Threadbare | Arrow [ ON HOLD ]

Chapter Two

"Your sister doesn't see it that way. Nor, I believe, does Calissa."

"Cali lost her brother. Don't mistake her grief for her conviction."

Moira nodded once, sharply. Oliver knew that meant she didn't believe a word he said. "And, you know, my attorney is thrilled. If my own daughter can't forgive me, she's not too optimistic about twelve strangers in a jury box." She sounded bitter, and resigned, and some kind of misplaced hope that had hidden itself away in his chest flickered and died.

"Mom-" He started, only to cut himself off with a frustrated sigh.

But Moira was already brushing through onto another topic. "All right, enough of that. How has it been going at Queen Consolidated?"

Of all the topics to choose from, she chose that? How did she ever know about that? He'd been back in town for a measly few days - had only been in the QC building once. And given that Thea was seemingly allergic to coming to visit, there was nobody to bring the announcement to his mother.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Moira huffed a little laugh and said, "Yes, we do get the news in here Oliver."

The media. "Right," he said, and felt a little more of that delicate, sunshine emotion he kept hidden behind his breastbone wither away.

"You know, if I'd known the key to you taking your rightful place at the company was its demise, I would have declared bankruptcy a year ago."

His 'rightful place' was on some spit of land a million miles away from this soul-sucking city, but there was no way for him to make her understand that without showing her the twisted thing that lived in the cage of his bones. "I don't know if I'll get to run it for long," he said instead, and when she gave him an expectant look, eyebrows raised, he explained, "Stellmoor. Their VP is coming after us hard."

Moira's expression clouded over, jaw tightening. "Isabel Rochev."

"Yes."

"Do not trust that woman, Oliver," Moira told him, as though he was stupid enough to let Isabel Rochev get her teeth around anything soft. "She is dangerous."

So was he - so was he.

He shifted, snorted out his next breath. "Well, Mom, everywhere I look, there are no good options." He was dangerous, but not for this. Not yet. Five years away from the city had taught him how to survive everything but the political spheres of civilisation. So he pried the next confession from the depths of his thrice-damned soul and offered it to the woman who had birthed him. "Mom, I don't know what to do."

And there was nothing but a mother's love in Moira's voice when she leaned forward and said, "You don't have to do it yourself. This is a family business."

He didn't really have that much family left was the problem.

A scoff, and Oliver leaned into that sharpness - that spite and acrimony - for his retort. "I love Thea," he said ruefully. "But I don't think that she wants anything to do with it."

"I wasn't talking about Thea."

But that only left...

Oh. Oh, well, that was certainly a bold choice to make. He would have to grovel, would have to try and push past the divide that Moira had carved. But he could - he would. It was the only reason he'd come back here.

"You're a smart boy," Moira said quietly, catching his eye. "I know you'll figure out how to get Walter on your side. Even though we...parted ways, he still thinks of you as family."

It chafed, a little bit, that knowledge that Walter still loved him like one of his own. Despite their fucked up family, despite the distance, despite half the city collapsing, despite Oliver failing again and again and again. Despite everything, Walter was still on his side.