Quentin was surprised to see his daughter walking into the precinct that morning. Her request to see what they had in the police archives regarding the Declan case had confused him, but he granted her request anyway. She didn't come by to see him at work very often, so Quentin took the opportunity when it presented itself.
"Well, I wasn't the lead on this, but from what I recall we had fingerprints, we had blood, we got motive. Everything."
Laurel furrowed her brows in thought.
"Brodeur seems like the type of guy with resources needed to frame someone."
Quentin turned to look his daughter in the eye.
"Laurel, in 24 hours Peter Declan is lying down with a needle in his arm and he's not getting back up. If I thought for a second we didn't have the right guy, do you think there's anything else I'd be doing right now except trying to get at what really happened?" he inquired.
"Declan said his wife went to her supervisor with allegations that Brodeur was dumping toxic waste." Laurel pointed out.
"Yeah, but that supervisor, he said that never happened. Let me see, what was his name?" Quentin replied, flipping through the file in search of the name.
"Here you go. Istook, Matt Istook. He said he didn't even see Camille that day."
He looked back at Laurel.
"Happy now?"
"Yes." she said with a smile before moving to leave.
"You know, I thought it'd be a cold day in hell before you started defending criminals."
Laurel turned back to him briefly with a smirk.
"I'm not so sure Declan's a criminal. Like you said, he's on a clock. Can't leave any stone unturned."
With that, she walked out of the precinct. Quentin simply let out an amused sigh and shook his head. His daughter's dedication was admirable, something he was very proud of. But this time, he couldn't really say he shared her conviction. Still, he wished her the best of luck.
*
John Diggle was feeling frustrated. In great part due to his arm. Oliver and Lydia had managed to clear his body of the poison, and they clearly had enough first aid experience that the injury only needed minimal medical attention and a sling to keep his arm still for a few days, so he could play it off as a minor injury at the hospital. But it still definitely hurt like someone had jabbed a knife in his shoulder. The rest of his frustration came from Oliver Queen's apparent refusal to leave him alone, despite Diggle making it very clear that he wasn't interested in his offer.
And even more frustrating was the fact that, on some strange level, Diggle knew he was right. He did remember that, when he was a kid, people used to help each other, especially in the Glades. Now it felt like everyone was just out for themselves instead of lending a hand to others, be they friends, neighbors or just strangers in need. This city needed help, needed someone to do something. Perhaps that was why he hadn't gone to the police with the vigilantes' identities. Or maybe he just didn't feel like Oliver Queen had the right to bring a seventeen year old girl down along with him.
Diggle let out a sigh and kept walking. He found himself by the docks. And standing by the edge was a blonde girl he recognized. She looked a lot more approachable now than she did in blue leather. The difference was almost shocking. Diggle pondered whether or not to approach. He didn't want to get involved with Oliver's crusade. But he had also seen his fair share of child soldiers in Afghanistan. Kids sent to fight in someone else's place, sacrificed for a cause they didn't understand. He couldn't do anything for the kids overseas, but maybe he could prevent that from happening to Lydia if he could talk to her without Oliver around.
"Didn't expect to find you out here."
Lydia turned to him, her eyebrows giving a slight raise in surprise.
"Mr. Diggle." she acknowledged before turning back to face the sea.
"You might not know this, but I grew up around here. My father was a former army medic working at Glades Memorial hospital. He used to bring me here sometimes to watch the ships. Sometimes we'd feed the seagulls, if we had food with us."
Diggle was caught a bit by surprise. He had expected her to maybe come from around the same neighborhood as Laurel Lance, not the Glades. But he disguised it with a nod.
"Is that how Queen convinced you to work for him? Offered you a chance to save your old home?"
Lydia turned to him with narrowed eyes.
"Who do you think I am, Mr. Diggle?"
"My honest thoughts?" Diggle questioned out loud, continuing when he saw Lydia's silent confirmation.
"I think you're a young girl who got stranded on an island and lost both of her parents. I think that you were so alone and afraid that when Oliver Queen found you, you latched on to the closest thing to a brother-figure and sense of safety you had. I think that after five years you have no idea how to live life without him. And I think that because of that you now blindly follow his command without fully understanding what you're getting into."
Diggle knew that the chances she would be able to see his point of view were slim. But he didn't expect the ice cold glare he received. Maybe he had misjudged this, because that wasn't the look of an angry young girl. That was the kind of look he saw on the faces of his brothers and sisters in arms when they were pissed off.
"You're wrong. I don't blindly follow Oliver. And I'm not just a young girl." she told him, her voice firm and sharp like steel, before turning back to the sea.
"To survive on the island I had to grow up and leave behind what made me a kid. I had to become something else. I had to learn how to fight and kill to survive. The girl whose plane crashed on Lian Yu, that's not me anymore. I'm not doing this just because the Glades used to be my home. My only ties to Starling City right now are Oliver and my memories."
Diggle watched as she stopped, took a deep breath and turned to him again.
"Mr. Diggle, I'm not doing this because of loyalty to Oliver or because he's brainwashed me like some child soldier. I do this because it's something good that I can do with the skills I was forced to learn. I do this because it gives me a purpose. I only partnered up with Oliver because he's the person I trust most to watch my back."
Diggle could only watch in stunned silence as she turned and walked away. Hearing all of this felt... strange to Diggle. The words were coming out of a girl's mouth, but it felt like they were being spoken by someone much older. Someone who had seen and experienced things no seventeen year old should have to go through. It wasn't the usual mindless spouting of ideologies and propaganda he had heard countless times in Afghanistan. And he did see the things Oliver and Lydia kept pointing at, the flaws in the system, the way their city was being destroyed from the inside out by the corruption of the one percenters. And he heard the determination in Lydia's voice. This was a girl who, maybe due to whatever had happened in the past, saw this as her only way to help people. Maybe he'd gotten this all wrong. Maybe Oliver wasn't a manipulator like he thought. Maybe he was just a man who found a lost kid and was trying to guide her to the right path, helping her give her life meaning and keeping her safe as best he could. The only problem was that he was lost too.
*
Lydia couldn't stop replaying the conversation she'd had with Diggle in her head. She wasn't as annoyed as she had been the first time back at the Foundry. Despite the girl he described seeming so completely alien and different from reality to her, Lydia could tell he didn't mean it with ill intent. She hadn't detected any kind of condescension in his voice. In its place she heard concern, the kind that made him the exact type of person Oliver wanted on their team. But she still hadn't been able to tell if he understood her reasons, if he had realized that this mission wasn't some deluded crusade to make Oliver feel better about his father's sins, but instead an effort to help the people of this city.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Lydia looked up at Oliver's hooded face.
"Just going over my talk with Diggle earlier." she revealed with a sigh.
"I'm still not sure I got through to him."
Oliver just gave her a nod, silently letting her know he understood. From what he'd told her, he was equally unsure of the success of his own efforts. But their only option now was to wait and see what happened.
"I got your message."
The two vigilantes turned around to see Laurel as she finally stepped onto the rooftop.
"And I see you've brought your partner this time." she noticed, her gaze landing briefly on Lydia.
"You know, a back alley would be a lot easier to access."
"Exactly." Oliver replied.
"Have you met with Peter Declan?"
"I did, and I think there's a good chance you're right. Peter Declan might be innocent. He said his wife blew the whistle on Brodeur the day she was murdered."
Lydia's eyes lit up at hearing that. That was a thread they could pull on, a way to prove Peter Declan's innocence.
"Then we need to get whoever she told to testify."
"He already has. Matt Istook, Camille's supervisor." Laurel revealed.
"Only he says that she didn't say a word to him."
"He could be lying." Oliver pointed out.
"Then he's very convincing. He had the jury and the police believing him."
"He hasn't been questioned by us."
Laurel let out a sigh.
"I can't say I like that idea. But I suppose the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows, right?"
Lydia frowned, her eyes locking onto Oliver.
"We do what is necessary. What people like Peter Declan need." he answered.
Laurel nodded.
"I see. Do try to minimize the casualties."
"If Istook cooperates, there won't be any casualties tonight."
With that, the two vigilantes leapt off the roof, firing off grappling arrows to control their descent. Finding Matt Istook turned out to be quite easy, and snatching him even easier. Lydia guessed Brodeur wasn't too concerned about providing security for his employees, especially now that he was close to finished with the Declan case. In about 40 minutes, Lydia and Oliver had him handcuffed to the train tracks heading out of Starling.
"Matt Istook." Oliver called out when he noticed the man starting to wake up.
Istook looked up at them and his face drained of all color.
"You, you're them, the guys in the hoods. You're the ones that have been terrorizing the city."
"Peter Declan." Lydia cut in.
"Your lies helped put him on death row. Now you have two options: you can tell us the truth, or you can catch a one-way ride on the 10:15 to Blüdhaven."
"O-okay, I- Brodeur paid me to say that Camille never spoke to me, but I didn't have anything to do with her death." Istook stammered.
Lydia shared a glance with Oliver. Those words should have been spoken in the courtroom during Peter Declan's trial, where a jury could have heard them. Right now, they were useless.
"Oh god, please. I'll do anything. You can have the file!"
That caught their attention.
"What file?" Oliver asked.
"Camille gave me a file of evidence against Jason Brodeur."
"Where is it?"
"Let me go and I'll tell you."
Now that was something they couldn't do. If he felt he was safe, nothing could ensure that Istook would tell them the truth. They needed that location now. The horn of the incoming train warned them that their time was running out. As a play for added effect, the two vigilantes turned their backs to Istook.
"Wait, wait, wait! Don't go!" Istook pleaded before caving.
"It's in my desk! The file, it's in my desk at the office! You can have it, just get me out of here!"
Lydia smirked. Now that was information they could do something with. With a quick turn, she nocked an arrow and fired, releasing Istook from the handcuffs. From there, the two vigilantes made their way back to CNRI, stopping by Istook's office to pick up the file. Once there, they switched off the lights and let the file drop onto Laurel's desk.
"Matt Istook sends his regards." Lydia announced.
"What's in here?"
"Leverage on Jason Brodeur. Enough to save Peter Declan's life." Oliver answered.
Laurel's eyes lit up and a smile began forming on her lips.
"I-I can't believe this. I would never have been able to get this as an attorney." she said as she quickly skimmed through the file's contents before looking back up at the vigilantes.
"Thank you. Thank you for helping me with this."
"Thank you for believing in us in the first place." Lydia replied, a smile of her own slipping onto her face.
Oliver stayed quiet, but Lydia was able to spot the smirk on his face too.
*
Laurel barely slept that night, spending the vast majority going over the file. A process she was just finishing that morning when her dad decided to stop by CNRI.
"Hey, you look busy." he commented.
"Is that the Declan case?"
Laurel simply gave a nod, not lifting her eyes off the paper.
"You know, it was a funny development on Matt Istook. He, uh, filed a police report. He said the Hood and the Rogue harassed him last night. And that's funny, because I gave my daughter Istook's name."
At that Laurel did raise her head. One look at her father's stone cold expression told her exactly what was about to happen.
"Dad..."
"They're vigilantes." Quentin cut her off with a snarl.
"They're a pair of damn criminals. And you working with them, that makes you an accessory."
Laurel felt irritation beginning to bubble up within her.
"I am trying to save the life of an innocent man."
"No. You're breaking the law."
"Well, I wouldn't have to if the police had done their job right in the first place!"
At that Quentin froze. A part of Laurel felt bad for snapping at him like that, for attacking something he was so proud of. But her patience towards the system was wearing thin. She was done standing by and playing by the rules and she was not going to let her father's misguided idealism prevent her from doing what was right.
"I asked you how you got this case. You lied to me, straight to my face. I thought you and I didn't do that." Quentin eventually said.
"Guess I was wrong."
With that, the Detective exited the room, leaving Laurel looking at his back as he retreated. Once he was out of sight, she let out a big breath. She didn't like lying to her father and she didn't like these confrontations. But if they were the price she had to pay in order to save innocent lives, then she would gladly pay it. Besides, this wasn't the first time she had hidden breaking the law from her father, though she hoped he would never find out about that.
*
Jason Brodeur was panicking. Sure, Laurel Lance hadn't been able to convince the judge to postpone Declan's execution, but he had heard the threat in her voice clear as day. He could already see the headlines. 'Businessman frames death row inmate for murder' or 'Brodeur Chemical toxic waste scandal uncovered'. He was gonna get thrown to the wolves for this, he was sure of it.
"Declan's lawyer is pulling me into this. I'm gonna go to prison. If not for murder then for this dumping thing."
"That won't happen. There are steps we can take." his lawyer assured.
That assurance rang incredibly hollow.
"You saw her, she's going after me!"
This time it was his head of security, Ankov, who stepped forward.
"She's gonna want to meet with her client after what happened in court today." he explained.
"We have friends up in Iron Heights. Prison can be a dangerous place."
*
"We're not done yet."
Lydia agreed with Oliver's sentiment. It baffles her that a judge could possibly turn a blind eye to all the evidence contained in the file they took from Istook. There had to be something they could use. Unfortunately, Laurel didn't seem to share that opinion,
"I do this for a living. Trust me, we're done."
"What would you need in order to free Peter Declan?" Lydia asked.
Laurel sighed.
"At this point, nothing short of a signed confession from Brodeur."
The two vigilantes locked eyes. They shared a silent conversation before simultaneously nodding and moving towards the edge of the roof.
"Where are you going?"
"To get a confession." Oliver said before he and Lydia jumped off.
Much like getting into Istook's office, finding Jason Brodeur was also laughably easy. For all the resources he had at hand to order the murder of one of his workers and pin the blame on somebody else, it seemed he was lacking when it came to actual armed security. Perhaps he didn't expect any serious threat to come after the CEO of a chemical company. That was a mistake.
"Jason Brodeur, you have failed this city." Oliver proclaimed as soon as they got to Brodeur's office, aiming an arrow at him.
"What do you want?" Brodeur asked.
His voice wavered, but to his credit, he managed to maintain some of his composure.
"You're gonna confess that you arranged to have Peter Declan's wife murdered."
"What, so I can take his place in prison?"
"So you can avoid the death penalty."
"Except if I'm dead, well, then you've got no one to pin Camille's murder on. You need me to exonerate Peter Declan." Brodeur pointed out.
"Maybe you could try to force me to sign a confession..."
Lydia cut him off by shooting an arrow at his left hand.
"What a wonderful idea. I hope you're right handed." she commented, walking over and yanking the arrow out, ignoring the blood and Brodeur's cries of pain.
"Start writing."
Holding his now bleeding hand, Brodeur glanced up at her. Lydia responded with a firm glare and the tightening of her hand around her bow's grip. Brodeur whimpered and began reaching for a pen. However, before he could reach it, his phone started ringing. Oliver walked over and pulled it out of his pocket.
"Just answer it." he warned before pressing to answer the call.
Brodeur glared at him, but did as he was told.
"What is it?"
"It's Ankov. It's going down. One hour." the man on the other end said before hanging up.
"What's going down in an hour?" Lydia inquired.
Brodeur stayed defiantly silent.
"What!"
"Let's just say... Peter Declan's execution. It's getting moved up."
The two vigilantes' eyes widened in surprise, both reaching the same conclusion. Peter Declan was in Iron Heights, where prison riots weren't exactly an uncommon occurrence. And he wasn't alone. Lydia used a quick elbow strike to knock Brodeur's smirk off his face before she and Oliver rushed outside, both hoping they could reach the prison before it was too late.
*
"We still have a shot." Laurel said, desperately trying to reassure Peter Declan.
"Remember the friends I mentioned, the ones who believe in you? They're working on something."
Peter Declan wasn't convinced.
"I told you, Jason Brodeur is powerful." he said, shaking his head in disappointment.
"I've been here before. These lawyers holding out these little nuggets of hope."
Laurel wanted to protest, to make it clear that she wasn't just spouting empty words, that she was fully doing everything she could as a lawyer to win this case and that she did believe they still had a shot at bringing him back home to his daughter. But before she could say anything, the lights went out, followed quickly by the emergency lamps signaling the exits. Alarms began blaring and Laurel watched guards hurry through the hallways. The radio of the guard that was in the room with them crackled to life.
"Secure all corners in cell block C."
The guard looked up at her.
"The warden's setting up a secure perimeter in C block. Stay here, Ms Lance." he told her before rushing off.
In normal circumstances, Laurel probably would have done as told, if nothing else then to ensure the safety of her client. But she also knew the kind of people that were locked up in Iron Heights. She knew that with a power failure and their electronic security systems down, the regular guards would have a difficult time containing the inmates. And she also had the sneaking suspicion that this outage happening at the exact same time she was visiting her client was no coincidence.
"We need to get out of here. Come on!" she told Declan, urging him to get up and follow her.
She did her best to lead him through the maze of hallways of Iron Heights towards the exit, but found herself in front of one of the ways into the yard, the door out of iron bars closed with a crowd of bloodthirsty inmates behind it... and two of them standing in front, atop a dead prison guard, watching her like rabid dogs. Laurel immediately cursed her decision to wear a skirt and heels, professional appearance be damned, but raised her fists anyway. However, before either man could take a step towards her, they were brought down by arrows to the shoulder. Laurel turned back and almost smiled in relief at seeing the two hooded figures in green and blue of the Hood and the Rogue.
"Let's go!" the Hood called out.
Laurel quickly rushed Peter Declan forward into the hallway, following right behind, only stopping briefly to make sure their protectors were still with them. This time she tried to find a room where they could wait for the riot team rather than an exit. She managed to find one that seemed secluded enough. Unfortunately, in her panic she had neglected to properly check her corners. Right after she and Declan entered, two inmates that had been hiding at the door lunged towards the vigilantes, one delivering a disorientating punch to the Hood while the other tackled the Rogue. With one archer temporarily dazed and the other being dealt with, the first inmate turned to Laurel with a grin. In response, she raised her fists, preparing for his attack. He lunged at her, lashing out with poorly thought out and predictable jabs, Laurel doing her best to dodge and weave out of the way despite her less than idea choice of footwear. Eventually an opening presented itself when the man reared back for a haymaker. Laurel lunged forward with two quick jabs to his chest before following up with a right hook to his jaw. The blow sent him stumbling towards the Hood, who had managed to get back up in time to deliver a final punch to the man's face, knocking him out.
With one of the inmates taken care of, Laurel turned her attention towards the second one. To her horror, she found him pinning the Rogue down on the ground, using one of his arms to choke her out while the other held her still. The archer in blue kept frantically attempting to strike at any vulnerable points, but if the inmate felt any pain he wasn't showing it. Laurel took a step forward to help, but the Hood was faster. With an enraged yell he lunged forward and tackled the inmate off of his partner, beginning to pummel him mercilessly. Laurel in turn decided to go help the female archer.
"Are you okay?" she asked, helping the other woman sit up.
Despite her coughing and wheezing as she tried to regain her breath, the Rogue managed to nod affirmatively. With the reassurance that she was alright, Laurel raised her gaze towards the Hood. He was still relentlessly attacking the inmate and showing no signs of letting up anytime soon, a savage glint in his eyes. If she didn't stop him, he would kill that man.
"Hey, that's enough! Stop!" she called out.
But her words fell on deaf ears. She was about to reach out to attempt to pull him away when the Rogue spoke.
"Kapiushon!"
As if a switch had been flipped, he froze on the spot, head turning towards his partner. Laurel watched as they stood there, panting, having a silent conversation that she couldn't understand. After a few moments they were interrupted by the riot squad finally arriving. Immediately, the two vigilantes grabbed their bows and readied their arrows while the guards formed a circle around them, pulling Laurel back.
"Don't move! Put your weapons down!"
Laurel watched as the two archers glanced at each other and nodded. Before anyone else could react, they shot their arrows at the ceiling. A bright flash lit up the room and a loud bang left her ears ringing. When the daze faded away, both of them were gone, leaving the guards confused as to where they had gone. After having to answer some questions about what had happened inside the prison, Laurel was left to wait outside for her father. When he arrived, Detective Lance was understandably worried out of his mind.
"Laurel, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, dad." she assured him.
"Look... I'm sorry about what I said to you."
"Yeah, well, you were right. Ankov just confessed to Camille Declan's murder. We got the wrong guy." her dad admitted, though he immediately regained his usual stern posture.
"But Laurel, you listen to me. I'm right too, about them. They're outside the law. They're dangerous. They're killers."
Laurel couldn't say she agreed. At first, when she saw him attack that inmate, she did believe wholeheartedly he would have killed him. But then the Rogue spoke, and as she looked in his eyes, she didn't see the gaze of a killer. She saw regret, a man who would have felt sorry for having taken that life. Laurel was starting to suspect that the Hood killed less by choice and more by instinct. An instinct to survive and protect the people close to him. A group of people that definitely included his partner. And, if she were to be honest with herself, Laurel couldn't say that she didn't understand that sentiment. But she knew her father wouldn't understand that, so she said nothing.
"How'd they get into that prison anyway? Two people in outfits and hoods, carrying bows and arrows. That kinda stands out a little, doesn't it?" Quentin wondered out loud.
Laurel shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe they got in before putting on the hoods."
The detective hummed, but said nothing, simply continuing to lead his daughter away to his car.
*
"At least five federal, state and local agencies are seeking millions of dollars in fines and environmental cleanup costs from Brodeur Chemical. New facts have come to light that Brodeur Chemical employee Camille Declan had discovered Brodeur was illegally disposing of waste and had collected a file of evidence against her employer before her murder in 2007. Peter Declan, who was convicted of killing his wife, has been released and the case has been reopened."
A small smile made its way onto Oliver's face at hearing the news report. He was glad they had managed to keep an innocent man from being executed and managed to reunite a father with his daughter. And getting to cross another name off the List always left him with a small sense of accomplishment. He found himself once again feeling grateful for having Lydia as his partner. After all, if she hadn't managed to read Peter Declan as well as she did and realized that there was something off about that case, which would have resulted in Brodeur slipping through the net and the death of an innocent man.
The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him pulled Oliver out of his thoughts. He turned around, only to see Diggle standing in the living room, wearing a black leather jacket.
"Are you here for the bodyguard position?" Oliver asked.
"'Cause the new guy just quit."
"No, I'm not. I'm here about the other position." Diggle answered.
"Just to be clear, I'm not signing on to be a sidekick. But you're right. Fighting for this city needs to be done, and you and Lydia are gonna do this with or without me."
Oliver nodded in confirmation before letting Diggle continue.
"But with me, there'll be fewer casualties, including you and her."
"Diggle, we're not looking for someone to save us." Oliver told him.
"Maybe not, but you need someone just the same." Diggle replied.
"I get that you and Lydia can't really be normal people anymore after whatever it is you've been through. And I get that you're trying to help her find her way, to be a guiding compass for her. But you need a compass too, Oliver. You two need someone to remind you of who you are, to anchor you to humanity."
Oliver's first instinct was to argue. But he stopped himself. Last night, at the prison, he would have killed that man if Lydia hadn't been there. He saw her in danger and the killer instinct that had been drilled into him after five years kicked in once more... and he nearly killed someone else in front of her again. What would have happened if she hadn't been there? What would happen if her instincts kicked in too, if he lost her to the darkness? It had happened before, and seeing how much that little girl hated what she was becoming, how broken she had been, it had broken something in him too. He realized Diggle was right. If they wanted to keep doing this, if they wanted to save their city the right way, they were going to need an anchor.
"Well then, welcome to the team." Oliver said, holding out a hand.
Diggle gave a small smile and shook it. Unfortunately, the moment of reconciliation was interrupted by the Queen Manor's front door being slammed open.
"Oliver Queen."
Oliver frowned at hearing the voice of Quentin Lance.
"What is this? You can't just barge in here."
"Yeah? Well, I got a badge and a gun that say different."
Confused, Oliver marched out into the entrance hall. There he found Lance, flanked by Detective Hilton and two other police officers, sporting his usual scowl. Though Oliver managed to detect a glint of what looked like triumph in his eyes.
"Detective Lance, what's going on?"
The detective stepped forward and roughly grabbed hold of Oliver's arm.
"Oliver Queen, you're under arrest on suspicion of obstruction to justice, aggravated assault..."
As Lance began handcuffing his hands, Oliver spotted his mother and sister stepping into the hall.
"What is going on? Walter, stop them!" Thea pleaded.
Lance ignored her and kept listing off the charges.
"Trespassing, acting as a vigilante..."
"Are you out of your mind?!" Oliver inquired.
Lance simply hoisted him up and gave him a cold glare.
"And murder."