I don't know how many people are writing something like this but I decided to give it a shot. I had this idea for a while now but I had to wait until season two was over for obvious reasons. So, basically I'm going off the assumption that Malcolm used the Lazarus Pit himself, which is how he survived. This story will be mostly Tommy centric but the others will be in it more later when they're all in Starling. Anyway, please let me know if I should continue or not, reviews are appreciated.

In a veiled city nestled high in the mountains of Tibet, there is said to be a place of healing and enlightenment. A temple stationed amongst the rocky terrain where most people are blind to its existence. Only a select few know of its location, its purpose, and who lives within its walls. Surrounded by icy wind and snow, an eternal winter blew across the area, solely those willing to make the treacherous journey were permitted inside, but that did not mean you were welcomed the moment you walked within the building.

Large wooden doors were pushed open only moments ago. A man cloaked in black, wisdom beyond his years etched into his façade, stood firmly in place. With a simple raise of his hand, his subordinates seized their hostile position, weapons pointed at their guest. His arms swung behind his back, a few steps sauntered forward as he tilted his head, allowing him to speak.

The man's words were spoken in despondency, very unfitting for someone of his former rank, but the whole story was heard. The room was quiet and bathed in small inklings of tension. Ra's Al Ghul, Arabic for Head of the Demon, gave a subtle nod afterwards, the single motion allowing them some privacy, the other men around then dispersing in a matter of seconds.

"Do you understand what you are asking of me, Malcolm?" Ra's asked, piercing eyes narrowing. He walked further inside, a nonchalant shrug made before he sat down. Candles illuminated the space, dimly allowing his expression to be seen. "I find it rather daring of you to step foot here after breaking our Code of Honor. You committed an act of treason. I should just kill you where you stand."

"But," he continued, his voice slightly airy in an astute sort of way, "You were my second best student, apart from my daughters and under the very man who had made himself my adversary. What could you possibly have to offer me in exchange, to further reason your journey? Are you willing to give up your freedom and place yourself in the League of Assassins once again?"

"I will do whatever it takes," Malcolm announced. His face remained stoic despite the waver of guilt hitting him as they went on talking. He wished it didn't have to come to this, that he didn't have to go to such drastic measures but it was his only option. "I can no longer return to Starling City… I have nothing else to live for anymore."

"Make no mistake, your son died because of your actions," he proclaimed. "True heroism is defined by sacrifice and real heroes are the ones that give up the most. Are you sure you want to take that away from him? To bring him back to a world where he can no longer be the same man? You are aware, if I allow your request, he will have to pledge his loyalty?"

Malcolm lowered his gaze in some thought. He wanted them to be close, it was something he always desired to have, but knew his son's morals. Just because he was able to point a gun at him it didn't matter, he lacked the conviction to pull the trigger. Tommy wasn't someone who could kill, to take someone's life away. It simply wasn't in him to do so.

But at this place, where clarification and insight were found, weaknesses such as those are not tolerated. Rather they were extracted from you and used for strength, used as a motivation so to speak. It was here he discovered his purpose, to make the city a better place, especially for Tommy. So he could live without worry, without having to suffer from the same fate his wife did. It seems, in turn, his efforts made no difference.

"I know," Malcolm finally replied, his voice echoing against the walls. In all reality he never anticipated his plan of The Undertaking to fail, yet it wasn't his place to question the fate of his objections, nor was it his intention to get Tommy involved. Malcolm could have left things as they were but there was remorse resting for causing him an early death. Now there was no turning back. He knew Rebecca wouldn't want her son to be stripped of life so early "Perhaps my reasons are selfish but he's my son. Wouldn't you do anything for your Nyssa or Talia?"

"Regardless, that does not mean I have to accommodate your wish," Ra's remarked. The reply was flatly said but held meaning. "Trust is a slippery possession; one wrong move, one accidental slip of the tongue and it all comes crashing down. It takes a relatively long time to gain such reliance, unless one had accurate perceptiveness and as of right now you hold none of my reliance."

"Then I will earn it back." He never particularly liked being stationed below someone, yet right now wasn't time to debate such things. Malcolm's eyes followed the careful movement of the older man as he stood from his chair and took a few steps closer. He always wore the same composed look, as if nothing could send him amiss. "You will have both my allegiance and Tommy's," he added.

Ra's dropped his head some, giving a few slow shakes. "The effects of the Lazarus Pit are not kind, Mr. Merlyn, but you know that yourself. Do not assume because he cannot die from injury after its use, he won't." A pause was taken, his profile now visible. "Here he faces death in a different sense. It does not wait for you to be ready, it charges straight at you."

"The insanity fades after some time and so does the extra strength. I am willing to risk it." The brutal training, the jobs that followed after, if he could face them so could Tommy. His jaw tightened slightly though. He raised his eyes soon after, he never really wanted to come back here but knew there was no other way to bring someone back to life without the pit.

"I can tell. I am feeling oddly generous today. I will see to your request but if you so much as think about betraying the League again consider not just yours but the fate that awaits your son as well. I am not one who takes perfidy lightly." A side glare was sent towards Malcolm, his caginess expressed through a single look "Come, we will get started right away."

Finely tipped heels hit the wooden flooring of the Queen Mansion. Laurel kept her head low as she walked. Withdrawn from the world around her, she could only think of the one she lost because of her own ignorance. Tommy came rushing in to save her from being crushed by the place she'd spent hours working case after case. Not a glint of anger flashed through his eyes; instead he said those words she couldn't even bear to think about right now.

Tommy Merlyn was a friend, a friend she had grown to love more than she ever thought possible. She gave everything to him, her heart, her soul, every fiber of her being and yet, he was taken from her. Their breakup still plagued her mind, confusion, grief, guilt for casting him aside and sleeping with Oliver the moment he came running back to her.

The truth, as hard as it was to admit, was he was the only person she actually let in since the billionaire's return, either by choice or otherwise. And now he vanished as well, permanently. It felt wrong for someone so innately good would no longer be in Starling City, no longer be there to bring a smile to her lips, to hold onto when she needed someone, to help her through another difficult time, because she knew all too well that things weren't vaguely close to being alright.

The memory of clutching his limp body dulled her eyes of life. He was so close and yet so far. She tried extremely hard to be strong and was for the most part, but it didn't last, her strength drained, she merely existed amongst the crowd. How was that living? Laurel Lance had become a phantom, a victim to her own emotions, trapped between the thin line that separates life and death. Stuck between feeling nothing, numbness was easy to fall into, and feeling too much, so much it literally pained her to breathe.

Oliver warned her to stay out of the Glades but she didn't listen and somehow Tommy knew she would be at CNRI, for some reason he came. He came and saved her. He lifted the heavy stone caging her to the ground and told her to go, that he was right behind her. He never made it out. The building came down on him. The pain he endured, she couldn't imagine. Pounded by debris and skewered by a metal rod, it was horrible.

His voice still personified in her mind. His tone, so deep and rich, always circled her as if she could still hear him, as if he was standing right next to her. There were so many things she couldn't forget about him. The way his lips quirked upward, a chuckle would always follow soon after, how much he genially loved her, his ability to hide every vulnerable part of himself with banter and wit. She knew all aspect of him by heart.

And that just made it hurt more. It was too much for her, it was always too much. She never thought thinking back to happier times, her happiness with him, would be so painful. A shaky hand was brought up and pulled through her curls of hair. She was here for a reason and needed to keep her mind on it without getting trapped in painful memories.

When she approached Oliver's room, he was seen packing a bag. Laurel sighed a bit at the sight before lightly knocking on the open door. "Can I come in?" A nod was made and she could see the way he tried to hide his sad expression, thinking he had to conceal in front of her. "I pretty much figured you wouldn't be coming to the funeral. Where are you heading off to?"

"I'm not really sure right now. I just can't…" He couldn't even finish his sentence. Oliver looked away, licking his lips. It was his fault; he blamed himself for Tommy's death. What good was he to this city if he couldn't even save the life of his best friend? He needed to get away, head to the island. He found clarity there once before and maybe he could again.

"I know. I still can't believe he's gone." She shook her head some prior to sitting on his bed. "I remember during your funeral, Tommy almost didn't go either. Thea was actually the reason he changed his mind. She didn't even want to leave the house. It was too hard for her to accept, losing both her brother and father. She was only twelve."

He glanced up at her, feeling another pang of guilt at the way her brown hues started to water. Closing the suitcase and placing it aside, he took a seat next to her, staring down at his folded hands. "How did he get her to go?"

"After Moira told us she was having a hard time getting Thea out of her room, Tommy just went right upstairs and started talking to her. I don't know what was said but she came down with him," Laurel replied, blinking the hazy coating of water from her eyes.

"Tommy never really said anything about himself while I was presumed dead," the Queen said, letting out a heavy breath. "I just got the usual, carefree attitude." His voiced dropped some as the memories wedged their way forward.

"He was devastated when you died, but I hardly saw it," she replied, her tone quiet. "He was so busy, partying as a distraction, I'm sure, helping Thea and being there for me… I don't even think he had the proper time to mourn." She tugged on the hem of her black dress some when silence engulfed the room. Just talking to Oliver after what happened was difficult and she knew he felt the same level of strain.

"We were fighting a lot before the Undertaking," Oliver suddenly announced. His lips curved with the barest pull. "And it was over something stupid and could have been avoided if I just…" He drifted again, unable to give her any more details. But if he just talked to Tommy, opened up to him a bit more, then maybe he wouldn't have taken his secret the way he had.

"You were his best friend. I'm sure deep down he was never mad at you for whatever it was." She wouldn't push, couldn't bring herself to do so. Laurel reached her hand out towards his giving it a light squeeze; it was the only comfort she could provide when she was feeling so down herself.

Tommy's apology ran through his thoughts, almost making him wince. "I still can't believe Malcolm was the one behind everything." He needed to change the subject, diverge it from himself.

"I can't either. It hurts losing the people you love but killing so many people? I don't see how that solved anything." Laurel could find no logic in that, no one really could. Her head bowed down some, her voice getting caught in her throat. She couldn't get herself to add something more.

Oliver turned away some, a light breath leaving his lips. Being someone who now very rarely forgot things, he could easily recall every moment of that night, the whole day even. He was never going to make it to Laurel in time, meaning she would be the one dead. He just wished he could tell her everything, about his secret, about the island, let her know what Tommy's last words were, that they were about her.

"Part of me still can't believe he's gone," she said, voice low, interrupting the quietness overcoming the room once more. "Do you ever expect him to just," she gave a small shrug, "I don't know, show up?" Chocolate hues turned met his blue orbs, and in them, she found security, but also pain, a pain so raw it made her want to take back her question.

"He died, Laurel, you saw it yourself." But she didn't witness it, didn't watch as his life fade out until he was no longer breathing. "People don't just come back to life," Oliver added, closing his eyes for a moment.

That wasn't entirely true because Slade did after being injected with the Mirakuru, but he killed him after shoving an arrow through his eye. Besides, that wasn't the case here. What happened to Tommy was different, yet it was still another death he held over himself.

Laurel cleared her throat. "I should probably get going," the brunette said, standing from the bed. Using one hand, she smoothed out the wrinkles on her dress formed over the short length of her sitting. She took a few steps before turning around, looking at him with a withheld expression. "Are you sure you don't want to come? Thea and your mom are probably already there."

Oliver shook his head. He really couldn't bring himself to sit through Tommy's funeral. Having to talk about him and just seeing the coffin would make everything feel worse. Moreover, he needed to leave now. Felicity and Diggle wouldn't be able to track him and no one would really know where he went. All he knew was he couldn't be the Hood anymore, couldn't be the hero everyone needed him to be.

He watched as Laurel gave a small nod prior to walking out of the room. Oliver rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the slight sting of water. Getting up, he started packing again. He was ready to leave and didn't plan on coming back anytime soon. He was sure Thea would be alright, at least he hoped so. The youngest Queen was extremely upset when he had to break the news to her.

With a heavy heart and tired countenance, since sleep evaded him since his friend's death, he closed his bag. After giving his room one last glance, Oliver picked up his case and headed out the door.

Tommy's eyes suddenly opened. Small rays of light briefly blinded unused orbs. After blinking a few times, things started taking shape and color. His gaze stretched to the ceiling. Carefully he turned his neck, muscles aching, and the room was taken into view, hollowly filled with little items spread about. A carpet, old and utilized, covered a section of the wooden floor. A table to the side, partnered with two chairs, both gathering dust. A window located further down with darkly hung curtains.

The mattress he rested on was somewhat uncomfortable and the blanket beneath was rough from age. All senses were yanked onto him at once making it hard to gather anything. An attempt to prop himself up triggered a groan to fall from his lips. A ghostlike pain slid along his abdomen soon after, causing his breath to become stilted.

With much difficulty, Tommy forced himself up. Confusion immediately set in. He was supposed to be dead and yet here he was, very much alive, his breathing was shallow but consistent. Fingers pressed against his face, skin cold, and he soon realized after feeling some resistance, his wrists was chained to the wall. A weak yank was made but he found himself too drained to do much more.

With every part of his body aching, he let his muscles rest, trying to run a few things through his mind. The small ligneous window gave him a view of snowy mountain peaks, meaning he definitely wasn't in Starling City anymore. The screeching of hinges from the nearby door caught his attention, his blue eyes quickly shifting to the location.

"Tommy," Malcolm spoke softly, his voice full of relief. He closed the door behind him and shortened distance between himself and where his son laid. "How are you feeling?" It had been over a week since he was placed in the pit. The first time he woke up, he was mentally unstable for a long while and probably wouldn't recall anything before this point.

"Dad?" the youngest Merlyn slowly questioned. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts. How he felt, that was hard to answer; he honestly couldn't gather that much right now. "What happened? Where are we?" he inquired, the words coming out without much thought. Tommy pushed himself up some only to suppress a hiss of pain from the sudden motion.

"Don't strain yourself," he told him, placing a hand on his shoulder to gently ease him back down. "It's complicated. I don't want to overwhelm you. Just try to relax, you are still very weak. We are in Nanda Parbat, the place I told you about." Malcolm took hold of a bottle from the side table, handing to him. "Here, drink some water."

"I don't want any," Tommy remarked, raising his hand up in protest. He couldn't think straight right now and even if he was thirsty, feeling a dry burn down his throat every time he spoke, he needed answers first.

After giving a sight nod, he sat down on the bed next to him, making sure he left enough space. "I know you have a lot of questions and I'll answer them, but first just tell me what you remember." He tried to hold back the regret in his tone because Tommy should have been well out of harm's way when the devices went off, he had knocked him out to assure that, his actions a bit harsh but necessary.

Tommy leaned his head back some. He recalled the discussion he had with his father, hearing his mother's voicemail, finding out Malcolm was the Dark Archer, and how he killed so many people in his need for revenge. And then there was Laurel, she was trapped and he rushed into CNRI to save her. But he never made it out in time; he wasn't quick enough to escape.

Oliver came soon after the building collapsed their conversation still fresh in his mind. But Tommy was sure he died. There was no mistaking the sensation of numbing limbs and fading heartbeat, nor the darkness that soon ensued after he was plunged by a metal rod. The blood seeping from the wound was hardly felt after a while, but the agony he suffered was replenished upon the memory.

"I died, I'm supposed to be dead," he suddenly stated, shaking his head back and forth. Starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the flush of memories, his breathing became more rapid. Unable to stop himself from hyperventilating a nauseating feeling steered in his stomach. It was too much at one time, everything just felt strange and out of place.

"You have to stay calm, Tommy," Malcolm told him slightly alarmed. However, he knew this was a natural thing to go through after being revived. He handed him the water again and this time he took it from him.

A few small sips were taken, the liquid soothing his throat. "How can I?" he asked, coughing a few times. "I'm alive when I shouldn't be and the Undertaking… how many people were killed because of it?" Anger formed within his sentence but dispelled some, holding onto irritation was too draining right now but he couldn't forget what his father did.

Malcolm looked away for a second. Rebecca's death brought him to this place, it gave him purpose after feeling so lost. Ra's presented him with an offer to join and in doing so he gained knowledge of what had to be done. And what happened to Tommy was his deepest regret. "I know it's a lot to take in. But you have to understand. Destroying the Glades was the only answer, I wanted to make things right, to make it better. And to do that, it had to be rebuilt from scratch."

"By killing innocent people, who had nothing to do with what happened to mom?" Tommy asked, his voice low, almost inaudible. He pursed his lips still trying to settle his nerves and keep his breathing at a normal rate. His gaze searched the man's eyes for an answer he wasn't providing, something he couldn't bring himself to say perhaps.

Malcolm shook his head, not wanting to raise his voice. "She was murdered and left on the street to die. No one stopped to help her. They just kept walking as she bled out on the pavement. The people of the Glades are not innocent. You may not comprehend my reasons right now, but you will in due time." He took on a stoic kind of look, as discussing what happened was never easy.

Tommy let out a derided sort of scoff before turning his head. He didn't want to talk about that anymore, he couldn't get through to him exactly how wrong his actions were, that murder wasn't the answer to his problems. "And what about the chains?" he asked instead, dragging his hand up some, the metal clanking as it moved.

"If was for your own safety. You were mentally unstable. We had to make sure you stayed in this room until you were no longer a threat to yourself." Malcolm moved to unlock the restraints with a small metal key he had. He settled back onto the bed and brought his hands together. "You have actually been awake for over a week, but I'm sure you don't remember, it will slowly come back to you though."

His brows narrowed in confusion, what he was saying made no sense. He held onto his wrist, rubbing it to ease some of the rawness. "How am I alive?" he breathed, a slight pain hitting against his chest, not sure he wanted to know the answer or not.

"There are parts of the world where death is an illusion. This is one of them," the older man replied. "You were placed in the Lazarus Pit. It's composed of a unique unknown chemical blend. No one really knows what it's made of but it has distinctive properties. The substance possesses the ability to rejuvenate the sick, injured and even resurrect the dead."

What he said seemed so out of place, so seemingly unreal it rendered him speechless for a few moments. "That's not possible," Tommy started to say as he placed his water bottle on the side table. "There's no way something like that could exist." But the evidence was the fact that he was having this conversation right now and yet he still wanted to disbelieve him.

"I wouldn't be here either if it wasn't. My fight with Oliver didn't end in my favor. Getting stabbed with an arrow even in a vial place couldn't kill me, but I learned to be very convincing," Malcolm told him with a slight turn of his head. "But you already know he's the vigilante. I'm guessing you found of the night the humanitarian awards. It's the only reason you would have allowed that blood transfusion. He had no choice but to show you his identity, funny how he tried to save me back then without knowing who I really was." The poison simply lowered the rate of his heart, eventually, when it was out of his system, he would have woken up on his own.

Tommy really didn't care that Oliver lied when he said he didn't kill his father. Unknown to anyone Malcolm survived, now everyone just supposed they were dead because both of them should be. And if he really spent two years here, in Nanda Parbat, what exactly did he do? The story was never finished when they were at the hospital but he had a feeling he would find out soon enough.

Licking his lips, Tommy glanced away, his shoulders falling some. "He was right about you the entire time and I just didn't want to see it. For once we weren't at odds with one another and then I find out what you were planning, for what, over five years? It doesn't even matter now because you already used the earthquake machine. That thing almost got Laurel killed," he added with a bitter expression.

"And she would have been dead if you didn't die in her stead," Malcolm remarked. Wouldn't he have taken that bullet so his wife could live? Yes, he wouldn't even hesitate. People did crazy things for the ones they love and he noticed how fond his son was of the brunette when the three of them had dinner together. Tommy was really becoming a different man because of her.

"Why?" he suddenly asked. His voice was strained, it was a mix of disbelief and something he can't quite put a name to, disappointment, anger, a mix of the two or something else entirely. "Why did you bring me back? What's the point in doing that? It's not like I can go back to Starling City." That place was his home, where he grew up.

Malcolm placed his hands on Tommy's shoulders, needing to make some kind of contact. "I lost my name, my wife, I couldn't lose you, not my son too." There was a sort of desperation in his tone when he spoke those words, as if he really had nothing else without his family. He wasn't a good father to Tommy, wasn't around when he should have been and there was no making up for that.

"That doesn't make what you did right," he said, lowering his gaze, yet he didn't shrug him away. "Is there anything else about this Lazarus Pit thing that I should know about? Does it have any other side effects for using it?" He wanted to know at least that much and perhaps he didn't mean for what he said to come out so harsh but it couldn't be helped.

Malcolm removed his hand and placed them on his lap. "You won't die from fatal injuries. In that sense you'll be somewhat immortal, your life range, however, will be normal. It only steadily increases the more you use the pit. You will have increased strength for a while, it could last a few more days or maybe a week or two. And lastly, experiencing painful headaches isn't an uncommon trait," he explained.

Tommy didn't know what to say to that, he simply rubbed a hand over his forehead in slight frustration. He couldn't live a normal life if he tried. He couldn't see the people he cared about. Laurel, Oliver, Thea, they'd have to stay a part of his past. Showing up when you're supposed to be dead, that didn't work for everyone, but he still had to ask. "Okay, besides all that, am I ever going to get to leave here, wherever here is?"

"We are in Tibet. And I'm sorry, but leaving is not an option." He stood from the bed, watching the way Tommy closed his eyes, giving his head the smallest shake. The reality of the situation seemed to hit him pretty hard. "I'll get a doctor. An incredible amount of strain was placed on your body. You need time to regain your strength before training can begin."

"Training for what?" Tommy asked, veering his gaze towards his father in a quick motion. His fingers tightened together, grasping the edge of the blanket. He hoped he was wrong with what he was thinking.

"I never wanted you to be part of this place but since you are here there is no other choice, this is something you have to do. The alternative is nothing compared to what awaits you." Malcolm took a step forward, bringing his hands behind his back in his usual fashion. He wanted Tommy to be strong, to be able to handle himself better, just not through this way. He'd much rather teach him on his own without Ra's and his methods. "You have to become a member of the League of Assassins."

This chapter turned out a lot longer than I expected but I hope you guys enjoyed it and like I mentioned before, if you want more please review. I would love to know what your thoughts are. I actually had to do some research since I don't read any comics and just in case you're wondering, I'm taking Ra's al Ghul's personality from Batman Begins, since I know he's in a lot and his characteristics, although similar in just about everything, varies.