Chapter Text
Every scar on Ollie’s body spoke of a painful memory. A lesson. A tip in survival. He’d been hurt in the worst possible ways imaginable. And he’d let it happen again. All the pain, the loss, the torture. Hell, he’d go another round with Konstantin Kovar and all his men if it meant his boy would breathe.
“William,” he begged. “Please. You’re too young. You’re all I have left. I should have protected you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll never come near you again if you just breathe!” He paused to let some tears fall as he ducked his head.
“You were right,” he said to Chase’s corpse. “You were fucking right. I ruin anything, everything I touch. But William? He’s innocent. He barely knows who I am. I said I don’t trade in lives but if I could die instead of him I would. I can’t do this-I can’t-he’s my SON!”
Ollie let himself cry for real now, sobs that were long repressed. About a decade of pain rushing out and he probably sounded like a man who had lost everything. He had. He had lost everything. His fingers gripped William’s wrist too tight, like he was afraid to let go, to acknowledge that his son was dead.
Everyone was dead.
He could feel his blood pounding, throbbing in his heart, his ears, his fingers on William’s wrist. Wait, no, that wasn’t in line with his heartbeat. That was a jump that was off, weaker.
Ollie scrambled for a reflective surface, dared to let himself hope. It was impossible. It would be the biggest miracle, the one stroke of luck in his damned life. He held up the piece of glass to his son’s mouth and saw condensation.
William was breathing.
There was only one thing to do. Trust no one. William was targeted because he was vulnerable, the son of Oliver Queen. And that meant that while Ollie thanked his lucky stars that William was alive, nobody else could know. Not that he’d have anyone to tell.
A hysterical laugh bubbled out from his chest.
“It’s okay, William, nobody knows. Nobody knows because they’re all dead. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. It’s perfect, right?” He laughed again.
William didn’t respond.
“You’re being awfully quiet. What do you think, Adrian?”
He looked at the rotting corpse. It was starting to smell bad, because they’d been sailing for ages. Just the three of them on the cold blue sea.
“You’re right, I should hide William away. Where do you want to go, Will? The world’s your oyster, haha. I always thought that was a weird phrase, didn’t you?”
Ollie smiled at the two bodies. “Shh. Don’t say it out loud. They could be listening. Eenie meenie minie mo, to which continent should we go?”
He laughed delightedly.
“Now William, I know it’s technically considered a continent, but Antarctica is not a serious answer and you know it. Okay, I’ve made up my mind. Don’t worry, you’ll love it there.”
They sailed for days, and Ollie was glad Adrian had kept provisions in the boat. He’d patched William’s wound and fed them both, but not Chase. Chase didn’t deserve food and water because he was a meanie.
They finally came to a populated island.
“Hello!” Ollie greeted the locals. “I need an airplane. I have lots of money to pay for it. Adrian doesn’t get to come, though. He’s really really mean.”
They looked at him as if he was crazy and well, maybe he was. But money talked louder than hypothetical mental health diagnoses. Soon he was on a plane to the Himalayas. William was breathing a little better now, but he was still at death’s door.
Ollie hiked up a mountain for half a day, William on his shoulders. He was hot and sweaty, but he was doing it He would ensure his son's safety.
When they got to the Ashram Ollie had researched, Oliver schooled his features to look less manic.
A kind old man let him into a tent. Ollie stood while the man sat. He had wrinkled brown skin and kind eyes.
Olie laid William down on the soft rug.
“This is my son, William. Please heal him and raise him as one of your own. He can’t know about me leaving him here though,” he said.
The man looked over William’s limp form and nodded solemnly.
“He will not remember much of his previous life,” he said in a thick accent. “We will train him in peace and war. It is not often we get a savior.”
Ollie raised an eyebrow. “Savior?” he asked. “What does that mean? How is William a savior?”
The man looked deep into Oliver’s eyes.
“This boy is dead.”