A Matter of Trust

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Drama
Language: no
Violence: no
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: no

Author's Note:

Special thanks to DarkEmpress for the kick in the butt to get a move on on this chapter, which was starting to become two chapters that covered too much of the same ground :/

A Matter of Trust

==#==

Malcolm was fascinated by this completely new personality, Hunter. It wasn't that he neglected Oliver, but he needed to work out the puzzle of this very dangerous new player.

One day, he simply confronted Hunter. "Tell me about Charlie."

"Who?"

Malcolm produced the reproduction of the newspaper photo. "This man."

Hunter took one look and recoiled in his chair. "I don't know who that is."

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

"Look, I don't know anyth-"

"This man was murdered, stabbed through the eye."

"I don't know what you're talking ab-"

"You were seen with this man just before he was killed. He looks a lot like Slade, doesn't he?"

"I don't want to talk about that!"

"Did you kill him?" Malcolm insisted.

"I don't remember! I told you, I don't remember any of that!"

Malcolm eased off, recognizing the shift in Oliver's tone, his demeanor. "It's all right." He put the photo away. "I just thought we might have a breakthrough in recovering your memories."

"I'm not sure I want to." Oliver rubbed his temple, grimacing fiercely. "I have such a headache."

"Here, let me get something for you." Malcolm rose and went to the side table. He poured water from the pitcher and brought Oliver the glass. Then from his inner pocket he produced a pillbox. He gave one to Oliver.

Without hesitation, Oliver swallowed it and drank down the water.

"Better?" Malcolm queried.

"Ugh. Oliver still rubbed his head.

Forging on, Malcolm brought out the focus crystal. "Let's begin," he said with mild cheerfulness.

"Do we have to?" Oliver complained. "I just want to lie down."

"Your therapy is important, Oliver. The hypnosis will relax and refresh you."

The boy sighed. "All right."

"Good." Malcolm smiled.

==#==

Hunter knew everything that Oliver had forgotten, or had blocked out. In fact, it was now quite clear why Oliver thought he had been gone for only two years, and that he had spent his entire exile on the island.

Truth was much stranger than fiction, as Oliver - or rather, his emergent alter-ego - became an unwilling pawn in an ARGUS operation. But Hunter refused to talk about Slade, or how he left the island to become an agent in Hong Kong. He much preferred to talk about his missions, and his exploits in Russia. He revealed a lot about himself, by what he emphasized and what he glossed over. Malcolm made copious notes, in his own shorthand, about Hunter's proclivities and weaknesses. He adjusted Hunter's meds as promised, though not necessarily as Hunter wanted.

Hunter hated captivity, often disappearing to wherever in the depths of Oliver's mindscape he went, leaving Oliver, or even little Ollie, to deal with the day to day drudgery. Which suited Malcolm's plans quite well. He knew Hunter would never submit to being hypnotized, but Oliver was quite amenable, which allowed Malcolm to do his work.

He wasn't sure at this time what he was going to do with Oliver. Should he tell him about his alternate personalities? Try to work with him to reintegrate them?

That was the standard treatment, but Malcolm decided to hold off until he reviewed the entire five years. Then he could decide on the best course of action. He couldn't rush in blindly. Hunter was hiding things from him

Malcolm was also working on plans to utilize Hunter. It might have been good to have him as a bodyguard, especially after the assassination attempt, but there was no way he could explain how and why Oliver Queen was trailing him around.

Moira hadn't come up with any leads on who had arranged the hit, but she was looking closely into each of the group's members. From what he'd seen at the awards ceremony, he suspected Triad involvement. That suggested Frank Chen - or was meant to. Chen wouldn't be stupid enough to use such an obvious connection, would he? The Triad had the answers, but that organization was extremely difficult to crack.

Hunter would come in handy there, once he had a solid lead to follow. If he proved trustworthy.

==#==

Some days later, Malcolm said, "Well, Hunter, I think it's time we paid a visit to your... 'lair,' shall we call it?"

Hunter perked up; he'd been itching to get out of this place. Best not to show it. "'Lair'? You really have a flair for the dramatic, Mr, Merlyn." Mr. Merlyn, Mr. Merlyn. Guy was such a pompous ass prick, Hunter loaded the title with all the contempt he could muster. He longed to call him 'Malcolm' to his face, just to knock him off his high horse. But not today. Maybe he'd save it for the moment just before he jumped the guy and started punching his face in.

Merlyn gave a conciliatory smile. "At any rate, if you want to work jobs for me, we should go pick up your gear."

"We?" Hunter scowled. "How about I go get my stuff? In fact, how about I go live at my place, and when you get a job, you call me?"

"Does your place have living quarters? Or did you mean Queen Mansion? Because you know your mother doesn't want you there."

Hunter chewed his lip. Queen Mansion, where his hot sister lived. Dammit! Gawky, pig-tailed Thea never looked so good in that schoolgirl uniform. Why'd she have to grow up with such long, luscious, creamy legs - Hunter bit down. Goddammit! He had to get out of this fucking - or would that be 'un-fucking' - monastery and tap some sweet young ass - not related to him!

Merlyn continued talking. "I don't believe our relationship is at a level of trust where I can just let you roam about unsupervised."

"Yet you want me to trust you enough to bring you to my secret... 'lair.'" Well, it sounded better than 'hideout.'

Merlyn spread his hands. "You gain trust by giving it."

Apparently, the fat cat businessman's own rules didn't apply to himself. Hunter considered. It would be good to get out of this dump. Any taste of freedom would be welcome, and would present more opportunities to escape. Better opportunities.

"All right," he said slowly. "When did you want to go?"

==#==

Hunter was surprised Merlyn didn't bring bodyguards; he thought he'd have to fight tooth and nail to reject their tagging along. Either Merlyn was an idiot, or he took this trust thing way too seriously. It would be so much easier to kill him in the lair and make the body vanish.

Then, his secret would remain safe.

But somehow, the right opportunity never presented itself. They went in, retrieved Hunter's gear and his footlocker, and came back.

Hunter was not allowed to keep his gear in his room, the boring blue pit of hell. No, Merlyn still held him under lock and key, and Hunter seethed.

Bide your time.

He'd been in worse prisons.

==X==