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raywritesthings · 3 years

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Bird in a Storm

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Athena, Roy Harper, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Quentin Lance, Ted Grant, Moira Queen, Walter Steele, Raisa, A.J. Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

John had only just dropped A.J. off from their morning in the park. He’d given his nephew some pointers and shot a few hoops with him, then sat him down on a bench to finally tell him about how the cops had caught the bad man who took his father away. It was a simplification, maybe, and when A.J. was older, he would get the full story. But John wanted his nephew to know that justice had been done.

A.J. had listened raptly, then asked, “Did the Hood help them?”

John had smiled. Ever since his mother had been saved first by the Hood and then later by Laurel’s vigilante persona, A.J. had become rather enamored with Starling City’s unconventional protectors. If he only knew his uncle was right in the thick of it. “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

He had turned the radio on upon getting back in his car for the drive home, only to find not music, but a news bulletin playing across the airwaves.

“An anonymous source delivered the blueprints to the bomb being developed at Queen Consolidated’s subsidiary Unidac Industries to this station as as reportedly to the police. Eyewitnesses outside the SCPD’s downtown precinct say they saw who appeared to be Moira Queen, the current CEO of Queen Consolidated, being led inside by officers over an hour ago.”

John had sat there, stunned, only able to listen as the news report continued on. Oliver’s mother stood accused of sabotaging the Gambit to kill her husband, having her second husband kidnapped, hiring the Triad assassins to kill Malcolm Merlyn and commissioning a bomb to be set off underneath the Glades.

That last one chilled him to the bone. He had plenty of experience with bombs going off in cities, destroying buildings or cars, killing handfuls of people here and there in an unpredictable pattern designed to cause terror and paranoia. But from the sounds of it, this device at Unidac Industries was so much more than that. No one had been meant to learn it was even a bomb.

Now we know why their symbol was the subway map, John thought grimly to himself.

Something was missing from the news report, however. Where was the rest of Tempest in all this? What about the man Moira had been talking to that night John had spied on her? The man whose voice had been too indistinct to make out on the recording?

“Oliver and Thea Queen have reportedly left the precinct,” the reporter announced, breaking John out of his shock. If Oliver had been at the precinct, then he knew more about what was really happening than the news was telling. And John had a feeling that as long as his friend and Thea were in the spotlight like this, they might actually need a bodyguard.

He called Oliver’s phone and got Laurel, though she quickly filled him in on where they were headed. John drove as fast as he could to the base, made difficult by the number of people out on the streets. Some were shouting, others just wandering around with their mouths hanging open like they just couldn’t believe what they were seeing and hearing. A restless energy seemed to hang in the air.

He parked and let himself in the back, entering the base to find Oliver already grabbing his suit to change and Laurel in her own clothes that she wore at night, minus her jacket.

“Where’s your sister?” John asked when Oliver caught sight of him.

“She’s upstairs with Roy. I need you to stay with them while I track down Tommy.”

John frowned. “What’s Tommy got to do with this?” He knew Oliver was in something of a silent feud with the man, however reluctantly, but it felt like that should be further down the priority list.

“Everything,” Oliver answered simply.

“According to Moira, Malcolm Merlyn was the real leader of Tempest,” Laurel elaborated, causing John’s eyebrows to rise as high as they were able. Their city’s supposed great humanitarian had been planning a terror attack? “She had him killed, and Tommy swore he was going to find out who did it. He would have had access to everything his father had on this device and the Gambit and everything else.”

“So instead of having her killed, he’s taking her down publicly. Setting his father up as a martyr, too,” John realized. “He probably told them your mother had Merlyn killed to stop him from going to them.”

Oliver’s fists clenched. “It’s an easy story to sell.”

“Does your mother have some kind of dirt on Merlyn she can use?” John wasn’t particularly fond of Moira Queen; the woman had been a party to this plot in some capacity or another. But she didn’t deserve to go down for the whole thing. Not when it wasn’t the truth.

“The Dark Archer took it,” Laurel said with a scowl.

“He’s still out there? Oliver, if he’s working for Tommy now, then I need to come with you. I can’t let you go into that kind of battle alone again.” He didn’t want to rub his friend’s defeat at the other archer’s hands in his face, but he would gently remind him if he had to.

“John, I appreciate that, but right now there is a whole city of people who think my mother is a domestic terrorist, and there are some who are going to be angry. If they can’t get to her, they will try to get to me or Thea. If I’m gonna fight the Dark Archer again, I need to know that she’s safe.”

As much as he didn’t want him to be, he knew Oliver was right. John looked to Laurel. “What about you?”

“I’d be pretty outmatched against that kind of fighter,” she admitted. “And that’s assuming I could even get up close to him. Besides, I’m gonna be needed in the Glades tonight. People are panicking. That never leads anywhere good.”

“Alright, you might actually be crazier than he is,” John decided. “The best thing anyone can do is hunker down tonight.”

“But a lot of people won’t be, and people are going to get hurt because of it. I can’t sit down here watching it happen when I started down this path to stop it.”

Oliver was frowning but held his tongue. Either they’d already been over this privately before John arrived or he was keeping his thoughts to himself. He couldn’t imagine it was easy. John had often found himself worrying about Lyla whenever they had run separate missions in Afghanistan. Sometimes he still worried.

Laurel took her wig off the table and bent over to fit it onto her head. She rose quickly, the blonde locks falling down her back. She shrugged into a jean jacket resting on the back of a chair. Then she turned to Oliver, placing one hand to his cheek.

“Be careful.”

“And you.”

Oliver bent his head to meet her lips in a kiss, one hand at the small of her back pressing her closer. John looked away, having no desire to intrude on their moment. This was hard enough for them both already. Then she headed out to the back where she kept the motorcycle Oliver had bought.

John joined his friend by the computers as he brought one of the monitors up. “How are you planning to find Tommy?”

“One of the things I had to do on the island was learn from example. The more I observed, the better off my chances were.”

“Which means…?”

“Which means that thanks to Felicity, I know how to ping a phone.” He stood back up to his full height after clicking and typing away in a far more serious manner than their temporary teammate had done. John wondered what she must be thinking about all the news. At the least, she was probably safe since her small townhouse was outside the Glades. “I’ll change and then run it. You should get upstairs.”

“Alright.” He held out his hand and Oliver clasped it with his. John placed his free hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Oliver didn’t need to tell him the thanks was for more than a simple well-wish.

John headed up to the club area of the Verdant, finding Thea and Roy sitting at the bar watching the news on a low volume.

“Mr. Diggle? Where’s Ollie?” Thea asked as he joined them.

“Still downstairs. He’s trying to take care of some things regarding your mother.”

“Okay, what about Laurel?”

“She went back out,” John answered, not missing the spark of recognition in Roy’s eyes. “Said she needed to make sure her home was secure ahead of what’s shaping up to be a pretty rough night.”

“I, uh, I should probably do the same thing,” Roy said, standing up.

“Wait, what? Roy, no,” Thea said, standing with him and taking his hands. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“I’ll be fine. But this is my home, Thea. I gotta do something. Stay here with your brother’s bodyguard. I’ll come back.”

“Roy!”

But the young man hurried out the front door. John went over and locked them behind him.

Thea stood there a moment before sinking back into her barstool. She looked terribly lonely and afraid.

“I know this isn’t easy, Miss Queen, but the best thing we can do is stay out of the public eye right now.”

“They’re really gonna blame me and Ollie for this?”

He looked down. “The truth will become clear eventually, but people aren’t interested in truth right now.”

She said nothing, and he took the time to send a text to Carly, checking that she and A.J. were at home and planning to stay there. The news continued to play in the background, and he tuned it out but for a few snippets here and there.

“Chaos as protests break out outside Alderman Blood’s office. The alderman himself appears to be leading them.”

“People are storming the local groceries, taking food, water and other essentials, many refusing to pay.”

“As you can see below, traffic is backed up several blocks as some look to flee the Glades. Mayor Altman’s statement that the Unidac device is in police custody doing little to calm a public fearing a Biblical reckoning.”

“Susan, is it true we have sighting of who folks have taken to calling the Woman of the Glades?”

John looked up, but just then a pounding started up at the front door.

“Open up, Queen!” A voice called, some muffled jeers accompanying it. “Your mom’s sending us all to Hell, and I want a drink first!”

John shut the TV off. “Sit down behind the bar,” he said in an undertone to Thea. She nodded and hurried to do as told. John crouched down behind a table with his gun drawn, waiting for any sign of the door caving in.

This was going to be a long night.

—-

Tommy surprised himself at times whenever he recalled how little time had really passed since his life had changed forever. Even if he started counting from the day Oliver had come back home and brought the Hood with him, it hadn’t even been a year.

He reflected on this past year as the chauffeur drove him and Athena to the airport. He had finally made a bid for the heart of Laurel Lance, only to find hers would always belong to another. He could only think of their time together with scorn, now. To think he hadn’t needed to throw fundraisers or offer to better himself at all; Laurel’s tastes had and always would be for the bad boy, and seemingly one who used his might to get his way. He wondered how she might feel once Tommy completed his training with Athena. Would she realize what she could have had?

He had been cast out of his inheritance, forced to face the reality that he was a grown man, and what sort of man he wanted to be. While his anger had once burned towards his father for what had felt a rejection, he had realized what his father had felt he needed to do. Tommy’s life had not held much meaning before that; a part of him had always felt life itself was meaningless when good, honest people like his mother were gunned down for nothing. Now, he was the head of Merlyn Global and the last, best hope for both his parents’ legacies.

His life had been placed under threat over and over again in the very neighborhood his mother had lost hers and even in the safer sections of downtown. Starling was diseased, was the only conclusion he could draw, and he felt a smug satisfaction that now the whole city could see it, too. It wouldn’t change anything for the better, of course. They would sooner destroy each other than work towards a common good. Just like how Oliver claimed to work for the good of the people and yet was little more than a killer.

Oliver. His oldest friend and someone he once called a brother. He had always been jealous of Oliver in many ways; he had the loving parents, an adoring sister, the heart of the girl Tommy yearned for and the ability to bed countless others. He had always tried to tell himself that jealousy was irrational and a part of him he needed to suppress. Now he could see it for what it had been: a warning of what was to come. That his supposed friend was really his enemy.

In many ways, Oliver had caused these changes in his life to happen. His sudden return had had Tommy anxious to try and secure an exclusive commitment out of Laurel, only for that to fail thanks to Oliver enchanting her with vigilante theatrics. His attack on his own mother had caused her to take action against Tommy’s father. His dad’s convalescence in Starling General had brought Athena into his life and opened his eyes to what was really happening in their city. So perhaps, in a way, he ought to be grateful to his friend and brother.

He wasn’t.

His thoughts were interrupted as the car slowed to a stop once it passed through the gates to the private airstrip.

“Sir, there’s someone — I think it’s the Hood standing on the tarmac,” the chauffeur called into the back, bewilderment lacing his tone. Athena’s perfect posture somehow straightened up more, but Tommy wasn’t worried in the least.

“Stop the car here and start loading the rest of our things. I’ll deal with him.” It didn’t surprise him that Oliver had tracked them here. His old friend clearly had or knew someone with tech capabilities who would be able to get a look at the flight manifests of Starling International.

Tommy let himself out and walked about ten paces away from the other man decked out in his costume. Athena followed, her hand hovering by her belt where she kept her knife.

“What do you want?”

“For you to tell the authorities the truth about Tempest,” Oliver said, a growl in his voice even if he had realized using that modulator of his was pointless.

“Why, so they can prosecute a dead man? Face it, Oliver, if you were serious about wanting to save this city, you would have needed to turn her in anyway.”

“Don’t pretend this is about saving the city. All you’ve done is caused a mass panic,” Oliver accused him.

“Good,” he replied, watching the shock play out across what he could see of Oliver’s face. “I never said I wanted to save it. And really, all I’ve done is shake them out of their apathy. Funny how an innocent woman can be bleeding out in the street and no one lifts a finger, but even suggest a threat against any of their lives and suddenly it’s riots in the streets!”

His old friend eyed him sadly. “What happened to your mother was terrible. It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“For once, we agree.”

“I know you are better than this, Tommy. What about CNRI? The firefighters benefit. There’s a desire to do good in you in a real way. Not the posturing Malcolm was hiding behind.”

Tommy sucked in a breath through his teeth and released it, smiling as he said. “Funny you should say that. Getting involved in charity work was actually Thea’s idea. Said I should act like I was interested in the things Laurel was. What did Laurel call it…? Oh yeah, my annual attempt to get back in her pants.” He spread his arms wide. “Have to say, it worked for a while.”

He thought he heard the creak of leather as Oliver’s gloved fist clenched around the bow in his hand. For once, his friend could know exactly how he had felt watching him with Laurel all those years.

Tommy couldn’t possibly stop himself from adding, “You know she went down on me after the firefighter benefit? But I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what she lets you do every time you come swinging in to rescue her—”

With a snarl, Oliver drew an arrow and loosed it point-blank at Tommy’s chest.

Athena slashed it out of the air with her knife where it clattered to the ground before he could do more than blink in shock. A rope sprung harmlessly out of it a moment later.

His confidant went on the offensive, lunging towards Oliver, though he blocked the attack with his bow. The two traded blows while Tommy watched, wishing he actually did know this stuff already.

“Uh, Mr. Merlyn?”

He jumped in shock, having pretty much forgotten the chauffeur.

“The plane is ready.”

“Great. You can head back now. Don’t bother calling this in,” he added, holding out a one-hundred dollar bill. The man took it and dutifully went back to his car. “Athena! Let’s go.”

Athena was on the ground but had just swept Oliver’s legs out from under him as well. He gave an exaggerated wince as his once-friend went down like a ton of bricks. She jumped back to standing and came to join Tommy at the stairs, only for a second arrow to come flying and wrap around her.

Oliver had risen onto one knee and held another arrow in his hand ready to aim and loose. “I can’t let you leave.”

“Actually, you can.” Tommy smirked. “Because there’s something I know that you don’t, and after the year we’ve had, Oliver, that’s a pretty good feeling.”

Oliver stayed silent, waiting rather than give him the satisfaction of asking.

“Your mother was too hasty to get her revenge. Walter Steele is still alive.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ll send you the address myself,” he offered. “Once I’m in the air. But if this plane doesn’t take off with me on it, the other men at that address will be ordered to finish the job. So what’ll it be, Ollie? Keep me here or save a man’s life?”

He could see the conflict that warred on Oliver’s face, knew the moment that he decided when his bow lowered just an inch.

Tommy nodded to himself. He’d known Oliver would have to choose Walter Steele and that he wasn’t really risking anything by offering the choice; how else could his old friend pretend he was a hero? “Just like you couldn’t beat my father at Christmas,” he said, watching Oliver’s eyes widen. “I’m going to learn everything he knew. Maybe once I have, we can settle this.”

He took the knife Athena had managed to work into her hand and cut her bonds for her, then turned his back on Oliver Queen and boarded the plane.

Once he sat down, he took out his phone in preparation to make good on his promise of revealing Walter’s location. Athena sat beside him, perfectly composed once more.

“How long will my training take?” He wondered aloud as the plane finally began to taxi down the runway.

“That depends on the dedication of the student. Your father completed his and rose to become one of our leader’s most trusted within two years. Another girl from your city has also excelled in her training, though she did so by seducing our leader’s heir.”

“A girl from Starling?”

“Yes. I believe she was called Sara Lance in her former life.”

Tommy froze, then a smile stole slowly over his lips. It truly was nice holding the most cards.

—-

Roy ran home as fast as he could, getting his gun and a knife out of their hiding places. He wasn’t going to try and use them tonight if he could help it, but he didn’t want one of his old crowd breaking in to take them and use them instead. With both tucked out of sight in his pockets, he grabbed his hoodie and pulled it down over his face and went back out into the night.

Laurel was going to be out here trying to restore peace to their streets. Why wouldn’t he be doing the same?

There wasn’t much point to jacking a car; the streets were packed with honking vehicles, people trying to leave like they thought the bomb was still going off. Roy couldn’t really blame them.

A block down the road, he saw two men with beers in hand grabbing the arm of a woman trying to go the other way. “Let’s have some fun before the end of the world, baby!”

“Let go of me!”

Roy charged down to meet them, slugging the first man across the jaw as he made a grab for the woman’s chest.

“What the fuck, dude?”

“World’s not ending, so get lost or get put down,” he declared, breathing harshly through his nose.

“Think you’re the Hood, big man?” The second man asked. He surged forward, only to stagger back with a howl as the woman sprayed him with a can of mace. “Shit!”

“Thanks for the help,” she said, and Roy nodded back. She turned and hurried to keep heading wherever she was going. Roy hoped she made it okay.

A wail caught his attention next, and his heart lurched as he noticed a toddler wandering dangerously near the curb, arms reaching up in a plea to be held. Roy ran and scooped the girl up, looking around wildly. Where the hell were her parents?

“Steffi? Steffi! Someone help me find my daughter!”

“Hey, that kid’s got her!”

Roy was grabbed roughly by the back of his hoodie and hauled around to face a potbellied man with a clenched fist.

“I wasn’t taking her—”

“Right, just a Good Samaritan, are ya?”

“Wait! Wait!” It was the grocer, Khan, who cried out. He rushed between them. “I know this boy. He would not hurt a child.”

He noticed who he assumed was Steffi’s mother standing just a few steps back, and Roy slowly lowered the little girl down to the ground. She was still sobbing, and he wasn’t sure she knew how to stop.

“I saw her near the road. I just…”

The man who had nearly decked him sagged while the mother gasped and hurried around him, picking up her daughter and shushing her.

Khan patted his shoulder and Roy looked down at the ground. All the times he’d stolen bits of food or dumb knick-knacks from the guy’s store, and he’d rushed to his defense.

“You should get home, Roy.”

“I’m alright. What about your store?”

Khan’s smile looked strained. “Ya Allah! It will wait until morning.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll come check on you,” he promised. Roy took off running again.

He passed a number of smashed storefronts and people running in every single direction. He still saw no sign of Laurel or even the Hood. Where was the Hood? How could he save Roy’s life and not show when countless others needed him? How did he decide which battles he fought?

Roy stopped for a moment, panting. He took out his phone. Five missed calls from Thea. But a quick check of Channel 52’s webpage gave him at least one answer: Woman of the Glades escorts legal aide office workers to safety amid riots

Of course, her old coworkers. Roy turned and cut across the bumper-to-bumper traffic, hoping to head her off before she got too far.

Several blocks later, a police cruiser was stuck in the middle of the street unable to make anymore progress. A garbled voice blared from its speakers. “Return to your homes. I repeat, return to your homes.”

“Hey, fuck you!”

“Yeah, fuck the man!”

A couple of teenagers in designer ripped jeans and spiked hair threw a couple rocks at the car. Their buddies all laughed.

“Stand down. Return to your homes.”

They weren’t even from around here, he realized, watching another one in the group filming it all. How much of this rioting was just people from outside the neighborhood taking advantage of all the chaos?

“Hey, get the hell out of here!”

A couple of the kids turned in his direction.

“Do you want to start a shooting?” He gestured towards the car. “They’re not gonna throw rocks back.”

The ringleader of the group stepped up and pushed at his chest. “Mind your own business, asshole.”

Roy shoved him to the ground.

“Hey!”

They were on him in seconds, and even if Roy could hit harder than any of them, he was finding it hard to fight his way past so many. He hit the ground, blows landing on his back while he brought his arms up to shield his head.

The whistle of metal through the air preceded a number of grunts, and the punches and kicks let up. The other boys all staggered back nursing arms, legs and backs as Laurel stood there in her wig and mask, seething.

“Get out of my part of town.”

The boys ran off, and she reached a hand down that Roy gladly took.

“We should get you back to the club.”

“I’m good,” he said, rubbing at his ribs.

“Put the weapon down and surrender with your hands up!”

The both jumped at hearing the command. One of the officers had gotten out of the car and was unclipping his gun.

“Come on!” Roy kept Laurel’s hand in his and ran, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. Of course the cops weren’t interested in lifting a finger when some rich kids were beating up on him but when someone showed up to actually do their job.

They worked together, helping some who had stumbled and fallen or breaking up fights. There were shouts from a building where smoke streamed out, but when Roy raced forward, Laurel snagged him by the arm.

“You’re already having trouble breathing. Wait here.”

She kicked the front door open rather than chance the handle, waited a moment as an initial plume of smoke billowed out, then rushed inside with a hand pressed over her mouth.

Roy waited, hands twitching at his sides. He’d give it five minutes. No, two. Damnit, how long was someone able to go inhaling smoke?

“Hey, boy!”

He turned at the call, spotting an older Black woman two doors down. She was watching the smoking building with fear in her eyes.

“I have a hose. I don’t know if it’ll reach.”

Roy hurried over to the side of her house, grabbing the hose and yanking it as far as it would go in the direction of the building. “Turn it on!”

Water trickled and then spurted out, hitting the front of the building and getting in through the door. It wasn’t like TV; the smoke didn’t immediately start dying out. He couldn’t even tell if it was helping. But he was doing something, right?

Shadowy figures appeared through the smoke, then were spluttering as well as coughing when they were hit with the spray. Roy hastily moved the hose.

“No, it is good!” One man exclaimed, his Russian accent not nearly as thick as some of the others. He gestured for the hose, and Roy passed it to him, watching as the man drank straight from it. He offered it to each of his family in turn, each of them thanking the woman whose hose they had borrowed, a Mrs. Ross according to what they were saying.

The last ones out were Laurel and a woman with gray in her hair who clutched a necklace with wooden beads and crosses. “You save my sister on the buses, you save my family, you are saint.”

“Come inside, all of you,” Mrs. Ross insisted.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Laurel replied, her voice raspy with the smoke. She bent double, hands on her knees. There was a streak of something black on her cheek and the wig she wore looked frazzled rather than silky.

Roy moved by her to indicate he was staying with her. The Russian family took up their neighbor’s offer after many rounds of thanks, and soon it was the two of them left on the street.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just let me… let me breathe.”

He knew how she felt. Roy had no idea how long they’d been at this by now, but the streets seemed to stretch before them with no end in sight.

Eventually, Laurel straightened up. They exchanged a nod, and then were off running again. There was nothing in his head but the pounding of his heart, the whirring of helicopter blades as the news documented their struggle while never stepping in, and the buzz of his phone as Thea kept calling and probably worrying out of her head. It was stubbornness that kept him going, stubbornness and a sense of duty, but he wanted nothing more than to curl up in her arms and sob out his exhaustion.

Several minutes later, Laurel gasped and sped ahead of him towards a car wreck right on the main road. It was a pileup, and it looked nasty.

Some of those who had been involved had seemingly already gotten out of their cars. Blood stained the pavement beneath a few of the cars, indicating where more serious injuries had occurred. Roy saw a group of people gathered around a body that had been dragged to the sidewalk.

But the front of one man’s car was totally dented in, and the doors had crumpled up as well. The driver sat inside unmoving, a cut on his forehead oozing blood.

On the far side of a car, two kids who couldn’t be older than ten or twelve were crying. “Daddy! Daddy!”

He and Laurel each took turns yanking on the door handle. Roy went to the side door and opened it, crawling into the backseat to see if he could pull the man out that way, but he was wedged up against the steering wheel too tightly.

“Smash the window,” a gruff voice suggested, and Roy looked out of the car to see a man all in black with a mask on. He wasn’t the Hood, but who was he?

“Wildcat,” Laurel said warmly, a spark back in her eyes. She took her staff and did as requested.

Wildcat stepped in closer, his teeth grit together as he braced one hand against the inside of the driver’s door and used the other to pull the handle. There was a series of pops and crunches. The door finally opened with a great screech of the hinges.

The man’ kids came running around to their side, but Wildcat cautioned. “Easy, easy. We need to move him slowly.”

Together, the three of them managed it, gently laying the man to rest on the ground. Roy was relieved to see him breathing.

“How do we get him to Glades Memorial?”

The roads were too backed up even if they had a working car to drive him. Shouting and the occasional scream continued to rip through the air. They were surrounded by people, and yet no one seemed to care for anyone else around them.

Laurel’s face took on a pinched look for a moment before she suddenly started scrambling up onto the hood of one of the cars. “Hey!”

Roy exchanged a bewildered look with Ted, backing up a little when she whacked the roof with her staff. He noticed a couple people look up or around their way. Most of them didn’t.

On the roof of the car, Laurel was ripping one of her gloves off with her teeth. She shoved two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that had both Roy, the two kids and this Wildcat clapping their hands over their ears.

“Hey!”

It didn’t go completely silent. The whirr of helicopter blades still filled the air, and distant honking and sirens sounded on other streets. But every eye that Roy could see was now fixed on the Woman of the Glades.

“What we learned today is beyond words,” she began, her voice seeming to ring in the sudden stillness around them. “That there are some who consider human beings nothing more than collateral to pave a new parking lot over our graves. It makes me angry, too. It’s enough to make you lose faith in humanity.

“But we are more than they think of us! We’re better! We don’t step on each other’s necks to get to the top. We help each other.

“I was inspired by the Hood to take to the streets, yes. But I was inspired by this community to imagine the better world that might come if everyone was a little kinder, a little more like a family. Because that’s what I found here.

“So we can take out our rightful anger and fear on these buildings we aren’t allowed to own ourselves, or we can stand up tall and prove to those watching from the safety of their comfortable homes—” One hand pointed straight up to the helicopters still circling the sky. “—that we have our humanity even if they don’t. What’s it gonna be?”

Roy held his breath as he watched the faces of the people around them. Some stood slack-jawed. Others were nodding slowly, determination set in their shoulders and jaws. Still more simply watched, tears still leaking from their eyes.

“I need people to help me move this man,” Wildcat declared in the wake of her speech. “He needs a hospital. Someone to look after his children, too.”

“We can help.” Two men, older than Roy but not by much, came forward. “And my brother can watch the kids.” A teenager hurried to join them.

“I need a phone to call my son,” a woman called out, and her request was soon answered. As Wildcat led the group escorting the unconscious man and his kids away, Roy watched in wonderment as, little by little, the harsh shouts and screams of anguish turned to offers of aid and shared tears. It wasn’t as if a switch had been flipped. He had, he realized, seen brief moments of kindness all night even amongst the panic and boiling anger. But Laurel was making them all see it now.

On the hood of the car, still, she seemed to sag a little in relief, a tired smile rising on her lips. At least until a spotlight suddenly landed on her.

Roy shielded his eyes, heart sinking as he realized one of the helicopters hadn’t been for the news after all.

“Police! Remain where you are.”

Before he could act, a figure in dark green swooped down on a line, grabbing Laurel around the waist. She tucked her legs in, and they landed beyond the abandoned pile of cars in the shadow of two buildings. The Hood slowly let her back down, though their foreheads remained pressed together for a moment. Then the pair slipped away before the police’s searchlight beam could find them again.

Around him, people quickly helped each other make evacuation arrangements. None of them wanted to be around whenever the cops sent boots on the ground to canvas the area. Yet Roy stood there another long, stunned moment as his mind could only process one thing: the Hood was Laurel’s boyfriend. He was Oliver Queen.

Roy staggered back a step, then started running again. With a record like his, he couldn’t afford getting picked up by the cops on some trumped up charge to make them look good for doing something. And he wanted some things answered far more than he wanted to be sitting in a holding cell.

Good thing the one place he was guaranteed to get those answers was the one place he really wanted to be right now. Even if Thea was going to kill him.

—-

Oliver was exhausted even as he pushed on, Laurel running at his side. From confronting Tommy and being forced to acknowledge his friend had chosen a dark path to travel down all in the name of his murderous father, to the drive out to Bludhaven to rescue Walter and back again once he had made sure his step-father would be seen to by the local authorities there, he couldn’t actually believe it had been less than one day since his mother’s arrest. Since the city had turned upside-down.

He had arrived home to a Glades in chaos. Oliver had done what he could here and there, noting the shock on the faces of those he helped. He was known for beatings and killings, after all, not tying tourniquets around people’s legs to stop the rush of blood from a gunshot wound or ferrying them to the hospital. Oliver hadn’t stayed with any one person too long, partly to keep his identity safe and the rest because he was desperate to find Laurel.

And then he had heard her voice.

“We don’t step on each other’s necks to get to the top. We help each other. I was inspired by the Hood to take to the streets, yes. But I was inspired by this community to imagine the better world that might come if everyone was a little kinder, a little more like a family. Because that’s what I found here.”

Listening to her, seeing her standing there with a run in her leggings and her wig a disheveled mess of blonde, she had never been more breathtaking. She wasn’t just trying to save the world; she was doing it.

Just as things had calmed and taken a turn for the better, the police had caught her in their sights with a searchlight. Oliver had quickly jumped into action, swinging with her out of their view and hurrying away through the streets. In silent agreement, they were each putting off whatever questions they had for the other until they returned to the base.

Only there looked to be a slight situation developing outside it when they arrived. A number of men were gathered outside the Verdant’s locked doors, which had been painted in incredibly rude graffiti and negative sentiments towards his family. Every so often, one of the men would knock and holler something, a majority of them sounding half-drunk.

“C’mon, Queen! Open up, open up.”

How long had they been here yelling? Thea was inside, probably terrified out of her mind. Oliver reached into his quiver, but Laurel placed a hand on his arm. Then she stepped forward.

“Hey.”

A few of them turned, some slower and less coordinated than others. “Hey, that’s the lady — Shit, the Hood!”

Some small part of him couldn’t help being pleased at his reputation in this particular instance, and he knew he was smirking.

“The cops are coming through and probably looking to round up any troublemakers,” Laurel told them. “Go home, okay?”

“Or we can leave you here for them to pick up,” Oliver offered. She looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

The men seemed to get the message, however, and they quickly scurried off, empty drinks and spray cans left behind.

Oliver led them around the side, sniffing the air in disgust at the scent of urine that permeated the alley. Laurel’s face had scrunched up as well. They quickly made their way to the back door to the base, relieved to step into the far cleaner facilities.

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of everything, the aches and pains from battles fought, the weariness that set into their bones overwhelming. But Oliver caught Laurel’s eyes, and suddenly nothing mattered more than being close to her.

They surged together, Oliver’s hands smoothing up her back beneath her jacket and Laurel’s hands gripping his face and knocking his hood back. He took a moment to pull the wig off her head and place it on a nearby table, his other hand coming up to massage her scalp. Laurel moaned against his mouth, and it shot straight through him.

“I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what she lets you do every time you come swinging in to rescue her,” a snide voice whispered in the back of his head. Oliver shook it off with a growl. He wasn’t going to let Tommy and his jealous words poison this. Laurel did what she chose with who she chose, and he was grateful that he was who she had chosen in the end. That was all there was to it.

A loud pounding on the door that led to the club upstairs had them both looking up sharply.

“Ollie, what is so important down there?” Thea’s voice called, a little muffled.

“Be—” he cleared his throat and shouted louder, “Be right up!”

“We gotta get you cleaned up first,” Laurel muttered, displaying her hands, the fingertips of which were all smeared in greasepaint.

She helped wipe his face off, then Oliver changed and hurried upstairs alone. Laurel wasn’t supposed to still be here, after all.

His sister was fortunately distracted from his entrance and didn’t even get a glimpse of what lay beyond the door as she was busy laying into a tired and worse for wear Roy Harper. “—can’t believe you stayed out there, you could’ve gotten killed!”

“I know, sorry, I just—”

“You were trying to find the vigilantes, weren’t you?” Thea accused.

“Yeah, and I did.” Oliver’s stomach dropped when, for the briefest moment, Roy’s eyes flickered in his direction. “But the cops chased them off.”

“And that’s probably a good thing,” Oliver added, making Thea jump and run to him. John sent him a questioning look over her shoulder, to which he gave a single shake of the head in a negative.

“You were down there forever. Did you not hear any of those guys that were lurking around outside?”

“Uh, no. Sorry, I was on the phone. The, uh, the police in Bludhaven, they…” he had no idea how to break this gently. “They have Walter.”

Thea’s eyes went wide as she backed up. “They found his body?”

“No,” said Oliver, and he saw Diggle’s expression turn shocked now as well. “He’s alive. The guy the Feds found, he was tricked. He heard a shot and assumed, but he was wrong.” Alonzo had been wrong which meant Oliver had been wrong. And in telling his mother bad information, he had set her on a path to bringing Tommy’s wrath and the law crashing down on her. Oliver had done this.

His sister, meanwhile, gasped. “Oh, my God. When can we see him? When- when does mom get to see him? What’re we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Speedy,” he answered truthfully. He had put off all those questions before because he had thought if he could just get Tommy to go back to the police and tell them the whole truth, things would be better. But now Tommy was gone. His mother was still on the hook for a conspiracy to destroy an entire city neighborhood. What did the future look like?

“What’s it like out there, Roy?” John asked, and Oliver was grateful to his friend for taking the focus off him at least for a few moments.

“Not great. And the cops are gonna be crawling all over. They could probably get you home,” he offered to Oliver and Thea.

“I’m not leaving you here alone tonight,” Thea declared, gripping his hand in hers.

“We’ll stay here,” Oliver decided. “It’s best for us all to stay in a group. Unless, John, do you need…?”

“Carly texted me a half hour ago. Bunch of the mothers at A.J.’s school have made the gym into a big sleepover area. They’re staying there until the morning. You’re right, there’s strength in numbers.”

“Ollie, what about Laurel?” Thea asked. “She lives alone.”

“I’ll call her,” he said slowly. “See where she’s at. Um, John, do you want to come help me look for blankets or something? I guess some of us can use the booths to sleep in.”

His friend nodded and followed him back behind the bar. Laurel was listening at the top of the steps, the door cracked open slightly, but she waited until they all headed back down to the main floor of the base to say anything. “Walter’s alive?”

“Tommy told me. I- I had to choose between bringing him in or saving Walter.”

“He was going to have him killed?” Laurel looked aghast.

“It’s what he said. Maybe he was bluffing. But he left on a plane to learn everything his father knew… everything the Dark Archer knew, because apparently they were the same person,” Oliver revealed. “And I let him go.”

“You had to, man,” John insisted. “Whether he was bluffing or not, you made the choice to save a life. Tommy will have to come back sooner or later. We’ll get him to give up the full story then.”

“It’ll be sooner than later,” Laurel added. “He’s the key witness, so whenever your mother’s case goes to trial, he’ll have to show.”

Oliver smiled softly. “I almost wish you were representing my mother instead of Jean.”

“I’m not sure the police would be happy with that kind of conflict of interest,” Laurel pointed out, though a pleased smile played at her own lips. “They didn’t fight it in your case because most of dad’s superiors were convinced he had no case. Ironically enough.” She reached out and took his hands. “But I am here to offer you and Thea any legal advice I can.”

“Speaking of your sister, we should head back upstairs,” John reminded them. “You gonna come in through the front, Laurel?”

“Probably would sell it better.”

He and John grabbed a couple of the hoodies and towels they had down here to use as makeshift pillows or blankets, then went back up to the club. Thea had gotten out the first aid kit that sat under the bar and looked to be touching up some of Roy’s smaller cuts and scrapes while he rested in a booth.

“Laurel’s gonna come stay with us,” Oliver announced as he offered Thea her pick of their meager supplies. It occurred to him they were all running on little to no food, but there was nothing he could do about that problem. He knew he at least was used to sleeping on an empty stomach.

Not two minutes later, Laurel knocked on the front door. Oliver let her inside quickly, locking it behind her and cutting off the wail of distant police sirens. Thea was busy getting Roy situated for the night, so Oliver simply led Laurel back to their own booth.

“Are you actually going to be able to sleep tonight?” She asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Laurel pushed him to sit back in the booth first, then crawled in after him, resting her back against his chest and her head under his chin. Oliver brought his arms around her, gladly soaking up the comfort of her presence.

A thought came to him. “What happened to your bike?”

“Had to ditch it behind CNRI,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “The roads were too backed up.”

“We’ll get it tomorrow. If it hasn’t been taken to sell for parts.”

“I’m sorry, Ollie.”

He shook his head. “A bike’s just a bike. You, you were amazing out there tonight.”

She snuggled a bit closer and closed her eyes. “I love you.”

Oliver’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes felt as though they were burning for a moment. “I love you, too,” he finally managed, kissing the top of her head.

A hush settled over the nearly empty club as, one-by-one, the five of them all dropped off to sleep.

In the early light of dawn Oliver’s phone rang, and he answered it with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Oliver?”

Instantly, he was wide awake. “Mom?”

Was it possible the police had released her? That they had discovered the truth on their own?

“Are you and Thea safe?” Her voice sounded shaky, like she had only just managed to pull herself together.

He sat up, causing Laurel to stretch and yawn as she woke fully. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re both fine. Where are you?”

“Still in the holding cell,” she told him. “They’re reluctant to move me given how riotous the situation was last night.”

“But they haven’t released you,” he said, disappointment resettling in the pit of his stomach.

“No. I’m just being allowed my phone call, finally. Two phone calls, really. You see, Starling General phoned me this morning. It seems Walter is alive and was transferred to their care late last night.”

Oliver’s eyes squeezed shut. His mother would have been notified first as next of kin, but had no way of getting to her own husband. “Mom, I’m sorry.” Sorry she couldn’t see Walter; sorry she had spent a night in a holding cell; sorry that he had been wrong, and because he had been wrong she had lost everything. The last he could never tell her, no matter how guilty he felt.

“You shouldn’t feel sorry for me,” she told him. “I played Malcolm’s games instead of doing the right thing, and I’ve paid the price for it. I only hope you, Thea and Walter will be safe now.”

Oliver swallowed once, feeling Laurel slip her hand into his empty one. “We will be.”

“If I can ask you to do one thing for me, sweetheart—”

“Anything,” he promised right away.

“Could you go to Starling General? The doctors think it would do Walter good to have some visitors given how long he was alone.”

“Thea and I will go, mom,” he answered her request.

“That’s my beautiful boy.” The warmth in her tone threatened to undo him. “They’re signalling me that my time is up.”

“But Thea—” His sister was still sleeping and wouldn’t even have a chance to talk to their mother.

“Look after her. Look after each other. I love you both so much.” His mother said quickly. The line disconnected before he could reply.

It was quiet for a moment. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing and Laurel’s hand in his. He turned his face into her hair for a moment, hiding from the day and all it would bring. A city in turmoil, his mother imprisoned and who knew what else. He just needed a few moments more before he could face it.

Once he felt in control again, Laurel let him out of the booth, and he went to where Thea lay, one arm hanging off the booth she slept in across from Roy. “Hey, Speedy. You gotta get up.”

“Five more minutes…” Thea groaned, and it was such a familiar, innocent sight his heart ached for a moment.

“We can see Walter at the hospital.”

His sister shot up, blinking and rubbing her eyes. “What? Where? Oh,” she said, taking in the surroundings. Her face threatened to crumple for a moment as yesterday’s events no doubt reasserted themselves in her memory.

“Come on, they think seeing some familiar faces might help him.”

“Is he even gonna want to see us? What if- what if he thought mom was the one who had him kidnapped?”

“Even if he did, he’d know you have nothing to do with it,” Oliver assured her. “Walter loves you, Thea.”

Roy was sitting up, one hand pressed over his ribs. Oliver frowned.

“You need looked at?”

“I’m fine,” Roy said immediately, though it didn’t have the defensive air it ordinarily did. Rather it almost seemed like Roy was hoping to impress him with his answer.

“We’re going to a hospital anyway, so you may as well come.”

“Need a lift?” John had gotten out of his own booth and looked about as well as could be expected for a man of his size having squeezed himself onto a small cushioned bench for the night.

“We have the car. And your family should see you.”

“Would you mind dropping me at my place, though?” Laurel asked, smiling in gratitude when John nodded.

Their group split up into two, Oliver navigating the roads still littered with debris and the odd abandoned vehicle here and there. It was eerily quiet after the night the neighborhood had seen, and the amount of damage done was a lot to take in.

“Why would they trash their own stores and homes?” Thea wondered aloud.

“It’s not theirs,” Roy said shortly. “No one in the Glades owns anything.”

“They couldn’t, thanks to Tempest,” Oliver added on a sigh. His sister shrunk down in her seat, looking sorry she had voiced the question.

They arrived at the hospital and saw Roy off to a specialist. Oliver told them any treatment would be covered by him. Then they were shown to Walter’s room.

They both paused in the doorway. Despite what Oliver had said, he was a little nervous to see his step-father as himself again. What did Walter know? What did he guess?

He was sitting up in his bed, the television playing what looked like grainy cell phone footage of Laurel from last night. Oliver was relieved to see she was unrecognizable. Indeed, the caption on the lower third simply read Who is the Woman?

“Walter?” Thea asked timidly.

He started, then turned his head. A smile rose to his lips, though his eyes were sad. “Thea.” When he opened his arms, Thea ran forward and hugged him.

Oliver entered more slowly, reaching the bedside and saying, “It’s damn good to see you, Walter.”

Walter had the grace to laugh. He picked up the television remote and shut off the screen. “I’m very happy to be back in civilization. I can’t imagine how you went without it for five years, Oliver.”

“From the sounds of it, you didn’t have it any easier.” Of course, Walter may not have been physically harmed, but he had seen the room the man was being kept in with his own eyes, and it was tiny. At least on Lian Yu he had had freedom of movement more often than not.

“We’re so sorry, Walter,” Thea said.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” their step-father told them. “Moira’s choices are her own.”

“You don’t really think…” Oliver said, wincing slightly.

Walter sighed. “No, I don’t believe she ordered my abduction. If Moira had been behind the whole thing, there would have been little point in keeping me alive. But I can’t say I know who I was being held as collateral by.”

“Mom says it was Mr. Merlyn,” Thea told him darkly. She looked back at Oliver. “Would Tommy know about it? Why haven’t we heard from him anyway?”

“His secretary said he left town,” Oliver lied, though it was technically the truth. “He might just want to process this alone.”

“It’s not a terrible idea, regardless if what your mother is saying about Malcolm Merlyn is true or not,” Walter said. “As much as I’m sure you both wish to be there for her, no one would blame you for wishing to get away from all this, at least for a time. Even if it’s to pursue higher learning,” he added with a look at Thea.

“I never actually applied to colleges,” his sister muttered.

“But maybe you should,” Oliver said. “Walter’s right, Speedy. We have no idea how things are going to turn out for mom or the family. The more you can learn and develop your own skills, the better off you’ll be.” Oliver truly didn’t know what he would do if the worst happened. He had no work experience outside barely running a club, and his only skills would out him as one of the city’s vigilantes.

“One thing that is certain that I should tell you both in advance is that I will be filing for divorce,” Walter told them, and he and Thea both looked down. “I wish things had been different, but I cannot remain married to Moira after this, not when I offered to help her find a way out of her situation before it came to something like this. But there simply isn’t trust between us. I’m not sure there ever was.”

“We understand, Walter.” Oliver said quietly.

“That doesn’t mean I wish to see either of you out of my life,” the man added. “When I married your mother, I consented to making Thea, and later you, Oliver, part of my family. That won’t change.”

“It won’t change for us either,” Thea promised, and he nodded along.

Oliver’s phone started ringing once again. “Excuse me,” he told them both before stepping out into the hall to answer it. “Hello?”

“Oliver? It’s Ned Foster,” said a voice he vaguely recalled. The COO of Queen Consolidated. Oliver felt a headache coming on. “I’m hoping to have you come into the office so we can discuss what things are going to look like for you and your family.”

As much as he wanted to just put it off, Oliver knew it would only make things worse in the long run. “Okay, yeah. I can do that. Is it fine if it’s just me?” He didn’t want to have to pull Thea away from Walter so soon. And given that Roy was still being seen to, she would need to stay for him as well.

“Thea will need to sign some legal documents, but your family’s attorney can deliver those papers to her.”

“Okay. I should be there in about ten minutes, then.” Oliver hung up and ducked his head in to let Thea know where he would be going and to call him if anything came up. Then he went back down to the visitor’s garage and drove over to Queen Consolidated.

There were paparazzi stationed outside the building probably hoping he or his sister might turn up. Oliver shielded his face with a hand and marched through the shouting crowd to the front door where security turned them away. Inside the elevator to Ned’s office, he could reflect on some of their questions. Had he known his mother’s plans, what did he think of them, what was going to happen to the company and the Queen fortune. That last question was about to be answered for him.

Ned shook his hand when Oliver was shown into his office. “Thank you for coming by so quickly. I can’t imagine it’s an easy time for your family.”

“No,” Oliver agreed quietly.

Ned grimaced as he sat down. “It’s also not an easy time for the company. You see, the authorities have determined your mother a flight risk, so they’ve frozen her assets. This is a document for you and Thea to sign that will protect the assets your parents left to you.”

Oliver read over the whole thing before signing. He had known this was the case, but the lack of mention of the manor did not speak well to their chances of keeping it. Ned took the paper back and placed it in a folder.

“Now, the trouble is the company. As it stands, the board has voted to remove your mother from the position of CEO. They’re also not open to accepting your or Thea’s candidacy.”

“That makes sense,” he replied, even if his heart was sinking. This was his family’s company, and it was being taken away.

“You have to understand that the board is doing what they can to get out from under this media storm. The stock has taken a serious nosedive, and that threatens the livelihoods of countless employees here and at our various international branches. As it stands, we’ve already made the decision to try and sell off Unidac. We’ll see if anyone takes it.”

“Right. Right,” he agreed. It would be selfish to hold onto the company if it was just going to cause people to lose their jobs. “What, uh, what do we do about income?”

“That’s not really something I can tell you one way or the other, Oliver.”

He thought for a moment. One thing that worried him more than all the rest about losing the company: his base. He had beta sites, of course, but it would be inconvenient to lose his main one.

“What about the Verdant property? Could I purchase it from Queen Consolidated? Most people associate it with me, so it’s probably not something the board will want to hang onto. And it can’t be very valuable compared to the other holdings.”

Ned sat there a moment or two. “That is not an unreasonable request. Let me talk to the board and Legal, see if we can work out a sale. I’m glad you’re thinking ahead for you and your sister, Oliver, and I do wish you both the best of luck through all this.”

They stood and shook hands again, and soon Oliver was descending in another elevator. It stopped on a random floor, and he nearly hit the close doors button — except Felicity Smoak had just walked in, head buried in her tablet. Before she could blindly reach out for whichever floor’s button she needed, Oliver pointedly cleared his throat.

She jumped, eyes widening at the sight of him. “Oh! Uh, hi.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry about your mother,” Felicity said, then immediately added, “I mean, I’m not sorry she was caught. Someone had to do it if you couldn’t — though I can understand that would be a tough position to be in. And obviously this is a really bad position for you to be in. Um… what are you doing here in this specific position?”

“Getting my family’s affairs in order, the best I can,” he told her. “I guess you were right about me ruining lives.”

Felicity winced.

“Walter’s alive,” he added conversationally.

“I know. I was reading about it, actually,” she said, gesturing with her tablet. “The Hood rescued him.”

Oliver hummed.

“Thank you,” she said in an undertone. “And I hope that, you know, you and your girlfriend’s hobby works out for the best.” She blinked and said. “That really sounded dirty, but I meant—”

“Felicity, I know,” he interrupted. The elevator doors opened on the lobby, and he stepped out. “For what it’s worth, I wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” She smiled shyly, and the doors closed on her like that.

Oliver sighed and left his old teammate and his family’s former company behind. If his years away had taught him nothing else, it was that people and places came and went. So long as he held onto what was most important in his heart, he could make it through.

—-

Having not actually gone home the previous day, it was a little jarring to pull up outside her place and find her windows boarded up. So were Anita’s and Jerome’s.

“You need me to stick around?” John asked.

“No, I’ll figure it out,” Laurel said slowly, opening her door and stepping around bits of trash strewn around the yard from her can, which had apparently been knocked over. She would get around to it later. First thing first was seeing if she could even get inside.

Her key worked, and Laurel couldn’t honestly spot a thing out of place. Before she could think on it too much, there was a sharp rapping on her front door. Laurel checked the peephole and smiled as she pulled it open.

“Anita,” she said as she hugged her friend. Anita hugged her back. She was honestly relieved to see she hadn’t been hurt, not having seen her all the last day.

“Was starting to worry you weren’t coming back,” Anita said when they pulled apart. “Jerome did your windows anyway. Soon as we heard the news yesterday, we knew it was gonna get crazy, and we had some extra boards in the back.”

“Thank you so much. You both were safe last night?”

“Yeah, we just stayed put. No way was I letting him go to work last night. Your dad came by around two-thirty, though. Probably woke the whole street up hollering outside your door.”

Laurel winced. She had a number of missed calls, most of them from him. Anita had tried once and Joanna as well, though the latter hopefully didn’t realize she’d seen Laurel last night. “Sorry about that.”

She shrugged. “Can’t blame him for worrying. I was, too.” There was something heavy to the weight of Anita’s gaze on her, but her friend changed the subject. “Jerome’s helping clean up the main street, and I’m making a bunch of the volunteers some food. You wanna help?”

“Yeah. Just, um, just let me clean up my yard and I’ll be over.”

Laurel got all the trash picked back up and back in the can, and by the time that was done Anita had finished most of her cooking. It was probably for the best. Laurel assisted her in carrying it the several blocks where they found a card table had been set up to host what looked like an impromptu potluck.

“Take what you need,” Mrs. Ross was telling a mother with her three kids. “Anita, put yours down on that end. We got paper plates and napkins set up on the other.”

“Laurel!”

She turned at the sound of Raisa’s voice, smiling at the sight of the other woman. “Raisa, hi. How’s your family?”

“We could be worse. The building, someone threw a- a—”

“Smoke bomb.”

“Yes. There is some damage, but we still have our home. I only saw it this morning. The staff at the manor, we remained at the house last night. No one knew what to do after Mrs. Queen…” Raisa looked down, and Laurel patted the woman’s arm in sympathy. “But I wanted to ask, have you seen Mr. Oliver or Miss Thea? They never came home.”

“Oh. Yes, they are both safe. The police actually found Mr. Steele, so they’re visiting with him at the hospital.”

Raisa gasped. “Mr. Steele is alive? Oh, that is good news. If only…”

“Yeah.” Laurel bit her lip, then asked. “Raisa, is there anything you might have heard Mrs. Queen ever discuss with Mr. Merlyn about all this?”

The housekeeper slowly shook her head. “I never intruded. But I always suspected he made her uncomfortable. She would request a glass of her favorite red after any of their meetings to calm her nerves. Was he involved with this Tempest?”

“I’m not sure how much I can say,” Laurel admitted, to which Raisa nodded in understanding. She looked around. She wasn’t much use at the food table accept for eating it. Laurel snagged a couple sandwiches for her empty stomach, then approached Jerome and a few more men tacking tarp up over missing windows. “What can I do?”

She was directed to help another group sweeping out storefronts and setting displays and other furniture back to rights. They were headed to 17th Street, and Laurel took the lead, anxious to check on Pam and her job.

The windows of Green Glades had survived, but every last pot and planter out in front had been smashed. “Oh, Pam.”

Her boss was using the push broom, and Laurel quickly took possession of the dust pan. “It’s to be expected. People want something to control when they feel like they’ve lost control of their own lives. I was perfectly safe upstairs.”

Laurel helped Pam to set everything to rights, then spent a little time at the other storefronts with the group she had joined up with. Someone had brought some kind of speakers, and the music and food helped create something of a lighter atmosphere. Back on the main road, Anita had coaxed Jerome into dancing while he and his group were on a food break, and Laurel smiled as she saw kids skipping around on the sidewalk. People were complicated things, but she thought so long as there were times like these, they could weather through the bad.

“The hell you doing showing up here?”

The angry shout had Laurel turning sharply. A few men had intercepted Oliver, Thea and Roy. The Queen siblings, both changed into what Laurel knew were their less nice t-shirts and jeans, looked unsure how to respond to the harsh greeting, if it could be called that.

“We- we just want to help,” Thea offered timidly. “We’re so sorry—”

Laurel cringed and hurried forward.

“Sorry?” One man repeated with a sharp laugh. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. What your mama did—”

“Isn’t what they did,” Laurel interrupted, coming between the two groups. “They didn’t know.”

“Yeah, they both work in the Glades,” Roy added. “How dumb would they have to be to do that if they were in on it?”

Most of the street had stopped what they were doing to watch this unfold, even a few of the children abandoning their game to stand and stare in confusion. Jerome had pulled Anita close, half-shielding her from the Queens and frowning at them. Raisa had a hand over her mouth, clearly worried for her charges.

“Thea and I were ignorant of what our mother and her associates were involved in,” Oliver agreed quietly. “Ignorance also isn’t an excuse for what could have happened had it not been exposed. What we hope is that we can atone for the things our family has done to yours if you will accept it.”

Laurel stared the men down, making it quite clear that if they chose to reject that offer with anything other than words, they would be going through her.

“They’re right.” A man in coveralls with a receding and graying hairline stepped forward. “Queen isn’t his parents. I heard you try to give Derek and his family a fresh start last fall, before that horrible business at the bank.”

Oliver swallowed once, not seeming to know what to say to that.

“We’re better than them in their mansions. We’re not gonna judge. You wanna do the work? Then do it.”

At the tables, Mrs. Ross gave an affirming hum. Anita patted Jerome’s chest, and her husband looked away and nodded.

“Innocent till proven guilty,” Hank shouted from where he was serving his usual wraps free of charge today. Laurel felt her lips twitch despite herself.

Gradually the small group that had gathered in front of the Queens slowly dispersed, some less happy than others, but Laurel let out a breath in relief.

She turned to the Queens. “I’m really glad you guys came out. It’s not going to be easy, but the more people see the real you, the more they’ll understand why you shouldn’t be tarred with the same brush.”

Raisa joined their group, hugging both Oliver and Thea. “It is a hard time for you both.”

“It’s not just for us. Raisa, the accounts… things aren’t looking good,” Oliver admitted to Laurel’s dismay. She’d known the Queens were going to take some kind of hit over all this, but she had no idea how this might affect Oliver’s ability to operate as the Hood. “We might lose the house. I’ll have to call the staff together for a meeting, but it can wait. This is more important.” He briefly pressed his lips to Laurel’s temple before heading over to Jerome’s group since they were getting back to work. The men grudgingly set him to work, though Laurel thought she saw some of their distrust melt away to grudging respect when it quickly became apparent Oliver was no slouch when it came to manual labor.

“Maybe we could offer to keep an eye on those kids?” Thea suggested to her boyfriend. “Roy has bruised ribs,” she added in explanation.

“Then something like that would be perfect,” Raisa agreed. “Come.” She led the young couple off, only for Anita to join her instead, looking smug.

“So, giving billionaire boy another shot?”

“Shut up.”

The next several days passed in a strange haze. No one quite seemed to know what happened now that the world hadn’t ended. Oliver was busy constantly between getting the outside of the club cleaned up and handling his family’s affairs. Laurel kept herself occupied with cleanup efforts and checking in on her friends and neighbors, both old and new. That had her climbing the steps to her old office building one afternoon and stopping at a desk buried under paper.

“Have to say, kind of glad I was fired before all this,” she remarked.

Joanna’s head shot up. “Laurel! Oh, thank God.” Her friend got up and pulled her into a tight hug which Laurel readily returned.

“I texted you I was fine,” she pointed out with a smile.

“Yeah, well fine for you could mean anything from you caught a cold to your house is burning down.”

Laurel held up her hands in surrender. “Well how’ve you been? Lot of new cases?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Even Anastasia’s moving her butt now. There’s probably going to be a class action suit brought against the Queen family. Anyone who lives in the Glades is entitled to compensation if we win,” Joanna told her. “But that won’t be on the docket for a while. Her assets are tied up right now because of the criminal case.” “I know.”

Jo winced. “How are Thea and Oliver taking it?”

“As well as can be expected. I think they’re just relieved the bomb wasn’t actually, you know.”

Joanna nodded. “Considering how crazy it was the other night without the bomb, I agree with that completely. Have you, uh, heard about the Woman?”

“The one in the mask?” Okay, Roy really had had a point, she should have thought of a name before starting all this.

“Yeah. She showed up that night, helped me and the others get out of the Glades since there were people outside the building.”

“Wow,” said Laurel, hoping she sounded surprised.

“Yeah, I kind of felt like you a bit. Don’t tell my mom,” Jo added with a laugh. “She doesn’t want me getting anywhere near vigilantes after what happened to you.”

Laurel smirked. “Oh, it hasn’t been so bad.” On the inside, she was relieved; Joanna definitely hadn’t recognized her that night. Her friend would’ve demanded answers by now if she had.

She left Joanna to her work soon after, thinking back to that night. It had been exhilarating and exhausting all at once racing from one end of the neighborhood to the other, first on her bike then on foot. Roy’s company had been a comfort when she had found him, and Ted’s appearance a welcome surprise. And part of her had just known Oliver would find his way back after facing Tommy, that he wouldn’t leave her to face it all alone.

It was strange, though, walking down streets and hearing bits of her own words played back at her. It didn’t really sound like her. Part of that was because it had been captured on somebody’s cell phone, and it didn’t seem like their speakers were the best quality. Another was that, for maybe the first time, Laurel felt like she heard a sense of command in her own voice.

She hadn’t been planning to make some kind of speech that night. Yet she had needed to reach people, some way, any way. And to her own amazement, she had. That was the real power that being a vigilante gave; a voice that was listened to.

By the end of the week, she was back to work at the flower shop. And that was where her father finally caught up to her.

It was startling seeing him enter the florist’s. He seemed so out of place and knew it, too. Pam opened her mouth to start her customary greeting, but Laurel said, “That’s okay, Pam. This is my dad.”

“Oh. Well, what a delight to finally meet the man who helped bring my lovely assistant into the world,” Pam said, and if Laurel wasn’t mistaken, seemed to be at least somewhat serious about it.

“Yeah, uh, good to meet you, too,” her dad mumbled. “Listen, can I talk to my daughter for a moment? I’ll be quick about it.”

“I suppose,” Pam agreed. Laurel had been sort of hoping she would say no. But she squared her shoulders and came around the counter to join him outside.

“Stopped by your place that night of the riots,” he began.

“I know.”

“Where were you? Where did you go? You know how badly I panicked when I realized you’d left the station?”

“Dad, we’ve talked about this. I’m living my life, my way now, you know?”

His shoulders slumped, and his head shook from side to side. “Look, I’ve accepted that you’ve made a life here in the day-to-day. But riots are different.”

“It’s not different for any of my neighbors and friends who have nowhere else to go,” she pointed out.

“But you weren’t even home!”

“I was at a shelter,” she lied, and thought she was more convincing than even with Joanna. Laurel had practiced this one because she’d known it was coming. “One of the local schools was letting people stay in the gym and needed volunteers to help keep things organized with all the kids. I was too busy to notice my phone at first, and my battery died overnight so I couldn’t call you back.”

He paused, scrutinizing her. “So you weren’t out there that night?”

“Why would I be?”

Her dad studied her another moment, then pulled her close. “I just worry about you, honey. You know I- I’m used to knowing everything about what you’re up to. I miss that.”

Laurel looked down. “I know those times made you feel better, but they weren’t what I needed.”

He blew out a breath. “I know.” A rueful grin rose on his lips. “You know, it’s funny. I keep going back over what she’s told us so far, how it was all for her kids.” He didn’t have to clarify which her he meant. “Her kids never would have wanted her to do it.”

Laurel blinked. Implied or not, that was one of the nicer things her father had had to say about Oliver in a long time.

“Maybe we all just kid ourselves. Maybe we don’t know what our children want, cause we don’t ask them or we think we still know best long after they’ve grown,” he continued. He cupped her face with one hand, thumb brushing the corner of her lip that had only just finished healing from that night she’d gone toe-to-toe with the corrupt SCPD officers. “But how’s about you keep me in the loop just a little from now on, eh?”

Laurel smiled, though she hoped he didn’t think it was sad. There were parts of her life now that she knew she would never share with her father. He just wouldn’t be able to take it, and it had the potential to destroy his career. “Yeah. A little.”

With a one-armed hug avoiding her dirt-smeared apron, he let her get back to her shift.

At night, she and Oliver patrolled together which more than made up for the time spent apart during the day. The nights were busy given that after the crackdown on the riots, the police had once again retreated back out of the Glades. They didn’t talk much about what was going on with his family, though she knew he had been to see his mother at least once more.

She also knew the day of Mrs. Queen’s hearing to determine if she would be allowed bail. It was a closed session given the possible danger to Mrs. Queen’s life if someone with revenge fantasies like the Savior had had decided to show up, so after her shift, Laurel went to the Verdant to wait, Roy keeping her company when he wasn’t needed to wipe down the scant few tables that were occupied.

When Oliver and Thea entered with morose expressions behind John, Laurel didn’t need them to say that Mrs. Queen would be spending the time before her trial behind bars. She stood from her stool and offered each of them a hug.

“We knew it wouldn’t happen,” Oliver said in monotone. “It just…”

Laurel squeezed his hand, unable to say the words he really needed to hear with Thea and Roy present: this wasn’t his fault.

Oliver gave a small shake of the head. “We need to talk about the future. Thea… I really think you should consider Walter’s suggestion.”

“I’m not just leaving home,” Thea said immediately.

“What’s this?” Laurel asked.

“Walter thinks it would be a good idea for Thea to take some time away from Starling while she considers her options regarding higher education or a career. You don’t have the guarantee of an easy life anymore, Thea. A college degree is something you might need someday.”

Thea scowled but had no argument.

“Look, all I am suggesting is that you take a vacation for a few months while the worst of this dies down a little. Take some online classes to improve your transcript, write a few college essays in preparation to apply.”

“While you stay here?”

“I have to stay here. I own a club, and I can’t afford a new manager.”

“What if you and Roy went together?” Laurel suggested.

Roy blinked. “Me?”

“What?” Oliver immediately demanded.

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Thea does not want to be separated from everyone she cares about, so if you’re staying here then her boyfriend is the next best option. It’d be good for Roy, too, let him see some more of the world.” She doubted her younger friend had had a vacation in his life. “And as long as they promise to behave themselves, I don’t see why it’s a problem. They’re both adults, and we went on trips together at their age.”

“We didn’t behave ourselves,” Oliver murmured in her ear, and Laurel smirked.

Thea, meanwhile, seemed to be warming up to the idea. “So Roy and I could take a trip together so long as I fill out some applications? Okay.”

“I want you to take this seriously, Speedy.”

Thea waved a dismissive hand, already getting out her phone to start looking at vacation hotspots. She grabbed Roy’s hand, but he stayed put.

“Find a table. I’ll be right over.” Once Thea was our of earshot, Roy said, “I can’t leave right now. The city’s a mess.”

“Roy,” Laurel said.

“Look, I figured it out. You’re — you know,” he said to Oliver after a furtive look around. “I want to help you. I helped Laurel the other night when things were crazy.”

“And you were hurt pretty badly,” Oliver pointed out. Roy looked about to argue, so he held up a hand. “Take the vacation to heal and to think about what you’re asking for. This kind of life is not easy, and sometimes, it takes more than it gives. If you come back and are still committed, Laurel and I will discuss it with you then. That fair?”

Roy didn’t exactly look happy about it, but he seemed to realize it was the best offer he was likely to receive. “Fine.”

“Good,” Laurel said. “Now go plan your trip with your girlfriend.” Roy left the bar for Thea’s table, and Laurel turned her attention on her own boyfriend. “Now we need to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“You’ve been sleeping downstairs, man,” John said, coming forward now that the discussions surrounding Thea and Roy were over. “And not even on a real bed.”

“The island didn’t have real beds,” Oliver deadpanned.

“But you’re not on the island anymore. And you shouldn’t have to feel like you are,” Laurel pointed out. “If you needed a place to stay, you could have asked one of us.”

“One of you?” He repeated with a raised eyebrow.

“Figured you’d like having options better,” John explained.

“And I know better than to assume we’re living together,” Laurel added lightly.

Oliver’s face fell. “Laurel, you didn’t assume anything. I told you we could do it even when I knew I wasn’t ready.”

“And now?” She asked.

“Now I would love nothing more than to be with you,” he told her. A smile spread across her lips, which didn’t stop him from leaning in to kiss them. “I’ll bring my things over tomorrow.”

“My day off. Perfect.” It was far from perfect, she supposed. Instead of a spacious downtown apartment with a five minute emergency vehicle response time belonging to a lawyer and the heir apparent to a Fortune 500 company, they would be sharing a cramped one-bedroom on a forgotten street in the poorest neighborhood as a florist and the owner of the least popular club in all of Starling City. But it felt, in a funny way, far more them than the children their parents had tried to raise them to be, and in a way that was its own perfection.

That morning, she was in the middle of her workout when a knock came at the door. She hadn’t actually expected Oliver this early, but she called to him, “One second!” before grabbing her towel and heading over to unlock it. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Ted!”

Her old teacher nodded at her. “Morning. Mind if I come in?”

“Sure.” Laurel grabbed her tank top off the couch and threw it on as well, noticing that Ted had stopped by the heavy bag she had only just been working at. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Just was thinking, I might need this back,” he explained, gesturing to it.

“Oh,” Laurel said, her shoulders drooping.

“Seeing as you’re welcome to start lessons back up any time,” he added, turning around to look at her with a sheepish smile. “Turns out you were right and there’s, well, still stuff we’re needed for out there.”

Laurel grinned. “I knew there was still fight in you.”

“Wouldn’t be much good at teaching it if there wasn’t. I’m not kidding about the bag, though,” he added, but Laurel just shoved at his arm which had him smirking.

Ted stayed for a moment or two longer where they hashed out a schedule, both for her lessons and for nighttime. He wasn’t so keen on getting to know the Hood just yet, and Laurel knew it was something she would need to talk to Oliver about first anyway.

After her teacher left, she thought about hitting the shower before Oliver arrived, but there was another knock at the door. Laurel pivoted on the balls of her feet. “Coming!”

She checked this time to find Anita waiting rather than her boyfriend. Laurel opened the door and showed her friend in. Anita carried a bag with her, which she held out for Laurel to take.

“Finished this last night,” her friend explained as Laurel lifted out her black leather jacket. She smiled. She’d been using the jean jacket at night for now, but it just hadn’t been the same.

“Thank you so much,” Laurel said, running her finger over the arm where the tear had been. “Hopefully by Christmas I’ll have made something all by myself to pay you back.”

“Yeah, well look the whole thing over before you thank me,” her friend said.

Laurel did, puzzled at first, with her eyes widening as she turned over the jacket to see the back.

“I should have asked before I did it,” Anita said. “But I kept thinking about that photo you’ve got of the thing in its cage and how it wouldn’t shut up, and I thought it was sort of like you, you know? Trapped in a shitty situation but not gonna go out without a fight. But that’s why I did the wings spread,” she added, stepping forward and smoothing her fingers over the yellow embroidery thread. “It symbolizes freedom. And that’s what you are now, Laurel. You freed yourself.”

She stared down at the outline of a bird with wings spread, a strange sort of lump sticking in her throat.

“I mean they’re probably gonna call you the Bird Lady or something stupid now,” Anita muttered, and it shocked her enough that Laurel looked up to meet her friend’s eyes.

“I—”

“You don’t gotta explain it. I won’t say a thing more about it.”

Her eyes watered and spilled over as she moved forward and wrapped her free arm around Anita in a hug which she returned. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You don’t hate it?”

“I love it. Really.” She sniffed once and let go, stepping back. Laurel hugged the jacket to her chest, smiling.

Yet another knock on her door had her quickly tucking the jacket back in the bag even if she suspected who this finally was. Laurel let Oliver in, her smile widening at the sight of the bag he had slung over one shoulder and one box tucked under his arm.

“Hey, everything okay?” He asked, reaching out and wiping at her cheek with a calloused thumb.

“Yeah. Come meet or re-meet one of your new neighbors, Anita.”

Anita’s eyebrows shot straight into her hairline. “Billionaire boy’s living here? This is one for the books.”

“It’s uh, Oliver,” he said awkwardly, holding a hand out.

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood, Ollie,” Anita greeted as she gave it a firm shake. Laurel stifled a laugh behind her hand. “I gotta head out, so have fun unpacking, you two.”

“See you,” Laurel told her. The door shut, and she spread her arms a little, turning one way and the other. “Well, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the box and setting it on her counter. “This is for you.”

“Everything you own fits in one bag?” Laurel asked dubiously. “Also you really don’t need to be getting me presents right now.”

He shrugged. “I missed your birthday.”

“You paid to fix my front window.”

“Well it’s our window now, so it doesn’t count. Anyway, I really want you to have this.”

It clicked, and Laurel reached for the box. “Is it—?”

She opened it to find a rather sleek ensemble in black and dark blue. Laurel couldn’t identify the material it was made out of, but she imagined it was sturdier than her leggings. A brand new wig and mask sat underneath.

“It’s amazing, Ollie.” She felt far less guilty knowing he’d already paid for it before his financial situation had become precarious. Laurel dove for the bag and her jacket, holding it and the undershirt of her new suit up to see how they might look together.

“Is that a… bird?” Oliver asked, eyebrows furrowed as he peered at the design on the back.

“It’s a canary,” Laurel answered. She set both items back in the box, smoothing the jacket down so the embroidered image rested face-up. Then she went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And it’s what I’m going to start calling myself out there.”

“The Hood and the Canary,” he said. “Doesn’t quite go together.”

“You could always pick your own name for yourself,” she offered. “Instead of letting everyone else decide it for you.”

“Maybe. If it weren’t for you going out there, the Hood probably wouldn’t even exist anymore,” he admitted, and Laurel tilted her head in an unspoken question, her hands sliding to his shoulders. “I became the Hood to fulfill my father’s mission. And in a lot of ways, I failed because I was playing my parents’ game. Sticking to the shadows, paying more attention to the wealthy than the victims suffering from those with wealth. Starling City is going to take a long time to get better, and it has to start here.”

“That all sounds good to me,” she agreed. “And now that you’re doing things your own way, without all the family secrets, I think we really can make a difference. Whatever’s coming, we’ll handle it together.”

He smiled down at her. “Then let’s save the world.”

Laurel met him on her tiptoes for a kiss to seal that promise.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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write-havoc · 5 years

Text

Of Sons and Daughters Ch 12

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

After Arthur dresses, he heads out the back door of the manor house to meet Dutch and John in one of the outbuildings. The muggy swamp air hangs thick around him, but it doesn’t hinder him from trudging through the soft earth toward the dilapidated former slave quarters. The distinct sound of someone being beaten allows him to pinpoint exactly which building they have the O’Driscoll held captive, so he heads that way.

“Arthur!” Sadie’s raspy voice calls out as she rushes up to him from behind. “Hang on!”

He pauses, but continues on his way without looking at her. “Now, Sadie, why don’t you head on back inside-“

“No,” she insists as she catches up to walk beside him. “There’s no way I’m not getting my hands on that O’Driscoll. I promised I’d make every single one of them pay for what they did to me and my Jake and I aim to keep that promise.”

Arthur stops begrudgingly and turns to her with a sigh, knowing she won’t drop the issue. “We need to get some information from him first, okay? I promise it ain’t gonna be good for him; he’s gonna suffer. But we need to get out of him where Colm is before we let ‘im die. If I let you in there, can you promise me you won’t go blowing his head off before we get what we want?”

She looks him dead in the eye as she answers. “Yeah. I promise I’ll let you torture Colm’s location out of him before I kill him.”

Arthur’s not convinced. Especially with the way she looked during the battle against the O’Driscolls that ended not even an hour ago. The sight of her firing off rounds into the enemy and screaming the whole while like a banshee made her look like a woman possessed. And that rage doesn’t just go away.

“Leave your guns out here,” he finally says, pointing to the ground.

She lets out a huff, knowing that he has a point. With the blind rage she feels every time she even hears the name O’Driscoll, she can’t trust herself not to kill the man the second she sees him.

“Fine.” She drops her pistols on the ground and follows Arthur the rest of the way to the broken down shack at the edge of the property.

Once the pair enters the building, they see the young O’Driscoll, his arms and legs both strapped down to a chair. Considering the two black eyes and fat lip he’s sporting, Dutch and John must have already worked him over.

“Arthur,” Dutch greets him as if he’s walked into a party. “And Mrs. Adler,” he adds, though his voice drops slightly.

The woman in question stares daggers at the O’Driscoll before her, but she restrains herself from pouncing on him. Rather, she moves back to lean against the wall as she crosses her arms over her chest in a wordless gesture saying that she’ll be hands off on this. At least right now.

Dutch takes notice then continues. “John and I were just asking our new friend here about his boss, but he’s been less than forthcoming. Perhaps you could try your hand, Arthur. You always were very persuasive .”

Arthur knows what that means; he’s to beat the information out of him. To make sure the O’Driscoll is good and intimidated, Arthur makes a show of rolling up his sleeves slowly and taking his hat off before leaning down to the young man’s face.

“Where’s Colm?” he growls, hoping the man will make this easy by cracking immediately. But of course, he doesn’t.

“Fuck you,” the O’Driscoll spits out in his Irish accent, though it’s muffled from the blood pooling in his mouth from the blows he’s already suffered.

Arthur’s only response is a swift punch to the guy’s gut, knocking the wind from him. As he coughs and sputters to try to get the air that had been punched out of him back into his lungs, Dutch lights up a cigar and casually saunters closer.

“It’s only going to get harder, O’Driscoll,” Dutch calls out in a sing song way. “Best bet is to talk now.”

The man flicks his gaze around all the faces in the room, to the younger dark haired man with the scars to his right, then to the two men standing in front of him and finally to the woman leaning on the back wall with murder in her eyes. “Colm told me about all ‘a yous.” He fixes his gaze on the oldest man that he’s recognized as Dutch. “You especially. You can’t just murder a man’s kin, his brother , and expect not to pay.”

“I did pay!” Dutch yells as he trades position with Arthur to stand directly in front of their captive. “Colm murdered someone dear to me and I loved her more than Colm ever cared about his good for nothing brother, I assure you of that. He still owes me .” To punctuate the point, Dutch stubs out his lit cigar on the back of the man’s hand, eliciting a growl of pain from him.

Arthur moves to the man’s side and grabs him by the hair, wrenching his head up to look at him. “Where’s Colm?” he growls as he rears back like he’s going to punch him again.

“Y-You can’t do nothin’ about it,” the O’Driscoll answers in a moment of weakness, his resolve to remain loyal to his leader momentarily waning with the prospect of another blow.

“Do about what?” John asks as he steps closer.

The young man steels himself, mustering the courage to hold out. “Don’t matter. You ain’t gettin’ nothin’ more from me!”

Before anyone else can react, Sadie flies out of nowhere brandishing her hunting knife with both her hands. She swings the blade above her head and down, burying it deeply in the man’s left thigh.

“Where’s Colm?!” she screams. “Answer us!”

The O’Driscoll squeals in pain at the sudden shock of being stabbed. “You crazy bitch!”

Arthur pulls Sadie back by the shoulder before she can do any more damage, cursing himself for not noticing that she had kept her knife on her. He decides to make the best out of the situation and wraps his hand around the blade still stuck in the O’Driscoll’s leg. He wiggles it a little to produce more pain, hoping that he will finally break. “Last chance, O’Driscoll. Answer or I’ll pull this knife out and watch you bleed to death. Slowly. And painfully.”

He looks up to Arthur, barely able to catch his breath out of pain and fear. His resolve crumbles quickly at the prospect that the man in front of him is telling the truth. For as much as Colm O’Driscoll has spouted that the gang always comes first, the decision to actually try to save his own life comes easy for the young man staring death in the face.

“Saint Denis,” he finally whispers. “Colm’s in Saint Denis. Pinkertons picked him up right after you didn’t show up to the meet. Said he weren’t no use to them no more.”

Dutch steps forward. It’s certainly good to have that information, but something else has been bothering him. “How did you know we were here at Shady Belle?” Depending on the answer, they may have to move camp yet again.

“W-We saw two of your men in a wagon in Valentine,” he starts to explain. “Followed ‘em here.”

Arthur figures that’s possible. When it became clear that Emmeline had permanently relocated from her home, he had sent out Sean and Lenny to pick up Emmeline’s chickens and coop to bring back to Shady Belle. Neither of the two young men have a whole lot of experience and may not have realized they were being followed all the way back to camp.

“Did you tell the Pinkertons?” Arthur asks instantly. That’s the real question. If they know where they are, they could already be on their way here.

“We’re on the run from them now just like you are!” the O’Driscoll bites back. “We ain’t talked to those lyin’ bastards since they took Colm!”

It seems to everyone that the man is probably telling the truth, so their camp is safe for now. But there’s still the issue of Colm.

“Where exactly in Saint Denis are they keeping him?” Dutch asks.

“How the hell should I know!” When Arthur winds up to punch him, the O’Driscoll backs off. “No, no, no! Wait!” he calls out anxiously. “Theys gonna hang him today. I swear! That’s why we went after yous.” His eyes flit around the room, knowing that he’s said too much. “S-So you’ll get your revenge anyway. Even if you do nothin’,” he tries, hoping they don’t put it together.

Dutch shares a look with Arthur, the two of them instantly picking up the real reason behind the O’Driscolls’ quick attack.

“As much as I hate that man,” Dutch starts, “I have to admit that Colm’s smart enough that he’s managed to slip the noose many times before. I also know that he’s smart enough to realize that if he’s going to be strung up anywhere near where I am, I’d make sure he gets properly hung. So this little skirmish we just engaged in tells me for certain that Colm has a plan in place to escape his execution today. And that he doesn’t want me to ruin it. So thank you for confirming that.” Dutch gives Arthur a nod, wordlessly conveying his orders to the younger man.

Without a second’s notice, Arthur pulls the large knife from the O’Driscoll’s leg, making sure to twist it on the way out. As the man screams in pain, Arthur hands the blade back to Sadie and gestures back to the man, making it clear that she’s to dispatch of him.

“Hey, wait!” the man yells. “I told ya what ya wanted!”

His plea doesn’t stop Sadie as she walks forward to him. “You O’Driscolls ruined my life!” She suddenly stabs him in the gut with a punch. “Killed my husband!” She stabs him again. “Forced yourselves on me!” Her hand starts to slip on the hilt as it’s covered with blood, but she continues. “ You ruined my life! ” Using all the power she can muster, she forces the blade up and under his rib cage, puncturing his heart and killing him instantly. His head lolls to the side as the life leaves his body.

Despite the fact that he’s long gone, Sadie keeps stabbing him repeatedly anywhere she can. Once his torso starts to lose it’s shape from the repeated wounds, Arthur gently puts his hand on her shoulder, drawing her out of her rage.

“He’s dead, Sadie,” he says softly. “That’s enough.”

Breathing roughly, she pulls back from the man slumped in the chair and looks down at her bloodstained hands. She wonders just what kind of person she’s become through all of this. Is she even recognizable as herself anymore?

John jumps in, unaware of the battle raging in Sadie’s mind. “You really think after how many O’Driscolls we just killed today that they can still rescue Colm from Saint Denis?”

“I reckon there’s more than enough of those bastards left to save Colm from the gallows,” Dutch answers. “We need to make sure they don’t succeed.”

“We better get goin’ then,” Arthur comments. “If we wanna get there in time to stop them.”

Dutch nods in agreement. “John, you take care of him,” he gestures to the dead man in the chair then looks up to Sadie and Arthur. “We need to see Hosea about a change of clothing.”

Arthur recognizes the look in Dutch’s eye; he already has a plan cooked up in his head. Once they find Hosea and tell him everything as quickly as possible, the older man is immediately on board.

“I have a couple of Saint Denis police uniforms that should fit you fellas. They’ll get you close without raising suspicion,” he explains as he pulls the outfits from a trunk in the back of one of the wagons. “As for you, Mrs. Adler,” he roots around more, finding a fancy yellow dress with a frilly lace front, “I think a high society lady traversing the streets of the city will go unnoticed by anyone looking for outlaws.”

She takes the frock into her freshly cleaned hands, then the large feathered hat he produces as well. “Ain’t exactly worn nothin’ like this. And I sure as hell ain’t a high society lady.”

“Well, you are today, my dear,” Dutch comments.

After they change into their costumes, they all mount up and leave. During the ride, they strategize what they’re going to do. If they’ve made it in time and Colm’s not long gone yet, they’ll patrol the crowd to see if any of Colm’s men are around fixing to make a daring rescue of their leader. If they are in the crowd, they’ll make damn sure to keep them occupied so that Colm gets seen through on his execution.

As they finally approach Guiteau Square, the high noon sun beats down on them. That doesn’t deter the rapidly gathering crowd from congregating in front of the gallows hoping to get a good view of the show about to come. They all look on expectantly as the hangman trudges up the steps to check the noose already hanging on the crossbar on preparation.

“Good,” Dutch says quietly to his companions. “We didn’t miss it.” When he looks over all the people standing in the square, he thinks he recognizes a few of them. He leans in closer to Arthur to whisper, “Those two idiots look familiar?” He gestures to two men talking with another man in the crowd.

“Yeah,” Arthur answers. “They definitely run with Colm.”

“Guess it’s a good idea we decided to show up, then,” Dutch comments with a smirk.

As they watch the O’Driscolls, they notice them periodically turn and look across the street.

“What are they looking at?” Dutch asks almost to himself as he turns to see.

“One of ‘em’s comin’ this way,” Arthur warns and the three Van Der Lindes look away as to not raise suspicion. They discreetly watch the man cross the street and head away from them in the direction they had been looking.

“Better see where he’s going,” Dutch says to Arthur. “Me and Mrs. Adler will keep our eyes on those two.” He gestures to the two O’Driscolls still standing in the crowd.

Arthur nods and starts to follow the man away from the square. Keeping a safe distance, he meanders the alleyways behind the man until he sees him ascend a latter onto a fire escape. He continues on, hopping up onto a nearby rooftop and crossing over to another building, the building that happens to be directly across the street from where Colm will be hanged.

Luckily for Arthur, the O’Driscoll isn’t the most observant, so instead of checking his surroundings first, he goes straight to the sniper rifle that must have been stashed there earlier. He takes up his position to get a good look at Guiteau Square. And most likely the noose he’s set to shoot down to save Colm from hanging.

As quietly as he can, Arthur pulls his knife from its sheath and sneaks up behind the distracted O’Driscoll. It takes just a moment for Arthur to bury his knife in the back of the man’s neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him almost instantly.

Movement on the raised platform of the gallows below catches Arthur’s eye after he unceremoniously drops the dead man’s body to the ground. He picks up the O’Driscoll’s discarded sniper rifle and raises the scope to his eye to get a better look. Colm had been brought out while Arthur was killing the sniper and the noose now rests around his neck. The bright sunlight of this cloudless day makes it easy for Arthur to see the smug smile on Colm’s face through the scope. It’s the smile of a man expecting to walk away from this unscathed, confident that the plan he has in place will go off without a hitch. Arthur sees that expression fall slightly as the man casts his eyes down to the crowd. Arthur follows his gaze to see that Sadie and Dutch are now holding onto the two O’Driscolls in the crowd, guns to their heads to keep them from doing anything stupid. Once Colm raises is gaze to see Arthur in the sniper’s nest, pure fear washes over his face as the realization hits that his plan has been thwarted. This will be his last day on earth and there’s nothing he can do about it now.

Arthur sends an obnoxious wave over to him to hit the point home. “You’re gon’ hang, Colm,” he says under his breath. “Once and for all.”

The hangman wastes no time in shouting out Colm’s charges, but Arthur can barely hear them over the distance. He’s focused on looking through the scope right at Colm’s face, anyway, not wanting to miss a single second of the man’s fear as his execution approaches. Just a moment later, the hangman pulls the lever and Colm finally falls through the drop door to his long overdo death.

Arthur’s seen men die before, many times. He’s even witnessed hangings and it’s never much affected him. This one does, though, not for what it is but what it will mean from now on. The air leaves Arthur’s lungs as if a weight has been lifted from him. Dutch’s rivalry with Colm that’s lasted for almost as many years as Arthur’s been in the gang is now over. He only gets a second to really feel the weight of that before a shot rings out (as well as a scream that sounds suspiciously like Sadie’s angry voice) and then everyone in the square is scattering.

“Arthur! O’Driscolls!” Dutch’s loud voice reaches Arthur’s ears and he jumps into action.

There aren’t many O’Driscolls left, but there are enough rushing into the square to keep Dutch and Sadie pinned down in their positions ducked down behind the low wall surrounding the square. Arthur quickly pinpoints the men battling to avenge their fallen leader and dispatches them with utmost efficiency. Soon enough, the din of the gunshots is punctuated by a cacophony of police whistles as the local law enforcement descends on the scene, adding to the anarchy. Fortunately, Dutch’s cop costume keeps the heat from the actual cops away from him and Sadie as they try to take out the last of the O’Driscolls.

Their anonymity doesn’t last forever, though. One observant officer ends up rushing to take cover right beside Dutch. As soon as he gets a good look at Dutch’s face, his eyes widen in recognition. Dutch sees the look of familiarity sweep through the man’s eyes and knows the tide will surely turn if this young man is allowed to call attention to the outlaw in his midst. Without an extra second’s thought, Dutch silences the cop with a well placed bullet through the top of his head before he can alert anyone.

“We need to get outta here!” Dutch shouts to Sadie.

Arthur can see the moment things start to change. With the law finally outnumbering the O’Driscolls, they start to look around for the cause of the battle. More and more of their eyes are focusing on Dutch and Sadie, which is decidedly a bad thing. It’s one thing to fight O’Driscolls in the streets, but having the entire police force of Saint Denis coming for you is quite another.

The two Van Der Lindes on the ground have no choice but to rush away from the police and toward one of the alleys that the leftover O’Driscolls are holed up in. It would certainly be a death trap on any other occasion, but Dutch knows that Arthur has line of sight on this particular alley. As if on cue, every O’Driscoll that peeks his head out to get a shot on Dutch and Sadie ends up with a fresh bullet hole between the eyes, courtesy of the sniper rifle they so generously provided in the fight in the first place.

Dutch gives a little wave, signaling to Arthur that all the O’Driscolls in the immediate area are gone. When Dutch and Sadie start to strip off their costumes in favor of putting on their normal outfits, Arthur follows suit, pulling his extra clothes from his satchel. Abandoning the uniform and the rifle on the roof, Arthur makes his way down to street level and across the few blocks to where their horses are hitched.

“Come on, Arthur. Hurry up,” Dutch spurs the younger man to move faster down the street as he hops up into his saddle. “We need to get outta here before the police really catch onto us.”

As Arthur mounts Sparrow and turns to follow Dutch, he looks to his right to Sadie. “You alright?”

She tears her eyes away from the road ahead to look his way. “We got ‘em, Arthur,” she chokes out, though no tears come to her eyes; they never do anymore. “Who we didn’t kill, the law finished off. There ain’t no more O’Driscolls thanks to us, so I feel...” She thinks a moment. Happy’s not the word; the grief of losing her husband is still too great to allow for that. “I feel... relieved,” she settles on. “Those monsters won’t ever hurt anyone else. And I’m more than okay with that.”

Meanwhile back at camp, from the moment the trio leaves Shady Belle, everyone else in the gang has been a little on edge. Not only are they wondering if the small group would be successful in making sure Colm finally gets his due, but they have the mess around the property to deal with, too. It’s all hands on deck to try to dispose of the dead O’Driscolls lying around. Fortunately, the swamp around them (and the alligators in it) provides the perfect place to do just that, but all those bodies still need to make their way there.

The thought of having to touch dead corpses horrifies Emmeline, but she doesn’t want to let anyone down. She is a part of this group, so she’s determined to pitch in as much as she can.

“You can do this,” she whispers to herself before she pushes through the front door of the main house and walks out onto the porch. A wave of nausea passes over her as she steps closer to one of the bodies off by the gazebo, knowing what she has to do. “He was a bad man,” she mutters to reassure herself as she rolls the sleeves of her blouse to her elbows. Tossing a glance back to the wagon being laden with dead bodies, she bends down and wraps her fingers around the dead O’Driscoll’s ankles, fixing to drag him in that direction. After only a few feet, she’s interrupted by Hosea’s voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there,” he calls out as he rushes toward her. “You should be inside, Emmeline.”

She gently drops the O’Driscoll’s feet, as if she could still hurt him if she was too rough. “It’s okay. I want to help out.”

He doesn’t take that for an answer. Instead, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and turns her back toward the house. “I’m sure Jack would be pleased with your company upstairs. Besides, it’s too hot out here. You shouldn’t overexert yourself in your condition.”

“C-Condition?” she asks, playing dumb in case he doesn’t actually know her secret and means something else.

He chuckles, leading her back up the porch steps and through the door. “Yes. Your condition .” He stops them in the sitting room, knowing that everyone else is too busy to hear their conversation. “I admit that I should have seen it sooner. Age really is creeping up on me. Dulling the senses.” He holds his hand out, gesturing for her to sit onto the couch. He follows after, planting himself down with a groan and creaking joints.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve lived my whole life as a conman, dear girl. I’ve learned to read people, pick up on little cues, little traits that tell me everything I need to know about them. I wasn’t too sure about your... situation at first. Not until I saw the way John’s been looking at you like he’s terrified. The same way he looked at Abigail when she was with child, though not quite as bad. I reckon ‘cause he knows he’s not the father in this case.” He shakes his head. “That boy still ain’t comfortable with children, despite having one of his own.”

“Abigail figured it out pretty quick,” Emmeline explains. “And she told John the second she was sure. He hasn’t really said much to me about it since then.”

Hosea nods. “Abigail’s smarter than people give her credit for. And John,” he laughs, “finesse ain’t exactly his strong suit. We’ve had to fight our way out of more situations than I care to think about because he blew our cover.”

“Really?” she says with a giggle. “I guess Arthur and I will have to start telling people soon, anyway. People are bound to notice when I start showing through my dress.”

“You and Arthur have time yet, I’m betting.” He pats her on the knee gently. “I’m so happy for Arthur to become a father. I know he always wanted to have children.”

“He did?” she asks, confused. Arthur hadn’t really told her that in so many words.

He nods. “He may not admit it, maybe not even to himself, but I know deep down he’s wanted a family. All you have to do is look at how he treats Jack. He’s been more of a father to that boy than Marston‘s been, really. Did everything for him in the beginning. If Abigail hadn’t’ve loved John so much, I reckon Arthur woulda married her just to give the boy a proper family when John left.”

“Arthur wants to leave,” she admits quietly. “Leave the gang with me and the Marstons. So we can raise the children away from this.”

He lets out a heavy breath. “He’s smart to want that. We all know this isn’t gonna end well, deep down. We just try to prolong it, day by day, however we can.” He grasps her hand in his and gives her a poignant look. “You tell him it’s alright to leave all this, Emmeline. Even if he’s said he wants to leave, he’ll wrestle with getting away from this life, leaving us. You tell him he can go. He doesn’t owe us nothing more.”

The vehemence with which he says it has Emmeline nodding automatically. She had a feeling that Arthur would have a hard time with following through on leaving. Especially given how much he sees the gang as his family.

It takes a while, but the property finally gets completely cleaned up. It isn’t much longer after that when Dutch, Arthur, and Sadie get back to the camp. Once everyone sees the three riders galloping down the trail toward the house, they hold their breath in anticipation. The second Dutch hitches The Count and looks up with a bright smiling face and outstretched arms, everyone breaks out in cheers knowing that the trio was successful in their mission. The Van Der Linde’s oldest rival has been taken down. And now it’s time to celebrate.

Liquor flows. Songs are sung. Stories are told. The mood around camp is light and jovial as everyone enjoys the party, some around the fire, some at Pearson’s tent, and some dancing in the middle to the music from Dutch’s phonograph.

From her seat on the log by the fire, Emmeline watches Karen and Sean swaying to and fro together arrhythmically to the music, both of them already three sheets to the wind. It doesn’t stop them from looking like they’re anything but happy together, though.

“You doin’ alright?” Arthur’s voice draws her attention away from the couple.

She turns back to him beside her and gives him a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine, Arthur.”

“What you went through today...” he lets out a heavy breath, thinking about how she was held at gunpoint earlier, “I don’t want you to ever go through that again. Don’t ever want you in danger.”

“I don’t want either of us in danger.” Remembering the conversation she had earlier with Hosea, she scoots closer to Arthur to speak with him more quietly. “I know it’s gonna be hard,” she whispers and takes her hand in his, “but I think we should-“ She’s interrupted by Dutch coming up from behind and clapping Arthur on the shoulder.

“What’s with the long face, Arthur?” he asks with a huge smile as he walks around to stand before them. “We’re celebrating, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Arthur looks up to him. “I know, Dutch. I’ve been waitin’ to see Colm hang for a long time.” He shakes his head a little and scratches at the back of his neck not wanting to tell Dutch about the way his insides twist thinking about how Emmeline and their baby had been in danger today. “Guess I’m just tired. Long day.”

“That it’s been.” Dutch plants himself down next to Emmeline, unaware he’s interrupted the conversation she wanted to have with Arthur. “Things are gonna change for us,” he says wistfully as he looks to the darkening evening sky. “I can feel it. Our luck is gonna change.”

“I sure hope so,” Arthur quips.

“Come on, Arthur,” Dutch replies, though his happy tone doesn’t fall much. He bumps Emmeline with his shoulder. “If you keep spending time with him, you’ll end up just as morose as he is.”

She laughs at his joke. “He’s not morose most of the time. He actually makes me laugh.”

Dutch looks overly shocked. “Arthur? Funny? Pfft!”

It makes Emmeline laugh more. It’s nice to see this side of Dutch. Since she’s met him, she actually hasn’t spent much time with him. And with Micah, the Pinkertons, and the move, Dutch hadn’t exactly been up to socializing lately. But now, it seems like he’s back to the man that Arthur had described to her. She thinks it would be nice to actually get to know the man that’s her only living kin.

Having heard the exchange as he grabbed a beer from the box by Pearson’s wagon, Hosea walks up to take a seat across from the small group. “Arthur’s a regular comedian, don’t you know?” he jokes.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” Arthur grumbles. “Don’t need you comin’ in here and teasin’ me, too.”

Hosea chuckles a bit. “No need to be so serious, Arthur. This is a party, after all.”

“That’s what I was saying.” Dutch rises from his seat and turns back to hold his hand out to Emmeline. “Since your fella is too busy brooding, would you care to dance with me?”

“I ain’t brooding ,” Arthur responds, a smile finally tugging his lips upward once he sees Emmeline trying to hold back a giggle. “Go on then.” He shoos her off with a gesture of his hand.

Emmeline takes Dutch’s hand and allows him to lead her to the open area that had occupied Karen and Sean just a moment ago, the couple having vacated, most likely to their tent. Dutch keeps ahold of her left hand in his right as he turns to face her.

“You know how to dance?” He places his left hand gently around her back while he raises his other arm with hers into position.

“Not really,” she admits, placing her free hand on his shoulder. “My father tried to teach me when I was little, but I think I ended up just jumping around.” She laughs at the memories.

As he starts to sway with her, he asks her quietly, “He was good to you?”

She realizes then what she had said. She had called Joseph, the man that raised her, her father. But the man standing before her technically holds that title. It doesn’t make the former feel any less like a parent to her, though. Despite the fact that he was never blood, he will always be her papa.

“He was a very good... father. I loved him.”

Dutch nods his head, then puts a smile on his face. “I’m glad. I could tell he was a good man.” He steps back and lifts her arm up, prompting her to twirl.

When she comes back to him, she lets out a little laugh. “I don’t think I got the hang of spinning when I was eight years old,” she says, trying to bring the conversation to lighter fare.

Dutch isn’t ready to end the conversation that he’s thought about having for years, though. “I did think of you often,” he asserts, his eyes soft as he looks to the young woman in front of him. “I always wanted the best for you. I tried to help out after Joseph died, left money for you and your mother.”

She looks away a moment as they continue to sway to the music. “I know. Arthur told me.”

“So many times I thought about knocking on your door. Introducing myself to you. Making up for lost time.”

“But you didn’t.”

He shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about you; I want to make that clear. I always cared about you, Emmeline. And that’s precisely why I never knocked on your door. Your mother was right. It would’ve been dangerous for you.”

“I understand, Dutch,” she reassures him. “I didn’t at first. I wasn’t too happy knowing I was lied to, but... I do understand why you and my parents did what you did. But I’m happy to get to know you now.” She gives him a smile, which he returns easily.

In the meantime, since Arthur is left by himself, he looks over to Hosea. “Sorry about havin’ to leave those costumes of yours back in Saint Denis.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad they did their job and you all made it back safe.”

Arthur nods. “Yeah. Ain’t no more O’Driscolls left after all that.”

“One less thing on our plates.”

“That’s what we need. Things to be more simple. Like they they were before the Pinkertons.” Arthur takes a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it, taking a drag and exhaling the smoke.

“Maybe we should just be tying up loose ends.”

Arthur looks over to the older man in confusion. “Whatchu mean?”

“We’re the last of a dying breed, my boy. And it’s only gonna end one of two ways, accept it and finally become a member of civilization or fight it and go out on the cooling board.” Hosea stands with a groan, his stiff joints protesting momentarily, and walks over to Arthur, placing his hand on his shoulder and leaning down to speak more quietly. “Don’t you make that girl a widow. And don’t you make that child fatherless.”

Arthur looks up to the older man, ready to ask how he knew. But he thinks better of it. Of course Hosea knew; he always does.

As Arthur follows Hosea’s exit, his eyes wander over to Molly as she stands on the front porch. She’s leaning on the railing with her arms crossed over her chest and staring daggers at Dutch and Emmeline as they continue to dance and laugh with one another.

“Shit,” Arthur mutters to himself. He knows exactly what’s going through the fiery redhead’s mind.

Molly has made her jealous streak well known. Just about every woman that Dutch has so much as talked to has gotten the third degree from her. And it’s all only gotten worse as Dutch closed himself off more. It seems that Molly has been coping with that by drinking more which has only made her more volatile.

Before Arthur can do anything about it, Molly stomps over to Emmeline and roughly pulls her back by the arm.

“Arthur ain’t enough for ya, huh, ya trollop,” Molly slurs out, her Irish accent sounding a little bit stronger than normal. She shoves her finger right into Emmeline’s face and yells, “Ya gotta go after Dutch Van Der Linde himself, too!”

Molly’s loud voice draws attention and everyone looks her way, interested at the turn of events. That intrigue only deepens once Arthur jumps up from his seat and rushes over.

“What the hell are you doin’, Molly?” he calls out and quickly puts himself between the woman and Emmeline to prevent a skirmish.

“Yes,” Dutch concurs as he puts his hands on his hips, “what are you doing?”

“Oh, don’t you act innocent, Dutch,” Molly seethes, refocusing her rage on him. “She bats her pretty eyes at you and you eat it up.”

“I wasn’t-“ Emmeline starts, but Molly isn’t hearing it.

“You shut up, you hussy! It’s obvious you’re throwing yourself at him!”

Emmeline has never been talked to like this in her whole life and it has her flustered. Flustered enough that she blurts out, “I don’t want Dutch! He’s my father !” loud enough that everyone hears.

Audible gasps ring out around the camp at the shock. No one had even an inkling that their newest member was related to Dutch and now it comes out that she’s his daughter .

Molly takes a step back and looks to Dutch as she tries to make sense of all of this. “Is that true?”

Dutch lets out a sigh and puts his hand on the shoulder of his formerly secret daughter. “Yes. Emmeline is my daughter,” he says loud enough for all the straining ears around them to hear. “I suppose it’s time to tell you all everything.” He takes his hand off of her and steps forward to address everyone. “Let me explain. I did send Arthur to check on Emmeline, but it wasn’t just because I knew her mother. I knew all along she was my daughter and wanted to make sure she was alright. She and Arthur did get sweet on each other, but the reason he brought her here was because the Pinkertons knew about her. And they wanted to use her to get to me. Why I decided to keep all this quiet was to protect her. But since we now know that Micah ,” he hisses the man’s name, “was the one working with the police and he’s no longer here, there’s no reason to keep it a secret anymore.”

Everyone processes the information at their own rate. Some people are stood there shocked while others nod softly their assent. John is firmly in the former category, his gaze flicking quickly between Dutch, Emmeline, and Arthur.

“Emmeline’s your daughter?” he asks aloud, though he’s not exactly looking for a response from the man. “And she and Arthur-“

He’s cut off by a swift elbow to the ribs courtesy of Abigail next to him. “Emmeline and Arthur are together and it don’t rightly matter that Dutch is her father,” she finishes the sentence for him to stop him from saying anything he shouldn’t. “I think it’s good fortune. She’s part of the family no matter what.”

Emmeline smiles to the other raven haired woman. “Thank you, Abigail. That means a lot.”

“Indeed,” Dutch’s booming voice brings attention back to him. “We are all a family here. Now, I know we’ve had some tough times, but they are behind us. Tonight, we celebrate our long overdue victory over the O’Driscolls and tomorrow...” he pauses to make sure all eyes are on him, “we make our plans to free ourselves from the bond of the slavery that this ‘ society ’ is forcing on us. Stick with me and I promise that you will be able to live free.”

His words sound good, especially to the mostly inebriated ears that hear them. But they make a weight settle in Arthur’s chest. Dutch seems to be back to his old self... but is that really a good thing?

#of sons and daughters #writehavoc Of Sons and Daughters #writehavoc writes #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan / oc #arthur morgan x original female character #Arthur Morgan / Original Female Character #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2

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shmende · 5 years

Text

Growing Out Of It: Pt. 2 - The Unknown (Shawn Mendes)

In which old school friends reunite yet again and talk about their feelings - former (or maybe not so former, after all?)

Warnings: none, again. Just still very, very slow-burnish. Hope you stick with me through it all. Thanks for reading and thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the last part!

4.5k words

I’m also painfully aware that John Mayer did not participate in writing WWYITM, but it fit into the storyline. So let’s just go with it. Hope you enjoy!

https://shmende.tumblr.com/post/181690998981/growing-out-of-it-pt-1-the-unexpected-shawn

_____________

The following week, I went shopping with Ivy.

“That dress looks great on you. Eric will flip,” I assured her, lounging on the bean bags at Urban Outfitters’ dressing rooms. We’d been here for an hour now, looking for the perfect outfit to win Ivy’s ex back over, or at least make him see what he’s missing out on, or something; I really didn’t know anymore. Ivy looked enviably great in every outfit (hours in the gym will do that to you, apparently) but she wasn’t satisfied yet.

“You know what, Lace? You should get a new outfit too. You’ve been moping after Nate for too long now, it’s time to get back out there.”

Oh. If only she knew I hadn’t been occupied with Nate in the slightest, or at least not as much as before. Although I did call him that night when I didn’t dare text Shawn and yeah, alright, I felt bad about it. (It also hadn’t helped that Shawn actually followed me on Instagram last Thursday.) And I was rapidly starting to grow tired of this cluelessness. Why on earth had he been so persistent about getting my number if he wasn’t going to text anyways?

“You’re right, Ivy,” I stated suddenly, stoically, and opened my purse. My friend behind the curtain squealed in happiness, going on a monologue about how we were going to go clubbing on Saturday, get her Eric back and find me a guy and, “Let the double dates ensue.”

I definitely didn’t want some guy to take up Nate’s place in our quartet yet, but I stopped myself from finishing that thought and unlocked my phone. Maybe it was time to finally get some answers. I typed,

Hi, Shawn. This is Lacey Windsor. Teddy gave me your number, hope it’s not a problem. Anyways, I was wondering, since we didn’t really get to catch up that day, would you possibly want to grab a coffee with me some time? Happy to hear from you, Lace :)

I pressed send before I could change my mind and watched the message go from delivering to delivered to read in the space of five minutes. I stared and stared and stared until the typing sign came, then jerkily locked my phone like his reply could sting me.

As Ivy pulled the curtain to the side, dressed in her own clothes again, my heart was still beating way too fast.

“I’m taking that last dress. Now, we’re gonna look for you.”

And look we did. Ivy at the clothes, me at my phone. I was checking it incessantly, fiddling with my fingers whenever I didn’t have it at my beck and call. Pun intended. I tried on a few short dresses that weren’t December-in-Toronto-appropriate at all, but I didn’t really care that much anyways.

With every minute that passed I realized he’d leave me on read. He’d really, after sitting next to me for almost all of High School, kissing me back on our last day and then asking Teddy for my number two years later, leave me on read.

I spent 60 dollars on a red body con dress out of anger. Nothing better than a short dose of impulse-buying to cure (boy-related) problems. Ivy noticed my unusual silence when we were on the Metro and I wordlessly handed her my phone, which had been unlocked and on Shawn’s chat for about an hour now.

“Oh my god, why the hell are you pissed? He sent the nicest response!”

I perked up. “What? When?”

“Look!” Ivy handed it back with a big grin on her face. I didn’t even take note of that, too focused on the grey message box beneath my blue one. Five minutes ago. My heart pounded in my ears.

Hi, Lacey! So good to hear from you! I was actually pretty disappointed when we didn’t get to finish talking last Sunday and I would love to grab a coffee with you, but this time without Teddy maybe? I’ll be back in Toronto on Friday, are you free around five-ish?

“I didn’t even know you saw him again, Lacey! Not to mention that you wanted to meet up with him! What’s with the change of mind?”

I looked up from my phone and locked eyes with Ivy. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t talk, didn’t want to talk, I was just happy. Fully back in time when I was almost 17 and Shawn had put his hand on my thigh after telling a joke and I’d had to conceal my blush by coughing obnoxiously loud. I grinned idiotically.

Ivy’s eyes narrowed. “You have a lot to tell, missy.”

The rest of the week was spent panicking. I worked on Wednesday, actually calling Teddy to ask if she could make it before six, before the dinner business started and she rucked up at four in a big coat and fur boots. Fake, of course.

I had anticipated asking her about every single thing she knew about Shawn, everything he’d told her about his career, his inspirations, his muse. Was there a girl in his life? Was this more than a friendly catch-up between former classmates? Was this a date?

But then, when she sat in front of me, I couldn’t ask any of that. I needed to know from him. I needed to know if he also hadn’t been able to get that kiss out of his mind. Or the possibility of it happening again and again and again.

Teddy told me I was turning crazy. And she was probably right, so I did the only thing I could think of. I sat in my tiny room and looked out the window, sipping on some white wine and contemplating which building Shawn lived in. It had to be one of those skyscrapers from downtown, where else would a super star set camp?

On Thursday, I invited Ivy over after work to cook some dinner and finally start on our bioinformatics project. The things applying to Teddy also applied to Ivy. She knew a lot about Shawn’s life beyond the surface. They’d known each other ever since middle school, way longer than we had and they’d been through thin and thick. Now, with him travelling the world, the contact had obviously lightened but he still made an effort to see her whenever he was in Toronto. And apparently, that wasn’t the only thing he’d been making sure.

“You know, Shawn’s a nice guy. Don’t ruin it with him.”

I stopped stirring the sauce to take a surprised look at Ivy. “Sorry?” She looked up from the bio text book we’d gotten from the library and pursed her lips.

“That’s actually quite far from what I’m trying to do.”

Suddenly, she waved her hand dismissively and dropped her gaze back to the book. “Yeah, you’re right. Just…forget I said something. I shouldn’t’ve.”

“No, wait.” I continued stirring. “Are you referring to the kiss? Because he agreed that it was a mistake.”

Silence. I tested the spaghetti, then I stirred. Again. “Ivy.”

“No, it’s just...ugh, he’s gonna kill me.” She squirmed in her seat and a lump rose in my throat. What had he said to her?

I stared at her with wide eyes. Expectation. Anticipation. Whatever. “Ivy, tell me.”

“He’s...He- well, he asked me about your relationship status yesterday.”

It felt like being punched in the gut. A good punch, though. Like things were falling into place, but not in the way I’d expected them to. Not two years later and not because of a dumb booty-call my favourite customer-slash-friend had planned. I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if, all that time ago, I hadn’t declared the kiss a mistake before Shawn had gotten a chance to put his cents in.

“And what did you say?” I tried acting nonchalant, but my unsteady voice betrayed me. Ivy’s eyes were unreadable and I resorted to stirring the sauce again.

“I said you were fresh out of a break-up.”

“What? It’s been three months! It’s not that fresh.”

“You called Nate twice last week.” I glared at Ivy. She shrugged. “I’m just saying, don’t screw it up, Lacey. He doesn’t deserve half-assery.”

I felt offended, but didn’t find it in me to disagree or defend myself. Because Ivy was right. He had enough on his plate as it was and I shouldn’t mess with his head. Not that I had particularly intended to, but I did have a kiss somewhat planned, just because I wanted to feel his lips on mine again. Even if it was only for closure. And I shouldn’t do that if Shawn was out there asking Ivy about my relationship status while I was talking to my ex on a regular basis. No matter how infatuated I thought I was with him. Or used to be, really.

It occurred to me then that I didn’t even know if he was anything like he used to be in school. I didn’t even know if he was still late for a lot of things (like English lit class), still liked to sneak sugary foods everywhere he went, or managed to light up a room simply by entering. There was so much knowledge to be had that I realized I didn’t even know him at all these days. And how could I like someone I didn’t know?

_________________

On Friday, Shawn and I were supposed to meet at LLV at five thirty and then walk to Mildred’s for dinner. It had felt a lot like a date when we were texting and so I’d decided to go for it, at least outfit-wise. We were both on time - one of the things that had definitely changed about him - and he’d made sure to compliment my dress as soon as he stepped out of his car.

Another change. He drove a Jeep now.

He was also a lot taller than I remembered.

“I’m really glad you could make it today, Lace. I’m actually going away on a small tour next week.”

We got stopped two times by fans who asked for a photo and dished out the concerts they’d be attending on said tour. He took his time but also respectfully told them he was catching up with an old friend and they let him be then. It was unexpectedly relaxed.

“So, how is it, life as a celeb? Do you feel any different?” I asked when we sat down at a table in Mildred’s, far in the back and secluded. I had a feeling he’d asked for this table specifically.

He shrugged. “Not really. I’m still the clueless dude from algebra.”

I nodded and focused on the menu. When I lifted my eyes back up he was already looking at me, his menu discarded on the table. I felt tingly. Seeing him again did some questionable things to me. As did that white shirt of his.

His style had improved a lot since school. And those curls...

I cleared my throat; better not drift into old patterns. Ivy had been right to punch some sense into me yesterday. Looking back at the menu, I continued my questionnaire.

“And apart from academic skills? I’m sure you must’ve experienced a shitload of crazy things these last two years.”

He leaned back in his seat, thinking. “John Mayer gave me a guitar. That was pretty cool.” And once we’d mentioned his favourite idol, he was unstoppable, telling me about the times he’d met him and who else he was friendly with in the industry (I wanted to scream when he said Niall Horan because One Direction), before he dove into how John had come down to Jamaica to write a song with him and how they’d both gotten to perform it during a concert.

Now, I hadn’t actually listened to any songs from his new album. I was familiar with In My Blood and a few others (Youth because I was a Khalid stan) but I’d pretty much ignored its existence up until the moment I heard him talk about it in person; still amazed at his drive. One thing I hoped would never change about him was the passion. He gave his all, all the time and I found myself wishing I’d bothered to look up his new songs. Especially to know what he wrote about with John Mayer, because, you know, John fucking Mayer wrote a song with him? When I was about to ask him, he changed the topic.

“Anyways, enough about me. How’ve you been? Ivy mentioned you got into U of T?”

“Yeah, biochemistry,” was all I could muster up to say, because I was still intrigued by his stories while mine was just this: Biochemistry. The science of bodies. Emotions and feelings translated into chemical reactions, rationalized and disfigured. Right now, for example, my brain was flooded with phenyl ethylamine. My nerve cells were buzzing when I looked into Shawn’s brown eyes and I was truly, truly concerned about the fact that his eyes could still cause such a release of dopamine in my body.

I was whipped. Had this been a good idea?

“Awesome fact: Did you know that men like more open-mouthed kisses because their saliva transfers testosterone into the woman’s body and triggers her sex drive?”

Shawn’s mouth fell open. He blinked. “I - uh. I did not. Know that.” He cleared his throat.

My face got hot. “I- yeah, I read about a study last week. Pretty interesting actually.”

Gratefulness struck deep when the waiter came to bring our food right then. I dug into my pasta and Shawn, still the breakfast for dinner kinda guy, got to work on his pancakes. I told him a bit more about life as uni student, especially the being broke aspect and the sleepless nights when living with roommates. He didn’t have a roommate but he definitely related to the long nights spent worrying about life.

He really wasn’t that different from the way he used to be. Stardom hadn’t changed him. Sure, it had broadened his views, his opportunities - he had seen and done a lot of things I wasn’t even capable of dreaming about - but he’d stayed grounded. Inspired, enlightened, not once condescending.

Two hours into our meal and when we were long done with eating, but had kept ordering drink after drink (I wasn’t sure how I was going to afford it all, but the time with him was all worth it) Shawn addressed the elephant in the room, looking at me over the rim of his glass.

“You never told me you were with someone. Actually, you never told me anything after...you know,” he paused, searching for the right words. “After we graduated.”

I offered an uncommitted shrug. “I tagged you in the post I made on my old Instagram.”

He raised his brows. A wry smile. I pursed my lips, loosening the air that was filling up in my lungs. Too tight.

He sighed and leaned forwards. “Look, I wanted to apologize about the thing Teddy said at your work. Ivy told me you’re fresh out of a relationship and I just want you to know that I respect that. And I’m sorry.”

I nodded slowly, looking down and fiddling with my straw. “Yeah, thanks. It’s not as fresh as she makes it sound to be honest, and I know I kind of overreacted back then.” I raised my head and met Shawn’s gaze. “I’m not repulsed by you, just so you know. I was a bit - thrown off the rails, if you will.”

The smallest of smiles lingered on his lips and it seemed like hard work to keep it there. He looked away. There was so much left unsaid between us that it twisted my insides. Had he liked me back in school? Had he returned the kiss all that time ago because he’d been wanting it for just as long as I had or had it been a casual one-time thing? What was it like right now? Did he spend his nights sleepless because he wasn’t just worrying about life but also because he was with someone?

I tried to gauge Shawn’s silent stare but I was left clueless. So I jumped.

“You were my first kiss, you know.”

My voice was thick with emotion. Norepinephrine, my favourite neurotransmitter was doing its thing; anxiety crept down my spine, my blood pressure rose, heart beat frantically. And Shawn was still fucking mute.

I looked at my glass. Swallowed. “I liked you so much back in school.”

The tension was impenetrable for what felt like a long while, until he finally said, “I had no idea, Lace,” with a strain in his voice. He set his glass down and leaned on the table with his forearms, shoulders square and tense and intimidating.

“Just one question: Why’d you call it a mistake then? The kiss?”

I shrugged half-heartedly, not meeting his eyes. “I was scared. And I wasn’t about to hand you my heart just so you could take it away with you to wherever that world tour of yours - that career - was going to take you.” I crossed my arms, leaning on the table too and looking at him again. “Plus, I didn’t even know if you liked me back.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to my lips (which had my heart beat out of rhythm for a moment or two) before locking eyes and finally saying something, calm and firm. “But that’s the thing, Lace. I did. I liked you a lot.”

Then he grinned.

And there was something so warm about him that I felt flushed, utterly overheated and embarrassed and most of all, stupid. “Oh.” I replied, staring into his all-too familiar face that suddenly didn’t seem any different than it had two years ago and wondered how I had managed to waste so much time just because I’d been afraid. Afraid of being rejected, being forgotten while he was away and mostly, afraid of letting myself fall.

He loosed a breath. “Yeah. Oh.” Then he took a sip of his water and tilted his head with a smile, lessening the unbearable tension. The atmosphere was somewhere between open doors and wasted opportunity.

No.

I hadn’t wasted my time, I’d been in a perfectly happy relationship and I didn’t regret it. But it was over and I was excited about the future now, even more so than usual, and I started grinning involuntarily at this evening’s developments. The one question I had on my mind, the question I’d been asking myself all week and all day, every time he’d complimented me on my dress, my hair, my smile, my “nerdy” biochemistry knowledge (uh, thanks) and my arguably weird talent of curling spaghetti on my fork like I was born Italian: Was there any chance that Shawn Mendes still liked me?

Maybe just the way that I still found myself liking him?

“Sooo,” I started, straightening in my seat to get some answers, not really excelling at the Teddy-Geiger-drawl, but instead at her typical look of mischief while Shawn stared, just as apprehensive. “Since you know my relationship status and because of equality purposes and because I deleted my Facebook years ago and can’t exactly check your profile anymore, I was wondering if –“

His lips curled knowingly and, eyes glinting with relief that this was what I had on my mind, he quickly cut in, “I’m not with anyone,” with a quip in his voice and I could barely contain a squeal from building in my throat. Playing it cool - obviously - I rested my chin on the palm of my hand and nodded, trying to conceal my grin. “Uh-huh, okay. So, that’s - that’s good to know, I guess.”

And then I erupted in a panicked laugh because my stomach was going crazy just from looking at him and I badly, desperately, needed him to stop looking at me the way he was too. Suggestion, possibility, opportunity. It was all there.

Suddenly, I was glad that Teddy had tried to set us up.

“You know what, Shawn? We should totally get out of here.”

And so we grabbed our coats, fought for the bill for a moment like a couple from a stupid (but actually great) romance movie until he took off running to the bar to pay for everything, leaving me alone with an idiotically opened mouth. He patted my shoulder when he came back (which was truly romantic) and laughed at my sheepishness. Of course he’d try to pay after I’d joked about the state of my finances multiple times. I made a mental note to get him a little something, maybe a nice textbook about the chemistry of love, just so that he could read up on the things that he was doing to me right now.

It was freezing outside and the both of us kept our hands inside our respective pockets, not wanting to encourage anything, even though I liked to suspect that his mind was spinning just as much as mine. When he stopped at my apartment building, admittedly after I’d given him very low-quality directions and we’d had to turn around twice, I felt like I’d travelled back in time. I jumped out of his Jeep as fast as possible, physically restricting myself from reaching over the console and grabbing his face. Instead, I put my arm on the open door and looked back inside.

“So, for future reference, right? When exactly are you leaving for tour and how long will you be gone?”

His eyes squinted like he’d stubbed a toe. I smiled half-heartedly, trying to make it better. I’d been the one to let him go the last time without so much as a goodbye and I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

“I’m leaving on Wednesday. And I’ll be back for Christmas before I’m gone again.”

Christmas. That was three weeks. It seemed doable.

I nodded, smiling for real this time, and tapped on the top of the car door. “Okay, rockstar. I’ll see you soon.”

Then I turned around and walked away, hoping that soon would come quicker than Christmas.

________________

Ivy called me on Saturday morning, asking how the “date” had gone, if we were all set and clear and friendly now, which, yeah, I definitely hoped so, and if it’d be okay if Shawn joined us tonight, since he’d been wanting to hang out with her all week.

Right, clubbing with Shawn. No biggie. Absolutely not.

Soon had come a lot earlier than Christmas.

The shower ran for hours, as did the iron. That red body con dress needed to be spotless. I had actually contemplated not wearing it at all now that I knew Shawn would come, but Ivy had convinced me to “not give a fuck” and “just enjoy myself”.

“He’s not gonna look shabby, either.” She’d said matter-of-factly and really, I couldn’t disagree. He never looked shabby. Especially now that he had a stylist and all.

So I sucked it up, put my hair in a half-up, squeezed into the dress and put on some extra red lipstick to match it.

At ten thirty, I sat on Ivy’s couch, a glass of wine in hand and wrapped in a fuzzy blanket when the doorbell rang. Ivy got up, leaving me with her roommate Tess and Tess’ boyfriend Ethan. We were meeting the rest at the party.

U of T’s department of biochemistry had rented out the Everleigh to celebrate the faculty’s 110th anniversary, which meant that every single one of my fellow uni students would be there. Already was, actually. Ivy and I had decided to skip the first few hours and only join when the party was in full flow and then later see where the night took us. The Same and Uniun were both only two of the viable options.

Shawn and Ivy took ages to come to the living room and I couldn’t listen to Tess and Ethan making out anymore. The two had already indulged massively in their cups of vodka. I wriggled out of the blanket and creeped out of the living room and there he was, standing in the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of something, probably vodka (that had been his favourite in school) and wearing a white shirt as if he knew how much I liked it on him. Just like those black skinny jeans.

Ivy spotted me first, slurring, “Good that you’re here. You need a drink!”

“And you should lay off the drinks, babe,” I laughed and met eyes with Shawn, ignoring Ivy’s scoff.

“Hi,” I said, taking a step closer to hug him. He let go of me shortly after and I was glad for it. (The physical contact was suffocating.) “Hi yourself. You look…incredible.”

I grinned, “Thanks, man. Looking good yourself,” and fist-bumped his shoulder. Ugh.

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. We hadn’t exactly talked about what was going to happen after yesterday’s revelations and how we’d act around each other. Sure, we’d basically admitted to liking – having liked – each other, we’d made sure the other was single, but what now? Were we acquaintances since we technically hadn’t seen each other in two years? Were we friends? Were we on the brink of something more than friends?

I clicked my tongue, discarding all the questions. Probably not the best move, but definitely the easiest. Shrugging, I said, “Anyways, there’s a couple making out in the living room. We should probably stay here.”

Ivy’s phone rang and she exited the kitchen with a mumbled, “Hi, Eric.”

Shawn raised his brows, probably knowing all about their recent crisis. “How often have they broken up now?”

“Don’t know. Three times, maybe?” I shrugged, noticing his brusque tone and turning to make myself a drink. “I guess some relationships just aren’t that easy. And some definitely have more drama than others. Cheers to that?”

We talked about uni then, the faculty, how I’d even gotten into biochemistry (limited math skills required, mostly) and how much of a coincidence it was that Ivy had decided to go for the same program. I told him that I’d listened to his new album for the first time last night (cue a shriek of offense from the man himself) and how much I’d liked it. I had even bothered to look up which song he wrote with John Mayer and I’d been outright shocked that it was Where Were You In The Morning. Actually, that whole song had caused me sit on the edge of my bed with a dropped jaw.

Shawn was not innocent.

After my fourth shot, I became daring. “You know, I just keep wondering why she left if she apparently had that much of a good time with you,” I said, raising my shoulders slightly (and mockingly). It was an honest concern of mine.

Shawn leaned forward, eyes narrowed and challenging. “Thin ice, Lacey.” Then he took a gulp of his drink, throwing his head back afterwards and grimaced. Pure vodka.

“Don’t make me show you.”

____________

Thanks again for reading, liking and reblogging! xx

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garyofrivia · 5 years

Text

For They Shall Be Satisfied

Arthur Morgan x OC

Chapter 2

(masterlist in bio)

A/N: first update!! let me know what ya think :) I plan to update pretty regularly, so stay tuned!!

Warnings/Categories: Violence, Angst

(WC: 7,319)

It was the next morning when Annie finally rode into camp. She had spent the night sitting on a riverbank, restlessly skipping rocks in the gently flowing water and the lack of sleep was written all over her face with the bags under her eyes. On the bright side, she ended up being able to find a pronghorn by the water just before dusk as well. Pearson was happy with her haul and put the stew on with the first batch of fresh venison they’d had in a few days.

A dreaded decision she knew would have had to come eventually was at her doorstep. She could stay with the gang, put them all in danger and take the risk of something worse happening to them than another sabotaged job, or she could make a run for it to keep all of them safe.

Over the years she’d been with Dutch, the conflict with Colm settled a bit and she made the mistake of getting comfortable. He seemingly forgot about his quest for vengeance, until about a year ago. She was passing through a town out west and ran into Colm’s right hand, Thomas Sawyer, at a saloon. Long story short, it ended with the pair of them getting shot on the street. One in the gut and one right between the eyes. In his attempt to hit Annie with as many shots as possible, Sawyer also hit a bystander, killing her instantly before Annie could down him. The person he shot just so happened to be Colm’s sister, an incident that he immediately decided to blame on Annie.

Since then, they saw more and more O’Driscolls everywhere they went, but it never seemed like they were following them as blatantly as this. There’d be a few in the saloons, in the woods hunting, or on the roads here and there. They were apparently better at tailing than Annie gave them credit for.

As she was sharpening her hunting knife, Hosea surprised her, coffee cup in hand. “I hope you had a bit of breakfast. Mary-Beth brought in some fresh bread this morning,” he said, pulling up a crate to sit opposite her.

She shook her head and took the cup from his outstretched hand. “This is breakfast enough, thanks, Hosea.”

“You seem tired, Annie. It’s not like you to take off from camp for days on end like that.”

“I didn’t come up with much out hunting, so I took a little longer than I should’ve. Then I came up on them O’Driscoll boys.”

“After the job,” he started. He seemed hesitant for some reason, as if he didn't want to know the answer to the question that followed. “Where’d you go?”

“Just went to go finish my hunt, that’s all.”

“Your deer had been killed quite some time ago by the look of the blood on its pelt. You were gone all night.”

“What, I can’t leave camp for a night? I just needed some air, Hosea. It can... get crowded here.”

“You’re not wrong with that,” he shrugged. “Look, Annie. Arthur talked to me. About what you said to him. About leavin’.”

Annie rolled her eyes and a feeling in her stomach plummeted to the floor. “Son of a bitch.”

“Don’t worry, he just shared it with me. Dutch doesn’t know.”

“I’ll kill him,” she mumbled as she gulped her drink, letting it burn her throat as it went down.

“No doubt about that, surely.” It seemed like he wanted her to say something more about it, but she kept her eyes shamefully trained on the ground between them. “I understand why you think you have to do this.”

Annie glanced up at him in surprised. “You do?”

“Yes, of course. You’re a good kid with a better heart. You care far much more about others than you do yourself. It’s an admirable trait, might I add. But I want you to think about what you have here. What you’ve made for yourself.”

“Like what?”

“A family. A name, a life. It’s not the prettiest life, sure, but one day it’ll be prettier.”

Annie nodded and looked at her feet, unsure of what to say. She’d come to love Hosea like a father. It was easier to pretend it all meant nothing, like the gang was just another band of outlaws and she’d find a new home. But she couldn’t. There was a reason she stuck around so long when she had the option to leave many times over. When they took her in, Hosea taught her to read and write a little better, and the ins and outs of robbing. Dutch showed her how to strategize for and with a team, how to dance, and the names of the different composers playing on his phonograph. Arthur… was Arthur. He had made her his friend-his family. John, too. Remembering everything was something she tried to avoid because suddenly, it all became a lot harder than she thought it would be.

“I can’t let anything happen to them, Hosea. To you or Dutch or...”

He nodded, understanding the words she couldn’t say. “Like I said, I understand. I just want you to think about this, is all. Dutch has had Colm on his tail for nearly a decade, it’s not something he hasn’t been able to handle. You could talk to him, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t Dutch. They chose to follow him. I don’t have a loyal gang of gunslingers watching my back ‘round every corner.”

“Annie… I’m telling you, you do.”

She abruptly stood and put on her hat, adjusting her revolver in its holster with fidgeting fingers. “Can we finish this later? I have to go give Mister Morgan somethin’.”

“What’s that?”

“A black eye.”

He chuckled and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy on him. I had my suspicions and may have pried a bit.” While she was only a few inches shorter than him, he dwarfed her in demeanor. He was everything she wanted to be. “Don’t run off without saying goodbye, at the very least.”

“Of course not, Hosea. I… Thank you.”

“Anytime, Annie. Let me know if you need anything.”

She nodded and he left her alone under her lean-to. Scanning the camp for Arthur, she didn’t see a sign of him anywhere apart from his horse hitched near the scout fire.

“Hey Sean, you seen Arthur this mornin’?” she asked as he walked by with a plate of food.

“Mornin’, Doll! Saw him leave a bit earlier to go down fishin’ by the lake with Lenny,” he said as he shoved a hunk of bread into his mouth.

“Fishin’?”

“Right? I haven’t ever seen that man catch anything bigger than my pecker, though that’s not sayin’ much,” he snorted at his own joke.

“Bye, Sean.”

Starting towards the lake just northwest of camp, surly enough, Arthur and Lenny were casting and chatting near the bank. Slowly, she crept up behind them and took a seat on a boulder when she was in earshot, watching them closely as if she was stalking prey.

“So then I told her, ‘Ma’am I do not have nearly enough money or nearly enough drink in me to be having to deal with this right now,’” Lenny said. The pair of them burst out laughing at whatever the context was.

“That’s the last time you go to El Paso, my friend,” Arthur cluthed his stomach with the hand that wasn’t holding the rod.

“I have no argument with that.”

“El Paso is a fine place,” Annie said as she struck a match on her boot to light a cigarette.

They both jumped, spooked by Annie’s sudden presence. “Jesus Christ!” Arthur exclaimed. “I hate when you do that.”

“Annie,” Lenny said after clearing his throat. “Good to see you. How, uh… How long were you there?”

She ignored him and turned her attention to Arthur, staring him down with a look that said more than anything she could put into words.

He returned the glare, but eventually gave in with a sigh. “Lenny, you keep at it. I’m gonna take a walk with Miss Bolton.”

“Good day then, you two.”

Arthur set his fishing rod down on a boulder and followed Annie as she strode further up the bank. Once she was sure they were far enough away from camp, she suddenly whirled around to face him. “You fuckin’ told Hosea?!”

It didn't appear to her that he was angry. He seemed more annoyed with her than anything. “I did. Figured I’d try to get him to talk some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

She shoved him, nearly knocking him into the lake. “I’m gettin’ real damn tired of the three of you goin’ behind my back about things concernin’ me.”

“No one’s goin’ behind your back, goddamnit. Dutch knows nothin’ about this, for your and his own good.”

“I shoulda never said anything. You’re makin’ this harder than it needs to be.”

“No Annie, I ain’t,” he said, through clenched teeth. He stepped toward her but she matched his stance. She knew he’d never lay a hand on her, but she refused to let him feel like he had all the power. “You’re the one that’s leavin’.”

“That’s right.” She threw her cigarette butt on the ground and twisted it into the rocks with the sole of her boot. Now he was angry.

“You’d just abandon everyone? After all these years?”

“I’m not ‘abandoning’ anybody. How would you feel if you were me? If one day you came back to camp with Jack, Abigail, and John’s throats cut? Lenny gutted from head to toe, Grimshaw and the girls shot in the head? Hosea and Dutch burned to ashes? Me hung by a limb? All done at the hands of O’Driscoll Boys because you wanted something for yourself more than you wanted to protect them? How would you feel?”

His brow furrowed and his mouth tightened as the anger in his eyes turned to confusion and frustration. He understood, but he didn’t want to. He wanted there to be another way.

“I don’t want to do this,” she continued, the anger in her voice fading. “All I want is to be happy, robbin’ and scammin’ with all you crazy idiots. But… what I want doesn’t matter. Not more than their safety. I shouldn’t have to explain that to you, let alone Dutch or Hosea.”

He looked down as he spoke so that his hat hid his expression. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“What?” She was taken aback. Arthur never apologized, especially not to her.

“I should have understood. I know this ain’t what you want. It’s a rare thing in this life to get what we want.”

She didn’t say anything, fearing that she’d get emotional again. Maybe she preferred it when he was upset at her. Not whatever... this was.

“We can fight. You and me. Just enough to send him the message that you’re not layin’ down your guns. They’ll back off.”

“We can’t, Arthur. Colm won’t ever stop this, you know that. It’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the time you dove in after John right into white water rapids when he fell off the boat in the middle of the Colorado? Or when you tackled a lawman off a bridge to save me from gettin’ my head blown off and nearly broke your own neck? Or when you somehow pulled me from that fire in San Juan and still ran back in after Karen?”

“Yes.”

“No it ain’t-.”

“It is. Those times were different. I won’t let you risk your life for me, not when I can do somethin’ about it before it comes to that.”

“Please, just-. You don’t have to be a martyr here... I won’t argue with you. And if there’s really no changin’ your mind. then… so be it.”

“I'm… I’m sorry. ”

For a moment, they stood in heavy silence. She half expected him to call his own bluff and beg her to change her mind. But then a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he gave her a pair of mischievous eyes. “You wanna go into town with me?”

“What? Why?”

“I needed to pick up a few things for Dutch and Hosea. They’re hatchin’ one of their damn plans, you know how it is. C’mon, we can make it fun.”

Annie shoved her hands in her pockets, apprehensive. He was furious at her a moment ago, but now he wanted… to have fun? From the day she met him, she hadn’t been able to figure that man out. “I mean… I guess.”

“Good. You sure could use a bath.”

***

Blackwater was the biggest town they’d come across in their journey east, but still somehow remained unimpressive to Annie. It was too busy and too plain for her to take any interest in staying there any time soon. The bank was the most enticing building there, and for reasons other than the architecture.

“I ain’t havin’ much fun, Arthur,” Annie said, spitting out dust as they approached this hitching posts outside the general store.

“Quit complainin,” Arthur said, sliding down from his horse. Annie rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why she agreed to go with him to town. Maybe she wanted more time away from camp. Or maybe she wanted more time with Arthur. She didn’t dare think about it too much. “What does Dutch need from town anyways?”

“Just a few things,” Arthur said with a sly look on his face. “It won’t take too long, don’t worry.”

“What ‘things’?”

He sighed. “I’ll explain later. I just need someone to keep an eye out, if you’d be so kind.”

“You’re bein' strange,” she said, jumping down from her horse and hitching him to the post.

He ignored her and pulled out his journal. “Andrew Crawford…”

“Why do I know that name?”

“Dutch mentioned him a few times a while back. He’s a, uh… businessman of sorts.”

“‘Businessman’?” Annie said, putting her hands on her hips. “Arthur, what the hell is going on?”

He winked at her and grinned. “Head over to the saloon to wash up, I’ll be right behind you.”

She huffed and and reluctantly made her way to the saloon building. A few double takes and dirty looks were thrown her way, but she just nodded at the men who gave them. They weren’t used to seeing a woman in “men’s” clothing, but she could care less about what they thought of her. The barkeeper was polite, but she could tell that even he was passing his own judgement on her.

“That’ll be 50 cents, Ma’am.”

“50 cents? It’s usually 25 other places.”

“Well, for men perhaps it is. Sorry, miss.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and snatched the bath key from the counter. Heading up the stairs to the bathroom, she passed a couple of working girls chatting in the hall. She nodded at them and while one looked away politely, the other’s eyes lingered curiously.

“Ladies,” Annie cleared her throat. “Pardon me.”

When she entered the small room, the refreshing scent of the soap and oils wafting up from the tub filled her nostrils. After locking the door, she immediately shed her clothes, tossed her hat into the corner, and poured herself a brandy from the tray as soon as she got in the tub. She took a long swig and closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh as the alcohol tingled her throat.

She was just beginning to relax when there was a knock at the door. “Were you interested in our deluxe bath, miss?”

Annie’s brow furrowed with curiosity- this was the first time she was offered bath service. “I, uhh… No, thank you.”

Despite her answer, the locked clicked and the door opened steadily. She recognized the working girl from the hall- she had stunningly sleek, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, complimented by the light blue dress that she had tied up in the front. Her face was bright and young, likely not older than twenty. Her eyes lingered on Annie for a moment and she immediately slid her upper body below the surface of the soapy water in embarrassment.

The woman giggled. “No need to be shy, ma’am. You’re not anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Oh, um, how do you mean?” Annie stuttered, a bit too quickly.

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked down at her own chest and then back up at Annie. She blushed and the look of embarrassment on her face made the woman laugh. “Just relax, darlin’.”

Annie cleared her throat. “I, uh, don’t really need…”

“It’s free of charge,” she said. “Not to worry. So, what brings you to these parts?” She took a seat on the stool next to the tub and began tying her hair back.

Free of charge? Am I getting robbed? “Really, I don’t want any service here.”

“Then, would it be alright if I just sat over here and kept you company? I’m a bit bored today, that’s all. Won’t cost you nothin’.”

Annie was beyond puzzled at what was unfolding in the room, and also a bit suspicious. All she expected - all she wanted - was a simple, relaxing warm bath, alone. Arthur was likely next door by now, and would probably finish up soon. That gave her an idea

“I think there might be a willing customer in the room over.”

The young woman shook her head. “Already barked up that tree. I figure you’re a mysterious woman passing through town and you probably have some interestin’ conversation.”

“Sorry, do you have a name?” Annie asked sharply.

“It’s Madelyn,” she said, smiling. “Maddie is fine, though.”

“Well, ‘Maddie’, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a bit of privacy.”

Madelyn paused a moment and re-crossed her legs. “Look, I’m just trying to bide some time while the boys downstairs clear out. Nasty lookin’ sons o’ bitches, came in just after you did. You can understand my reservations about spendin’ time with a group of big ole cowboys, considering my line of work.”

“Considering your line of work, I’d figure you’d be used to that,” Annie blurted out before she could catch herself. “Oh, I- I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry.”

Madelyn laughed. “None taken. You’d think I would be, wouldn't you? To tell you the truth, I’m just not in the mood for all that ruckus at the moment. You’re right though, I could be makin’ a pretty penny down there. But if you’re uncomfortable with my stayin’, I understand."

Eyeing her gun holster, she kicked herself for throwing it on the other side of the room. She wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, but she knew this could end in a mess. “Right. Well, I guess in that case, make yourself at home.”

“I do appreciate it,” Madelyn smiled, showing a beautiful set of unusually pearl-white teeth. “You never answered my question, stranger. What brings you around these parts?”

“Oh, uh, Annie. Annie McMarin. I’m travelin’ with a group of us goin’ East. Bounty hunters, lookin’ for some more business out of Saint Denis.”

“They let women take on bounties now?” Madelyn said, as she fiddled with the skirt of her dress. “I suppose times really are changin’.”

“They sure are. Though I do get a lot of shit thrown my way. Literal and metaphorical.”

Madelyn laughed, genuinely this time. It was melodic and warm, almost calming. “I’m sure you do.”

With her suspicions getting the better of her, Annie tried testing the waters with the stranger. “It’s tough out there for us.”

“‘Us’?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. I just mean, since we’re both women and everything-.”

“No, no I don’t take any offense,” Madelyn laughed again. “Most people just think down on me, that’s all. Women included.”

“Well, they shouldn’t. We should stick together. Lord knows it’s a man’s world out there.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice. You seem to be makin’ it just fine.”

“I could say the same for you. I figure it’s all the same, at the end of the day. Breakin’ a few rules here and there, just doin’ what we gotta do to get by. Nobody's better than anybody else, let alone in a place to judge someone for somethin’ as commonplace as their line of work.”

Madelyn smiled politely. “Well said, Miss McMarin.”

Annie continued washing, scrubbing her skin beneath the water, hesitating every time she took her eyes off the woman next to her. Something felt wrong, and it surprisingly wasn’t just the fact that she was bathing in front of a stranger. She felt vulnerable, which is not something she usually allowed herself to be. Moving quickly, she dunked her head under the water and grabbed the soap to start washing her hair. She had to wrap this up soon. “How long have you lived here?”

“Just a few months. I’m originally from Pennsylvania. My daddy’s a miner and well, since my ma died things haven't been easy for him and I needed to make some money to send home. He thinks I’m a maid for a rich family.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Annie said, making Madelyn chuckle. “What happened with your mama?”

“She caught a fever last winter. We couldn’t make it down the mountain in the snow and the doctor sure couldn’t make it up, so she only made it about a week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Annie stood and immediately wrapped herself in the soft towel from the rack next to the tub in a swift motion. “I think I’m about finished. Sorry to have to rush out the door, it’s just that I’m late to a meeting.”

“Well, thank you for the company.” Madelyn handed her clothes to her and smiled again. Annie noticed her gun belt was still on the ground, just out of reach.

“It was nice meeting you.” She slid on her shirt and pants quickly while the other woman noticeably didn’t avert her eyes.

“Likewise. Make sure you stop by here on one of my good nights.” She winked.

Annie smirked to herself as she finished the last of her shirt buttons. Ah... So that’s the game we’re playing. “I’ll have to buy you a drink before I leave town.”

“I definitely will hold you to that. It’s nice to make a friend every now and then, even the unexpected ones.” She reached around Annie for the door smiled.

Before she could even touch the doorknob, Annie suddenly whipped out the small knife hidden in her boot and pressed it to Madelyn’s throat. She grabbed her mouth from behind and yanked her head back into her shoulder, muffling the sound of a cry.

“Shhh, now we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, do we?” Madelyn quickly shook her head. “Are you gonna scream if I take my hand away? Last time this blade was on someone’s throat it did not end very well for them.” She shook her head again and Annie slowly removed her hand, the knife still in place. “What part of Pennsylvania you say you were from again?”

“W- West near Pittsburg, you wouldn’t know the town.”

“Try me.”

“I’m-, I-.”

“I only ask ‘cause I had a feelin’ that you ain’t who you say you are. I’ve been to this saloon quite a few times now, and even though you said you’ve been here a few months, I’ve never seen the likes of your pretty little head before.”

“Please, I’m sorry, don’t kill me,” Madelyn breathed, the panic rising in her voice.

“I won’t if you tell me how many men you have waiting for me outside this door.”

“None, I swear!”

Annie sighed and shifted her blade so that it was only just pricking the soft skin of Madelyn’s throat, drawing only just a drop of blood. “This knife is gettin’ awfully twitchy. It might take your head off before I can stop it.”

“No, no, please, I ain’t lyin’. I was just supposed to steal the bullets outta your guns and belt.”

Annie grabbed Madelyn’s hair, spinning her around so she could reach her revolvers. Sure enough, both cylinders were empty, along with her belt. It didn’t occur to her to stop to think about when or how she did it without her noticing. She’d been on the other side of this enough times to know enough. “Who are you workin’ for?” she hissed as she returned her blade to Madelyn’s trembling throat.

“I don’t know their names. They said they knew you, some Irishman, I think. I’m sorry, please don’t kill me.”

“Stop askin’ me and maybe I won’t. Are they the ones downstairs?”

Annie shook her head. “Y-yes, but they left. They’re waitin’ outside of town for you and your friend.”

“Listen here, little Madelyn, or whoever the fuck you are,” Annie purred. “I’m gonna let you walk outta here on the condition that you give me my ammunition back. And that you just keep on walkin’ in the opposite direction ‘till you can’t walk no more. If you cross my path again, one of those bullets you stole is gonna be the last thing you see right before I put it through your eye. You can count on that.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand.” Madelyn reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small but heavy sack of the stolen ammo.

“Good girl,” Annie breathed into her ear, making her shudder. “Now, go on and tell those nasty men that you got caught and to call off their hit.”

“P-Please, no, they’ll kill me!”

“You’re lucky I ain’t killed you yet. Go on. Get out of my sight.”

Without another word, Madelyn hurried out the door, careful not to catch Annie’s eye as she shut the door behind her.

Arthur was smoking a cigarette on the bench outside the saloon when Annie emerged from the building, hat in mouth, furiously trying to pull her wet hair into a braid. “What took you so goddamn long?”

“We got a problem,” she said, her voice muffled by the hat.

“Christ, what is it this time?”

“O’Driscolls hired a girl to come ‘meet’ me.”

“In… the bath?”

“No, Arthur, at the goddamn circus.”

“Well, what’d she say?”

“Some boys are waiting for us outside town. Tried to steal my ammunition so they could ambush us.”

He looked down at his own gun belt and found everything still in place. He tilted his head, puzzled. “Why would they send someone to take yours and not mine?”

Annie shrugged and finally finished tying her hair, adjusting her hat on her head until it fit properly. “I don’t rightly know. Maybe they’re lookin’ to separate us. I told her to go tell them it didn’t work, but she’s probably halfway to Timbuktu by now. ”

“We can worry about that later, I guess. No point in lookin’ for a fight when it’s about to come to us. We’re late, let’s go.”

She followed suit when he grabbed his horse and started leading her down the street. “Where’s this fella at?”

“He’s stayin’ in the hotel, but he said he’d be at the sheriff's office.”

“Odd meeting place.”

“Probably paranoid we’ll turn our guns on him, I don’t know.”

“Why exactly are we meeting him again?”

“Dutch seems to think he can help us clear our names. ‘A fresh start’, as he put it. We have to do a few things for him first, though.”

“What ‘things’?”

“We’re about to find out.”

“Dutch seems… on edge,” Annie said after a beat. It wasn’t something he was always open to talking about.

“We’re on the run, of course he is.”

“We’re always on the run.”

“Not like this, we ain’t.”

Well, I am. She wanted to say. “Sure.”

They rounded the corner and continued down the street along the water. Annie looked out over the lake and watched as the ripples shimmered in the sun. It was a clear day, a slight breeze sweeping through the town. For a moment, she had a desire to take the boat on the shore out and enjoy the water. Arthur and her often used to go fishing, making fun of John’s inability to swim all the while. She remembered a time when everything seemed simpler. Sitting around a campfire with plenty of food and drink to go around. But the memories faded to almost as quickly as they came.

“Buck up, the fella with the fancy vest is him,” Arthur mumbled as they arrived at the last building on the block. “Mister Crawford?”

At the sound of Arthur’s voice, the man jumped to his feet from his seat on the porch steps.

“Oh, yes, hello,” Crawford said in a chipper English accent as he smoothed out his pants. He was sporting an intricately embroidered blue vest and spotless white shirt and black trousers. His bowler hat had a small white feather attached by a jeweled pin and a white band.

Over his shoulder in the window, the sheriff peered out at them. Annie eyed him carefully, but he sank behind the pane out of view. Annie tipped her hat at the man in the vest and let Arthur do the talking for once.

“Arthur Callahan,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand.

“Andrew Crawford, though I suppose you already know that. Who is this lovely lady?”

Annie flashed a pearly smile and glanced down at her feet bashfully. It’d been a long time since she used her “innocent” wiles on a man. “Annie McMarin. Pleased to meet you, mister.”

“You as well,” he said, returning her grin. “Is, ehm, Mister Kilgore joining us today?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. He had some prior business to attend to,” Arthur said.

Annie looked up and once again, the sheriff was watching them suspiciously from the window. Maybe it was that she was a bit paranoid and was still unable to shake the uneasiness from the encounter with “Madelyn” earlier. But something still didn’t feel right. A man who could actually clear their names with the law was likely in a questionable line of business himself. Why he would want to meet them at the sheriff’s office seemed… wrong. She didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, but she decided to act on her hunch anyways.

“Hi there, sheriff!” she said loudly, waving and grinning widely at him.

Arthur shot her a glance but she didn’t acknowledge him. She trusted that he’d catch on soon enough. A moment later, the sheriff emerged from his office, brandishing the signature silver star on his chest and double revolvers in their holsters.

“I’m not in the habit of crowds gathering on my doorstep. State your business or move along,” he said, bluntly.

“Sorry, sheriff,” Arthur started, cutting Crawford off when he looked like he was about to say something. “The pair of us were just passing through, and just happened to see an acquaintance of ours that we shared a drink with last night.”

“Well, reunite somewhere else.” He watched the three of them carefully.

“Sheriff,” Annie said, approaching him. “I heard you managed to bring in one of those bad outlaw boys from out west just last week. I’d like to thank you for keepin’ these towns and roads safe for travelers like us. It’s a welcomed change.”

The sheriff relaxed a bit, intrigued by Annie’s bubbly tone. “Yes, ma’am my deputies and I did. Mean son of a gun, but there’s no thanks needed. Just doin’ my duty.”

“Of course, sir,” she smiled again, knowing she had him on the hook. She just had to reel him in. “This country could use more men like yourself.”

“Thank you, miss. Where are you folks from?”

“The Carolinas, sir. My brother has a ranch out in New Austin and we were just on our way to pay him a visit, seein’ as we’re newlyweds and all.”

Arthur glanced at her, stunned. She knew that if she saw the look on his face she’d burst out laughing and blow their cover.

“Well, my congratulations to you. Seems you got yourself quite a woman, mister.”

“That I do,” Arthur said, cautiously.

Annie took Arthur’s arm with her free hand. “I’m sorry for wastin’ your time. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“Good meetin’ you all. Take care, now.”

“Ehm, excuse me-,” Crawford started, but Annie threw her other arm around him and turned him away from the sheriff’s office.

“Robert! Weren’t you in the middle of tellin’ us about your fishing trip?”

When they were out of earshot, Arthur threw his hands up, exasperated. “The hell was that?”

“Mister Crawford,” Annie said, ignoring Arthur. Her voice returned to its usual lower pitch and she narrowed her eyes. “Would you like to tell us why we were to meet you outside of the sheriff’s office?”

Crawford glanced at Arthur, but he only gestured to answer Annie’s question. “Well… To be honest, I know you aren’t who you say you are. Neither is this ‘Tacitus Kilgore’. I needed to have my wits about me, is all.”

“Why not a public place then?” Annie prodded further. “Why right on the law’s doorstep? How would that exactly inspire confidence in us?”

“Ma’am if you wouldn’t mind, I don’t appreciate being interrogated within just five minutes of our introductions,” he said in a sly tone. It made Annie’s stomach turn.

“I think you oughta get to explainin’,” Arthur chimed in.

“This is preposterous!”

Annie put her hand on the gun in her belt the instant he raised his voice, cocking an eyebrow to dare him to say more. He immediately raised his palms and backed away in submission. “Listen here, mister. We ain’t accusing you of anything. We’re just askin’ some simple questions that you don’t seem to have any legitimate answers to. So, if you want to have your ‘wits about you’, I suggest you take my horse’s reins, and lead him over to the saloon so we can get on with this meeting.”

“Certainly,” he said, gulping down his nervousness. He did as he was told, with Annie following close behind and Arthur just to his right. The atmosphere had grown tense. She noticed that Arthur even had his hand on his gun, anticipating the worst.

They hitched the horses and filed inside. Annie went over to order drinks and joined them at a table in the corner. She handed them both a beer and took a sip of her own. “See, mister Crawford? We can be civilized.”

“Who do you think we are, exactly?” Arthur said. He was sitting across from the man, glaring up at him from just under the brim of his hat.

Crawford adjusted his hat with trembling hands and hastily wiped drops of sweat off his forehead. “I was told that you’re gangsters. In cahoots with the Van der Lindes, or something or other.”

Arthur and Annie looked at each other and chuckled. “Who told you that?”

“A few gentlemen approached me as I came into town about two days ago. I merely did what I did for the sake of my own safety, I assure you it was nothing personal.”

“Do you make a habit of trusting random men on the street?” Arthur asked as he leaned back in his chair and slowly sipped his drink.

“No, sir, I do not. I just didn’t think I’d take the risk. Because if what they said was true, then I’d have put myself in quite the situation if I didn’t prepare for the worst. And… well, they showed me your wanted posters. Morgan, right? Arthur Morgan? And Annie ‘McMarin’ seems like an alias if I’ve ever heard one. Bolton, isn’t it? The notorious sharpshooting woman. I’ve got to tell you, I’m a big fan.”

Arthur shifted in his chair at the mention of his name. Annie shot him a reassuring glance and cleared her throat. “And what’s your real name, Mister Crawford?”

“Gilbert Benson,” he replied without missing a beat. He suddenly seemed smug, as if he knew something the other two didn’t. “I apologize for the deceit, but it seems as if the three of us had a similar idea. Now, I trust you won’t go advertising this information, as I will give you the same courtesy.”

“No, of course not, Mister Benson!” Annie said with an artificial smile, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder playfully.

“But, of course, you couldn’t go runnin’ around, flappin’ your mouth if you have a bullet in your brain,” Arthur said.

“Mister Morgan here is quite correct, ain’t he?” Annie said. She leaned forward in her chair and folded her hands, propping her elbows on the table. The look in her eyes could cut diamonds and Arthur was grateful he wasn’t on the receiving end of that glare. Benson’s brief moment of confidence had quickly faded back into fear. It was more than apparent to the two outlaws at the table that he was out of his element. “So, Mister Benson. Name your price.”

“Price?”

“Well that’s why we’re here, ain’t it?” Arthur said. “We do a job for you and you do a job for us in exchange.”

“Oh, ehm, of course. I need a bank robbed.”

Annie and Arthur simultaneously raised their eyebrows in disbelief.

“You need… A bank robbed?” Arthur asked.

Benson nodded. “Yes.”

“Let’s go Arthur. This ain’t worth our time,” Annie said as she slammed her beer down on the table and stood to leave, turning a few heads with the commotion.

“Miss… ‘McMarin’, please sit down. Perhaps I wasn’t clear. It’s a merely a delivery. A cash delivery to the bank,” Benson explained.

Annie apprehensively sank back down to her chair. Her nerves were starting to get to her. The last 24 hours had been more than chaotic and it left some room for uncertainty. Whatever this man was getting at, he wasn’t being straight with them, that was more than clear. Now the mention of a bank? She didn’t know what to make of it.

“I suggest you start speakin’ plainly,” Arthur said. “And quickly.”

Benson sighed but took Arthur’s advice. “Banks need cash to operate, yes? Well, this cash needs to be delivered somehow. There’s a shipment coming from Boston and I need you to acquire it. My employer has allowed me to offer you half the profits.”

“Your ‘employer’?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, I work for someone, Mister Morgan, same as you.”

“I don’t work for nobody.”

“You work for your the Van der Lindes, do you not? Dutch himself? Surely you have some sort of monetary value to him.”

Arthur was about to retaliate but Annie cut him off. “Convoys like that have riders, plenty of security. The law’d have to be close for a haul that big. We ain’t in the business of killin’ lawmen unless they’re tryina kill us.”

Benson nodded. “Yes, you are correct, Miss Annie. Luckily, we are not the fools you think we are.”

“I beg to differ.”

“We wouldn’t simply want you to do all the hard work for us for just fifty percent of what will be on those stages. We will offer grounds for an ambush, at night of course, with a diversion to take care of the law on the ride with them. All you would have to do is swoop in at the right moment, get the merchandise, and get out as quickly as possible. With the money.”

Annie and Arthur shared a thoughtful glance. It seemed a bit too good to be true. Whoever he was working for must be well connected to have access to this information. But to want to rob it? It presented a lot of questions that the two of them surely couldn’t answer on their own. Annie silently cursed Dutch for not thinking to send Hosea on this little parlay.

“I’ll give you until the end of the week to give an answer. I have other prospects lined up, so just remember that you lot need our help more than we need yours. We will meet back here on Saturday evening. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, Benson placed his untouched drink on the table, nodded at them both, and swiftly left the saloon.

Annie and Arthur sat in silence, thinking on the proposition. Both of their minds were working a million miles an hour trying to sort out what had just unfolded. Surely, this had to be some sort of trap. But if it was legitimate, the opportunity was too lucrative to throw away. They’d robbed hundreds of stage coaches, and this one might prove to be a bit more difficult, but they could pull it off. Especially if Hosea took point. The man could turn any situation, hot or cold, into profit.

“I don’t trust him,” Annie said, breaking the silence.

“No shit.”

“He’s playin’ us.”

Arthur studied Annie carefully. He trusted her with his life, and maybe even more than anyone else in the gang, save Hosea and Dutch. John would have been on the list as well, had he not run away for a year. They’d brought in a new member, Charles, about a month ago and while he seemed like a decent man, they hadn’t known each other long enough to tell. Lenny was just a kid, Sean and Bill were idiots, Mac and Davey were hotheads, Micah was a pig, and Javier, well… Javier was an exception.

Annie, though. Annie knew where she fit into this whole mess. In the background, watching, planning, and always trying to get another step ahead. He was the trigger and she was the brains, though, even he had to admit to her skill with a rifle. She rivaled any other marksman he’d ever met. He knew she was unsure of herself, but he also knew that in an instant she do anything Hosea or Dutch could. Her intuition have gotten them out of more sticky situations than he could count, some before they even happened.

The woman sat beside him was not who she usually was. Colm came close to getting her again, closer than he had in months. She was clearly shaken up. All her talk about leaving was out of character, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame her considering. Not to mention the added threat of the O’Driscolls who were likely still waiting for them outside town at the moment. He knew she was right in being suspicious and he didn’t doubt that there was more to Benson than he was letting on. But the decision wasn’t up to them.

“Let’s go see what Dutch and Hosea have to say about this,” Arthur finally said. Annie nodded her agreement and followed Arthur out of the saloon. She was oddly silent.

They took the road South towards camp, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of the O’Driscolls. Eventually, they came up on a pair of horses with riders, one with a woman seated behind him. Madelyn. She looked as if she had been crying and her cheek was red and swollen. The two men eyed them carefully, but no weapons were pulled. They knew they’d lose that fight. They turned their horses off the road and started off.

Annie’s eyes lingered on Madelyn’s as they passed, the air tense. A pang of guilt rose within her at the sight of the injured woman. She was shocked that she had told them to call it off after all. Annie almost couldn’t believe it. Madelyn’s gaze begged her for help, but Annie looked away and kept up behind Arthur down the road until they were out of sight. She regretted her ignorance almost instantly.

#red dead redemption fic #rdr fic #arthur morgan x oc #rdr fanfic #arthur morgan fic #rdr oc #my oc #my fics #annie bolton #for they shall be satisfied #ftsbs

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wardati · 5 years

Text

Void: A Brighter Future For Us All.

Myani vowed to protect his sister like any brother would but soon the vow fades out of memory, but for now he'll hold her as she falls asleep in his arms.

She becomes a tidal wave at six when she masters three languages and goes on to a fourth. He knew this would happen, his little sister becoming more than a prodigy. He looks at his father enticed by his own creation as she speaks eloquently in tongue and spirit, the dreams of her conquering the world were now in reach. He looks over at his sister, hair slicked back like ravines eyes wide and attentive. Maybe if he looked hard enough he could see it too- his redemption- the person she would be in between her kind laughter.

She would grow up following a line drawn for her since birth, perfect, brilliant, practically cosmic. Myani knows this universe his father has created would eventually crumble. He takes his pills crushing each one after the other with his teeth, barely seething from the bitter taste as he downs it with water. This morning it's worse, he's thrown up for most of it, bones aching, skin breaking out in thick sheets of sweat and the skin, the skin would later on peel off in thin grainy layers. Hani sits next to him crushing weed, it will help but in the long run it will do nothing. Myani thinks of his sister instead it eases the crushing thump of his heart but he's still sweating, the thought of when he'll leave this world and how she would be next. Fighting her own body ,sitting on a couch with her best friend and secretly regretting saving the world.

Hani, his best friend is still talking about his fiance, she's pregnant now. Myani tries to smile he's known this for a couple months even if Hani talks around it like friends do when they know you're dying so you won't feel bad that you'll probably never have children of your own. Friends like Hani are rare.Infuriating but rare and Myani has been in love with him for the past five years and has done little to nothing about it.

Hani will be a great father better than his own that's true, yet he wonders if his best friend will finally stop talking about the life he wants to have and just live it. But, he never says anything about it, he never does.

His long fingers take the joint, it sits between his plump lips and he inhales longer than he should so the clouds he blows into the air are thick and eggshell.

Myani wonders again, if this is it. If dying on the couch will be the greatest achievement he'll ever accomplish and even so, his father - the man who built him into becoming one of the most innovative people in the world, the martyr and sacrificial head of a biological enterprise that would start a new age for the years to come,yada yada fucking yada. The man who claims to be omnipotent- his father isn't here to witness.

So he's decided; Myani will make him. He'll turn the upcoming burden that will be throttled to his baby sister and take it with him in death. He'll destroy it all, he'll be a martyr one last time to save what's important to him. If he must he'll encase it Chinese finger trap and all, like a tongue stuck on ice or a kiss that leaves a stain. It will hurt but none of that will matter if he was saving Noa in the end.

"Hani." He says in thought. "Hmm?" "You should show me your dad's collection again." "You know I hate that stuff, it's barbaric." It's amusing how Hani is intimidating in looks but a pacifist at heart. Truthfully it was annoying. "I remember you saying he only keeps it so collectors and curators don't colonize any more of your peoples artifacts." Myani takes another heavy sigh, "just for a couple of minutes, I need air."

Hani rolls his eyes and plucks the joint from Myani's fingers who gives a tired smile. "He has other things in there too.You do remember he was a military rat right?" Myani licks his lips, "I know."

BREAKING NEWS: 14 Dead at Ally Genesis Corporation including John "Myani" Paul, son of CEO and chairman Jahseem Paul.

BREAKING NEWS: 1 Million people may be at high risk because of Allie Genesis Corporation deficiencies and leaks since mass shooting.

BREAKING NEWS: Could John Myani Paul be a lead to the suspect of the AGC Shooting?

BREAKING NEWS: 4,020 people fired at Allie Genesis and 9 institutions are ordered to shut down by government officials with JIC and MGU approval.

BREAKING NEWS: AGC President of Defense Salah Bahatt under fire for potential information on the mass shooting at AGC Institution and bio-plague outbreak that killed 4 in Oregon back in 2010

BREAKING NEWS: Ally Genesis, science saviors? Find out how after the tragedy how the corporation is taking bio-mechanics, neurology and many more into uncharted territory.

BREAKING NEWS: Ally Genesis declares cellular regeneration is now possible. Could we bring people back from the dead?

There's something that pushes Noa out of the water, as if someone had yanked her out of the tub. It feels like a thread pinned under the skin of her chest, so when she's heaving for air as if her throat was wrung out with closed tight fists. It hurts to breathe even if she's supposed to be grateful for it, how conveienet. She at twenty decided to take her own life and failed so time and time again she'd cry into her arms puckered in scars. She could hear Myani's laugh someplace far away in her emptiness and every time she tried to follow his voice she'd be here back into this world that she could never escape.

Later in the day when she pushed herself into comfort and laid in Myani's bed a thought she would read his letters again, go through his photography, miss him with abandon. Yet the thread in her chest caught taught on to something else. She woke up from his bed and walked down to his living room for no real reason and without thought sat on his couch and as her hand pressed into the cushions something brushed against her fingers. She pulled at it and noticed it was an envelope. It was different then the letter he left for her, this did not have her name on it but it was directed to her... it had t be. Her eyes widened as she read the words, the prickle in her eyes gained a heaviness that almost blurred her vision as she read the letter. She held her breath realizing even in death her brother still had a hold on her.

He still had secrets.

They framed someone else for what I did, didn't they? I would think so. If everything has gone exactly how I had envisioned. Noa, I'm sure they've started their trials on you. It may not look like they have, but father has his ways. I can't display my remorse in colorful words that elude to being remorseful or sorry, for once, I am not. I killed those people and planned on shortening my already short life not on a whim but it was something I had to do. I don't know how far back I've pushed their quota but it should be enough.

Leaking AGC's information will barely leave a scratch but it's a start to a very long journey. Whatever you choose to do in this life it will not outweigh your true purpose. Furthermore, in the next couple of years I know you'll find information about what I could do, and as I left you that day, the darkness in me will now rest in you. It will protect you now when I no longer can.

Noa,in a normal world all I would want for you is to be free, to smile to live and love as you please. But it isn't like that and I will need you to remember this life you live is yours but the part that you play is easily malleable. Father and his people will learn about you. You have always been his prized possession you have always been his favorite even if you don't think you are but all of this will be foreign to him if it means broadening the horizons of humanity and evolution. He is a man that will do what needs to be done. You should also take the same initiative. It was too late for me but I know you're strong enough. I know you're capable of much more than I. I wasn't capable of protecting you no matter how much you tried to follow me. I had to push you away at times because you needn't any more influence or my bad choices to pick up. I could of been a better brother to you, and I'm sorry.

So, when you wake up promise that you'll stop looking for me?

-Myani.

Noa opened her eyes realizing quickly what had just happened. It could be her mind drowned in grief and playing tricks on her but she swore she was sitting on the couch and not back in Myani's bed. She pushed the sheets aside and darted down the hall, when she reached the couch she sank her fingers between the cushions moving them from its frame, tossing them aside to find nothing. It was empty, it was all empty.

She stood alone in her silence for a long time. Noa reached for something, a remote that sat neatly on the end table. With a press of a button the television blinked alive.

BREAKING NEWS: New footage shows son of Ally Genesis chairman, John Myani Paul trying to calm the true shooter of the one AGC Shooting in 2012. The shooter is 38 year old Kowen Williams who killed 14 and wounded 2. AGC claim no prior knowledge or how this new footage has come about. Williams had been tracked to his home in Washington state but found dead from self inflicting wounds.

AGC's Chairman Jahseem Paul issued this statement:

"This could be justice, but it is also saddening and it is also salt on a wound that reminds the people who have been affected on that day. I'm glad officials have done their part in finding this murderer but it will not bring the lives lost back. It cannot bring my son back. Yet I will walk into each day hoping with vigor in my heart to carry on for my son and for my family and for Ally Genesis. My job is to push forward,endure and to broaden the horizon of humanity and evolution. For my son, and for the 14 lives lost that day I will continue to do so. I thank you all for the support and I thank the incredible people who made Ally Genesis with me and continue to better and brighten the future for all us ahead."

The news played on and Noa stood alone knowing all too well what her fathers words really meant. It had dawned on her just how orchestrated this all was, from Myani's trajectory till his suicide to the purpose of Ally Genesis, to her own. Every piece was set into place and finally it was time to make her move.

#m:noa paul #m:myani paul #drabbles.txt #i forgot the tag for this verse honestly #tw: mentions of mass shooting #tw: mentions of past suicide #im not formatting this really cuz im tired #long post//

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trewhitttesean1992 · 4 years

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Average Salary Reiki Master Uk Astonishing Useful Tips

The opportunity for humility came from Japan.If you do not even believe in the way you experience the world.Reiki goes to wherever it is good about this precious gift.Rei means universal, Ki stays for energy and the lives of those who practice Reiki healers in many aspects of your friendships dissolving or changing.

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Reiki Reading

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What Kind Of Energy Is Reiki

The client then draws on this dynamic has colored our views of our life force to alter the life force energy.There are many wonderful distance learning package.Dr. Usui's teachings and it cannot yet be measured with a woman who might be something to be totally relaxed when applied in areas or places where a practitioners should not be perceptible immediately, many times, but, healing is so gripped with emotion that they work well for the Master Level Reiki*Never administer this technique each morning before, during or after the completion symbol.To teach you to open your mind has created the course.

You will get the exact picture of our bodies.It is this master that you just affect yourself, unless you're already a number of people, you are criticizing a friend.Any Reiki channel or transfer his energy to flow.Knowing about the Divine Masculine creates through giving.In fact, the person you are on your level of awareness of Reiki is ...

#Average Salary Reiki Master Uk Astonishing Useful Tips #Youtube Reiki Music Energy Healing

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raywritesthings · 4 years

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Sheriff, Hood and Maid

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Quentin Lance, Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, John Diggle Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (Hinted/Unresolved) Summary: Long before the Hood arrives in Starling City, Detective Lance relaxes his loyalty to the law. His daughter must take on a double life of her own to redeem her family legacy. / AU What-If of Season 1 *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in bio*

It had been a moment of weakness. After losing Sara, seeing the bodies of all those young girls pile up one after the other, with stiff limbs and sightless eyes, it was too much. He’d have done anything to make it stop, to catch Mathis.

Anything, as it turned out, had meant selling his soul.

He’d received a call tipping him off to a location Mathis was supposedly using to conduct his sick experiments. When he’d arrived, there was no Mathis and no equipment. Just a mid-ranking member of one of the local cartels.

Quentin had been angered and then infuriated when the thug had proposed his deal. Immunity for him and his side in exchange for information. He had stormed out of that warehouse and not looked back.

Then another girl had turned up dead. And another. Before he could think it through too many times, he was dialing the number that had called in the fake tip.

What else could he have done? It wasn’t like people weren’t going to buy the drugs anyway if he refused to play ball with the cartel. He’d gotten a location and led a raid to catch the Dollmaker in the act. A serial killer behind bars.

“Just remember the favor you owe us, Detective,” he’d been warned. “Or your pretty daughter with the fancy new law degree is gonna wish it was Mathis that got to her.”

Okay, so one cartel was going to walk the streets knowing he’d look the other way. So what? They didn’t have the manpower to bring them all in.

The funny thing was, once one deal was made, it didn’t seem so bad to make more. It was like they could sniff him out all of a sudden. Maybe there was talk. He didn’t know.

Quentin found himself with a lot more convictions under his belt and a lot more friends in low places. His tab was always paid at his favorite bar before he even made it there after a shift. It wasn’t like he was letting all the criminals walk. There were still bad people getting put away.

How was it any different than Nudocerdo hobnobbing with the big wigs in their ivory towers? How was it any different than Moira Queen or Malcolm Merlyn paying all the right people to get their kids off the hook for crimes they ought to be serving sentences for?

Whenever he happened to be in a charitable mood, which he rarely was, Quentin could admit it wasn’t very different to all the wheeling and dealing he’d done behind the scenes to keep Sara’s record clean.

If he had one saving grace, it was Laurel. She alone was untouched by all the dirt and corruption their city was swimming in. He was prouder than he could say, and it burned at him more than he could stand sometimes the way she would remind him of all the things he had once taught her about the law and doing what was right. He snapped at her more than was warranted for it, and he knew she just couldn’t understand.

He never wanted her to. If she ever knew…

But it was pointless to even worry about that. The associates he’d acquired over the last few years would ensure he was never ousted, so long as he kept up his end of the deals he’d made. And he would, for her sake. This city was rotten to the core, and if all he could do was save one person from it, it damned well wouldn’t be the rich elites who could bribe their way through anything or the teens with rap sheets already a mile long. It would be his own flesh and blood, all he had left of it in the world.

With enough drink in him, most nights he went to bed with a muddied conscience. But it was enough to let him sleep.

---

Laurel had had a bad feeling for a long time. Various bad feelings, she supposed, but it was hard not to when her sister and boyfriend died while screwing each other, her mother left and her father fell into drinking. There weren’t many good feelings left in the wake of all that.

But this specific one had more to do with her work. Ever since she had started at CNRI, things had felt a little… off.

At first she hadn’t noticed, too caught up in the high of winning her first official case, saving a man’s son from prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Other little victories here and there.

But then, every time she tried going up against something big, the systemic forces truly plaguing their city, roadblocks constantly sprung up in her path. A judge threw the case out, witnesses disappeared, evidence went missing from the police lockers and, lately, her boss had been getting very particular about handing out or approving assignments.

If she’d talked to her father about it once, she must have talked to him about it a million times. He’d been a sympathetic ear at first, promising to keep an eye on things at the precinct, but as time wore on he did little more than sigh and tell her that she couldn’t expect to change the world overnight. Joanna did him one better and suggested Laurel do something with all that pent-up frustration, which had led Laurel to seeking out boxing lessons at a gym not too far from their office.

While letting her anger out through her fists did wonders for her emotional self-control, it did little to fix the rest of her problems. Laurel’s mind chased itself around in circles night after night, wondering just where the trouble was starting from. Was there some kind of leak between their office and the DA’s? Was it Kate Spencer herself? Or was she being spied on?

Laurel started meeting her clients outside of the office and off the books. For a while, it seemed to help as she was happy to note to her dad. But gradually, whatever force was conspiring against her seemed to catch up to her new methods. It didn’t matter if she worked with Joanna or alone, if she wrote her files in plain English or in the secret code she and Sara had developed during a particularly boring winter filled with school cancellations due to the wind chill, making playing outside impossible. She was reaching her wit’s end with this enemy who seemed to know her as well as she knew herself.

Just as she was starting to wonder if everything was hopeless, an unexpected ally of sorts emerged from seemingly nowhere: an archer dressed in green. He’d appeared on the scene as suddenly as Oliver had stepped back into her life after five years of him being presumed dead, taking in Adam Hunt and his security team before Laurel was slated to lose her case against him thanks to a bought Judge Grell. Then again, he took on Martin Sommers and the Triad after they attacked her home while Oliver was visiting.

It was exhilarating seeing someone finally stand up to the untouchable in this city. She couldn’t help to wonder why no one had thought to do it before, couldn’t help but feel inspired...

Laurel kept these thoughts to herself while staying at her father’s that night. The police were still processing the crime scene that her apartment had become the other night thanks to the home invasion that she suspected was meant to have been an assassination if she hadn’t been able to take down one of their attackers and Mr. Diggle hadn’t shown up to confront China White. The bodyguard himself might have been killed had Oliver not been extremely lucky with his knife throw. She supposed he must have gotten very good at that sort of thing while hunting for food on the island.

Laurel’s dreams of a figure moving through thick, green overgrowth stalking the Fortune 500 were interrupted by the low snarl of her dad’s voice. Laurel startled awake, looking around in confusion.

“...don’t care that he got away. Sommers overreached, and that’s his and your problem, not mine!”

Light shone through the cracks around the bedroom door. He was still awake? Laurel slid off the mattress as quietly as she could, sneaking in her socks to the door. She opened it a centimeter and peered down the hall.

Her father was pacing back and forth, crossing in and out of view as he spoke into a phone. “My daughter comes first. The minute you agreed to his contract, that’s the minute you turned your back on me. I wasn’t gonna do a damned thing to save that bottom-feeder from some vigilante.”

Laurel’s mind raced. If this was about Sommers, and her father was talking to a person who had accepted a contract that had to do with her…

“Yeah, I know. I know what you have on me. I’d rather we continue on business as usual, too, but we can’t do that unless I have your word that the next time Laurel is in your sights, you let me handle it. Alright? She’s my responsibility, not yours. And you can tell that to China White herself.”

China White. The Triad. Her father was on the phone with the Triad.

She watched him hang up and rub a hand across his forehead. “Should’ve just let her go to San Francisco…” he muttered under his breath.

She couldn’t keep watching. Laurel shook her head and backed up into a dresser with a muffled bang, too loud for him not to have heard. “Shit,” she whispered.

Sure enough, she heard his shoes coming down the hall. Rather than comforting, they sounded loud and heavy and like a threat. What did she do? What did she say?

The door opened before she could make up her mind to flee, and Laurel looked up at her father.

“Honey?” He asked, sounding just as concerned as always. His gun rested on his belt.

She had to play this off. She couldn’t risk him finding out she knew. She couldn’t trust he wouldn’t hurt her — she didn’t know who this man was anymore.

“Uh, sorry. I was getting up to use the bathroom, and I couldn’t see where I was going in the dark,” she explained, hoping the strain in her voice could be attributed to the pain from hitting the furniture.

He nodded. “Okay. Lamp’s on the table there for it you need it.”

“Uh-huh. Are you going out?”

He looked down at himself. “No. I just, uh, was finishing up some work at the table. I’ll get to sleep soon, promise.”

Laurel forced a smile that was more a nervous twitch of the lips as she slowly moved past him into the hall, shutting herself in the bathroom. She let out a breath then drew it back in, forcing herself to focus on that and prevent herself from hyperventilating.

Her father was a dirty cop. How long had he been? Since she got her degree? Since the Gambit sunk? Since always?

He was the source of the leak. For three years, she’d been watching herself and who she spoke to, dedicated herself to nothing but work — and the one person she had felt safe in confiding to, the one person she’d thought understood her relentless pursuit of justice, had betrayed her.

She sat on the lid of the toilet and willed the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes back. There wasn’t time to feel sorry for herself. She’d unknowingly been helping the other side by giving them ready access to information. What was she going to do now?

The first thing was stop talking to her dad about her cases and make sure to lock up her notes even in the safety of her home. And then… what? That didn’t feel like enough.

What could she do to help the people who had suffered for her ignorance? The people who would continue to suffer thanks to this corrupt bargain her father had made? Or even, maybe, possibly, her father himself?

Was he just doing this to protect her? Maybe someone had made threats. Maybe he thought it was the only way. They were both semi-public figures. It wouldn’t have been hard at all for organized crime to make the connection between them and decide to exploit it.

If she could figure out how deep this went, how far this web of alliances stretched, maybe she could free him from it.

But she couldn’t do it as herself. It was clear that either her father would be forced to stop her or the Triad and whoever else would take matters into their own hands, and she didn’t want to test her luck a second time. Prosecuting them publicly would mean damning her father, too, and despite everything she had just learned, she didn’t know if she was prepared to do that.

She had to work independently of the law. Any misgivings she might have felt about that a month ago melted away now that she knew her father had abandoned his own credo a long time ago. This wasn’t some idealized mock trial in school. This was reality. And there was someone out there already proving that the only way to get justice in this city was to get it yourself.

Laurel stood and flushed the toilet to sell her story, washing her hands in the sink as she stared herself down in the mirror. Her eyes were dry and determined.

She would do what needed to be done.

---

Oliver was at a crossroads in many ways. Diggle was on the fence about joining him. Lance was hot on the trail of evidence he’d planted to set himself up for exoneration. And he still didn’t know quite where he and Laurel stood since his return in both of his personas.

He knew as Oliver he was making things difficult, wanting to atone for his actions yet also wanting her safe. He couldn’t be the man she saw in him in his public life because he was needed as the Hood. And while she seemed far more receptive to the Hood, his first encounter with her had proven… odd.

“How do you decide?” She’d asked him unexpectedly in the dark of her apartment. The little light come through the windows made her eyes look overbright and earnest. “Who gets hospitalized and who lands in the morgue?”

“It’s not a decision,” he answered eventually. “Not a conscious one. This city is in a fight for its life. In those kinds of struggles…” He had found himself struggling then to articulate what it was to be driven by the need for survival in the heat of battle, how everything else faded away.

But Laurel had nodded as if she understood. “Then it’s not a question of targeting.”

“Is there someone you wanted targeted?”

To his surprise, she did not dismiss the question, but rather hesitated. “I don’t have everything I need yet. And you’re right that Declan’s case can’t wait if he really is as innocent as you think.”

He’d let the subject drop, and there had been no time to address it in any of their subsequent meetings. Certainly not at Iron Height, where she had pulled him out of the fog of battle through her touch and voice alone before he could make yet another kill. He didn’t know how to thank her for that. Especially when the next time he saw her, it was because she was representing him against her dad, and he couldn’t exactly thank her for something he wasn’t supposed to know about as Oliver Queen.

It helped that Laurel was convinced there was no way he was the Hood. At least, he thought she was convinced until the polygraph test. Until he revealed some of the truth about what had happened to him there. The look in her eyes… he had fled before she could ask him anything, back to the party he was having Tommy plan at the house.

Oliver walked around the main room, making sure he was very visible as Diggle prepared to head out in the Hood’s suit. While he didn’t exactly enjoy himself in this type of crowd anymore, he didn’t truly tense up until he noticed something.

Outside the glass doors to the patio, someone was watching.

The strobe lights from the party illuminated her for a moment — he thought it was a her, though he couldn’t make out her face beneath the dark shawl she wore over her head and wrapped around her shoulders. The patio went dark and then light again, and in that time she had turned her back as she dropped something in one of the potted plants.

Oliver sucked around people as he made his way to the patio and the far edge, but he could make out no one in the darkness of the grounds. None of the attendees seemed to have noticed anything, either, thought that likely was due to their inebriated states.

He went back to the plant and pulled out what she had left behind.

It was a manila envelope with a note scrawled on one side in almost exaggeratedly bad handwriting.

For the Hood, if you know him.

Oliver’s heart thudded in his chest. This woman had clearly decided to believe Lance, or at least believed he had some role in the Hood’s appearance in Starling.

Did he open it? Ignore it to avoid proving this woman’s suspicions? But then, what did she want?

Oliver took the envelope back to his room and opened it, spilling the contents onto his desk. Pictures printed on computer paper. Typed notes. It was rudimentary and low-budget, but he was looking at a dossier. A dossier on Nudocerdo, the Starling City Police Commissioner. From the looks of it, he was in far too many pockets to be doing anything good for the public.

Take him down without death and I’ll tell you everything, was written at the bottom of the final page.

Now he was truly at a crossroads. If he acted, this woman would clearly know he at the very least had a connection to the Hood. But just what was “everything”?

Oliver found himself attacked by a hitman before he could ponder that much further, and only the intervention of Detective Lance saved his life and his identity from being exposed, as much as the detective looked like he might be happy to shoot Oliver as well. Long after the party had been cleared out and his family had gone to sleep secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t a vigilante was Oliver able to discuss with Diggle the woman who seemed to think he might still be the vigilante.

“I think you were visited by the Maid.”

Oliver’s face scrunched up. “The who?”

Digg shrugged. “She showed up a couple weeks back. Folks in the Glades say they’ve spotted her trailing gangbangers and cops alike. And the rumor is she’s had to fight her way out of a situation or two. That’s part of what made me realize I needed to join this fight,” Diggle told him. Folks are getting restless, desperate. You’ve shown them a new way, and they just might take it.”

Oliver frowned. He hadn’t been trying to show anyone a new way. This was just the most effective way for him to complete his father’s mission. “Why ‘the Maid’?”

“You said she was wearing that shawl over her head? Hoodette didn’t catch on, so people started looking to your namesake: Robin Hood.”

It hit him a moment later. “Maid Marian.” His uneasiness grew. Oliver knew, of course, that the whole point of what he’d just done was that the Hood and Oliver Queen were separate identities. But he didn’t like the idea of being associated, and romantically at that, with another woman. Not when he was meant to be proving himself to Laurel. If she could only know.

Unless she did? Why exactly had she wanted to know how the Hood chose his targets and what happened to them? What had she meant by not having everything she needed yet? Was she gathering information? And if she was…

It was a theory. The same kind of theory that this woman was working off of regarding his own identity, but if he was right it changed everything.

If he was right, he needed to know what Laurel knew. And he had a feeling he’d only find that out once Nudocerdo was out of the picture.

---

Once again, he found himself at the bar and, once again, he found his tab was already covered. He wasn’t drinking anything strong, though. Not tonight. Not when he’d screwed up bad enough.

He’d been so sure it was Queen. Locking up the Hood would’ve helped smooth over the ruffled feathers caused by the vigilante’s interference in Hunt and Sommer’s operations. Would’ve made his job a heck of a lot easier. And would’ve gotten the bastard far and away from his daughter.

When he’d been sure of the archer’s identity, it had all made sense. Queen returned from that island and thought he could slide back into Laurel’s good graces by putting his thumb on the scales of justice, so to speak. That was clearly why Hunt and Sommers had been attacked coincidentally as Laurel was mounting cases against them, and she had been picked out of all the lawyers in the city to help him clear Peter Declan’s name. Only now, it apparently was a coincidence, and he didn’t know anything anymore.

The Hood needed to be caught. No matter what good other people thought he was doing, he was a menace that needed to be off the streets the same as any thug. Just because he was stealing money and giving it away didn’t make him better than the likes of a kid jacking a car for a joyride. It made him worse, because he was causing unrest with the criminal elements who, like it or not, were woven into the very fabric of Starling. Had been for longer than Quentin had wanted to admit before he’d finally given in.

A man in a fine suit took the barstool next to him. “Evening, Detective.”

Quentin blew out a breath. He was not in the mood for another deal right now, not when he was still on shaky ground with the Triad. “So, which boss do you work for?”

The man pursed his lips. “Hardly. My name is Carl Ballard.”

Ballard? One of the big-wigs? Quentin sat up a little straighter.

“What’s a guy with all the money and success in the world doing in a hole-in-the-wall like this?”

“I’m here on business. I assume you haven’t heard since you’re clearly off duty at the moment, but reports have come in that Commissioner Nudocerdo has been attacked in his home by the Hood.”

“That son of a bitch,” Quentin swore. It wasn’t enough that the guy had to prove his Queen theory wrong tonight, but he had to go after the police department?

“I agree,” Ballard said lightly. “And so do some associates of mine who were fond of Nudocerdo. Given his imminent fall from grace, we want to see that things keep running smoothly. That’s why I’m letting you know you have the full backing of Tempest to fill the position of Commissioner.”

He reeled back a little in shock. “Commissioner? Me?” His eyes narrowed. “Just what is Tempest?”

“A group of like-minded individuals who want the best for our families and our city, like yourself,” Ballard told him. “We all feel you would be the best candidate in these uncertain times. Your commitment to catching the vigilante is unmatched, and you understand the way this city works.”

He knew what that last part meant underneath. Business as usual. It was hardly what he would have envisioned all those years ago as a beat cop with his head full of ideas about changing things for the better. He’d forgotten about that dream a long time ago.

“Say I accept. What’s in it for me?”

“A number of powerful allies. More if you prove effective.”

“Effective at what?”

“Tempest wants to find out the source of the Hood’s information. What he’s basing his crusade off of and how he obtained it. These are things you have to be wondering, too.”

He had, and he’d thought for a worrying moment that it might be Laurel. For the first time tonight, he was glad he’d been wrong about his assumptions on Queen.

“I’ve been in the Glades recently working on a gentrification project, and my security tells me they’ve heard rumors of a spy. A woman. They’re calling her his Maid Marian. We’d like you to start there, tracking down this young Maid.”

An informant for the Hood? That was something solid, something real at last. What did he have to lose?

“I’ll get on it — or, guess I’ll put my best men on it, since your people want me in the Commissioner’s chair so badly.” Quentin stuck out his hand for Carl Ballard to shake.

It wasn’t the worst deal he’d made.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #quentin lance #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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