A voice narrates, "Hello. My name is Oliver Queen. For the past seven years, I've had only one goal: to be the greatest wizard alive. If you all don't know, I am a half-blood. A half-blood is a wizard who has only one parent who is a wizard. My mother, Moira Queen, was said to be one of the greatest witches to have ever been alive. But my father was also a wizard. He was a pure-blood, while my mother was half-blood."

"If you don't know my story... you might know my cousin's... Harry Potter."

In 1991

Oliver lay in a hospital bed, the soft hum of fluorescent lights above him. As he stirred awake, his vision adjusted, and he noticed a familiar figure standing nearby.

Opening his eyes fully, he saw his mother, Moira, her face illuminated by a gentle, relieved smile.

"Oh, my beautiful boy," Moira whispered, her voice filled with warmth. "I've missed you."

A weak but genuine smile spread across Oliver's face. "Mom."

Tears glistening in her eyes, Moira leaned forward and wrapped him in a careful embrace, mindful of his fragile state. Oliver exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him as he returned her hug.

Moira pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

Oliver took a moment, then replied, "Decent. I think that's the longest I've slept since the night of the boat."

Moira's smile widened, though it wavered with emotion. "It's good to have you back home, Oliver. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of years and unspoken longing.

Oliver took a shaky breath, his gaze drifting to the sterile hospital room around him. "I can't believe I'm finally home," he said, his voice thick with disbelief.

Moira's expression softened, though a shadow of grief lingered in her eyes. "It's been five years, Oliver," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Five years since the Queen's Gambit went down. We thought we'd lost you forever."

Five years. The weight of her words settled over Oliver, and he struggled to process the enormity of it. Five years of lost time, of pain and survival, rushed back to him in a wave. He looked at his mother, a mixture of sorrow and determination in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry for everything you went through," he whispered. "For what you all had to endure while I was gone."

Moira cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down his cheek. "You're here now," she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. "That's all that matters."

Oliver nodded, clinging to her words like a lifeline, though he knew the journey home had only just begun.

Oliver's eyes softened as a thought crossed his mind. "Where's Thea?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "Is she alright?"

Moira's expression brightened with a hint of relief. "She's fine," she assured him, her smile warm. "Thea's at the Manor, waiting for us. She's been so anxious to see you."

Oliver's heart clenched at the mention of his little sister. The last time he had seen Thea, she was just a small child, innocent and full of laughter. The idea that five years had passed and that she had grown up without him felt staggering. "I can't wait to see her," he said quietly, emotion thick in his voice.

Moira's grip on his hand tightened. "She's changed a lot," she said softly, a bittersweet note coloring her words. "But I know seeing you will mean everything to her."

Oliver nodded, determination hardening his expression. "Then let's not keep her waiting." Despite his physical exhaustion, the thought of reuniting with Thea gave him a newfound strength, a reason to push through the pain.

Moira leaned in and kissed his forehead once more. "Soon, Oliver," she promised. "Very soon."

Just as Moira finished speaking, the door to the hospital room opened, and a doctor stepped inside. He was a middle-aged man with kind eyes, wearing a white coat and carrying a tablet. He approached Oliver and Moira with a professional but empathetic demeanor.

"Good to see you awake, Oliver," the doctor said, offering a reassuring smile. "I'm Dr. Reynolds. Let's review your condition."

Oliver nodded, bracing himself. He already knew the extent of his injuries; he had lived with the pain and the scars for years. "I know it's bad," Oliver said quietly, glancing down at his bandaged limbs. "Just tell us everything."

Dr. Reynolds's expression grew more serious. "You're right. It is serious. You've sustained multiple fractures—some old, some more recent. Your left forearm, two ribs, and your right ankle all show signs of having been broken, and in some cases, they didn't heal properly. We'll have to monitor and manage your recovery carefully."

Oliver's jaw tightened, but he remained composed. Moira, however, couldn't hide her distress, her grip on his hand tightening.

"And the scars?" Oliver pressed, his voice steady but tense. He didn't need a mirror to know how his body had been marked by the years of torment.

Dr. Reynolds sighed. "Scarring covers about 80% of your body. Some of it is from burns, while other scars appear to be from cuts or lash marks. It's clear you've endured extensive trauma." He paused, letting the words sink in. "We'll create a long-term plan to address your physical recovery, but your emotional and psychological healing will also be crucial."

Moira's eyes filled with tears as she listened. "My poor boy," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Oliver nodded, determination flickering in his eyes despite the pain. "I'll get through it," he said resolutely. "I've survived this long."

Dr. Reynolds offered a small, respectful nod. "And you're not alone anymore," he said. "We'll do everything we can to help you. You're home now, and that's the first step."

Oliver took a moment to absorb everything the doctor had said, the weight of his injuries pressing heavily on his mind. But the thought of being with his family, truly home at last, gave him hope. He looked at Dr. Reynolds with a quiet determination.

"When can I go home?" Oliver asked, his voice steady but filled with longing.

Dr. Reynolds considered the question thoughtfully. "We'll need to run a few more tests over the next couple of days to ensure there are no immediate complications," he explained. "Your body has endured a lot, and we need to make sure your vital signs remain stable. If everything looks good, I'd say you could go home in about a week."

Oliver's shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded, accepting the reality of his situation. A week felt like an eternity, but after five years of pain and isolation, it was a small price to pay.

Moira's eyes filled with relief, and she squeezed Oliver's hand gently. "A week isn't so long," she said softly, a smile breaking through her tears. "And when you do come home, everything will be ready for you."

Oliver managed a small, grateful smile. "I'm looking forward to it," he said, his voice carrying a quiet resolve. "More than anything."

Dr. Reynolds gave them both a reassuring nod. "You're in good hands, and we'll do everything possible to get you there," he said before stepping back. "I'll be checking in regularly, so rest up and let us know if you need anything."

As the doctor left, Oliver glanced at his mother, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. The road to recovery would be long, but for the first time in years, he was surrounded by the people who loved him most.

Oliver turned to his mother, his eyes filled with desperation. "Mom," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please... talk to him. Convince him to let me go home now."

Moira's expression softened with worry. She could see the pain and exhaustion etched into her son's face, but beneath it was a raw, pleading vulnerability. "Oliver," she began gently, "I know you want to leave, but—"

"I can't stay here," Oliver interrupted, his voice trembling. "I don't like hospitals. I feel trapped and after everything... I just want to be somewhere that feels safe. Somewhere familiar."

Moira's heart broke at the anguish in his words. She remembered how Oliver used to be fearless, always so full of life. Now, seeing him vulnerable and hurting, all she wanted was to protect him. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing his cheeks.

"I'll speak to the doctor," she promised, her voice steady but full of emotion. "I'll do everything I can to get you home as soon as possible. But we need to make sure you're strong enough first. Your health has to come first."

Oliver closed his eyes, fighting back tears. He wanted to be strong, but the thought of spending even one more day in the hospital was suffocating. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Moira kissed his forehead, her heart aching. "We'll take it one day at a time," she said softly. "And I'll be here with you every step of the way. You're not alone anymore, Oliver."

He nodded, clinging to her words like a lifeline, though the longing for home remained like a heavy ache in his chest.

Moira took a deep breath, squeezing Oliver's hand gently before letting go. "I'll be right back," she promised, her eyes full of determination. She stepped out of the room and found Dr. Reynolds at the nurse's station, reviewing some files.

"Dr. Reynolds," she called softly, her voice both polite and firm. The doctor looked up, and Moira approached, her concern evident. "I need to speak with you about Oliver."

He set down the file, giving her his full attention. "Of course, Mrs. Queen," he replied. "What's on your mind?"

Moira hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Oliver wants to go home," she said. "I know your recommendation is to keep him here for observation, but I'm asking you to reconsider. He's not just uncomfortable here—he's terrified."

Dr. Reynolds's brows furrowed in concern. "I understand his anxiety, but given the extent of his injuries and trauma, the hospital is the safest place for him right now," he explained. "We need to be cautious."

Moira's eyes filled with pain. "Doctor, you have to understand," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Oliver used to be fearless. He was the bravest, most daring boy. But now, after everything he's been through, he feels unsafe even in a hospital room. Being here is making it worse."

Dr. Reynolds's expression softened as he considered her words. "I hear you," he said slowly. "And I don't want to cause him more distress. But I need to be sure that if he goes home, there will be adequate support in place. He'll need constant monitoring."

Moira nodded, her resolve unwavering. "We can make that happen. The Manor has the resources, and I'll bring in medical professionals if needed. Just... please, help me bring him home. He's been through too much already."

The doctor sighed, weighing the situation carefully. "Alright," he said finally, his voice gentle. "I'll work on a modified plan to get him home sooner, but with strict guidelines for his care. I'll need to see some improvement over the next day or two."

Moira's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you," she whispered, her gratitude immense. "I'll make sure he gets everything he needs."

Dr. Reynolds nodded. "We'll make this work," he assured her. "I'll come by to speak with Oliver about the conditions of his discharge."

Moira's heart felt lighter as she headed back to her son's room, ready to deliver the news that home was finally within reach.

Later

Moira walked back into Oliver's room, where Dr. Reynolds was already standing by the bedside. Oliver looked up, his expression expectant but weary.

"Oliver," Dr. Reynolds began kindly, "I wanted to speak with you for a moment." He pulled up a chair beside the bed and glanced at Moira, who stood by the door, her heart in her throat. "I've spoken with your mother, and we're considering an early discharge. But I need to ask you, son, are you sure you're ready for that? Your recovery still requires careful attention."

Oliver swallowed, his gaze darting to the walls of the sterile hospital room, the quiet hum of machines surrounding him like a constant reminder of everything he had endured. After a moment, he looked back at Dr. Reynolds, his voice steady but filled with quiet fear.

"I don't feel safe here," Oliver admitted, his words heavy with the weight of everything he had been through. "This place... it doesn't feel like home. It just feels like I'm trapped, and it brings back memories I don't want to think about."

Dr. Reynolds studied him closely, clearly understanding the depth of what Oliver was saying. Moira stepped forward, her hand resting gently on Oliver's shoulder.

Oliver continued, his eyes focused on the floor as though searching for the right words. "When I was on Lian Yu... I had to sleep with one eye open. I couldn't trust anyone, couldn't let my guard down. I always had to stay alert, to be ready for the next attack. And now, here, it's the same. I don't feel safe. It feels like I'm trapped again, and I can't relax, not even to sleep."

Dr. Reynolds nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious but compassionate. "I understand now," he said quietly. "What you're feeling... the trauma you've experienced, it's not just physical. It's psychological too. And that's just as important. You've had to be on guard for so long that it's become a part of you, even now."

Oliver nodded, his throat tight as he fought to keep his composure. "I just want to go home," he whispered. "To somewhere I can feel safe like I can finally breathe."

Moira's heart broke for her son, but she knew this was the right choice. She looked at Dr. Reynolds, her voice firm but filled with understanding. "He's been through more than anyone should ever endure. I'll make sure he gets the support he needs, but please, let us bring him home."

Dr. Reynolds sat in silence for a moment, weighing the decision. Finally, he looked up at both of them, his voice soft but resolute. "I'll arrange for his discharge, but I'll need to make sure we have a full care plan in place. You'll need to be vigilant, Moira—Oliver will need rest, and there may be times when the memories from Lian Yu resurface. It's not going to be easy, but he's strong. And being at home, with the people who love him, will be part of his healing."

Moira's eyes welled with tears as she nodded. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We'll do whatever it takes. I'll make sure he's never alone, not ever again."

Dr. Reynolds stood, offering a gentle smile. "It's the best we can do right now. I'll have the paperwork ready, and we can start preparing for your release."

Oliver looked up at his mother, relief flooding through him as he realized his plea had been heard. He allowed himself to hope for the first time in a long while.

Hours later

The hours that followed were a whirlwind of paperwork, instructions, and careful preparations for Oliver's discharge. Nurses helped him change into a set of loose, comfortable clothes that Moira had brought from home, and he slowly got out of the hospital bed, wincing as his body protested every movement.

As they were getting ready to leave, Oliver caught sight of a mirror on the wall across from him. Compelled by an almost morbid curiosity, he took a few unsteady steps toward it, leaning on his crutches. When he finally stood in front of his reflection, he froze.

The boy staring back at him was almost unrecognizable. His face was leaner, his cheekbones sharper, and his eyes looked older, haunted by experiences that no child should have known. Faint scars marred his skin. His hair, once a carefree mess, now seemed more unruly and darker, as if it, too, had been marked by the years of hardship.

Oliver reached up, touching his face with trembling fingers, trying to reconcile the stranger in the mirror with the boy he used to be. It wasn't just the physical differences; it was the look in his own eyes—hard, guarded, yet carrying a deep sadness. The innocence he once had was gone, replaced by something much heavier.

"I don't recognize myself," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Moira stepped forward, her heart aching as she watched her son struggle with the reflection. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're still you, Oliver," she said softly, her voice full of love. "No matter how much you've changed, you're still my son. And we're going to get through this together."

Oliver's gaze lingered on his reflection for a moment longer, his eyes searching for some trace of the boy he used to be. Finally, he looked away, blinking back tears. "I hope you're right," he whispered.

Moira gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, her own eyes glistening with tears. "Come on," she said, trying to sound hopeful. "Let's go home."

Oliver nodded, taking a deep breath as he turned away from the mirror. The road ahead would be long and difficult, but as he took his mother's hand, he allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that home could be the beginning of healing.

At the manor

Oliver sat beside his mother in the back of the limo, leaning heavily into the soft leather seat. The gentle hum of the engine and the way the cityscape gave way to the familiar rolling hills of his family's estate filled the car with quiet anticipation. Oliver clutched his crutches close, his heart pounding as he took in the sights he had missed for so long.

Moira watched him intently, concern never far from her expression, but as they approached the grand, wrought-iron gates of the Queen Manor, something miraculous happened. Oliver's eyes lit up, and a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

The limo turned down the long, winding driveway, and Oliver pressed his forehead against the window, taking in every detail: the sprawling, manicured lawns, the towering oak trees he used to climb as a child, and the magnificent stone facade of the house he had dreamed of seeing again. The familiar sight filled him with a sense of warmth and relief, a beacon of hope after years of darkness.

Moira noticed the change in his demeanor, and her heart swelled. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel hopeful. "It's still here," she whispered, a smile breaking through her worry. "Waiting for you, just as we have been."

Oliver turned to her, his smile faint but real. "It feels like a dream," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I used to think I'd never see this place again."

Moira reached for his hand, her touch gentle and reassuring. "But you're here now," she said softly. "And we're going to make sure you never feel lost again."

The limo pulled to a stop in front of the grand entrance of the manor, and Oliver took a steadying breath. He knew his journey was far from over, but being home—truly home—was a step he had longed for, and the smile on his face, however small, felt like the first sign of healing.

Moira helped Oliver out of the limo, and he leaned heavily on his crutches, taking each step with care as they approached the grand double doors of the Manor. The familiar scent of polished wood and the warmth of home washed over him as they stepped inside. He barely had a moment to take it all in before a small, excited voice rang out from across the foyer.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's head snapped up, his heart leaping at the sound. A little girl with bright eyes and dark hair came running down the sweeping staircase. It was Thea, her face alight with pure joy and a grin that lit up the entire room. She looked so much like the little sister he remembered, yet she had grown taller and more full of life in his absence.

"Thea," he breathed, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over him. A tear slipped down his cheek as he called out her nickname. "Speedy!" He opened his arms, his crutches awkwardly dropping to the floor, but he didn't care. "Come here," he choked out. "Come give me a hug."

Thea didn't hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, wrapping her tiny hands around his neck, her laughter bubbling up as she buried her face against his shoulder. Oliver held her as tightly as he could, his body trembling with sobs he had tried so hard to hold back. Tears streamed down his face as he clung to his little sister, feeling the warmth and love he had dreamed of for so many years.

"You're really home," Thea whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," Oliver managed to say, his voice thick with tears. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hand gently brushing her hair. "More than you'll ever know."

Moira watched the reunion, her own eyes misty with tears as she witnessed the bond between her children. For the first time in what felt like forever, the house felt full again—full of love, hope, and the promise of healing.

Tears streamed down Oliver's face as he gently kissed Thea's forehead, his heart overflowing with emotions he couldn't contain. Thea looked up at him, her eyes bright and full of joy. "I'm so happy you're home," she whispered, her voice full of pure, childlike relief.

Oliver's voice trembled as he held her close, his arms wrapping protectively around his little sister. "You were with me the whole time," he whispered, his words carrying the weight of all he had endured. "Every single day, I thought of you."

He closed his eyes, holding her as if afraid to let go, as Thea's presence began to mend the broken pieces of his heart.

Moira stood a few steps away, her hands clasped over her mouth as she watched her children embrace. She didn't even notice the tears that had begun to stream down her own face when she heard Oliver's words to Thea.

"You were with me the whole time," he had whispered, his voice thick with emotion. The impact of that simple sentence struck Moira deeply. It was as though Oliver had given voice to the very thing she had hoped for throughout those five excruciating years—that the love of his family had helped him survive.

A soft sob escaped Moira's lips, and she wiped her tears quickly, trying to steady herself. She had waited so long to have her son home, to hear his voice and see him with his sister. The bond between Oliver and Thea, unbroken despite everything, was a reminder of the love that had kept them all going, even in the darkest moments.

Stepping forward, Moira gently placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder, her voice warm and full of love. "We're together again," she said softly, her heart overflowing. "And nothing will ever take that away from us."

Oliver looked up at his mother, his eyes still glistening with tears, and managed a small but genuine smile. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his family, he allowed himself to believe in the possibility of healing and hope.

Thea pulled back slightly, looking up at Oliver with a smile that sparkled through her happy tears. Moira, her heart full and her eyes still wet stepped closer and gently placed a hand on Oliver's back. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's get you settled."

Thea's small hands reached for Oliver's crutches, which had fallen to the floor when he had embraced her. With a little grunt of effort, she picked them up and held them out to her big brother. "Here, Ollie," she said, her voice full of determination and pride as she helped.

Oliver's smile widened, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thanks, Speedy," he said, taking the crutches and positioning them carefully under his arms. With Moira's steady support and Thea's eager assistance, he managed to get his balance, the familiar ache in his body barely registering in the face of the warmth surrounding him.

Once he was standing, he looked between his mother and sister, feeling the strength of their love lifting him more than any physical support ever could. "Let's go," he said, his voice still a little shaky but full of hope. "I'm ready."

Together, they began to walk further into the Manor, each step bringing Oliver closer to a sense of home he had thought he might never feel again. The halls that once echoed with laughter and life now had the chance to be filled with love once more, and Oliver knew that whatever healing lay ahead, he wasn't facing it alone.

Moira and Thea guided Oliver down the familiar halls of the Manor, the three of them moving carefully to make sure he stayed steady. Thea's small hand never left his arm, as if she were determined to keep him close and safe. Moira kept a protective hand on his back, her presence strong and comforting.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door that had once been so familiar to Oliver. Moira pushed it open gently, and the three of them stepped inside. Oliver's eyes widened, and a flood of memories washed over him. His room looked exactly the same as he had left it, like a perfectly preserved snapshot of a life that had been frozen in time.

The walls were still adorned with his old posters, his books lined the shelves, and his bed was made with the same navy blue comforter. Even his favorite childhood baseball cap still hung on the corner of his desk chair. It was as if he had never left.

Oliver turned to his mother, his eyes filled with emotion. "You didn't change anything," he said, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

Moira's lips trembled as she tried to smile, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I couldn't," she admitted, her voice soft and full of love. "I didn't have the heart to change a single thing. It was my way of hoping... of believing that one day, you'd come home and be here again."

Oliver took a shaky breath, his chest tight with a mixture of gratitude and overwhelming emotion. He looked around the room, taking in every detail, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity that he had missed more than he ever thought possible.

Thea squeezed his arm, her voice light and hopeful. "It's like a time capsule, Ollie," she said with a little smile. "Waiting just for you."

Oliver let out a small, almost disbelieving laugh, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you," he whispered, looking between his mother and sister. "For never giving up on me. For keeping home just as I remembered it."

Moira reached up and gently wiped a tear from his cheek, her touch full of the love that had kept her strong all those years. "Welcome home, my beautiful boy," she said. "This is where you belong."

Oliver nodded, his heart finally beginning to feel at ease. Despite all the pain and the darkness, he was home, surrounded by the love of his family—and that was more powerful than anything he had faced.

Moira brushed her fingers gently over Oliver's cheek one last time before stepping back. "I'll go get dinner started," she said, her voice warm and full of maternal care. "You need a proper meal after everything you've been through." She offered him a soft smile and then slipped out of the room, leaving Oliver and Thea alone.

Thea turned to her big brother with a determined expression. "Alright, Ollie," she declared, taking charge. "You need to sit down and rest." She reached for his arm, guiding him toward the bed, and though she was small, her resolve made her strong, like a little helper on a mission.

Oliver couldn't help but smile at her, grateful for her enthusiasm. "Okay, Speedy, I'm listening," he said, allowing her to lead him. He carefully lowered himself onto the bed, and Thea hovered beside him, making sure he was comfortable.

"There," she said, crossing her arms and looking pleased with herself. "See? I'm taking care of you now."

Oliver chuckled softly, his heart swelling with affection for his little sister. The simple act of sitting on his own bed, with Thea by his side, felt like a small but important victory. He studied her face, noticing how she had grown but was still very much the same spirited, loving girl he had left behind.

"You've gotten so strong," Oliver said, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know what I'd do without my little helper."

Thea beamed at the compliment, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Well, you don't have to find out," she said firmly. "Because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

Oliver reached out and pulled her into a gentle hug, his arms trembling slightly but steady enough to hold her close. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he whispered, feeling the warmth of her love and realizing that, at last, he was truly home.

Thea pulled back slightly from Oliver's embrace, her smile fading as a shadow of sadness crossed her young face. She looked down at the floor, her small hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. "Ollie," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've had nightmares. Ever since they told us... that you were gone. Since the Queen's Gambit went down."

Oliver's heart clenched, and he gently placed a hand over hers. "Nightmares?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

Thea nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears she was trying so hard to hold back. "Yeah," she admitted. "I used to wake up in the middle of the night, crying, because I dreamed that you were... that you were lost forever. I was so scared, Ollie." Her voice cracked, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of pain. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Oliver felt a tear slide down his cheek as he listened to his sister's words, the guilt and sorrow of having put her through that weighing heavily on him. He squeezed her hand gently, his touch full of love and reassurance. "I'm so sorry, Speedy," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to cause you that kind of pain. If I could have come back to you sooner, I would have."

Thea wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling. "But you're here now," she said, her voice shaking but hopeful. "You're really here, and that's all that matters."

Oliver nodded, his heart breaking for his little sister but also swelling with admiration for her strength. "Yes," he said softly. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Thea looked up at him, her tears finally giving way to a small, brave smile. She threw her arms around him again, hugging him tightly, as if she were afraid to ever let go. Oliver held her close, silently vowing to protect her from anything that might ever hurt her again.

Thea pulled back from the hug, looking up at Oliver with wide, hopeful eyes. "Ollie," she said hesitantly, her voice small and vulnerable, "would it be okay if I... if I slept in here with you for a while? Just until I can get some good sleep again." She bit her lip, clearly embarrassed. "I haven't really slept well since you went missing."

Oliver's heart ached at her confession, but he gave her a soft, reassuring smile. He remembered the way she used to crawl into his bed when she had bad dreams, needing the comfort of her big brother to feel safe again. That bond between them was as strong as ever, and he would do anything to help her heal.

"Of course, Speedy," he said gently, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You can stay with me as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be right here if you have any more nightmares."

Thea's face lit up with relief, and she wrapped her arms around him again, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Ollie," she whispered. "I've missed you so much."

Oliver held her close, the warmth of her embrace reminding him of everything he had fought to return to. "I've missed you too," he said, his voice full of love. "More than you'll ever know."

As they sat there together, Thea resting her head against his shoulder, Oliver felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in years. Despite the scars, the pain, and the nightmares that still haunted both of them, they were together. And for now, that was enough.

Thea helped Oliver carefully lift himself off the bed, her small hands steadying him as he adjusted on his crutches. "Let me help you change," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt, her voice still a little wobbly.

Oliver chuckled softly, feeling a wave of gratitude for her. "You're my little helper, huh?" he said with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Thea nodded enthusiastically, and without another word, she gently helped him slip into a fresh pair of jeans and a loose shirt, carefully avoiding any part of his body that seemed too painful to touch. As she worked, her eyes wandered over Oliver's skin, and she couldn't help but notice something she hadn't seen before.

Scars. Deep, jagged ones that covered much of his arms, and his chest. They were impossible to ignore, and they seemed to tell stories of pain, suffering, and survival that she could never fully understand. Her breath caught in her throat as she traced the outline of a particularly prominent scar on his arm with her eyes.

"Ollie..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What happened? Why are there so many?"

Oliver froze, his smile slipping as he followed her gaze. He hadn't really looked at himself, hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge the extent of the damage he had suffered. He felt a pang in his chest, knowing that Thea, his little sister, was seeing these scars for the first time. Scars that had been earned in ways he had never wanted her to understand.

"They're... from what I went through," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady, though the memories threatened to overwhelm him. "On Lian Yu... it wasn't easy. I had to survive. These..." He looked down at his arm, his voice tightening with emotion. "They're reminders of the things I had to do to make it back to you."

Thea's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she didn't look away. "You were so strong, Ollie," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and pain. "I can't even imagine..."

Oliver's heart clenched. He reached for her hand, his own shaking slightly. "I didn't want you to have to imagine it, Speedy," he said softly. "I did it for you—for all of us. But the important thing is that I'm here now. We're together again."

Thea nodded, her voice small but full of love. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered, then leaned up and kissed his cheek gently, as if trying to heal the pain she couldn't fix with words.

Oliver pulled her into another hug, holding her as tightly as he could without causing her any discomfort. "I'm never leaving you again," he promised, knowing that no matter the scars, he had made it back home to the people who mattered most.

Thea's small hands worked with care, helping Oliver adjust his shirt and pull the jeans up over his legs, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. She was focused, trying to keep her mind off the scars she had seen, even though the image of them lingered in her thoughts. She didn't want to show how worried she was, not when Oliver had come back home, not when she finally had him here with her again.

Once he was dressed, she stepped back, a satisfied smile on her face. "There," she said, her voice soft but proud. "You look better already."

Oliver smiled at her, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thanks, Speedy," he said, gently ruffling her hair. "You've been an amazing help. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Thea grinned up at him, her eyes bright despite everything she had learned about his time away. "I'm your little helper, remember?" she said with a wink, trying to make the moment feel lighthearted again.

Oliver chuckled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "Yeah, I remember. You've got my back, and I've got yours."

Thea's grin softened, and she stepped closer to him. "Always, Ollie," she whispered, her tone full of affection and trust. "Always."

For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade, and it was just the two of them—brother and sister, as they had always been. Despite the challenges ahead, despite the scars, and the long road to healing, they had each other. And that, to Oliver, was all that truly mattered.

Later

As Oliver and Thea made their way downstairs, the air felt lighter, the quiet comfort of the Manor settling around them. The warmth of the house, the familiar sounds of it, made Oliver feel like he was finally finding a sense of home again. He leaned slightly on his crutches as Thea walked beside him, ever the watchful little sister, her eyes scanning for any sign that he might need help.

Just as they reached the bottom of the staircase, the door to the Manor swung open, and in strode Tommy Merlyn, his usual swagger in place as he walked into the room like he owned it. When he saw Oliver, his expression broke into a wide grin.

"What did I tell you?" Tommy said, his voice full of mock seriousness. "Yachts suck."

Oliver couldn't help but laugh at Tommy's signature humor, the kind of irreverent banter that had always been part of their friendship. A weight lifted off his chest as the familiar tone of Tommy's voice settled over him. Despite everything, Tommy had a way of making him feel like things were back to normal.

"Yeah, you weren't wrong about that," Oliver chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed off from his crutches, careful not to lose his balance. "You just couldn't let me live that one down, could you?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow, his grin never fading. "Would I be Tommy if I didn't remind you about your bad decisions?" he teased, but there was a warmth behind his words. He stepped forward, arms wide, and without a moment's hesitation, Oliver moved to meet him.

Despite the crutches, Oliver took a few careful steps toward Tommy, leaning into the hug. His heart swelled at the sight of his best friend standing there, alive and well—someone who had always been by his side, someone who had never given up on him, even when he was lost.

Thea stood back, a soft smile on her face, her protective gaze focused on Oliver. She made sure he didn't trip or lose his balance as he hugged Tommy, her worry for him never far from her mind.

"Take it easy, Ollie," she said softly, a hint of caution in her voice. "Don't hurt yourself."

Oliver pulled away from the hug with a grateful smile, his hands still gripping the crutches, but the familiar sense of ease from being surrounded by family and friends made him feel stronger. "I'm fine, Speedy," he assured her, though he didn't mind the way she kept a watchful eye over him. "Tommy's just making me feel old."

Tommy shot him a mock offended look. "Old? I'm just trying to help you remember what real fun looks like." He clapped Oliver on the back, grinning. "Glad to see you're still breathing, man."

Oliver grinned back, feeling like a part of him that had been broken was starting to mend. "Couldn't have done it without you, Tommy," he said, his voice sincere.

Tommy's grin softened for a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something warmer. "Well, you know I've got your back, no matter what." He glanced over at Thea. "And I'm glad you're here too, Speedy. Looks like you've been holding down the fort while your brother was gone."

Thea's face lit up, the playful nickname easing her nerves a little. "Of course. Someone had to," she said proudly.

As the three of them stood together in the grand entrance, it felt like the pieces of Oliver's life were slowly falling back into place—his family, his best friend, his sister, all back where they belonged. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to feel like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again.

Later

As Moira set the plates of food down on the table, everyone took their seats. The smell of a home-cooked meal made Oliver's stomach rumble. He hadn't had a proper meal like this in what felt like forever, and the warmth of the food was a comforting reminder of how much he had missed being home.

Tommy, with his usual energy, immediately dug into his food. "Alright, Ollie, while you were off being a castaway, you missed a lot," he said between bites, clearly enjoying the attention. "First off, I can't believe you actually got on a yacht. Seriously, what were you thinking? I told you yachts suck."

Oliver chuckled, feeling a small sense of normalcy. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You were right," he said with a grin, his voice a little lighter than before. "I'll never trust a yacht again."

Tommy smirked, sitting back in his chair. "That's what I like to hear," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "But seriously, we've been keeping things interesting around here without you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What kind of trouble have you two gotten into?"

Tommy leaned in, lowering his voice dramatically, as if sharing a huge secret. "Well, first off, I totally aced the last math test. Didn't even need to study. And," he added with a mischievous grin, "I may have convinced your sister that the neighbor's cat is actually a secret agent."

Thea, who had been sitting quietly beside Oliver, rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile on her face. "Tommy!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You're such a liar. The cat is not a secret agent."

Oliver laughed, his heart lighter than it had been in months. The familiar banter between him, Tommy, and Thea was something he'd missed so much. "I don't know, Speedy. You might want to keep an eye on that cat," he teased.

Thea stuck out her tongue playfully. "Yeah, yeah," she said, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment. "You know, I've been working on some new decorations for the house. It's gonna look amazing for Halloween."

Tommy gave her a skeptical look. "I don't know if I'm ready for Speedy's haunted house... but maybe I'll give it a shot."

Thea beamed at the nickname, glad to hear it from Oliver again. "You'll love it, Tommy! It'll be the scariest one yet."

As they ate, the conversation shifted, but it stayed filled with easy laughter and teasing. Tommy talked about the chaos at school, the things that had changed in the five years Oliver had been gone, and the random bits of gossip he had overheard. Oliver listened, still getting used to the idea that his life was moving on without him, but he felt a warmth in his chest, surrounded by the people he loved.

The evening went on, each moment a small piece of normalcy he could hold onto. The scars of the past five years were still there, but as he looked around at his family and Tommy, Oliver knew one thing for sure: he was home, and he wasn't going anywhere.

At night

After dinner, the night settled in quietly. Moira tucked Thea into Oliver's bed alongside him, both of them tired but content after the long day. The warmth of the house and the company of his family were things Oliver hadn't realized he'd missed so much until now.

Thea, exhausted from the excitement of the day, curled up next to her brother without hesitation. It felt natural to her, to be close to him again. She had spent so many nights missing him, and now, with him here, she could sleep peacefully. She didn't even notice as her small hand found its way onto Oliver's arm, her cheek resting gently against his side.

Oliver, however, had trouble settling. His body ached from the weight of the day, and though he was safe at home, a quiet unease lingered. He tried to ignore the unsettling thoughts swirling in his mind, but as his eyes closed, the memories of Lian Yu flooded in.

In the darkness of his room, the nightmare began.

The first thing that hit him was the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He felt the cold stone walls, the never-ending isolation of the island, and the voices—whispers and screams that never left him. He could hear the chaos, the fighting, the fear. His breath quickened, his chest tightening as he relived the moment he felt truly alone, terrified that he would never see his family again.

Oliver's body tensed, his brow furrowed in distress. He moved his head back and forth on the pillow, trying to escape the nightmare that felt so real, so vivid. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands, still too accustomed to being tied up, clenched in his sleep.

In the stillness of the room, the only sounds were the soft creaks of the house and the quiet breathing of Thea beside him. She didn't stir, unaware of her brother's internal struggle. But Oliver's distress was growing more apparent, his movements more erratic.

His dreams shifted again—this time, it was the boat, the explosion, the feeling of falling. The disorienting sense of weightlessness, then the darkness. And the fear. Fear that he would never wake up, never see his family again.

His movements became more desperate as he shifted violently in his sleep, his breathing shallow and quick. A soft groan escaped his lips, barely audible, but enough to break the peaceful silence of the room.

Thea shifted slightly beside him, still unaware of the nightmare Oliver was trapped in. She was curled up, her small body nestled close to his, completely wrapped in her own peaceful slumber.

But Oliver wasn't at peace. He tossed and turned, his mind trapped in a place of terror, memories that felt like they could suffocate him.

Flashback

A seven-year-old Oliver was aboard the Queen's Gambit. In the distance, a figure stood on another boat, dark and menacing, raising a wand to the sky as lightning crackled through the air.

On a life raft, Oliver huddled close to his father, Robert. A third figure, David, held a knife, poised over a box. Robert glanced at David, then at Oliver. "There's not enough for all of us."

"Save your strength, Daddy," Oliver weakly urged.

Robert met his son's gaze. "You can survive this. You have to. Make it home. Make it better, even though you'll have to wait. Right my wrongs. But you have to live through this first. Be strong, Ollie. Can you hear me?"

Oliver murmured, "Just rest, Dad."

"No," Robert insisted, pressing a kiss to Oliver's forehead. "Promise me you'll look after Thea... and your cousin, Harry."

"I promise," Oliver whispered, clinging to his father.

Robert gently lifted Oliver's head and rested it on the raft. Then, pulling a gun from his jacket, he shot David, the man collapsing into the water with a muffled splash. Oliver gasped in shock, his eyes wide. "Dad?"

Robert's gaze softened as he looked at his son one last time. "Survive," he said, before raising the gun to his own head.

"No! Dad, no!" Oliver screamed, trying to reach for him, but it was too late. The gunshot rang out, a final, heart-shattering sound.

Oliver's world shattered as his father slumped forward, lifeless.

"Dad! No, please! Please!" Oliver cried, his voice breaking as he shook his father, desperate, tears streaming down his face.

End of Flashback

Oliver tossed and turned, his restless movements accompanied by soft whimpers as he struggled in his sleep.

Thea, still half asleep herself, shifted beside her brother and noticed his distress. Her heart sank as she watched him, knowing something was wrong.

Without thinking twice, she quietly slipped out of the bed, her small feet padding softly across the floor. She ran to her mother's room, her breath quick with urgency, and shook Moira awake.

"Mom!" Thea's voice was a frantic whisper as she tugged at her mother's arm. "Mom, Ollie... something's wrong with Ollie."

Moira shot up in bed, startled by Thea's frantic tone. "What do you mean, there's something wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Thea's voice trembled as she spoke quickly. "Ollie's having a nightmare, Mom. He's—he's not waking up. He's struggling."

Without another word, Moira rushed out of bed, her heart racing as Thea followed closely behind. They hurried down the hall to Oliver's room, where Moira found her son writhing in distress, still trapped in the grip of his nightmare.

Moira reached out to gently shake him awake. "Oliver, honey, wake up. It's just a dream, it's just a dream," she whispered, her voice soft but urgent.

But before she could fully rouse him, Oliver's eyes snapped open, wide with panic, still lost in the fog of his nightmares. His hand shot out, grabbing her throat with surprising force. The suddenness of it took Moira by surprise, and she gasped for air as she was thrown onto her back on the floor.

Thea screamed, her voice breaking. "Oliver, stop! It's Mom! It's Mom!"

Oliver froze, his hand still pressed against his mother's throat, his chest heaving as he struggled to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. The sound of Thea's voice broke through the fog, and he slowly looked down, his wide eyes locking with his mother's terrified face.

Time seemed to stand still.

When Oliver's eyes finally cleared, he recoiled, his hand dropping away from Moira's neck as the reality of what he had just done sank in. He scrambled back, his heart pounding in his chest as fear overtook him. He crawled towards the window, his hands shaking violently, as though he were trying to escape the horror he had just inflicted.

"I—I didn't mean to... I'm sorry," Oliver whispered, his voice broken and full of fear as he huddled by the window, unable to look at his mother or sister. His body trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes as he fought to steady his breathing.

Moira, struggling to sit up, wiped the tears from her face as she reached out toward her son. "Oliver," she said softly, her voice full of compassion. "It's okay, baby. It was just a nightmare. You didn't hurt me."

Thea, equally shaken, knelt beside Oliver, her small hand reaching for him. "Ollie, it's okay. Mom's okay."

But Oliver could barely look at them. The overwhelming guilt and fear of what he had almost done was consuming him. He wasn't sure what was real anymore, the nightmares felt like they were taking over, and he was terrified of what he might do next.

"I don't... I don't want to hurt you," Oliver whispered through his tears, his voice cracking.

Moira crawled over to him slowly, her heart aching for her son. "You didn't hurt me, Ollie," she said gently, reaching for his trembling hands. "You're safe here. We're all safe."

Thea leaned in and hugged her brother tightly, offering him the comfort and reassurance he needed in that moment. "You're home, Ollie. You're safe now."

But even as the words of comfort filled the room, Oliver couldn't shake the feeling of dread that lingered inside him, wondering if he would ever feel truly safe again.

Thea held Oliver tightly, her arms wrapped around him as he trembled, her small body pressing against his in an attempt to calm him down. "It's okay, Ollie, it's okay," she whispered, trying to reassure him as he fought to steady his breathing.

Oliver buried his face into her shoulder, his hands still shaking, unable to fully grasp the reality of what had just happened. His heart pounded in his chest, and every part of him felt like he was unraveling.

Moira, still on the floor, took a shallow breath and then let out a little cough. It was a soft sound, but it was enough to break the tension in the room. The cough was quiet, almost imperceptible, but it reminded Oliver that she was still there. She was still safe. She had to be.

Oliver's head snapped up at the sound, his eyes wide as he turned to look at her. His mother was sitting up slowly, her hand still at her throat as she tried to breathe through the discomfort. She gave him a small, pained smile. "I'm okay, Oliver," she reassured him gently, though the hoarse rasp in her voice betrayed the fact that her throat still stung.

The guilt hit him like a wave again, and his body shook harder. "I—I didn't mean to," he stammered, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Mom. I'm so sorry."

Moira carefully stood, her legs still unsteady as she crossed the room to him. "You didn't hurt me, sweetheart," she said softly, kneeling beside him. "It was a nightmare, Oliver. You're not to blame."

Thea, sensing her brother's overwhelming distress, pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him even tighter, as if to shield him from the storm inside his own mind. "It's not your fault, Ollie," she said softly, her voice full of conviction. "We know it was the nightmare. You didn't hurt anyone."

But Oliver still couldn't shake the panic in his chest. His mind raced with guilt and fear, the image of his mother's frightened face, her throat in his grip, replaying over and over again in his head.

"I just—" He swallowed, his words getting caught in his throat. "I didn't know... I didn't know what I was doing."

Moira placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "It's okay, Ollie," she said softly, her voice soothing despite the hoarseness from the choking. "You're home now, you're safe. And we're here with you."

Oliver closed his eyes, trying to focus on her words, but the heaviness in his chest didn't lift. He wanted to believe her, but the fear, the anger, the isolation—everything he'd gone through—it felt too real. And for a moment, he wasn't sure if he could ever feel safe again.

Thea kept holding him, never letting go. She whispered in his ear, "We'll be okay, Ollie. We'll make sure you're okay."

Moira pulled herself up to her feet and sat next to them, her hand gently resting on Oliver's back as she whispered, "We'll all get through this together. One step at a time."

But despite her words, Oliver couldn't stop thinking about the nightmare—the rage and fear that had consumed him. What if he hurt someone else? What if the nightmares never stopped? He looked at his mother, his sister, and the reality of being home, and for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to believe that he truly belonged here, that he was safe.

To be continued...