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Oliver Queen was nine years old when his soul mark first appeared. His mother raced to his room as he cried out in agony, holding his arm like it was on fire, staring at the ink etching into it in terror. Moira cradled her son in her arms as he sobbed and begged for it to stop, whispering reassurances that it would all be okay. Worried, she called in their private physician, who gave the boy a mild sedative and uselessly told the family that while the mark was permanent, the burning would recede soon enough.
Oliver sat with the man as he clutched his forearm close to him, red eyes looking up wide and worried and asking why did it hurt so bad? To his horror, the man beside him gave a light laugh, explaining that while he couldn’t understand it now, the strength of the bond that he now had with someone was intense, and that sort of love, while extraordinary, could in fact be just as painful as what he was experiencing now.
Even as the pain slowly abated, as he suddenly felt a warmth in his chest that he didn’t understand, Oliver knew right then and there that he hated his soulmate.
It was a dinosaur. The stupid thing was in clear view-- just shy of the inside of his elbow-- and Oliver would have it the rest of his life, and it was a dinosaur. Not even a cool one, like a T-rex, although he thought it might be at first, except it was missing the teeth, and the face looked a little weird. And he heard his mom and dad talking about it at night: soulmarks usually appeared later in life, when emotions were heightened and the capacity for that sort of connection was possible. Robert and Moira Queen attempted to mask any concerns to Oliver himself, but he was able to read between the lines. His soul mate was likely already grown up-- maybe even as old as his parents.
An old lady that was into dumb-looking dinosaurs. Oliver felt livid.
School became more difficult. His best friend Tommy had seen it and laughed and teased, albeit jokingly, but Oliver quickly took to hiding the mark behind arm bands and long sleeves. On more serious days, Tommy would try to help his friend by thinking up a way to get back at the crazy grown-up he was linked to-- try to instigate his own half of the mark to appear next to the stupid animal. Something awful, they’d conspire-- a huge slug, or roadkill with guts coming out, or slimy boogers. Later, as they got drunk at high school parties, it would turn into a bong, or naked girls in explicit positions. These efforts never amounted to anything, of course: Ollie knew that wasn’t how soul marks worked. That the stupid creature on his arm wasn’t created by conscious thought, but a deep emotional significance that would, in theory, one day draw them together. His crazy old lady was just apparently really into fossils. And apparently super-emotional, as Oliver's own hormones in high school jolted dramatically-- he woke up one night when he was fifteen feeling like he was dying, unable to stop sobbing as his heart ached. He couldn't escape the crippling fear and sadness that woke him in the night, but after a lot of alcohol and pot was at least able to ignore the dull ache and anger that followed him during the day for the rest of his sophomore year. It felt like an eternity before he felt any warmth returning to him, until the nightmares seemed to have ebbed.
Oliver despised the woman that was making his life hell: making him miserable when things were going well in his life, and providing him comfort when it was the last thing he wanted from a stranger. Why couldn't she just leave him alone?
Freshman year of college helped a little. For the first time in his life, he met someone else with a soul mark. John Diggle was in his mid-twenties, making full use of his GI Bill after his discharge, and they met at a frat party at the beginning of the year, discussing marksmanship over a lot of beer pong. Not surprisingly, Dig was a sidearm sort of guy, whereas Oliver actually took pride in his less-conventional expertise in archery. When Oliver peeled off his shirt, exposing the tattoo to the frigid night air as he ran around like a drunken lunatic, the older boy caught sight of it and took note. The next morning, the older man was up and waiting with coffee.
Dig was kind of fascinating. His mark had shown up when he was 18-- just enlisted into the military, go figure-- and much cooler than Ollie’s in his mind. A pistol--some special type that the man respected. More importantly to the younger boy, it had already been superimposed with his friend's own military-inspired mark that showed up during his tour. Dig hadn’t met his soulmate yet either, he revealed to Oliver, although that didn’t bother him because he’d accepted their existence, let himself feel their joy and pain as it came and allowed it strengthen him, help him keep his head. The younger teen had scoffed, because “accepted” sounded a lot like “surrendered to”, and he had no intention of just letting some stranger tie him down. He was going to live life to the fullest and show whoever this person was that they did not dictate who he was, no matter what some tattoo said.
Dig had sighed, and pointed out that that level of immaturity was exactly why Oliver’s own half of the design hadn’t appeared. To which Oliver jut out his chin stubbornly and asserted that he was glad, because he never wanted to meet the creepy old lizard lover that had a thing for much younger guys.
The first two years of college flew by in a blur of parties and archery competitions and yeah, maybe some classes. The warm feeling or lonely ache that sometimes dogged Oliver’s chest or caused his pulse to quicken was easily drowned by a beer or maybe a warm body in his bed. Oliver wasn’t ashamed to discover that he was bisexual, when he found himself spending a lot of time with a photography major named James at the gym, but as Tommy pointed out and Dig didn’t refute, the fact that he was did create a whole new spectrum of potential soulmates. In fact-- wouldn’t it make more sense for a guy to be into dinosaurs than a girl?
Oliver told them both to shut the hell up.
When Oliver returned home for the summer before what should have been his senior year (if he'd been following his academic track a little more closely), his mother dropped the bomb on him. Thea had found her soulmate, and they had gotten engaged. Firstly, Ollie was blindsided because when the hell had Thea gotten a soulmark? How had his entire family hidden this from him? His baby sister tried to explain that she’d seen how the whole situation had affected him, and she was trying to spare him having to deal with her situation too, but meeting Roy had really changed things for her: it had felt like love at first sight, and they just fit, and she couldn’t even really explain it, but she knew that this was real and forever, and so while they were willing to wait until they finished college, they were getting married, and couldn’t her brother just be happy for her?
The last thing Oliver wanted was to be happy about this mess. Not that Roy really seemed that awful, honestly. But looking at Thea now, she just seemed...different. Nothing had changed, and yet everything seemed to all at once. And that scared the hell out of Oliver, because somewhere in the world, someone might be able to do that to him too.
Neither of his parents fought when Oliver announced he was going to take the summer off and clear his head. He half-wondered if they weren’t a little glad that he wouldn’t be driving the house mad with his brooding. But whatever-- he loaded up The Queen’s Gambit and told everyone he’d see them in a month and left.
The storm came so fast Oliver wasn’t sure how he’d even thought to get off the boat, how he’d managed to escape the capsizing vessel and crawl onto an escape raft. He spent a week just floating, watching for supplies or help or anything that could save him. His bow emerged, and a little food, but that was it more or less, and he worried for his prospects of survival.
When he finally caught sight of land, that was when Oliver was sure he’d be saved. Someone would find him, right? He was a Queen, and every dot in the world had to have been discovered by now, hadn’t it?
It was over a year before they found him. He’d managed to make some use of his bow-- to create makeshift arrows and hunt a little, not starve to death at least. Oliver had quickly figured out a way to survive the elements, but he had to admit, he’d given up the thought of rescue not long after arriving. It was like he’d found his way to the Bermuda Triangle or something-- not even a plane passing overhead.
Alone on the island, Oliver found himself spending a lot of time thinking. Family, friends...but also his soulmate. The mark on his arm suddenly became his tiny bit of solace, that flicker of hope that maybe someone could find him and bring him home. After all, you were destined to connect with your soulmate, right? Yeah, there was no research that proved you were guaranteed to live to meet them, but Ollie couldn’t die out here, when he hadn’t even met the person that had thought up the dinosaur tattoo that had plagued his life.
The warmth in his chest kept him sane, really: the idea that he had to survive, because he had to get off this island and meet this person. He would talk to the stupid tattoo like it was sentient, deliberating all sorts of things to give it personality. Did his soulmate like sports? Drink coffee? Were they a guy or a girl? What kind of job did they have-- or were they retired by now? Oliver would spend night after night sitting up by the fire he’d managed to create, hunched over his makeshift tools and deliberating scenario after scenario of in his plans for meeting this mystery person, this soulmate that had become his reason for getting off of the island.
He didn’t even notice the mark had appeared at first, honestly. He woke up, went down to a creek to wash off and then find something for breakfast, talking to Saura the whole time (he couldn’t honestly be expected to remember what species it was-- it had been years since they’d seen that specialist). The color in his peripheral vision was what drew his gaze, though, and Oliver stared in wonder and puzzlement. There was another mark, acting as a background of the first, that had definitely never been there before. The forest green coloring reminded him of this whole damned island, honestly, but was it-- what? A mountain?
Another bout of staring and Oliver barked out a laugh of surprise. It was an arrowhead: green like his surroundings, but smooth and edged straight as the ones he’d used back at home. It’s color stood perfectly meshed with the reddish reptile, a perfect anchor as its home. Oliver felt a glow run through his blood that burnt in such an indescribably good kind of way that he wanted to cry, and was grateful for a milllisecond that he was alone as he rubbed roughly at his eyes. Someone, at least, knew he was still alive.
Maybe there was a sort of design to the universe, because it wasn’t two weeks before someone finally came within sight of the island; was able to have their attention caught by the ragged boy and his bonfire, bringing him aboard and back to civilization. Oliver Queen made it back to his family.
A lot of things had changed, but maybe it was mostly Ollie himself. He just wanted to find that person that he’d survived all this time for: to be worth the effort. He started working for Queen Consolidated while simultaneously returning to school and finishing his degree. He and Tommy and Dig talked about real life (Tommy was engaged to a lawyer named Laurel, and Dig had just started dating Lyla, the woman that shared his mark). And he kept at his archery, determined to prove the symbol they shared was worth waiting for.
During one of his business classes he befriended a TA named Felicity-- two years younger and actually working on her second PhD, but she was still pretty interesting, if not a little eccentric. Also, she happened to have a passion for studying soul marks, possessing one herself (in a place that she told Oliver he would never ever see). After witnessing what she could accomplish with a computer, Oliver admitted that he was trying to find his soulmate but honestly had no idea where to even start.
Felicity, however, jumped hip deep into research. A maiasaura, she deduced (Oliver vaguely recognized the identity of the duck-type dinosaur she named his as), implied that his soulmate likely had some sort of science background, if not one specific to paleontology. After all, it was hardly your stereotypical pterodactyl or velociraptor you’d see in a Spielberg movie. Add in the average age a person acquired the emotional capacity to handle a soulmate, and Oliver’s partner was likely in college at the time he’d first received his mark, unless he was a professor (which would side with his ten-year old self’s image of a person his parents’ age). She admitted that the STEM subjects were generally weighted on the male side, although she felt it was sexist to assume that Ollie’s soulmate would be a man because of that.
She started dragging him to museums, symposiums, university lectures-- anywhere where they might come across the person that he wanted so badly to meet. If nothing else, Felicity reasoned, when he did finally find them, Ollie would be better cultured. Oliver also began attending more charity events and galas with his mother, making more of an effort at the office alongside his father, in order to be better seen. And he actually wasn't so bad at this responsibility thing, he found.
One day, Felicity called and told him to come by her lab. At first Oliver doesn’t think much of it, because Felicity pretty much lived and breathed those computers, so where else would they meet? But she watched him with guarded eyes, slowly shutting the door behind him and uncharacteristically quiet as she gestured for him to sit. Oliver found his stomach twisting in knots and he didn’t even know why.
The blonde opened up her laptop and flipped the screen toward him-- it was the obituary page from the Central City Picture News. Oliver swallowed thickly as Felicity’s eyes continued to watch him, fingers clicking on a specific picture.
“I mean, we don’t really know for sure--” she started, but Oliver wasn’t even listening-- his focus was on the screen.
He was handsome. Even in the picture, in a suit with a salt-and-pepper tinge to his hair and a fabric patch over one eye, Oliver could see that he was well-built, with a charming glint in his stoic expression.
The caption beneath the picture put him in his late forties, a professor in the archeology department. And survived by a wife, son, and soulmate (unknown). Oliver felt his stomach twist.
How--? It could be anyone, right? Just because this guy hadn’t found his soulmate yet, didn’t mean that it was Oliver?
Felicity explained that she’d done a little explorative research (ie hacking) into the coroner’s report at Central City, and there was a specific notation of a “bipedal reptile” soulmark on his forearm with some sort of mountainous backdrop. While Felicity admitted that whether it was exactly the same or not wouldn’t be revealed until a specialist came and photos were attached, she thought...that he’d want to know, she supposed.
A few days later Oliver was in a dark suit, quiet as he stepped through the banquet room of Central City University, trying to remain invisible. Slade Wilson had a lot of coworkers, some friends, and a nice enough looking family, but the sandy-haired man couldn’t bring himself to talk to any of them. He was an intrusion on their grief, he knew, but he couldn’t stay away. He felt a small sense of satisfaction as he shifted from group to group that reminisced about the man. He’d been in the military, Ollie discovered; a private contractor. He’d received his soulmark and basically dismissed it, his buddies told people. They couldn’t really remember what it looked like, because he kept the thing covered, but it was some sort of velociraptor or something, they thought. Oliver had chuckled at that, because hadn’t his ten-year old self thought it was a weird-looking t-rex?
The more the younger man learned, though, the less closure he found himself feeling. Slade Wilson had been so much like himself: he was strong, and fierce, and hated the idea of being linked to someone else by destiny. But whereas Oliver had come to want to find Slade, had basically found the strength to survive because of an invisible light and warmth that Ollie had always attributed to his mark, this man hadn’t needed him at all. From what Oliver heard, nothing about Oliver seemed to influence Slade, except to serve as a reminder that he was his own man living his life in accordance to how he wanted it. Oliver supposed that should be something, but really he just felt...empty.
He decided to leave. He didn’t want to upset anyone by revealing himself: he was sure the older man wouldn’t have wanted it, and Oliver could respect his soulmate that much, at least.
There was a coffee kiosk within one hundred feet of the exit, and Ollie was grateful for the excuse to linger in Central City a little longer. He sipped at his drink and retreated a few steps sideways beneath the shade of a small tree. The small piece of nature reminded him of his time on the island, and, even as much as he hated it there, it soothed him slightly. Let him reflect on the heaviness that he now felt. He’d been so certain that he was destined to meet this man, to at least thank him for saving his life, and now it turned out that he’d wasted all of the time he’d been given. He’d known he had a soulmate since he was ten, and he’d been too stupid to realize what a gift that was. Oliver could only take a tiny bit of solace in knowing at least Slade Wilson hadn’t wasted his life waiting for him to get his act together, but it still hurt like hell knowing he was too late.
There was a sharp gasp from behind him, back at the kiosk, and the vendor was looking in concern at his newest customer as he rubbed circles at his chest. The gangly young man inhaled roughly, trying to be reassuring as he reached for his coffee. He was fine-- just a little anxiety. Ollie watched as he took a heavy gulp of his Americano and sputtered out a cough, his brown hair flapping lightly as he recovered himself and shifted his tote further along his shoulder.
Of course, this slight distraction proved to be too much for the boy, and he clipped shoulders with the customer behind him immediately, tripping sideways and crashing straight into Oliver, spilling both their drinks between them before either had a chance to recover.
There was a loud cry on both sides-- neither beverage was cool, by any means-- and Oliver winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he swiped at the heat burning his chest.
Another set of hands were suddenly on it, as well, and he could hear a long rambling of embarrassed apologies as the other patted him down with napkins.
The first thing Oliver noticed upon opening his eyes was that the ones staring back at him where a brilliant green. Kind of magnetic really, in their earnest, which made their owner look quite young.
Oddly enough, the second thing he realized was that, despite the coffee damaging his skin, he actually felt a lot calmer-- better, than he had just a minute ago. He supposed that made sense-- a distraction from the gaping mess he’d made of his life. He should take advantage of it, a small part of him suggested. And while Oliver may have grown quite a bit in the last few years, apparently he was still capable of being incredibly selfish.
He assured the boy it was fine-- no permanent damage, anyways-- and let him race back to buy replacement coffees. In the meantime he started peeling off his tie and jacket and unbuttoning his shirt-- all of which were completely stained and ruined. Not that it mattered-- he wasn’t going back inside.
The other man reappeared, offering a cup and another apologetic smile, and Oliver set it down as he finished peeling off his shirt, leaving just a semi-tight white tee covering his torso. He bit back a laugh as the other’s eyes lingered on his figure a moment before flushing and pulling back to his face. He quickly sputtered out small talk in order to appear less awkward, and Ollie found himself pleasantly distracted by conversation.
Barry Allen was the man that had ruined his suit. Actually not much younger than Oliver himself (roughly four years), he was a CSI over at Central City Police Department, but he had been consulting with Professor Wilson on a cold case. Which had now gone cold again, he realized as he spoke, wincing as he seemed to recognize his insensitive comment, as he was again tripping over himself in apology. Oliver actually smiled as he reassured the other-- he oddly found himself enjoying this detour from reality, he realized as he took a sip of coffee.
Apparently, Barry had also paid his respects at the wake, although Oliver hadn’t seen him. But the anxiety had eventually gotten to him, and so he’d had to retreat for some air, which had led him outside to get a caffeine fix. Oliver curiously asked about the anxiety-- after all, Barry had confessed to only being casually acquainted with the man-- and the brunette ducked his head in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck as he explained that it was actually his soulmate having a rough week, and he was feeling a bit of it indirectly through their link.
Oliver smiled and nodded, albeit a bit sadly this time. He could understand that odd sensation of feeling an emotion that wasn’t quite fitting to the circumstances, after all. He told Barry that his partner was lucky that they’d found each other. That they hadn’t wasted any time.
Which caused Barry to laugh, because apparently he’d had his mark for quite some time, although it hadn’t become complete until the last couple of years. And he still hadn’t met the other yet. Oliver frowned as he listened, because he’d never really thought about how the other half felt-- how had Slade felt, seeing just half a mark for so long? Is that why he’d given up on Oliver? Half-guilty and half-sympathetic, Oliver shifted a little closer to the other man, dropping a hand on his shoulder, intent on saying something reassuring about how he was sure the person would find him soon enough. Anyone that met Barry would be able to tell inside of a minute that he was a man that deserved that sort of happiness.
Before he could get into his pep talk, however, Oliver found himself distracted by Barry staring at his bare arms again. The older man considered making a joke, but then he realized Barry wasn’t staring at his arms-- he was staring at one arm. The one arm on his shoulder, branded with his soul mark on the inside of his forearm, just below his elbow. That emerald hue watched, wide and disbelieving, as it displayed itself to him, and Oliver furrowed his brow quizzically as they slowly shifted back up to his face.
It’s you. Now Oliver was really confused-- had they met before? He watched as Barry pulled at his own shirt, impatiently tugging to get the sleeve up to his elbow, to expose his own tattoo. A mark with a red maiasaur, sheltered by a green arrowhead.
A lot of questions were swirling around Oliver’s head that would be answered later-- that Slade Wilson’s mark was, in fact, a raptor in front of a precipice. That a small six-year old boy could be capable of so much love that his soul mark could appear based off his favorite book about a runaway dinosaur and his mother. That despite wasting so much time, there was still so much time left.
But really, all Oliver cared about now was the pure light that he felt as his fingers traced the pattern on Barry’s forearm, and the way his smile seemed to reach straight to Ollie’s chest and make him feel like he was home.