Summary: Oliver Queen got on The Queen's Gambit 7 years ago with his girlfriend, Laurel Lance, and when they are rescued, they fight for the justice of their city, together.

Ido not own Arrow or any of the characters. This story is rated M just to be safe.

The day that Oliver Queen and his girlfriend Laurel Lance were rescued, was the day he was going to end it. Just as he was lowering the knife to his wrist, he heard Laurel yell for him. He was at her side in seconds, demanding to know what the problem was. Then he caught on to her gaze, spotting the fishing boat from afar. Not a second later, he had shot that fateful arrow that sent them on their trip home, and began their quick trek to the shoreline where Oliver said goodbye to his father for the last time, and began his new quest to atone for his father's sins. As Oliver conversed with the fishermen in Chinese, Laurel gathered their meager belongings and then they walked hand in hand to the ship that would take them away from the seemingly never ending hell they had been put through. Then the bullets started flying.

"Laurel seems fine, at least physically-" Dr. Lamb explained to Quentin and Moira.

"-I do have to warn you though, as fine as she might seem physically, the psychological wounds are most likely much deeper, and she does have a few unexplained scars on her body, but they are old and healed for the most part, save for the concussion and bruised ribs she came in with," he finished.

"So she's okay, right," Quentin asks, still unsure.

"Yes, but I would keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't start losing her grip on reality," he responds, but not finished.

"Oliver, on the other hand, is in much worse condition," Dr. Lamb says hesitantly, looking for permission to go on from Moira.

"Go ahead, I can handle it, but as for Quentin, that's up to him," Moira responds, glancing over at Quentin.

"Please, continue," he says, mostly worrying for Laurel.

Dr. Lamb sighs, then says, "50% of his body is covered in scar tissue, he has second degree burns on his back and arms, and there are at least 12 fractures that never healed properly. And that is just covering any old injuries he had. When he was brought in, there was evidence of a pretty mild concussion, which will require plenty of rest to let his brain heal, but besides that, he should be okay. He also had a broken jaw along with a broke nose, but those injuries are minor and will not cause any damage, besides his jaw clicking occasionally and the nose may be a little crooked, but he will recover from those quickly. Just be careful with what he eats, it might be painful at first, so be patient. Okay, moving down, his left collarbone was cracked in two places, his left shoulder had been separated, and as it seems, dislocated and relocated several times, which has caused looseness in the socket, and that is okay, but he should refrain from moving it too much. His left elbow was completely shattered, his ulna and radius were both broken, and his hand was broken in two places along with three fingers. We weren't able to cast the arm because he does need a shoulder brace to protect his shoulder and collarbone, which are our main concerns because of such close proximity to the heart. On another note, his right arm seemed to be relatively uninjured, but I did find a poorly patched up bullet wound in the shoulder, and I did find old scars littering his forearm that seem to point to self harm. Now as I mentioned before with Laurel, she might have suffered psychological trauma, and I am now inclined to believe that Oliver has as well. Now, as for his chest, all of his ribs were broken, or cracked, which put a lot of pressure on the lung, and when he was jostled, his rib did in fact manage to puncture a lung, called a pneumothorax, and we treated him with a chest tube, which helps ease up the strain on his other lung, and that should lower the chances of one of his lungs failing, but I cannot make any promises. He also had three bullet wounds, one in his chest, near his heart, but luckily, it missed by barely an inch, and the other two were in his abdomen, and we did have to remove his spleen, but aside from that, only the blood loss was what worried me when he came in, and his color seems to be returning nicely. There was another wound in his back that resembled that of a stab wound, which, too, was desperately depleting his blood supply, but again, I managed to stitch him up and he is looking at a full recovery, so I don't suspect a spinal injury, but I need to wait for the swelling to go down before I can confirm this. His right knee did show a tear in the meniscus, but it is minor, and from what I can tell, old, and he should be able to maneuver himself around just fine, but it should be monitored closely, so the tear doesn't grow too much. Lastly, his left ankle was badly sprained, along with a minor break in his foot, but with ice, the ankle should heal nicely, and his he will need crutches for about two weeks to keep strain off of his foot. Now, he is stable at the moment, and before you ask, yes, you can see them, but be very careful with Oliver, because at the moment, he is intubated and sedated to prevent any more surprises. I'm not going to lie to you, it's bad, and there is a 90% chance that Oliver still doesn't make it through the night. But I am hopeful because he seems like a very strong young man, and he is also very stubborn from what I heard. We can only wait to see if that applies here. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to them, I believe Laurel is with Oliver, considering she has refused to leave his side through this whole ordeal," Dr. Lamb finishes, shocking both concerned parents in the room.

As Moira Queen and Quentin Lance followed Dr. Lamb to the ICU to see their children, they were both trying to figure out what to say to their children after 7 years.

Moira couldn't believe this day was here. She was on her way to her son, her son that had gone missing at just the ripe age of 21, not even getting the chance to really live his life yet before it was all ripped away from him. And then she thought about Laurel, the young, beautiful, smart, and bright young woman who chose to date the rich bad boy from the city, against her father's wishes. She thought about whether it brought them closer, or if they had drifted apart. She wondered how they got their infamous scars mentioned by Dr. Lamb, and lastly, she racked her brain to try and remember the last time she talked to her son, and told him that she loved him, and comforted him when he was sad, and for the first time since the Gambit went down, she allowed the memories to flood her mind and take control. She abruptly stopped walking, falling to her knees as she finally came to the realization that she came to all those years ago, except this time, she was crying tears of joy and hope, not fear and anger. Because 7 years ago, she thought about how she never would be able to hug Oliver and tell everything will be alright, because it wasn't. Now, she is finally able to remember without being sad and think about it without breaking down. Now, she can be there for her son again. And that is exactly what she is going to do.

Quentin, on the other hand, was thinking the complete opposite. As he walked down the hallway, being lead to his daughter, he felt a million emotions swirling around inside his chest, excitement, happiness, sadness, fear, confusion, but the strongest one was anger. He felt so much anger that seemed to refuse to go away, no matter how hard he tried to let it go. Anger at Laurel, for getting on that damn yacht with Oliver, hell, for even dating Oliver in the first place. Anger at Oliver for bringing his daughter on that boat, and then, the strongest, was the anger at himself, for not protecting his baby girl. Then he thought about where they were headed, and realized that it was over. All of it. This nightmare is finally ending, he realized. Then all of a sudden Moira was on her knees, sobbing, and before he could even think twice about it, he had his arms wrapped around her, comforting her as he came to the same realization as she did, and in that moment, they locked eyes, and made a vow to each other to put all their opinions aside, and come together to protect their children, no matter what happens in the future.

As Laurel sat next to Oliver on the bed, his limp hand in her tight grip, she looked at his bruised face and started crying, at first with a few tears making their way down her cheeks, then finishing with all out sobbing, not caring how much it jostled her injured ribs, only caring about how Oliver had dove in front of her and protected her with his body as the bullets kept flying, not moving until the island fell quiet once again, the men retreating back to their base. Her heart-wrenching sobs didn't break, not even when strong arms picked her up and held her tight, telling her that everything would be okay, when she realized that Oliver had started coding. She immediately ran back to his side, only to be pushed back by the nurses, who handed her off to the man, who she now recognized as her father, and buried her head in his chest, praying for the deafening beeping to stop and tell her that Oliver was okay, that he wasn't going to leave her again.

"He was trying to save me," Laurel whispered, barely audible to everybody but her father, who kept holding her as if she would disappear into thin air if he ever let go.

"It'll be okay, everything's gonna be okay," Quentin whispered into her ear, holding her closer as the doctor shook his head, and just as he was about to declare Oliver, there was a non-mistakeable beep, the sound of his pulse returning, and when he glanced over at Moira, he saw her hanging on the doorframe as if her life depended on it, and then he watched as she stumbled over to Oliver, barely keeping it together herself. As the hospital staff exited the room, the only sounds heard anymore were Moira and Laurel's sobs, and the now, comforting, beep of the monitor keeping Oliver's vitals.

"Laurel, baby, it's over, come on now, he's okay," Quentin said slowly as he stroked her hair, encouraging her.

All of a sudden, Laurel pulled back, and then threw herself into her father's arms, this time returning the hug, then returning to Oliver's side, Quentin in tow, before they both stepped back and made their way out of the room as they realized that Moira was still coming to grips with Oliver's current state. Laurel exited the room, however, Quentin stopped in the doorway, finally looking closely at Oliver, and saw the bruises covering his face and chest, the gauze covering him here and there, with the shoulder brace and sling, and then the scars. They were everywhere. He was covered in them, and it made him sick. He tried to think of what kind of monster would do that to an innocent man, when he realized that they were suspected to be alone. As he stepped out of the room, Laurel pulled him into a hug once again, and when he pulled back, she smiled. It didn't reach her eyes, but she smiled. And that was enough for now.

When the nurses placed the paddles into the hands of the doctor, it became real. All of it. Oliver was dying, and she was standing there helplessly, as her baby boy was coding on the hospital bed in front of her. Then he was back. There was the beep of his pulse and she heard a relieved sob come from someone in the room, when she realized it came from her. Before she approached, she took in the sight of Laurel wrapped in her father's arms, sobbing, and then cautiously took a step towards her son. He looked horrible. Even without the bruises and bandages and tubes, he had scars everywhere. She felt a strong need to be there, by his side, right now. She gently sat down and began stroking his hand, telling him everything was going to be alright, that it was over. As she felt the presence leave the room, she broke down and sobbed. Then all of a sudden she heard a low groan, and a sharp intake of breath, before Oliver erupted into a coughing fit, and the doctor rushed in once again, calmly telling Oliver to cough, and as he did, he pulled on the tube that was currently stuck down his throat, and pulled it out, and one of the nurses poured water down Oliver's throat, before they left the room again, mentioning that they would be back in a minute.

"Oliver?" Moira asked quietly, not wanting to scare him.

At first she thought that he didn't hear her, and she was about to try again, when she saw a glimpse of her son's bright blue eyes and she nearly squeaked with joy.

"Mom?" Oliver said cautiously.

"Yes, Oliver, it's me honey, you're safe, you're home," Moira comforted as a tear leaked out of the corner of Oliver's bruised eye.