Chapter Text
"Genuine beginnings begin within us, even when they are brought to our attention by external opportunities."-William Throsby Bridges
"Roy, are you okay?" Thea Queen rapped against the oak door of one of the many spare bedrooms in the Queen Manor, hoping the boy who'd been tentatively making it his room was fine. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, a gift from Walter on her last birthday, and then rapped on the door again. If they didn't hurry, they'd be late to the courthouse and Laurel would kill them all. Maybe with that extra powerful voice she was so anxious about. "Roy?" she called again when she didn't get an answer, waiting for a moment before reaching out and turning the door handle.
The inside of Roy's room was mostly empty, the only sign that he lived there being the red sweatshirt laying across the immaculately made bed. Roy was leaning against a window sill, staring blankly outside at the yard below. Thea stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her, walking over to join him. He startled when she came into view and then relaxed, shoulder warm where it pressed against her arm. "What's wrong?" Thea asked, keeping her voice low and gentle.
"What if this is all a big mistake?" he asked her, still staring out the window.
"What do you mean?"
"We're going into court so Oliver can officially adopt me," Roy replied. "There's no out for him then. He's stuck with me, and I really don't want to have him regret it."
"Have you been watching those recycled news reports about pre-Island Ollie?" Thea asked, hands on her hips when Roy turned to face her. "Because, trust me on this, he is not the same person he was before the Island. He's become scarily intense about keeping the people he cares about safe and happy. And that includes you Roy." She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Trust me on this, okay?"
"Okay," he replied with a slim smile.
"Good. Then put your shoes on, or we'll be late getting to the custody hearing. Ollie might be able to get away with that crap, but the rest of us have to actually be responsible."
"How horrible," Roy replied dryly, heading over to the bed and pulling his sneakers out from underneath it. Thea shook her head with a grin and then bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited impatiently for him to be ready. Walter was driving them over and they could definitely still make it to the courthouse on time, but they needed to hurry. "Done," Roy told her, grabbing the sweatshirt off the bed and pulling it on over the white, button up shirt that Walter had dug up from somewhere. Thea's stepfather, or step-stepdad since Robert technically wasn't her biological father, had managed to find one of Ollie's old dress shirts that actually came close to fitting Roy. She guessed that Mom had taken part in the escapade, because that kind of knowledge was something only she would have.
Even though Moira Queen was still in court to go on trail for aiding and abetting in the attempted murder of the residents of the Glades, every member of the Queen family had visited her, and often. Oliver and Thea visited as much as their currently busy schedules would allow, but Walter held the current visiting record by going to see his wife every day. Things had been surprisingly relaxed between the married couple, which was good. Thea really didn't want to lose yet another father figure so soon after discovering that Robert wasn't her real father and that Malcolm Merlyn, a man whom she shared DNA with, was a certified psychopath.
Roy had also gone to meet Moira, once. They'd spoken alone for a couple minutes and, though the boy refused to share what she'd told him, he'd been much more relaxed about the whole concept of Oliver adopting him. That was, until today. Thea was guessing that it was last minute jitters, like the kind she got every time she went on a date with a new boy. There was always a moment she spent wondering whether or not the guy would actually show up, before he would actually pull up the driveway and things would get underway. Roy would settle down when the hearing actually started and he realized that Ollie was dead serious about adopting him. In fact, aside with his moonlighting as Starling City's vigilante, currently called the Hood, Thea wasn't sure she'd seen her brother more serious about anything in his entire life. It was a good sign.
Walter was waiting patiently for them downstairs, hands resting in the pockets of his black pants. "Ready to go?" he asked as Thea practically pinballed herself down the main staircase, Roy right on her heels.
"We're ready," she chirped with a bright grin, bouncing over to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for agreeing to drive us, even though you have other things you need to do for the company."
In his wife's absence, Walter was running Queen Consolidated. Ollie went over to help him on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but Walter was running the company mostly on his own, and doing an admirable job to keeping the bad press Moira Queen being in jail generated, from affecting sales. "It's no trouble," Walter replied with a smile, holding open the front door for Thea and Roy. "Family's more important than anything going on at Queen Consolidated."
Thea slipped into the passenger seat of the car with a grin, once again thankful that her mother had married Walter. He'd been a constant, steady presence in the Queen family not long after Thea and Moira had received the news that Ollie and Robert had died in a shipwreck. He'd pulled Moira out of her isolated mourning, bringing Thea's mother back to life, and he'd helped Ollie readjust to life in Starling. Furthermore, he'd barely blinked when Oliver had admitted, privately, to being the Hood, and he'd welcomed Roy into the family with open arms. Sometimes Thea suspected that, without Walter, their entire family would fall apart like fine china dropped on a marble floor.
Oliver was waiting for them at the steps of the courthouse, chatting to none other than Bruce Wayne. Standing next to Wayne was a scrawny boy a few years younger than Roy with dark hair that was trying to flop over his very blue eyes. Roy hesitated next to the back passenger door but Thea grabbed his arm, pulling him over to her brother. "Mr. Wayne, I don't know if you've met my sister, Thea," Oliver was saying. "And this is Roy Harper."
"It's a pleasure to be introduced to you both," Wayne replied with a charming smile. "This is my adopted son, Richard Grayson."
"We've met," Roy said, meeting the blue eyed boy's gaze. Richard Grayson nodded once, grinning at Roy.
"When?" Thea hissed at Roy when Wayne and Ollie turned back to their conversation.
"It's kinda a long story," Grayson told her with a winning smile. Thea frowned but Roy wasn't looking at her, a sure sign that she wasn't going to get any more of an enlightening answer from her friend.
Laurel's tires squealed as she practically flew her car into an empty parking spot. She'd intended to be at the courthouse ten minutes ago but Joanna had burst into her apartment chattering about some file buried in the boxes that currently took up most of Laurel's living room. They'd gotten distracted looking through boxes for the correct file and had completely lost track of time. Laurel had happened to look up at a clock and had gasped, darting out the door after stumbling over her own tongue to tell her friend to get what files she needed and to look the door when she left. Now Laurel stepped out on the pavement, bringing her briefcase with her, and locked the car behind her.
The main stairs of the courtyard were filled with people, including several news crews since Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne, along with a brown haired woman she vaguely recognized, were speaking together halfway up the steps. Thea spotted Laurel and beamed, waving cheerfully at her. Laurel smiled and hurried over, heels clicking on the nearly immaculate concrete steps. Someone had probably swept them off as soon as the news that Oliver Queen was showing up for an adoption case had reached the ears of the janitorial staff. "Mr. Wayne, Ms. Dawes," Oliver said with a smile as she approached. "I'd like you to meet my old friend, Laurel Lance."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lance," Bruce Wayne said with a smile that would melt butter.
"The pleasure is mine," Laurel said with a polite, albeit wary, smile. She'd spent enough time with Ollie to know that the kind of smile Wayne was giving her was trouble.
"It's so nice to meet you," Ms. Dawes said with a more friendly smile, subtly elbowing Wayne in the ribs. "I've heard so many good things about you through the grapevine."
"Thank you," Laurel said, brow furrowing as she struggled to remember where she'd heard the name Dawes before. "You're the assistant DA for Gotham City, aren't you?"
"Actually, Rachel's the DA now," Wayne said, smile smoothing out into something more genuine. "Carl Finch decided to retire, and he recommended Rachel for the job."
"Congratulations," Laurel offered genuinely. She didn't pay a lot of attention to the gossip that came through the official channels, but what she had heard was good news about Rachel. She was said to be one of the few honest officials in Gotham, which meant criminals hated her and the press absolutely adored her victories. If the gossip was true, then Rachel Dawes was exactly the kind of district attorney Gotham needed to replace Finch.
Deep under the ground of the Glades, the Count sat behind a thick oak desk, the kind most often seen in the offices of rich businessmen. Standing on the other side of the room were six young men in baggy jeans and faded, stained, or ripped hoodies. "It was ever so kind of you to answer my call," the Count drawled with a wide grin.
"We were offered a job," one of the younger men replied, folding his arms over her chest.
"Yes," the Count said. "You see, I've got a new product that I think is ready to go out on the market, but I need a few willing test subjects."
"What does that have to do with us?" a man with no hair and a greying beard asked.
"You gentlemen have some familiarity with the drug trade," the Count replied. "What I need a willing test group for is a new drug. I want you all to spread the news and get a group together at the far end of the shipping docks by midnight tomorrow night if they want a free sample of the product."
"We're not your errand boys," another man sneered, arms folding over his chest. Several of the others nodded, turning as if to leave.
"You'll be well compensated," was the Count's response. Most of them turned back to face him but the youngest wasn't convinced.
"I'm nobody's messenger, money or no money," he sneered, jabbing a finger towards his chest before stalking towards the door. His exit was barred by two muscled thugs with guns in hand.
"It is within your right to refuse," the Count said in a disinterested voice. "But I can't have any unfaithful knowledge of my plans or my location." He glanced up from his unbothered survey of his desktop and added, "Kill him." A single shot rang out and a lifeless body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around what was left of his head. "Would anyone else like out?" the Count asked and heads shook. The Count smiled. "Good. Then go get me my test subjects."