moira Queen's breakdowns were far more volatile. When she reached her limit, Moira was more likely to tear the world asunder than to fray at the seams. He'd found himself on the wrong side of his mother's wrath once and he'd vowed to never see it again. It was too bad that she hadn't gone off on Thea in the last five years given his sister's current disposition. With some luck that would change, but that would have its time and place—and this was neither.

"Mom," was all he could say before she enveloped him in a hug. His eyes widened; he hadn't been expecting that. "I'm okay… we're okay."

Harry stifled his urge to clear his throat as a way to remind them that he was there, feeling a sense of frustration as yet again he found himself as something akin to a third wheel. Looking beside him, he couldn't help but smirk at the sight of Tommy awkwardly looking everywhere but the Queens. At least he wasn't the only one uncomfortable by all of this.

"I should have known better-" Moira started to say, but Harry blocked it out as he nudged Tommy's arm with his elbow.

"Glad to see I'm not the only feeling left out." Harry whispered. Tommy chuckled as they stepped back from the two.

"It never stops being awkward, even after all these years."

"We're going to be standing here for a few minutes, aren't we?"

"Oh yeah." the man beamed with a shake of his head. "So, I've gotta ask. Now that you're off the island, what are you going to do?"

Harry bit his lower lip then closed his eyes momentarily as he thought about it. He had every intention of helping Oliver with the List, but he had his own mission to attend to. Nobody could know about it and, frankly, he didn't want anyone to know about it. The less anyone knew about the truth, the less danger would come to them. This included Oliver, even if he hated keeping secrets from him.

"I don't know. There's nothing waiting for me back in England, so I'll likely be staying here. Definitely not going back to the island, that's for sure."

"I don't blame you. The way you guys describe it just makes it sound so lonely, I can't even begin to imagine it."

Harry paused.

You're right about that. The teen crossed his arms then glanced over to Oliver and Moira. They were still talking; most likely debating whether the three of them should have been allowed to go out in the city given their prominence in the news recently. As much as Harry hated feeling out of place, it was a sensation that he'd grown accustomed to.

"As awkward as it feels, I'd take this over the island any day."

"Good, because I can already tell this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Did you get that out of a video game or something?"

"Pfft, what do you know about games?" Tommy scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

With a roll of his eyes, Harry smirked. "I was on an island for five years, Tommy. I wasn't born under a rock."

It was with that the teen walked back over to the arguing mother and son, leaving Tommy to stand there with his mouth slightly agape. He couldn't believe it.

Oliver had really rubbed off on him…

"Come here you little bastard!" the man hissed as he reached for Harry. The kid jumped to the side, narrowly escaping his grasp. "You're pissing me off!"

Harry didn't reply, rolling to the side as the man lunged again. This time he wasn't so lucky. Like a dog trying to outrun its chain length, his legs went out from under him and for a brief second he was suspended in the air. His breath caught as he felt the tug on his jacket and the heat building from his arm now felt volatile. With an inhale, Harry felt it had finally reached a boiling point. What happened next was a bit of a blur as he planted his feet down against the base of the tree to his right then pushed all of his weight towards the masked man.

The world began to spin as he found himself rolling down the hill in an explosion of dirt and leaves. Somehow, he managed to not hit any of the trees until he came to a painful stop. He looked over to his right to see the man lying face down in the dirt; from what he could tell, he didn't appear to be breathing.

Harry gasped for air then rolled onto his stomach and climbed to his feet. His entire body felt like it was going to split in half. The heat in his arm was dwindling now, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what caused the sensation in the first place. Before he could think on it further, a heavy weight slammed into him which threw him onto his back. The masked man had sprung to life and was now on top of the wizard, clamping his hands around his throat.

"Little son of a bitch… try to kill me? Fuck you!" he hissed. Harry tried everything in his power to break free; clawing at his hands and face to no avail. The difference in strength was simply way too much. Panic filled his lungs as he realized he was going to die. He couldn't scream or beg for him to stop. He couldn't even make the tiniest whine. "I had orders, but screw 'em!"

Everything started to fade to black and the man's words became muffled. Just as the dark was about to take him, Harry heard a faint whoosh then a wet squelching sound. The man's grip loosened and Harry gasped awake as something wet hit his face. When his vision cleared, Harry's stomach dropped at the sight before him: the masked man's lifeless eyes stared at him from beyond while warm blood dripped onto Harry from an arrowhead that had pierced the man's skull.

Harry inhaled sharply and his eyes widened as he pushed the body away and scurried backwards to his feet. A twig snapped to his left and, even though he wheeled around to face the noise, his mind was barely able to register the sight of a hooded bowman with a nocked arrow before it flew true and struck his right pec…

As the wizard hit the ground, the hooded man shook his head. "This is going to cause problems." he muttered under his breath as he adjusted the boy's book bag on his shoulder. Approaching the assailant's body, his lips curled into a deep scowl. So, they were aware of the boy's presence on the island. This was not good. That meant they likely knew of the young man from the beach.

Grabbing Harry and lifting him over his shoulder, he began trekking through the woods toward safety. It would only be a matter of time before the others came looking for their fallen comrade and they needed to be long gone by then.

By the time they arrived back at the Manor, the sun was finally beginning to set. Oliver had a lengthy discussion with his mother where she announced that she was going to look into getting the two of them a bodyguard. He'd wanted to argue but there was nothing he could do to change Moira's mind.

Tommy and Harry seemed to be bonding well as the two hadn't stopped talking the entire ride back. It was around the time the limousine had arrived that Tommy let them know he planned on helping Harry get his license so he could joyride around the city legally. Part of the reason being to keep Detective Lance from using that as ammo against him.

The family reacted to the kidnapping with varying levels of concern:

Naturally, Moira was shaken the most. Her determination to protect both of them— Oliver especially—- front and center, while she tried to hide the panic swirling beneath the surface. Walter gave off a sense of stoicism and wisdom that a father should aspire to, though Oliver didn't see him as such; it wasn't that he didn't like Walter, but the idea of him being with Moira after his father's death didn't sit right.

Walter checked in on their condition, wanted to know about his conversation with Lance once Tommy let it slip, and then promised to see what he could do about making sure security around the Manor was increased so something like this couldn't happen again.

Strangely enough, the one person he expected to be more worried was Thea. She had this nonchalant attitude, waving the whole thing off like it was nothing. He would have said something, but Harry caught him at the last second. Her pupils were dilated, which meant only one thing: she was high.

He'd been afraid of Thea developing a drug addiction, mostly due to his reckless behavior as a teenager. He wanted Thea to go down a different path than him, but it became apparent to him this morning when he gave her the Hōzen that she was following in his footsteps. Even if he didn't have a clue about the situation, he'd seen Thea's friend cover the powder on the table with a book. It wasn't exactly the subtlest way to do it, but he didn't expect much from a couple of spoiled teenage girls. He needed to talk to Moira and try to figure out what to do about Thea, but there was also the matter of getting the mission started.

While Oliver had been busy getting reacquainted with his family and friends, he'd laid the foundation for their mission; looking for potential targets and threats that would need to be dealt with. He'd kept a close eye on the news ever since they'd gotten back to civilization.. Thus far, only one name had managed to get his attention.

It was rather unfortunate that the man in question was that of Adam Hunt, the businessman currently being targeted by CNRI and Laurel Lance. It was partially why he had chosen to not see Laurel. If they were to go after Hunt, he didn't want her to get caught in the crossfire. Hopefully, he could avoid her for a few weeks—-but given he'd already had a confrontation with the Detective today, he doubted he'd be so lucky.

He was planning on retiring to his room for the rest of the night to continue his studies, but he didn't want to do so without saying goodbye to Tommy first. So, here he was sitting in his chair with Thea on the loveseat to his left, and Moira and Walter on the couch to his right. Harry was sitting on the windowsill, looking over the countryside with that thousand-yard stare he got when he was lost deep in thought. Tommy walked back into the living room after getting off the phone with his father, having tried to get a ride in order to retrieve his car from the diner.

Tommy's relationship with his father, Malcolm, was a tumultuous one. While it was clear Malcolm cared for him, his high standing as the man in control of Merlyn Global Group was often cause for tension. Oliver couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Malcolm be a father without the businessman taking precedence over the situation. He suspected that was why Tommy liked coming over to the Manor so much.

"Alright, I've got about twenty minutes before my ride's here. Please tell me we didn't make the news." Tommy groaned, causing Thea to chuckle.

"Not this time. I think there's a limit to how much they want to show off their favorite resident castaways," she explained, not bothering to look up from her phone. Tommy exhaled in relief while Moira put down the book she'd been reading.

"I, for one, am grateful that we're getting a reprieve from the spotlight. With what's happened today, I'm afraid to think of what even more attention would bring." Oliver couldn't argue with her there, nodding quietly. "I suppose we're lucky that those men showed up when they did."

It was only then that Harry appeared to leave his trance when he turned to look at Oliver with a knowing glance. While neither of them would really say luck was involved with the circumstances that led them to this point, they could both agree some good had come out of their misfortune.

"Ugh, don't remind me…" Tommy groaned with a pout, crossing his arms and huffing his breath like a child.

"What's wrong, they didn't give you an autograph?" Thea mused.

"No, I was knocked out for the entire thing! I didn't even get to see them!" the man huffed. Oliver could see Harry shake his head out of the corner of his eye as Tommy scowled at the thought of not being able to see his rescuers.

"It wasn't something you wanted to see, Tommy. Trust me," Oliver explained, glossing his voice with disgust and regret. "There's some things you can't unsee."

"Sure, whatever you say…"

His friend seemed displeased with Oliver's reply, but didn't say anything else. Oliver certainly wouldn't complain. The less they talked about it the better. It wasn't too long after that everything started to settle, though while they'd dropped the topic of their kidnapping the mood never shifted any.

Another ten or so minutes went by before Tommy's phone rang once more which signaled the arrival of his ride. Harry decided to walk him out since Oliver had his mind on other pressing matters. Yes, they had expected something to happen—but the timing of it and the questions they'd asked didn't sit well with Oliver. While it could have been merely about a ransom they wouldn't have asked about the Queen's Gambit. Did someone sabotage the Gambit? Whoever those men were, they were being paid to do so that much was clear.

Getting up, the billionaire decided it was time to go to his room to dredge up any info he could find on their potential targets. If he was so fortunate, perhaps he would find a possible link to their kidnappers. It was unlikely but one never knew.

"Hey, Ollie! You've got a visitor," Harry's voice called out as he walked into the foyer. The teen stood in front of the doorway and, upon hearing Oliver's footsteps, spun around to face him.

"Who is it?" Oliver asked and immediately regretted asking as Harry moved to the side to reveal the brunette he'd been avoiding since he'd gotten back to the city: Laurel… His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her; both out of joy and fear. To say that he wasn't glad to see her would be a lie, but all the while he'd been dreading the look in her eyes. He'd known for a while what it'd look like. After all, he'd imagined it every night when he went to sleep thinking about her.

How was he supposed to not think about her? This was Laurel Lance, the woman who he had loved more than anything in the world… the woman he had so carelessly and thoughtlessly betrayed. Her eyes, those beautiful soul-devouring pine orbs, drew him in instantly. They were filled with pain and glossed over as tears formed at the corner of her eyes. Pain, sadness, resentment, and perhaps just a touch of relief all melted together in a way that was truly his weakness.

She was more beautiful than the day he'd lost her and that only made the weight on his shoulders all the heavier. Why did he have to throw everything away back then? The silence that befell them was more agonizing than anything else she could have thrown at him in that moment and, just like that, Oliver almost wished he was back on the island.

"Hello Oliver…" she said in a frigid monotone as she glanced at the teenager who was quickly backing out of the room. Harry threw an awkward grin at the pair as he disappeared around the corner, not wanting to be a part of this in any shape or form.

"Laurel…" Oliver greeted softly with a sigh. "Not that it isn't good to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Dad told me what happened this morning. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why, so you could kill me yourself?" he chuckled until he saw her eyebrow raise. "Sorry, it's a force of habit."

Laurel's brow lowered. "No, it's not why I'm here. Despite how I might feel right now I still care, Oliver."

"I didn't think you'd be willing to see me." Oliver explained, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I can't say it was the first thing on my mind." Laurel crossed her arms, lowering her eyes to the floor momentarily.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and the vigilante glanced over his shoulder to the living room to see Thea peering around the corner with wide eyes. Of course, of all the times Thea had to be eavesdropping it would be when Laurel was here… Ugh, siblings…

"Would you like to take a walk?"

As they strolled down the gravel path towards the woods, Oliver had found himself watching her intently with his arms behind his back. He remembered all the times they'd walked this path together to hide away in the woods for hours on end when they first got together. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"So, you went to law school. You always said you would." he said, breaking the silence between them.

"Yeah, everyone's proud."

"Does that include your father?"

"Well, he had to compromise since he wouldn't let me become a cop." she explained with an uncomfortable smile.

"I'm sure he's thrilled about you getting into the ring with Adam Hunt. He's a heavy hitter." Oliver winced immediately at his own words. Why did he say that? Now she knew he was looking into her business. Way to go, Oliver…

She stopped in her place, looking towards him with confusion. "That's what you want to talk about five years? Adam Hunt?"

"No, not really," he admitted. "I just don't want to see you bite off more than you can chew."

"I'm a big girl, Oliver. I can handle myself."

"I know, but it doesn't mean I can't worry…" She paused at this, allowing Oliver to clear his throat and clap his hands. "I'm sure there's something you want to say, so go ahead."

"I'm surprised you didn't come to see me at work," Laurel said, reaching down for a pebble. "Figured you would have made a grand entrance or something in classic Oliver Queen fashion."

"I thought I'd save us both the pain of that reunion. Besides, I didn't know what to say. There's no apology I can give that can make up for what I did. Honestly, I thought that I was the last person you'd want to see."

"You wouldn't be wrong…" she said, tossing the pebble into a nearby tree.

"Laurel, I'm not going to stand here and avoid the elephant in the room. I am more sorry than you could ever know. I've spent the last five years regretting what I did– it was all my fault, not hers… I just don't want you to blame Sara for any of this."

"Blame her for what? Falling under your spell? How could I possibly blame her for doing the same things that I did?" she asked, her voice shaking and the frosty shielding she'd placed over herself beginning to crack. "Why'd you do it? Why would you do that to me?"

There it was, the exact words he'd been waiting for since he caught sight of her in that doorway. Despite there being no malicious intent behind her words it still struck him like a bullet nonetheless.

"Laurel, I never meant to-"

"Oliver, she was my sister. I couldn't be angry because she was dead. I couldn't grieve because I was so angry. That's what happens when your sister dies while screwing your boyfriend. We buried an empty coffin all because her body was at the bottom of the ocean…" she explained, tears clouding her eyes. "So no… I don't blame her."

"I know it's too late to say this, but I'm sorry."

"Is that all you've really got to say? You're sorry?" she asked, turning to face him completely. "Oliver, you-"

"I'm sorry that it wasn't me that died that night." he cut her off. Laurel's reddened eyes widened as he rubbed his face momentarily.

"W-what?"

"I wish that it had been me that died that night, not her. I have spent every single day since that night begging and pleading to swap places with her because she did not deserve that. None of you deserved that. If I could have taken her place so she'd be the one standing here with you right now, I would have done so in a heartbeat."

"Why did you do it?"

Oliver closed his eyes. He could have told her the truth right then and there—why he'd thrown their relationship away like it was nothing… but what good would that do right now? He'd asked himself the same question far too many times as he laid under the stars when they weren't galavanting from one life-threatening situation to the next. Oliver had chastised himself for betraying Laurel like that and had asked himself that exact question. He'd imagined this very moment where he would get his chance to tell her the truth so he could feel some sort of relief from the guilt. A multitude of different scenarios all playing out in one singular outcome that Oliver knew he couldn't stand to be a part of.

So what good would it do to tell her the truth? She was looking for an answer; something concrete that would have alleviated her own woes. What he had wasn't going to fix anything. The truth would have only hurt her more.

"I can't tell you," he replied quietly.

"Wh-why not?" she asked with tear-filled eyes that struck at his soul. His heart ached at the sight and it threatened to break his carefully sculpted facade in a way that only Laurel Lance could.

Dammit, he thought. Why did she have to look at him like that? It was one thing to be yelled at and bastardized to the point where he could find some kind of solace in being the villain; he deserved every ounce of hate and malice that she threw at him. What he couldn't stand was seeing her cry and look at him like there was some sort of hanging thread that he could reach out and grab to fix everything. He knew there wasn't any.

So once again he found himself asking why. Why wasn't she screaming at him, cursing him to the deepest parts of hell? Why wasn't she treating him like the monster he felt he was?

With a sigh, Oliver finally answered: "Because all it would be is another excuse and you deserve better than that, Laurel."

The silence that fell between them was more excruciating than Oliver would have liked to admit. If only she would smack him, berate him, anything other than being quiet. There was nothing worse than the silence. Finally, after an untold amount of time, her eyes shifted in warmth, changing from pain and resentment to surprise as a sense of realization washed over her as she took a step back.

"I," she swallowed. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing I didn't deserve."

From there, not much else was said as the moment stretched evermore. The unspoken rift between them widened to a chasm that neither dared to cross, even if Oliver was close enough to smell the Chanel Laurel was so fond of. Rays of amber-colored light peered through the trees bathing his former love, forcing him to look away. His throat felt like it was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe. As she wiped the last tears from her cheek, it became obvious to him that neither of them were ready for this.

The wind shifted and brought the smell of rain with it. Once he took a breath, he had planned on turning back to say he should go back inside, but the sound of her footsteps on the gravel path shut the possibility down. Turning around, Oliver could only watch as she walked away.

Five yards. Fifteen yards. Thirty yards… growing smaller with each passing breath. His chest tightened, his mouth was dry, and the scent of rain became stronger…

And suddenly, Oliver Queen was standing on a boat again watching the woman he loved disappear into the distance.

AN: and there we are guys, officially caught up with the A03 version! Like I said, had I not needed to work yesterday I would have had this all posted at once. As you can see, there's plenty of changes to be had with this rewrite, we just had to get through the early chapters. I'd love to hear what you guys think of the changes thus far, if you've noticed any easter eggs/references that we've thrown into this hinting at the greater "Arsenalverse" (yes, I still find it weird we're calling this universe the Arsenalverse. I do not have the ego for this haha)

I really wanted to make sure we didn't have many AN's through these last few chapters mostly because I don't want to take away from your time reading, but I feel it's worth mentioning as this will be something that helps development of ALL my stories in the future.

The Arsenalverse discord server is going to be the one stop shop where you guys can converse with us about the story, get early snippets, and perhaps have your chance to help forge the Arsenalverse as a whole. What that really entails remains to be seen. Want to see brand new chapters before anyone else and get to help out with grammar at the same time? You can do so in the server if you participate enough (but don't do it just to get early access, we want genuine interaction) or... what I'm about to bring up.

As some of you may know, I've had a passion for writing since the moment I could pick up a pencil when I was about five years old. Sure, it was stick figures back then mostly but it's always been the same in the long run. I've wanted to make this my career and I've finally taken the first step to do that.

If you guys would like to support my writing, I now have a Pat-reon. Depending on the tier you can get access to my OG works, side content that you might not see otherwise, early access to Reforged Destinies and associated stories a week before public release (might change this... so bear with me). Really, there's some exciting stuff, so check it out.

Pat-reon: /Arsenal597

I do not expect you guys to do so, but any support would be extremely appreciated. Regardless of how you support my writing, even if it's just reading it... thank you so much.

And those who might have missed the discord link, here you go:

dis cord . gg / Av2v4Z2PsN

That being said, hope to see you all in the next chapter!