A/N: Well, here it is, the third story! This takes place halfway through the 5 year gap and Season 2, so there will be some time jumps throughout. WARNINGS: this story will have past child abuse, past sexual assault, human trafficking. Just as a reminder, Roy is not a clone in this universe. This first chapter is kind of short, but it picks up just a few days where the last story left off. Enjoy!

[September 2013]

The sun streaming through the window caused Roy's eyes to flutter open. He looked at his alarm clock, then sighed. 'It's already 8:30,' he told himself mentally. 'I need to get up.' A muscle in his shoulder twitched as he sat up. 'Probably from lack of activity.' It'd been three days since he'd been able to patrol because Roy wasn't exactly eager to expose his secret identity to some kid he'd found on the street. Even if that kid was exceptionally polite and quiet. Figuring it was probably a good idea to feed him breakfast, Roy got dressed in his usual work clothes, then, left his bedroom. He was wearing slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a red tie. Nothing fancy, but something that made him more of a professional. He knocked on the guest bedroom door. "Connor?" he asked. "You up?" After a moment of silence, he opened the door.

Connor was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, hands resent on his knees, eyes closed. They opened after a few seconds of Roy standing in the doorway. "Good morning, Raymond," he said politely.

"Morning. You know, I told you, you can call me Ray."

"Ray."

"You get up pretty early, you know. Especially for a 13-year-old."

"I'm…used to getting up early."

"Hmm." This kid was a real mystery. Three days of living with the teen hadn't given Roy any new information as to who he was, or why he was alone in Star. All he'd really learned was that Connor was an intensively private person who wasn't eagerly sharing his life story. "Come on, breakfast time."

"Are you working today?"

"I am." Roy led Connor into the kitchen and the teen sat down at the small table. "Do you have any plans for today?"

"Not really. I might read."

"Go right ahead. Feel free to read anything on my shelves." He popped some toast into the toaster for them. Another thing he'd learned about Connor, the kid was a vegetarian, so toast was the best option for him in the morning. "How did the new PJs work out?"

Conor glanced down at the pajamas Roy had gotten for him the day before. "They're nice. I-I told you though Ray, you didn't need to get me anything."

"I couldn't expect you to keep sleeping in the two pairs of clothes you have with you. I'm sure it's a lot more comfortable."

"They are, thanks. I-" Connor seemed to second guess whatever he was going to say because he turned away.

"I was thinking of having pasta for dinner tonight." Roy put jam on their toast, then poured Connor a glass of milk. "Sound good?"

"It's your house, Ray."

"Well, I want you to eat it." Roy set toast and milk down in front of Connor. "You haven't been eating a lot in the past few days."

"I'm just…distracted."

"Distracted?"

"Yeah." Connor started eating, effectively ending their conversation.

"Ok, well, I have to go to work. You know the rules. If you need me and it's an emergency, you know how to get to my office. Got it?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Good. I'll see you tonight." Roy grabbed a light jacket, his keys, and his phone as he left. When he left the apartment building, it was warm. Much warmer than it would've been in Gotham in late September. It was nice though. He much preferred warmth over cold. The walk to work was short, 15 minutes since his office was only five blocks from where he lived. Squeezed between a nail salon and pawnshop was a small, 4-story building. The words 'Raymond Wayne, Private Investigator' were printed in stickers on the door. Roy unlocked the door, then turned the lights on as he entered. The first floor had three rooms, including a bathroom. His office contained his desk, a couple of chairs in front of it, and coat hooks on a wall. Behind his desk was a door that led into the back room. It wasn't a lot, but looking around at it always gave him a sense of pride. Almost as soon as he sat down at his desk, the door opened.

"Are you open for business?" asked a man as he took a step in.

"Absolutely. Come on in." Roy stopped to shake the man's hand before he sat down. "What's your name?"

"Peter Black."

What can I do for you, Mr. Black?"

"My wife is missing."

"Have you contacted the police?"

"She wasn't taken. She left me. I just want to talk to her."

"Does she have any kind of restraining order against you?"

"No."

"Good." Roy pulled out an empty envelope, then a pad of paper. "Why don't you tell me everything you can about your wife?" As the man he talked, listening and writing down the information he was given. Eventually, the man stopped talking, but Roy kept writing. "The good news is, it seems like your wife might still be in Star somewhere."

"So you'll help me?"

"Absolutely." Roy scribbled some numbers down on a paper, then handed them to the man. "Here are my rates. I charge for every hour I spend working on the case."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Just fill out this form and sign it." The man did so, then signed the back. Roy looked it over. "Everything looks good. I'll get to work on it as soon as I can."

The man stood up and shook Roy's hand again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Roy waited until the man left before he took a packet of stickers from a drawer and put a red circle on the file. "So far there are no reasons to suspect abuse, but you can never be too sure." Red stickers always went on the files of cases like these. A potential domestic abuser looking for a victim who'd left them. If his investigation turned up evidence to support abuse, Roy would make sure the wife was safe, then claim the case was unsolvable and collect his fee. (Whether or not the abuser would receive a visit from Red Arrow depended on the severity and if children were involved.) He wanted to make a living, but he wouldn't compromise the safety of abuse victims seeking help or escape to do it. He didn't really think this man was an abuser, but he always preferred to air on the side of caution.

— —

The day passed without incident. Roy picked up a couple more cases throughout the day. Most of them were spouses, both husbands, and wives, wanting him to find out if their significant others were cheating. (This always made his eyes roll.) And one couple who wants him to find out if their landlord was stealing from them. Overall, it was a significantly ordinary day, until the door opened right before he was supposed to close for the day.

"Are you still open?" asked the man.

"….I suppose I am," Roy replied, sitting back down. 'That's a Star City detective.' He recognized him from nights patrolling as Red Arrow. This should be interesting. "What can I do for you?"

"I want your opinion on a case." The police detective removed a case file from his bag, then handed it to the private detective across the desk.

"Should you be giving me this?"

"It's a cold case, hasn't been touched in years. Besides, it's my case so no one should be looking for it."

"You want an opinion on a cold case?"

"Yeah. It's… It's a missing person's case. You might be old enough to rememberer it. Its was pretty high profile."

"Who was the missing person?" Roy opened the file as he asked.

"Roy Harper."

The air was sucked out of Roy's lungs. Staring back at him was the picture from his social services file, his 6th-grade school picture. He clenched the hand on the desk into a fist to keep the detective from seeing the shaking. "I'm not familiar with the case."

"You're not?"

"No, I just moved to Star three years ago."

"Well, the short version of this story is, Roy was 14 when he went missing. He was Oliver Queen's ward and he just….disappeared from the Queen Mansion. Right from his bedroom. That's what Oliver Queen claimed at least."

"Claimed?"

The detective's face twisted a little. "I never believed his story about the break-in. Too many things didn't add up in my mind."

"Like what?"

"…I probably shouldn't say. Wouldn't want to bias you. Look, I want to hire you to figure out what happened."

"You want me to solve a cold case that's almost 8 years old?"

"You don't need to solve it. Just…go through the evidence in the file and tell me what you think happened to Roy." He took a small stack of cash out of his bag next and put it on the table. "Please."

Roy stared at the file for a few seconds, then sighed. "Ok. I'll take it."

"Thank you." He put a business card on top of the file. "So you can reach me. No pressure so please, take your time."

"I will." Roy stood up and shook the detective's hand. "Thank you, Mr.-"

"Detective Rodgerson."

"Detective Rodgerson. I'll call you when I have something."

"Thank you." Detective Rodgerson left and Roy locked the door as soon as he did.

"What the hell?" A small tremor was going through his hands. Roy walked back to his desk and leaned on it to stop the shaking. "The detective who worked on my case wants me to look over it?!" When he said the situation out loud, something flipped in his brain. As if he was just fully registering the situation. A hoarse laugh escaped his body. "Figures. This would happen three days after I was declared legally dead and I thought I could really move on." He shook his head. This was just his luck, wasn't it? He stood up straight and gathered up the file. "I'm assuming he thinks I'm dead. That's the only reason he'd be bringing it to a third party. Now that I'm really dead he wants some closure." Roy sighed as he shoved the file into his bag, along with the money the detective had paid him. "I could just tell him I didn't find anything. That Roy Harper is dead." That made his stomach twist around a bit. "That wouldn't be right though. This poor man was assigned to a bad case he never had a hope of solving." Roy's face scrunched in contemplation as he left his office and locked up. "What can I do though?"

It was times like these Roy really wished he could ask Bruce for advice. Not that he couldn't talk to him, but like Dick, things had been distant between them. Roy winced a little. 'I've haven't really spoken to him since- since Jason.' Besides, he was an adult, he could figure this out on his own. 'I don't want to just tell him I'm dead and send him on his way. But I can't tell him the truth either. Damn, this isn't easy, is it?' He'd never thought having a private detective business would bring him these kinds of moral quandaries.' Again, that just seemed like his luck at work. 'It's a good thing I have some time to figure it out. This is something that will require a lot of careful thought.'

When Roy got to his apartment, he walked in to find Connor meditating on the living room floor. 'Speaking of difficult cases…' He hung up his bag and coat. 'I think tonight it's time I get to the bottom of his situation.' He'd given the teen a few days to get used to him, but Roy knew he couldn't let Connor stay here indefinitely without knowing what had brought him to Star. "Hey, Connor," he said as he approached.

"Hi, Ray," Connor replied. He opened his eyes and looked up at Roy. "How was your day?"

"…Different. How was yours?"

Connor shrugged. "Like every other day, I suppose. I- I read a book from your shelf, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not." Roy sat down on the couch. "Want to sit up here or…."

"I'm fine here."

"Ok." Roy ran his hands through his hair. "So, Connor, you've been here for a few days-"

"Do I have to leave?" A concerned look leaped to his face.

"No. That's not where I was going. I just thought it was time we talked about your…situation."

"My situation?" Connor turned so his whole body was facing Roy. "What do you mean?"

"You said you came here to find your dad, who you've never met, but you came here alone. You said you hitchhiked here… Where's your mom? Or, any other adults for that matter?" There was no reply as Connor looked at the ground. "I'm not going to judge you or get angry, Connor. I just need to know the truth."

"That is the truth. I- I need my dad. My mom….she's dead." His face fell in grief and he started wringing the edge of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Connor."

"Thanks… I- just really need my dad. If I find him then…maybe my life could go back to normal, at least a little bit."

Roy frowned a bit. 'What does he mean? Why would this dad he's never met make his life normal again?' While he knew Connor was a pretty private kid, they couldn't stop with that. Maybe the place to start with this mysterious dad of Connor's. "You said you knew your dad's name?" When Connor hesitated, Roy pressed on. "I said I'd help you find him, remember? I can't do that if you don't give me the necessary information."

"Yeah. My mom- She told me who he was once…years ago…"

"Nothing else? No address, an occupation? The more details the better."

"Um… He's a businessman, or at least he was before he went missing. I think he was pretty famous around here actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You've probably heard of him."

Somewhere in the back of Roy's mind, there was a red flag waving. It brought a chill of anxiety up his spine. Unfortunately, it wasn't concrete enough for him to really grasp it. "Connor…who's your dad?"

Connor looked up at him. The boy's blonde hair was so short it barely shifted and his green eyes were innocent and calm. "Oliver Queen."