Jacob silently slipped through broken window of the run-down clinic, moving the tarp ever so gently. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he crouched low and froze for a second, eyes adjusting to the dim. After he could see, he stood up and padded towards the cabinet, pulling the three vials out of his pocket and setting them down on the counter. Turning to leave, the lights suddenly snapped on, causing his pupils to contract and momentarily blinding him.

"I see you're still alive," came the same British voice as his last visit.

Shielding his eyes and turning so he could still keep his face covered, he noticed the doctor standing in the door off to the side, finger still on the light switch.

Jacob nodded in reply, both head and hat moving silently.

"The morphine and Levaquin helped," Jacob said quietly, tapping the vials. "Made it easier."

"I'm sure," the doctor quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Not a junky," Jacob grunted taking his quip as an insult.

"Clearly, although that mask is still a question that I would like answered."

Without replying, Jacob turned his back to leave, hands moving the tarp away from the broken window.

"Care to tell me your name?" the doctor asked, stepping forwards and moving to try and stop him from leaving.

"I can't do that," Jacob sighed, shaking his head. "It would endanger people important to me."

"I'm Henry," The doctor pressed, ignoring Jacobs reply. "Henry Marion Morgan. It would only be polite to thank me, for not calling the authorities at least."

"Thank you, Henry," Jacob muttered softly before climbing out the window and disappearing down the alleyway outside.

"You're welcome, whoever you are…" Henry called back, sighing in irritance and turning to walk back into his den; switching off the lights as he did so.

Climbing back up the clocktower a few hours later, Jacob ducked in the window and tossed his hat onto his sleeping roll. Looking at his weapons table, he noticed one of his batons missing. Now where did you go? He thought as his hand hovered over the spot where he had left it last. The hair on the back of his neck began to prickle, making him frown before he heard the baton come whistling at his head from behind. Spinning around and catching it with ease, he snatched it out of the air and quickly dropped into a fighting stance. He scanned the room with his eyes, looking all over to see what, or rather who, had thrown his weapon at him.

"Looks like you've come a long way kid," he heard a very familiar voice call from off to his right, shrouded in shadows.

Sara stepped forward, a smirk on her face and arms folded over her chest, looking over every inch of him.

"Hello, Ta-er Al'Safer," he replied instantly upon seeing her face.

Sara grimaced, shifting uncomfortably as a shiver ran up her spine.

"Don't call me that," she grunted, frowning at him.

"Hey, Sara," he called again, face lightening and standing up from his fighting position.

"That's better," she smiled, walking closer towards him.

"Why are you here?" they both asked, at the same time. They paused, smiling at each other and waiting for the other to speak.

"I've been looking for you," she finally said.

"Well I'd say you found me," he laughed, spreading his arms out wide, hand still wrapped around the baton.

"Yeah and I had to call Nyssa, you ass," She grunted, fighting back a smile. "You couldn't call or anything?"

"I don't exactly have a phone."

"Well why are you here?" she asked, starting to pace around him, looking over his weapons and watching him.

"It was time," he grunted, turning away from her and setting his baton back down on the table.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Reaching down in front of him, he picked up the worn article cut from the Star City Gazette. Queen Heiress in Critical Condition was scrolled across the headline, the black ink starting to fade to a light gray. He held it out towards her, Sara taking it and eyes looking over the worn-out paper.

"Where have you been?" She asked, looking up from the paper to his face.

"You know the answer to that," he sighed, picking up his baton and wiping it clean with a rag and some rubbing alcohol. "Anywhere I was sent."

"That's not an answer," she chided, carefully setting the article back down on the table.

"I have work to do," Jacob groaned, shrugging his shoulders and setting the baton back where he had originally had it. Pulling his shirt up and over his head, he whipped it towards his sleeping roll before reaching over to where his League jacket hung.

"In this?" she asked, snatching it off the peg and pulling it out of his reach. Flipping it around, she found the hole in the chest portion, sticking her finger through the hole and wiggling it at him.

With a shrug, he reached for it again before she pulled it farther out of his grasp.

"You're really going to try and wear it like this?" She asked, frowning and taking a step backwards.

"I'll be fine," he grunted, taking a step closer and reaching for it again.

"Like hell you will," Sara laughed bitterly, tossing the jacket onto the floor away from them both. "The Kevlar is ruined. Look at your damn chest. How many times did it take before it finally gave through?"

"I'll heal," he shrugged, turning to pick up the ruined jacket.

"Yea right," she snorted, folding her arms across her chest and staring at him. "Let's see it."

With a sigh, he stood back up and turned to face her. Pealing the bandage back slightly, he exposed the wound, moving to where she could see it clearly. The worst seemed to be behind him, the hole was sloppily stitched shut and the entire area was a bright pink color; nevertheless, it was starting to heal.

"Well you suck at sewing," she sighed, letting the bandage fall back against his chest and looking him over again. She noticed the fading bruises from where the Kevlar had held, the new scars all over his body; she sighed, lightly touching them.

"What did they do to you?" She whispered, fingers trailing over his chest, touching each new scar as if they would tell her their stories.

"What was necessary," came his instant answer, looking dead ahead.

With a shake of her head, she kept touching his chest, getting to the more familiar scars and smiling sadly.

"Seems like it was so long ago," she whispered, touching his shoulder and remembering their time together.

Out of the blue, she leaned in and gently kissed the starburst scar on his shoulder, catching him by surprise. After rubbing her thumb gently against it, she stood up and looked him directly in his eyes, seeing the same familiar sight she had seen on the island with him the first time.

A deep shiver ran up Jacobs spine as he gazed into Sara's eyes, the sudden hunger striking back at him before grabbing her by the wrists and pinning her to the nearest wall. She let out a sharp gasp before he leaned in and kissed her deeply, ravaging her mouth. Sara deepened the kiss, pushing back against him and letting her own urges take hold of her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she began to grind her nether regions against him, feeling him start to harden beneath his pants. He abandoned his hold on her wrists, hands flying to the bottom of her shirt and ripping it over her head before tossing it into the dark before biting and sucking at her breasts. Sara moaned in delight, grabbing a fistful of his hair and wrenching his head back up to hers. She leaned in closer, licking and nibbling at his ear.

"Fuck me," she growled at him, body begging for more.

Wordlessly, he answered by picking her up, setting her down in front of the table; everything on the table getting scattered onto the floor as he bent her over. Attacking her pants with a feverish hunger, he tore the fasteners free and pulled them down, a pair of white cotton panties making her skin look even paler. Grabbing her hips roughly, he slammed himself deep into her.

"Oh, fuck yes!" Sara screamed, hands gripping the table and holding on for dear life.

Jacob showed no mercy, slamming into her pussy over and over again, the table rocking back and forth threatening to tip off. Sara couldn't think straight, finding herself absolutely loving the new dominance he was showing. She started babbling, words coming out completely incoherent as she came closer and closer to her first orgasm.

Feeling her tighten around him, he reached down and began to play with her clit. In a matter of seconds, he had her screaming out his name, body wracking with pleasure as she came.

Breath rapidly causing her chest to rise and fall, Sara forced herself up from the table. Pressing her back against Jacobs warm chest, she wiggled her ass against him, feeling his cock twitch and engorge deep inside her.

"I want more," she whispered seductively, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his head towards hers. She could feel his heartbeat jump, making her push her ass against him harder and in turn, push his cock deeper inside her.

Without warning, Sara spun around and pushed Jacob away, grinning evilly as she watched the look on his face. Taking her time, she kneeled down and watched as his eyes followed her movement. Reaching up with both hands, she grabbed hold of his cock and began to devour it. Starting at the head, she wrapped her tongue around every inch of him until his entire length was in her mouth and starting to slide down her throat. She pushed herself forwards, feeling his engorged head slip down her throat till she started to gag. Sliding him out of her mouth, she coughed and gasped, watching as he twitched and moaned. Running her tongue down the underside of his shaft, she watched as a trail of saliva came from her lips. Lifting her left hand up, she began to slowly stroke his cock, taking her right and beginning to fondle his balls.

"Holy shit…" he gasped, his cock threatening to explode the more she did.

Sara only smirked back at him before attacking his balls with her tongue, flicking them all around before taking each one into her mouth and sucking on them. His dick hardened and started to spasm beneath her hand as he balls tightened in her mouth.

"No yet," she warned, pulling away from him and taking her hands free.

Hearing him groan and watching as his cock twitched, she slowly stood up, making him wait impatiently. As she stood up, she began to trail sweet, seductive kisses up his body. Whenever she would come close to a bruise, he would wince, making her stop and planting another kiss gently next to each one. When she stood up to full height, she stopped before standing up on her tiptoes to reach his face. Planting an extremely tongue filled kiss on him, she broke away and shoved him hard in the chest.

Caught by the sudden movement, Jacob stumbled backwards, ultimately falling onto his backside. Sara didn't hesitate, rushing forwards and mounting him quickly. Without missing a beat, she shoved his still rock-hard member back inside her, gasping and grabbing her own breast when she felt his head part her moist lips. Taking complete control, she reached up and held down his arms. Fucking him senseless, she began to rock her hips around violently, feeling his cock twitch and slam into her all over again. Sara began to moan, the feeling of taking what she wanted adding more thrill to the act. Her movements caused Jacob to moan as well and soon, the entire room was filled with their voices colliding together.

"Almost," Sara half gasped; half moaned as she began to slam herself down on him vigorously.

Jacob decided at that moment to seize control back, fighting against her hands and freeing himself. His hands twisted free of her grasp, seizing her breasts. She moaned delightfully as he massaged her tits and began to play with her nipples, adding his own momentum into her fucking.

"Now, do it now!" she screamed, her hands grabbing his and forcing them to her throat. Jacob complied, squeezing her throat between his hands and she grabbed his balls, squeezing in return.

Jacob grunted in reply, quickening his pace before slamming himself deep into her again. With a scream and a grunt, they both climaxed together, Jacobs cock exploding into her and filling her completely.

Sara began to pant and babble, being completely cock drunk as she lifted herself up and slowly allowed herself back down. She could feel the fullness between her legs and deep inside her, driving her to laugh and giggle as he cum began to spill out. Collapsing to his chest, she let her sweat soaked hair spill across his chest. She giggled breathlessly, Jacobs cock still inside her and twitching. After a few minutes of catching her breath, she brushed her hair back behind her head and leaned up.

"I missed you," she whispered to him, kissing him gently on the lips before laying her head back down on his chest. Before long, both began to drift to sleep, Jacob holding her against him, still inside her.

Nanda Parbat, Sometime 2017

Jacob stood bare-chested in the middle of a circle composed of at least a dozen similar clad league members, hands wrapped in while bandages. He stood still, body held in a fighting position with his fists held to the ready, waiting for someone to make a move. Focusing on his breathing, he closed his eyes and waited, reaching out with his sense for the first sound of movement. A few seconds later, he heard someone give a very quiet grunt before their feet began to slide over the sand and towards him. With a grin, Jacob turned and opened his eyes to find of the members running towards him. Jacob easily blocked the strike, catching the persons arm and twisting it to the side before kicking the legs out from under them. With a thud, the person hit the ground and Jacob kicked them across the face, rendering them unconscious. He turned back towards the circle just in time to find two more opponents rushing towards him, one from the left and one from the right. Acting quickly, he managed to counter their attacks as well, stepping to the side, slamming an arm across the one's chest. The second closed in, swinging their leg wide and aiming for Jacobs head as he ducked down. Rolling towards the person, Jacob managed to pop up behind him before laying a quick combo of punches to the persons back. Three more opponents joined the fray, starting various attacks on Jacob. Moving as fast as he could, he began to roll, duck, weave and counter all attacks he could. Despite all his movements, blows still landed, throwing him off balance as he turned to face the attacker. Every time he missed a step or tried to counter one, another attacker would sneak in and strike. Doing as best as he could, Jacob managed to subdue seven of the twelve opponents before he was overpowered and ultimately left bleeding in the sand. Nyssa stood just off to the side, watching over his training and smirked as he fell.

"He is progressing remarkably well," Nyssa muttered, watching as the remaining members picked Jacob up carefully and carried him off to the healer's room.

"Yes, he is, mother," Her companion said beside her, nodding in agreement.

"When he is healed, have hm brought to me," Nyssa ordered, turning and walking out of the room. Her companion nodded and strode after the group, whispering the order to the rest as he caught up.

Sometime later, Jacob walked on his own, another league member dressed in full gear standing beside him leading the way. With a quick rap on the door in front of him, the guard opened the door and motioned for Jacob to enter. Inside was another wide-open room, the walls covered in what looked like historical tapestries, their scenes being lit up by the braziers spaced evenly and far enough they didn't catch fire. Once he stepped through the doorway, the guard behind Jacob shut the door, staying on the outside. Raising an eyebrow, Jacob turned away from the door and looked deeper into the room, finding Nyssa standing in front of the farthest most tapestry, staring at it without moving.

"Come over here," she instructed, neither moving nor turning to see him.

Wordlessly he replied, his footsteps sending a muted sound off the walls and combining with the light chatter of the burning braziers. He walked up to her, standing just off her left shoulder and looked up at the tapestry.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, still not taking her eyes off of it.

"No idea," he replied quietly, looking it over. The cloth depicted what looked like a battle atop of some sort of bridge, with two hooded figures dueling, one carrying a bloody sword in hand. The more he looked at it, the more he began to pick out details, finding that both hooded figures were dressed like league members.

"I had this made when I heard of my father's defeat," she went on, her face tightening and eyes starting to shine with rage. "The moment Oliver Queen told me of how he plunged the very sword that killed him, through my father's heart, I was awash with a strange sensation; joy from knowing the man who made my very existence miserable, but also anger, for I didn't get to extinguish his life with my own hands."

"I can tell it holds meaning to you," he replied, eyeing the two figures and trying to guess which one was Oliver. "If it brings you such torment, why do you keep it?"

"Simple," she muttered, folding her arms over her chest. "To remind myself of what this League, nay, this collective will never become again. Oliver Queen showed me that even though the purpose was twisted, we were needed in this world."

She turned to Jacob, looking into his eyes as he stared over the tapestry. He could feel her eyes upon him, turning to look at her as well. Her eyes gave him the feeling like she was staring deep into his soul, uncovering his very being; the feeling made him slightly uncomfortable, but he stayed silent.

"I see a lot of Oliver in you," she whispered, taking a step closer. "But also Laurel, and still there are parts of Sara in you as well."

"So, I've been told," he grunted, turning away from the tapestry and her, looking around the room with a scowl on his face.

"Is this not good news to you?" She asked, following his gaze and walking in front of him.

"It's…" he hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Complicated, I guess? I don't know, it's hard to describe."

He paused, shaking his head and walking around her, thoughts racing through his head.

"It's like my entire identity is tied to them," he started, turning to look at her again. "Everyone sees them, but do they see me?"

"I do not understand," she replied, frowning. "I see you as you are, right in front of me."

He sighed, shaking his head.

"Is there a reason you've asked me here, mother?" He groaned, staring at her directly.

"There is," she nodded, walking past him and taking off the cloak she usually wore around her league garments. "I have observed your training for the last few days, you show promise and progress. Your fighting style should reflect who you are…"

She paused, walking over to wooden crate that sat in front of the opposite wall. Lifting the lid, she pulled two metal cylinders from inside, dropping the lit and making a dull thud echo throughout the room. She spun around, throwing them both at him. Reaching up and easily catching them, he pulled them out of the air and examined them. From what he could tell, they seemed to be some sort of weapon, vaguely recalling how Sara had fought on his earth with two rods. Feeling for a catch, or at least hoping to determine which way they were supposed to be held, he flipped them over in his hand. Running the tips of his thumb over the one end, he found several layers collapsed in on themselves, giving him an idea. With a flick of his wrists, he extended both tubes, revealing themselves to be batons.

Nyssa watched him examine and figure out the weapons with a smile on her face, reminding her so much of her beloved. When he managed to extend them, she saw the hint of a smile creep to his lips. Although she wouldn't say it out loud, at least not yet, she felt a surge of pride in watching him.

"Good," she nodded, not even trying to suppress her smile. "You've figured them out."

"I think so," he muttered, testing the one in his right hand, spinning it over in a circle and trying a practice swing with it. "It's heavier than I thought."

"Soon enough it will weigh nothing," she commented, walking towards him and holding out her hands.

He nodded, handing over the batons and frowning at them as she walked back over to the box, lifting the lid and setting them carefully inside. Reaching around, she produced two solid wooden sticks, roughly the same length as each baton. Turning around again, she threw them each across to Jacob, one at a time. Again, he easily caught them out of the air, twirling them around as she leaned down and produced a wooden sword.

"I am going to train you much in the same stance and discipline as Sara," she announced, slamming the lid shut to the box and covering the distance between themselves quickly. "Embrace each lesson, each bruise, each broken bone. Let them become you as the form becomes you."

With a nod, he assumed his fighting stance, barely getting his feet into position before Nyssa launched herself at him. Her wooden sword flashed in the firelight, glances of color jumping forth from the heavily varnished wood as she moved. Soon the clatter of wood against wood, and sometimes the heavy groan of Jacobs discomfort as wood met skin, filled the air.