Disclaimer: All rights belong to CW, Warner Bros, and the DC comics. I own nothing. This starts after the events of season one episode nineteen. (Check bottom for longer Author's Note)

Tommy closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as he could. His body was tensed, and his hands hurt. Glancing down at them, he frowned, unclenching his fists which were now a pale white. The day was waning. A warm arm wrapped around his waist, slowly pulling him away from the counter.

"Are you okay?" Laurel asked, her voice soft. Tommy glanced over at her. Her eyes were gentle in an inviting sort of way. He wished with every fiber of his being that he could tell her everything. Oliver. The hood. The drugs. But he couldn't. Instead, he plastered on a tight grin.

"I'm fine." Her eyes narrowed, and the warm arm around his waist left.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I took a job with my dad today," he said, offering it up lamely. Laurel took a step back, her expressions softening.

"Did something happen between you and Oliver?" Laurel asked slowly, walking to the wine cabinet and reaching upwards, pulling out a bottle on the top shelf. Tommy watched her grab two glasses, still not fully facing him.

"No." She stopped moving this time and turned around, looking at him curiously. Her eyebrow raised slightly as if prompting him forward. "We just came to terms with the fact that we're not the same people we were five years ago." Laurel frowned, her lips turning downward for almost an indiscernible moment before the poured the wine into the glasses, carrying them over to him.

"Tommy, none of us are. That's not a bad thing." Picking up his glass, Tommy took a sip of his drink, holding it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing harshly. "But why take a job with your father?" She pulled his arm over to the couch and they sat down. Laurel sat with her legs crossed underneath her, the glass sitting precariously between her fingers. He, however, set his glass down softly on the floor, leaning forward, his elbows resting heavily on his knees.

"Figured it was the best next step." Laurel huffed at this.

"Tommy." Her voice held warning to it. What could he say? The truth? And have Laurel choose Oliver, leaving him alone? Lie? And have her leave him anyways? "Something's going on with you, and if you don't tell me, I'll figure it out for myself." He looked over at her, his head jerking quickly in her direction.

"Just leave it alone," he said. There was no anger or bite in his words. "For now, just please, leave it alone." She softened her gaze once more, but Tommy knew instinctively that this subject was long from being forgotten.

A red haze flashed by, and she was gone.

"Laurel?" He said, standing up, glancing around. His heart pounded. The glass sitting at his feet fell to the floor, spilling the deep red contents out. "Laurel?" He cried out more urgently, his breath rattling.

And then the red haze returned.

()()()()()()()()()

Quentin Lance sat at his desk with his head in one hand and a pen in the other. It tapped on the desk incessantly. Dr. Webb had been found murdered: arrow through the chest. Lance leaned back in his chair, looking over the reports again. The Count had been left untouched for the most part. One other man had been found dead at the scene. Shock to the heart. Didn't really seem like the hood's handiwork. Maybe it was a partner?

Lance looked at his watch, scowling at the numbers. It was well past eleven o'clock now. He quickly tidied up the papers, placing them back in the manila folder they had been in and grabbed his bag, walking out of the precinct. The air was warm and humidity hung in the air. Pressing his bag closer to him slightly, Quentin looked around the streets for other people. Only a few remained out. A few twenty-something-year-olds stumbled drunkenly, laughing at something that Quentin had a feeling was not quite as funny as they thought it was. His lips tugged downwards in a scowl. Their laughter got quieter as they turned down an alleyway before eventually disappearing altogether. And then, the air was quiet, and a stillness filled around him.

He allowed his mind to slowly drift towards his daughter. His younger daughter. The one who had died, or so they all had thought. Hope bubbled in his chest, but Quentin frowned, shaking the thoughts out. Lance turned down on the street that his apartment was on. When Dinah had first brought him that picture, he had been angry. Not that she was here, not that Laurel had basically tricked him into meeting with her, but because she kept giving him hope. And every time that hope left, it felt like he was losing Sara all over again. It was happening again: an endless cycle of pain.

Lance walked wordlessly up the stairs, entering into his apartment and settling on the side of his bed. His hand crept towards the picture frame on his nightstand, the one that held Sara and Laurel smiling, and picked it up. Pain filled his chest once more looking at them.

He sighed heavily, his body falling backward onto the bed. His eyes closed gently, only seconds before a blur came through, and he was swept away.

()()()()()()()()()

Thea leaned her head gently against her mom's shoulder. The TV flashed in front of them as some stupid sitcom played. Ollie was out tonight. Again. They had agreed that somebody would always be with mom, at least until Walter got back. Apparently, that somebody was always going to be her. Moira glanced over at her, watching as her features hardened.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Mom asked her, and Thea glanced over.

"Don't you get tired of it?"

"The show? I think it's fine," her voice was noncommittal. Thea sighed, picking her head up off of her mom's shoulder.

"Of Oliver. All he does is lie to us." Her mom bit her lip before picking up the remote and muting the television. They had had this conversation before. Thea just had to accept him for who he was now. But she couldn't. Not when she remembered who he was before.

"Everybody has their secrets, Thea," her mom pointed out, an unspoken reference to the whole vertigo incident before.

"But that was different." Her mom simply raised an eyebrow. "I miss him," Thea mumbled out before leaning her head back on the headboard. "The old him I mean." Moira shook her head softly. "At least then I knew he cared about us." All Ollie did now was avoid her. They used to be close, or so she thought. They were closer than whatever they are now at least. Anger welled in her chest, but the feeling was cut short by her mom sitting up straight, tensing. Moira looked directly into her eyes.

"He does care, he may be showing it the same way as he used to, but he does care." The conviction in her voice silenced Thea. Moira settled back onto the bed, and Thea laid her head back on her shoulder. The TV was unmuted, and sound refilled the room.

She didn't even have time to think before she was swept away.

()()()()()()()()()

Diggle sat in the foundry. His eyes scanned over Deadshot's file. He had practically memorized it by now. Oliver sat beside him, a wary look on his face.

"You can take a break, you know," Diggle said, glancing at his friend's sluggish blink in reply.

"Like I said, this is a priority to you, so it's-"

"A priority to me, I get it," he replied. "But you walking around dead on your feet isn't going to help anybody." Oliver gave him a look and rubbed a hand over his face. "Besides, you have a family at home who could use your help."

"I can't do anything to help them. All the leads have turned up dead so far."

"They don't need the hood's help. They need Oliver's help." Oliver glanced at him.

"I don't know how to do it anymore," Oliver finally said after a few beats of silence.

"What?"

"Be a part of a family." The confession wasn't surprising.

"That's because you've spent your nights down here, with me. As much as the city appreciates your contribution, your family misses you. You say you're living a double life, but right now, your living this life and going through the motions as Oliver Queen." Oliver shook his head, not exactly denying his claim.

"Facing bad guys is a whole lot easier than facing a teenage sister and a disapproving mother." Diggle gave him a look, and Oliver just sighed, holding his hands up in mock defeat. "Fine, I get it." He stood up. "I'll take the night off." Oliver walked over towards the steps of the foundry, before turning around once more. "Thank you." His words were filled with sincerity.

"For what?"

"For reminding me what's important." Diggle only nodded, watching as Oliver walked up the stairs and exited. The door clanged shut loudly, and Diggle looked back towards the computer screen, looking over it again.

A red haze filled his vision, and he was gone.

()()()()()()()()()

Barry's hands shook slightly as he looked over at the people in the room. They were all somebody that he had met at some point, past or in the future. But this was different. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly wishing silently that this was just a bad dream. And with the darkness came an onslaught of memories. Of death. He watched as Diggle began to stir slightly on the floor where he lay, and his head rolled to one side. Barry flashed in, placing a trash can nearest to Diggle, smiling sadly as Diggle promptly rolled over and threw up into it. He never did take Barry running him places well. Especially not running through time.

Barry watched as Diggle blearily looked around the room and stumbled over to Thea, placing two fingers under her chin before releasing a sigh of relief and repeating the process for the other's in the room. Barry walked in, his mask off. There was no need.

"They're fine," Barry offered, catching Dig's attention. Diggle looked up at him and his hand flew down to where he had kept his gun before, only to find it empty.

"Who are you?" Dig asked, and then suspiciously glanced around the room. "Where are we?" Barry opened his mouth to answer but was cut short by more stirring. The others were waking up. Quentin sat up, looking around for a few seconds before his eyes rested on Laurel, and he scrambled over to her as she sat up. Barry could hear him talking to her, and Laurel nodded a few times before she scooted over to where Tommy sat. Her hands nudged him, and Tommy sat up finally looking around. Thea and Moira both sat up next to each other before Moira finally pulled herself to her feet, one hand still hovering over Thea's shoulder.

"What are we doing here?" Moira asked, her voice hollow and dry. Quentin finally glanced up, his eyes meeting Barry's and narrowing.

"I'll have you know you just kidnapped a police officer," he said, trying to pull himself up, too. Barry sighed.

"I'm sorry to have to do this to you guys. If there was any other choice, trust me, I would've done it." Barry ran a hand over his face before continuing. "I'm from the future." Quentin and Tommy both laughed humorously. "I'm from a future where every one of you is dead." They quickly sobered up. The disbelief still remained in their faces, however.

"What do you mean?" Diggle asked, taking a step forward.

"I've relived the future so many times. I've tried to change it, and every time it's the same outcome." There was resignation in his voice. Barry looked around the room once more. They were all staring intensely at him. "I'm going to try it from the beginning instead this time."

"The beginning of what?" Quentin asked, the anger from before had since dulled. Barry watched as Diggle frowned before turning to the room, his eyes carefully regarding the audience. There was a small flash in him eyes, but he said nothing.

"The beginning of a hero." Barry motioned for them to sit on a few couched in front of him. There was a large screen, paper thin, set before them. They shuffled silently over, positioning themselves on the couch. Quentin sat on the corner next to Laurel who was holding Tommy's arm tightly. Thea sat down next to him, her arms linked with Moira's, and Diggle sat on the other end. Moira glanced at Diggle, her eyes narrowing slightly, but the group didn't say anything. Barry sighed, attempting to think of something to say. There weren't any words. He grabbed a remote, which only held four buttons, and he clicked the play button. The screen flashed on.

A boat sailed through a storm. The word's QUEEN'S GAMBIT was prominent on the back.

"What is this?" Moira questioned. She turned and looked at Barry, a pleading look filling her face. Barry steeled his face, only staring at the screen. "Why are you showing us this?"

Robert Queen examined a storm report, looking worried.

"Dad," Thea whispered softly. She shifted closer to Moira and their hands clasped tightly together, their fingers intertwined. Everybody in the room knew what was coming.

A crewman walked in, drenched, and said the storm was a category two. Robert sighed, recommending the ship turn back. A younger looking Oliver walked in.

"Are we in trouble?" He asked.

"One of us is," Robert said, quickly. Oliver laughed and turned around as a girl's voice called him. Sara Lance stood behind him in lingerie.

"Where do you keep the bottle opener on this thing?"

"Oh," Quentin breathed out. "My baby girl." There was an edge to it, and a renewed anger filled his chest as he looked at Oliver on the screen: a not so gentle reminder of the part he played in Sara's death. He could feel Laurel's hand on his shoulder and he glanced over to her, watching as her eyes grew glassy.

"I'll be there in a minute, Sara," Oliver said, a slight smile playing on his face.

"You know son, that is not going to finish well for either of them or for you," Robert said, putting an arm around his son's shoulder.

"He wasn't wrong about that," Quentin bit out. Moira looked over at him, a haunted look filling her face.

"I lost my family, too," Moira said.

"You got him back."

"I didn't get my husband back." Lance huffed slightly but quieted.

The scene flashed to a bedroom, and Sara looked up at Oliver.

"It's getting closer."

"That's not very scientific," Oliver said. Sara teased him lightly about dropping out of college. Oliver sat on the bed, replying in the same teasing manner before kissing her.

"Laurel's going to kill me. Oh she's so going to kill me."

Laurel frowned, sadness tinging her anger. She never got the chance to be mad at Sara. She never got the chance because she was so busy grieving her death.

"Your sister will never know, Come here," Oliver and Sara were back on the bed, and then lightning strikes closer, followed by loud thunder.

"Okay, that one was really closer," Sara said, worry seeping into her voice.

Quentin had now sat up, his back straighter. The room was tense, and Tommy squeezed Laurel's hand in reassurance.

"Sara we're going to be fine." They return to kissing and then the boat creaks loudly and tilts. Sara screams as they fall. Oliver slowly tries to get up. He calls out for Sara, slightly dazed. He watches as Sara gets pulled out of the room by the water and screams her name once more before he is also pulled under.

Quentin turned his face away from the screen. Tears pricked at the surface, fighting to get out. "Why are we seeing this?" Lance asked, echoing Moira's words before. "I don't want to see this." The words came out broken. His eyes pleaded at Barry. Barry simply nodded his head towards the screen instead, offering no assistance. Quentin looked over, watching as Moira and Thea were enchanted with the screen. Why did their family get to live, and his have to die?

"Daddy?" Laurel said, and Quentin looked into her eyes. Tears stained her face and a small sob broke free from her lips. He placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. They remained there for a few seconds before she pulled back suddenly, wiping her eye and turning back to the screen, avoiding his gaze. He could see the glisten of another tear roll down her face.

Oliver resurfaces, this time out of the boat, calling her name again.

"Oliver!" Robert shouts.

"He made it to the life raft?" Moira whispered, mostly to herself. "Oliver said he didn't make it. Why did he lie?" Thea watched as a tear slowly fell from her mother's eyes.

Oliver calls out for Sara again. Robert pulls Oliver onto the lifeboat.

"No, no!" Oliver yells as he rushes towards the edge of the lifeboat. "Dad, she's still out there!"

Quentin shifted uneasily in his seat. He couldn't help feel a pang of guilt as he thought back to his earlier words to the kid, asking if he had even looked for Sara. A war of emotions fought through him, from guilt, to sadness, and finally landing back on anger. He felt safest there. Laurel shot him a glance, but thankfully remained silent.

"He tried," Tommy whispered. Quentin glanced over, opening his mouth to defend himself, but Tommy's eyes remained glued to the screen.

"She's not there." Oliver refuses to believe it and shouts once more, before Robert says again, "She's gone."

Robert hands Oliver a bottle.

"Here son, drink." The crewman protests this, but Robert quickly defends his actions, saying Oliver had the best chance of survival.

"I'm so sorry, I thought I'd have more time. I'm not the man you think I am. I didn't build our city, I failed it. And I wasn't the only one."

Everyone except Diggle and Moira looked confused. Moira's head lowered slightly.

"Mom? What does he mean by that?" Thea asked. Moira shook her head refusing to answer. Thea turned her whole body towards Moira this time, her frown deepening. "Mom? What's going on?" Moira opened her mouth to answer but stopped herself, changing her mind. There was a beat of silence before Moira answered slowly, her words careful.

"There are a lot of things that you just wouldn't understand."

"I'm sure," Thea said, her eyes flashing.

The scene changes, and the crewman and Oliver are both asleep. Robert realizes there aren't enough materials for everyone.

"You can survive this, make it home, make it better, right my wrongs. But you gotta live through this first." Oliver falls asleep again, and Robert shakes him awake.

"You hear me, Ollie? You hear me son?" Robert kisses him on the head, and then pulls out a gun a shoots the crewman. Oliver startles awake, confused.

Thea jumped slightly at the noise. Nobody's eyes wavered from the video in front of them.

"What the hell?" Tommy said.

"Dad?"

"Survive." Robert then shoots himself.

Tommy closed his eyes, bowing his head, out of deference to the man who had been someone he had considered a father, and out of sadness for a man he had considered a brother. The anger eating away at him eased its holding on him slightly. Thea clamped a hand over her mouth, standing up from the couch.

"Oh my God," Thea whispered, repeating herself before backing away from the couch. "I'm not watching this," Thea said, taking another step backward. "How do we even know this is real? This is crazy," she said, her voice rising in pitch at the end of her statement. Moira tugged on her hand, her own shock still evident on her face. "No!" Thea said, pulling her hand harshly away. "How are you all so okay with this? This is impossible!" Tommy stood up, his eyes reddened. He walked over to Thea, grabbing her hand. He gently led her back to the couch, sitting down next to her, and hugged her as tears fell down her face. "It's not fair," she whispered into his shoulder. "He could've lived. He could've come back with Ollie. Why did he choose to die?"

Author's Note: Hi! I've recently gotten back into the arrowverse and got inspired to write a story. My plan is to currently go through all of the flashbacks and then do a few episodes from each season, and afterward write about what the characters do with the information. If this gets copyrighted or something I'll take it down, but I did try and leave out as much dialogue as I could from the episodes and just write my own description. Would you guys be interested in something like this? Let me know what you think!

Stay awesome :)