Chapter Text
An Olicity AU
P R O L O G U E
Inmate 4587 waited for the central section of the fifteen feet high prison security gates to roll back. Then he limped painfully and slowly, on leaden limbs, out of Slabside supermax.
His bloodied face gaunt and drawn, those vivid blue eyes lacklustre and bleak. His neat scruff had given way to a longer beard; his clothes, closely shaven head and whole demeanour combined to scream: Convict. Felon.
But he'd not been convicted by any court. He was a killer though. One forged on Lian Yu, and refined by Amanda Waller and the Bratva.
The party-loving, trust fund frat boy who boarded the Gambit twelve years ago, had been all but eviscerated. Now he only knew darkness; he lived in darkness. And yet, there was a distant yearning....denied and shut down.
He'd been incarcerated for a murderous six months, two weeks and five days. At least that's what the markings on his cell wall indicated. In his mind it was much longer. He'd lost all track of time when they sent him to Level Two.
Oliver Queen stepped into the late afternoon sunshine and inhaled the invigorating air.
He was free. He didn't understand why and he didn't care.
His eyes closed and his face turned upwards to let his blood-stained skin soak in the warm rays of the sun.
Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four.
He filled his lungs with a deep stuttering breath and exhaled slowly. He shuddered at the memory of his most recent kill. It was his most satisfying. He opened his eyes; they narrowed as his gaze settled on a familiar figure.
Diggle.
Oliver knew he'd be there. He stared at the solid figure of the Black man, his friend, the only one he had in the world.
John Diggle watched his friend, still dressed in grey blood-spattered prison clothes, his face and neck criss-crossed with bloody cuts and bruises. His eyes landed on Oliver's knuckles. What the hell happened to him?
Oliver tried to move and suddenly felt nauseous and unsteady on his feet.
Breathe.
He tried again, to put one foot in front of the other but he was glued to the spot. Through sheer force of will he moved, stumbling forward and came to a stop again, his body deadened by exhaustion, both physical and mental.
Breathe.
Moving quickly Diggle reached Oliver just as his knees buckled. "I've got you man." Digg angled a shoulder beneath Oliver's arm, and supported him with his own muscular limb braced around his friend's waist. He half dragged, half carried Oliver to the car and settled him in the back seat.
Diggle opened a bottle of water and held it to his friend's lips while he drank. Sufficiently revived, Oliver took the bottle from Diggle, lay his head back and closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Let's go home," Diggle said.
Home.
The word reverberated in his brain. He was homeless now in so many senses. Who was he, where did he belong?
****
The drive to Diggle's apartment was taken in complete silence. John took the odd rear view glances at his passenger but Oliver had his eyes closed, except when he drank water. By the time they reached their destination the litre bottle was empty.
"This is your home for as long as you need," Diggle said opening the door to his apartment. "Lyla has taken the children to her mother's for the week. She wanted to give you some space."
Oliver appreciated the gesture. He came here once before when he had nowhere else to go. And here he was again. It was typical of Diggle to extend hospitality and give support, but he'd prefer the Loft. He was in sore need of time alone. Too bad he'd asked John to rent it, he expected his incarceration to last much longer.
Oliver walked straight to the window and looked out on the City he'd fought and bled for. What had it gotten him? He'd protected the team by surrendering to the FBI, outing himself as the Green Arrow.
"What's happened to the team?" he asked without turning around.
"Scattered to the four winds once they'd lost their leader." Diggle tried to inject a touch of the poetic. It fell flat. "Black Canary is the SCPD's new Captain. Terrific followed me to A.R.G.U.S but I doubt he'll stay. Wild Dog is still in the Glades with his daughter. The new Mayor has banned all vigilante activity, except there seems to be a new wannabe in town. The Green Arrow 2point.O. But that's not your concern."
That's about right; it wasn't his concern, and he no longer cared.
Oliver turned to face John. "Too damn right; good luck with that."
John Diggle understood the sentiment. After years of personal sacrifice protecting people, saving lives and stopping those with evil intent from destroying it, the City had abandoned Oliver Queen. Incarcerated him in a supermax.
"What's going on John, why have I been released?"
"Laurel Lance is the D.A. now," Diggle told him. "She made a deal with the FBI to trade Diaz for you."
"Yeah? So she succeeded where I failed. Diaz posed as my visitor to taunt me then deliberately caused a riot just to get to me."
"How the hell did he manage that? I suppose he had inside help. That man has stooges everywhere," Diggle observed.
Oliver couldn't have been more surprised when the bane of his life had shown up at Slabside. The wannabe arch-villain terrorized his City and tried to attack William and Raisa in the Loft. It was fortuitous he was working from home that day. It was Diaz who'd finally forced him to reveal his secret identity in public in front of the Tv cameras. Diaz was the reason for his separation from his son.
Then Diaz made the fatal mistake of coming for the Green Arrow one last time.
The fight in his cell was vicious and brutal.
Oliver re-lived the moment he heard Diaz's spine crack, and saw the bulging eyes as the lungs stopped struggling for air. That was just before he broke the Dragon's neck. His most recent and most satisfying kill. A Bratva kill.
Diggle's gaze swept over Oliver again before meeting those watchful eyes. "Did you kill him?"
The brother-warriors held each other's gaze. It was a pointless question, Diggle already knew the answer.
Opaque blue eyes searched Diggle's face, looking for a hint of censure or disdain. Oliver found only neutral acceptance.
Diggle took a breath. Part of the reason he'd joined Oliver's crusade all those years ago was the hope he could stop him going down the path of no return. A dark path that corroded the soul, and gradually eat away at a man's very humanity.
He'd not had much success. There was only so much he could do.
Oliver didn't care whether he lived or died. He'd faced up to the Dark Archer, knowing Malcolm's superior ability; he'd surrendered to Slade Wilson to save his family; he met Ra's Al Ghul in a duel to the death. He did die as far as Diggle was concerned. He didn't know and he didn't ask what miracle had brought his friend walking casually back into the Foundry one day.
Apart from William and Thea, Oliver believed he had no one and nothing to live for. His sister was thousands of miles away, and deep down he believed his son would be better off without him.
Diggle believed Oliver needed what he couldn't provide: the redemptive power of love.
Not simply the love of a brother, as he and Oliver had become, but the unconditional love and acceptance that would inspire him to want to live a better version of himself. The love of a life partner able to ignite that self love and to nurture the light he still had within him. Because Diggle believed that fundamentally Oliver Queen was a good man.
"What about you Digg? How you doing?"
"I'm doing okay Oliver. Still working with A.R.G.U.S but I miss us." Diggle knew that in recent times he'd not kept the faith, had not pursued his friend's release to his best ability. Truth be told, he'd abandoned Oliver too, gave up on him. He carried a sense of guilt about that, and was trying to make amends in any way possible.
Oliver nodded, he missed them too. He missed the early days when he and Digg were the team. The ex-army sergeant being alternately his driver and bodyguard, his support in the field, a decoy, and a guide in times of doubt. He'd initially been reluctant to extend the team but he did; and trained them. It had mostly all gone to hell after Diggle got disillusioned and left.
Their close relationship veered off track when, as Al-Sah-Him, he'd captured Lyla and held her prisoner to force John's hand, leaving their child unprotected. He'd crossed a line. Everything that came afterwards to push John away, paled into insignificance compared to that event.
In his heart Oliver knew it had caused a permanent fracture in their relationship. Vivid memories faded over time but the distress on John's side and the regret on his, lived on. Some things couldn't be totally forgiven or forgotten. No amount of apology would fix what he'd done. Yet the friendship had held together and endured.
His excuse: at that time he'd had a fever in the brain and was hellbent on stopping Ra's al Ghul from destroying his City by any means necessary. He had sacrificed all his adult life for the City and now there wasn't a place in it for him.
"I can't stay here John."
"I know Oliver. Have you thought about what you want to do?"
There was little time in Slabside to think about much more than staying alive. "No. My thoughts haven't gone beyond a long hot shower with some decent shampoo and good quality soap. And without needing to keep an eye out for the next inmate with murderous intent."
Oliver held his side and grimaced. He also needed the hot water to pound against his pores to ease the painful remnants of his fight with Diaz. "I need your medic's bag."
"Sure. Sorry, I should have offered that straight away." He'd seen how beat-up Oliver looked. "Your stuff is in storage but I have your clothes here. Let me show you where you're sleeping. You know where the bathroom is, I'll leave the medical kit in there."
Oliver nodded. He was beyond exhaustion. If he got 3-4 hours sleep each day in that hellhole, he considered himself lucky. He followed John.
Diggle opened a door and walked in. "I've put your clothes in here. Sorry about the bed. Take as long as you need and make yourself at home. I'll have some food ready when you're done."
Oliver nodded his gratitude. Tears would be a release if he allowed them, but that wasn't him. He didn't cry. Instead, those mirrors of the soul reflected a deep inner despair.
What did he have to show for his years on the planet?
Nothing but death. Too much death, including those he'd inflicted himself.
He'd watched his father shoot himself in the head; watched the life force seep away from his best friend; watched Slade Wilson run a sword through his mother's heart. His sister, arisen from the dead, was running around the Hindu Kush destroying Lazarus pits. There were women he'd cared about. All in the past. There was no one now.
Except William.
He'd not been a great dad. He was an absent father. He needed to reclaim his son. No. He couldn't do that. Death was his only legacy. He was the jinx. He needed to stay the hell away from William.
A grim rictus distorted Oliver's face. He needed to craft a different life for himself and he had no idea how to begin.
He looked around the space, recognising JJ's room. He'd sleep on the floor, he didn't want to taint the child's bed. Apart from the fact that everything he touched turned to shit, he'd been wading through it these last nearly seven months.
****
When an hour had passed and there was no sign of Oliver, Diggle walked to his son's room and eased open the door. He found his friend in the foetal position fast asleep on the floor. John tiptoed into the room, took JJ's extra blanket from the cupboard and covered him.
Diggle didn't see or hear from Oliver again until he walked into the living room the next morning and found his friend standing by the window with a cup of coffee. "Hey man, how did you sleep?"
Oliver turned to face his friend. "Like the dead, almost." Sleeping like the dead was a luxury he hadn't afforded himself since the island. Demons of the dark night still came for him. "Thanks for the blanket."
"Mhmm," Diggle nodded. "Breakfast?"
"Yup. I could eat the proverbial horse."
"Then we need to talk. You know, it would've been more comfortable in the bed Oliver."
"John, I...it'd be better if I slept on the couch." Diggle stared at his friend, understanding dawning. Typical Oliver. Not only did the man like to isolate himself, he'd also feel his physical being in JJ's bed would somehow taint it.
They ate in silence until John broke it. "What happened to you in there man?"
Oliver stared at his friend. "Not now Digg."
In Slabside he'd not been that ignorant boy floating for days on a life raft until he reached purgatory, adjacent to hell. Slabside held it's own horrors but he deserved it for all the mistakes he'd made. All the people he'd hurt or caused to be hurt or killed from Shado and Yao Fei to Tommy and his mother. His sister. Sara. Laurel. Samantha. And countless others too numerous to name.
He'd lost his son and his sister. His mission, whatever that was, had no meaning. Star City was now much worse, more crime-ridden than it was when he first returned from the Island.
What had it all been for? He'd lost everything, including his own soul. He was undeserving of anything good. He had blood on his hands. He looked down at them visualizing the gruesome image.
Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four.
"Oliver!"
His head jerked up and he stared at Diggle inquiringly, partly relieved to be pulled out of unwelcomed memories. "Sorry John, what did you say?"
Diggle stared at his friend aware that Oliver's physical body was in the room but he had temporarily left the building. "You're a good man Oliver. Sure, shit happened but you didn't deserve any of it."
Oliver nodded. "I'm not sure I'm a good man John but you are. I wouldn't have survived the last seven years without you. You've been a constant friend and my lifeline during the last nearly seven months."
"Yeah, well you saved my ass on several occasions, including in Russia. Remember Russia?"
"That was a lifetime ago John."
Yeah well I'd never have gotten Lyla out of that gulag if it wasn't for you. I'd probably have joined her in there. What are you going to do now you have your freedom back?"
"I don't know John. I guess I'll have to find a job. Any ideas what an ex-billionaire with superior archery skills might do next?"
"No. But I know you need to give yourself time, probably doing nothing, just getting your head on straight."
"Great, and where would I do that?"
Diggle studied his friend before speaking. "How about the Swiss Alps."
"Where?" Oliver looked incredulous. Had Diggle lost his mind?
"An army buddy of mine suffered with severe PTSD and had a psychotic break. He ended up in a private clinic on drugs and daily therapy. His parents had money so he could afford to get the best treatment".
"So you're suggesting I check myself into some luxurious Swiss clinic for the same treatment?" Oliver asked derisorily. "Are you out of your mind?" He stared at Diggle. His thoughts were not good right now. There was no way in hell he was going into some facility, he'd just escaped from one.
"Hear me out Oliver. When James was discharged his parents bought a chalet in the Swiss Alps to which he retreated each year for several months at a time. He now rents it out for a token sum to people who have been through similar experiences, mainly army vets. I've had a word with him and he'd be happy to let you have it for as long as you need.
"Look, you spent five years on that Island going through god knows what, a lot of it you've never talked about. Then you return home, only to throw yourself into the City's criminal cesspool. Oliver I saw what you smuggled out about Slabside's Level Two. What happened to you in there?"
An emotion flickered in Oliver's eyes. He closed them, and his head slumped on to his chest. The scream rose up from the depth of his being and came out of his mouth as a harsh stuttering breath.
His thoughts strayed to Lian Yu, the place where he'd sought solace after the Undertaking. The source of his nightmares. He could go back to the wreckage of that airplane where he, Slade and Shado lived until Ivo found them. Maybe he could live in that A.R.G.U.S underground vault where he'd imprisoned Slade, before Prometheus blew up his friends. Where his son had lost his mother.
Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four.
Where the woman he considered making a life with for William's sake, had died. He liked Samantha but didn't love her. Nevertheless he'd have given a relationship his best shot. They might even have had more children.
Diaz had torn up the photo of his son he kept in his cell. Unfocused eyes looked down at his hands. Would he ever see William again? He'd imagined a day when he would hug his son but that day may never come. "Digg have you talked with William?"
"Yeah. We've been in touch a couple of times on the phone. He's still in Coast City with his grandparents and asks about you when we speak."
"Do you think I could call him?"
"Sure. You can call him on my phone."
Oliver nodded. "I'd like to think about the Swiss Alps option. All things considered it would be better than Lian Yu."
Diggle looked aghast. "You were thinking of going back to that godforsaken place, after everything that happened there?"
Lian Yu. His forever pain and torment, yet it was his sanctuary too. "It's one of the many godforsaken places that I know John. In a way it's my second home."
"You'd be immersing yourself in memories I'd hope you want to forget Oliver. Take some time out and chill. But not on that island. You still have a seven figure amount in your trust fund and you can always sell the Loft. I can do it for you if you want, since you gave me power of attorney."
Oliver gave Diggle a small smile. "Okay, arrange it with your friend. You're right, the Swiss Alps is a better bet. You're a true friend John, a brother. I've always known that."
****
Two weeks later they sat together at the bar with a beer before Oliver went through to the Departure lounge. Diggle handed him one of those self-sealing plastic folders. "All the information you need is in here. Cyonneau is a small village at the foot of the Alps, two hours drive from Geneva. When you arrive, look for the large deli, you can't miss it. Gaston Mueller is expecting you, he has the keys. The chalet is about a twenty minute drive higher up into the mountains."
Oliver grinned and took the folder. He already knew all that. He'd never imagined Diggle as a mother hen. "It's time for me to go. Thanks man. I appreciate all you've done for me. I couldn't have done any of it without you. You've always been my rock Digg."
John Diggle nodded. "Don't you mean the best man you've ever known?"
"I also mean that."
"I would've been your best man Oliver...like you were for Lyla and me."
"I envy you John. You and Lyla are happy."
"Well you should try it sometime."
"I've never known and will never find that love John."
"Love will find you Oliver, if you let it in."
"You think? Love and happiness were never on the cards, not for me John, not with the life I lead."
"Don't you mean the life you led Oliver. You have a chance for a new beginning now, you'll find someone."
Oliver stood up and stretched his hand out to his buddy. "Thanks for everything John."
Diggle stood up too and grasped his friend's hand. "Oliver we are brothers, you never have to thank me. Take care of yourself. And remember you're gonna be completely isolated in the mountains. You can only be in communication with the wider world from the village."
"I get it Digg, it's exactly what I need. Been there, remember? Part of me will always default to that guy shipwrecked on purgatory."
Diggle nodded. "Yeah." They stared at each other, then embraced in farewell.
"See you man." Diggle gave Oliver a slap on the back.
Oliver nodded. He grabbed his backpack. The much larger military style holdall had already been checked, along with that wooden box. It had travelled with him from Russia back to Lian Yu and thence to Starling City. That box gave him a sense of security, not that he expected to have any further use for its contents.
Oliver gave his friend one final salute and made his way to the Departure lounge.
He didn't look back.