Not long after the public uproar over the apparent suicide of Martin Sumers had started to simmer down and the media began to focus on new facets of news, Sara managed to escape from the sights of her attentive mother and father. Her father had had to go to the station earlier in the morning, and her mother had to start packing for the trek back to Central City since her requested leave was about to finish up. Taking advantage of their distractions, Sara quietly slipped out of the door with a small duffel bag full of spare clothing.

She walked a few blocks down from her father's small apartment complex to a private parking lot and headed to the spot that held her means of transportation: a new sport motorcycle with fake plates. A gift from Oliver that no one in her family was aware of. Sara was certain her father would pop a blood vessel if he ever discovered the thing, and would either try and use his power to destroy the motorcycle or at least tow it to an undisclosed location to never be found again.

Clicking the strap of the helmet under her chin, Sara rode out of the lot and onto the busy streets of Starling City, swerving through traffic with a practiced ease; the angry drivers pressing down on their horns were nothing more than background noise. The roads slowly depleted of cars the further she drove into the heart of the Glades.

When she got to the abandoned warehouse and unlocked the new door with electronic locks that even A.R.G.U.S.'s hackers would have a hard time bypassing, Sara found her boyfriend.

Oliver, for once, wasn't hunched over on the bench working on weaponry or practicing with his bow. Instead, he was kneeling down in the corner of the hideout pulling a bedsheet over a king-sized mattress that had certainly not been there the last time she was here.

"What's this?" She called out to him, shrugging off her bag against the wall.

Oliver looked up from his task and nodded a greeting. He patted the sheets of the mattress invitingly. "Come have a look."

"What a forward way to get a girl in bed." Sara responded cheekily, and Oliver chuckled warmly. With a smile, she sat down and sunk in a bit. She raised a brow at him, shifting her weight against the mattress, noticing the distinctive give. "An air mattress? How romantic of you."

Oliver rolled his eyes at her, and swatted her arm in a way that was almost playful. "Hey now, it was less conspicuous carrying a big, non-descript box than it would have been carrying a giant mattress through the Glades and everyone seeing me bring it in here."

"Hmm, true." Sara hummed thoughtfully. "We wouldn't want the cops to be called about squatters living in an abandoned warehouse."

Smirking, Oliver leaned forward, his elbows coming up to prop themselves on the outside of her legs. "Don't I get a thank you? That box was very heavy, you know."

With a smirk to rival his, Sara leaned back away from him, her head tilted to the side lazily. "Oh? And here I was remembering all the times you threw grown men like they were ragdolls, but big boxes? Oh, I never even imagined. My hero," she simpered. Oliver, he –well he didn't necessarily pout, but it was the next best thing- since he did pull a face that Sara couldn't help but find ridiculous.

"Alright, alright." He groused. "I get it."

She leaned forward suddenly, and captured him in a deep kiss. "Mmhmm," she hummed contently against his lips. "My hero…"

Oliver noticeably brightened as he hummed back, leaning in closer. "Now I get to have you all to myself," he murmured, the bristles on his cheeks itching against Sara's skin.

"Careful, we wouldn't want the doctors hearing that." Sara teased him, leaning into his warmth, their foreheads pressed together. "They might decide to extend our time apart, and we're already at the finish line."

Oliver pulled back suddenly, and Sara found herself leaning forward to follow him. "That whole thing has changed from mildly annoying to downright irritating." His eyebrows were doing that thing where they tightened up. "I love you. Surely that isn't bad to warrant keeping us apart."

She cupped his face in her palms, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, his cheek and then to his furrowed brows. "It was something that had to be done. It wasn't part of the plan, but it was something we had to adapt to. It was for our families, Oliver. They've gone through so much already."

"Is us being together really that bad though to them?" He asked her, frustration leaking into his tone. He laid his head down on her lap, his muscular framed curled up on the mattress. "We've already been hurting them with our lies, our refusal to talk about what happened, the unexplained absences… What was one more lie?"

There were a few moments of tense silence. Oliver was looking up at her, his cheek smushed against her thigh. It might have been adorable, if not for the downright surly frown that marred his features. "They're going to see us together no matter what. It might have been kinder if we had just stated from the beginning that we were together, now we might have given them false hope..."

"Everything will work out." She promised him, but a small part of her couldn't help but doubt.

"And if it gets to that point?" He murmured.

All Sara could do was offer what little she had. "… Well, we'll figure it out if it comes to that, right?" Even then, it sounded weak.

Although he didn't say it outright, but Sara knew what he was referring to. Of what would follow if things never worked out between the Lance and Queen clans; if their families couldn't let go of the past and let old wounds heal… if they refused to give their blessing to their daughter and son who, despite how everything and everyone seemed intent on keeping them apart, truly loved one another.

They called it Plan B. It was an unimaginative title, for sure. Oliver had even called it so, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he offered a different moniker. Getting the Hell out of Dodge had some merits, he had argued, only for Sara to turn it down. To her, Plan B made it seem more of a strategic fall back, instead of a cowardly retreat.

Oliver was still waiting for an answer, if his sullen silence was anything to go by. "Well, Australia is a beautiful place, isn't it? It's a bit dangerous-," Sara weakly joked, trailing shaky fingers through Oliver's hair. "-but we can make it work."

Oliver's hand came to rest upon her own. "We always make it work."

At that, Sara's weak smile turned fond. "Yes, I suppose we do." She murmured, combing her fingers through blond strands. "No matter what, we do it together."

"Together." Oliver echoed, and something in Sara's gut twisted and grew warm and she knew that they were making the right choice.

There was no question that Sara loved her family. She had fought for years to be back here in Starling City with them. But she loved Oliver too. Perhaps she loved him even more.

"I don't want to have to leave," Oliver admitted to her. "And I know you don't either."

"I'm hearing a 'but' coming on…"

"But we have to figure out how to approach the ones least likely to accept this," he loosely gestured his hands at them and, by extension, their relationship "My mother and your father will be the harder ones to convince, and probably Laurel too."

She couldn't help but wince at that. She could never see her father ever restraining himself from throwing a punch at Oliver, much less giving them his blessing for their relationship. And Laurel… Sara did not want to think about Laurel.

"So, we start off easy." Sara decided, ignoring the stinging ache in her heart. "My mother and your sister. It might take some work, but neither of them have any reason to hate the other. Thea was too young to understand the bad blood between my dad and your mother, and my mother wasn't in the picture, apparently."

Oliver looked up in concern, his ears catching the slight tremble in her tone. "Are you alright?"

She didn't have the energy to talk about the subject further, not when it had been in her face throughout the entire time she had been home. The new apartment, her father's smaller bed, her mother spending the nights in Laurel's apartment, and now readying to head back to her new life in Central. Right now, she just didn't want to talk about it. "I will be," Sara promised. "In time."

Oliver, thankfully, let the subject drop, although his concern lingered for a touch too long as he raised his hand to cradle her cheek, letting his hand linger there for a few moments to convey a message that didn't need to be said with words. He stared up at her for several moments, his eyebrows slightly scrunched in deep thought.

"… Thea would like you…" Oliver decided, lowering his hand to rest it on his chest.

Something fluttered in her stomach, a shy energy bubbling up in her chest. Anxiousness, what had odd feeling. "You really think that?"

"Yeah, I do." Oliver told her truthfully, unable to keep a small smile from growing. "I think she would love you if she got to know you."

Unable to help herself, Sara found herself reflecting Oliver's smile. "I think I'd like that. Getting to know her, I mean. I never met Thea before the Gambit, but I've heard so much about her from you. She sounds wonderful."

"She's the best." Oliver agreed, thinking of his sister fondly. "She's the only one in my family who believed that I was still out there and trying to get back home."

At that, Sara's respect for the younger Queen sibling rose a few notches at that. Not even Laurel or her father had held on to such faith for that long.

Sara reclined on the mattress, resting her head against the sheets. It was surprisingly comfortable, like a more luxurious version of the old cots and bedrolls they had frequented through the years. She could feel the mattress dip and sway as Oliver shifted his weight from the edge to the middle beside her. Wordlessly, Sara curled up at his side, throwing her left arm across his chest as she tucked her head against the dip that was the meeting point of his jaw and upper torso.

"I'm excited," she began as Oliver's hand lazily traced circles on her back. "It'll be a pain in the beginning, but at least this means we'll be able to see each other without having to sneak around anymore."

"True," Oliver said with dry amusement. "I thought I was done sneaking around with my girlfriend after dark in abandoned buildings when I left my teenage years behind me."

Sara lightly flicked him on the forehead. "Just so long as you don't say anything like that in front of my dad we should be able to survive the night." She sighed in his neck, eyes shut.

Oliver huffed out a little laugh. "I'm half-convinced your father will shoot me on sight if I so much as look at you. It's a good thing I'm practically bullet proof, although it'll hurt something awful. I'm not looking forward to him becoming aware that we're still together; even if we're taking advantage of him."

Sara lightly swatted his head. "While normally I would defend my father to my dying breath, his minor dislike of you-" Oliver positively choked on a laugh. "-will come in handy. It makes my skin crawl, but even I can't deny that his attitude towards you will be useful for you when you're 'caught' as the vigilante not long after we publically announce we're still together."

Oliver hummed in agreement; it caused his chest to rumble underneath her cheek. "After I prove my innocence, it'll be easier to wave off any remaining skeptics when it becomes apparent that the case was compromised by Detective Lance's ill feelings towards his daughter's boyfriend and that he made a hasty decision when I'm caught with just enough to warrant an arrest, until it's apparent nothing else can stick to me. His refusal to see that will help make this all the easier."

"And this won't affect his career too badly?" Her question came out more as a stern reminder aimed towards her boyfriend. No matter what, she refused to ruin her father's life to make theirs easier. "We won't let things get out of control."

"Aside from accusing him of jumping to conclusions and inciting libel against me, that should be the only thing that will stick. It'll help if I don't press charges when I'm found innocent." Oliver said, waving his hand. "Though you should still keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't take things too far. It'll be a hard balancing act. We need to get it to the point that I'm put under scrutiny by the media and the SCPD so that when the vigilante kills again while I'm conveniently surrounded by cameras and policemen, everyone who cared enough will feel properly chastised for accusing an innocent man, whose only crime was to be at the wrong place and the wrong time, of homicide and vigilantism."

"And then whenever the Hood attacks later on-" Oliver made a small noise of annoyance at his new moniker- "nobody will be keeping an eye on Oliver Queen."

"T-That's the plan." Oliver let out a long, tired yawn.

Sara glanced up with a small smirk. "You sound tired. How long have you been here?"

Oliver blinked sleepily. "I've been trying to get this place ready for expansion. It'll need to be bigger to fit all of us." He said, rubbing his eyes with the side of his hand. "I got here around five in the morning."

Something tickled in the back of her head as Sara suddenly remembered something important. "Where's your bodyguard?"

"He's currently indisposed at the moment." Oliver said, stifling a yawn as he closed his eyes, grateful for the dim lighting of the room.

"… You ditched him again, didn't you?"

"Yep. Perhaps for the last time." Oliver shrugged his shoulders, eyes opening just a bit as he peeked down at her through his eyelashes. "He gave me a warning that the next time I skived he'd resign. Don't know if he was being serious or not, but he doesn't seem to be the joking type."

Sara winced in sympathy. "Your mom isn't going to be happy."

Oliver shrugged again, not looking very worried. "Eh, if Diggle hangs around for a little bit longer I don't mind. Having a bodyguard will be actually useful when I need to prove my innocence. If he's decides to quit, then no harm done. I already have a suitable replacement in mind."

"Hmm." She hummed sleepily, nuzzling closer to his body warmth.

"If he stays around," Oliver continued, "don't worry about tomorrow, he actually has the day off so I don't have to run away from him to get to the apartment."

"That'll be a relief," Sara chuckled. "I don't think there would be enough seats if he joined in."

Oliver chuckled at that, before yawning again.

Sara pulled herself closer to him, nestling her face into the soft fabric of his shirt. "Get some sleep, Oliver."

"You sure?" He murmured sleepily.

"We can worry about the city and our families later." Sara reasoned, blindly kicking away the bed sheet that was curled around their legs. Oliver ran a high temperature and was a furnace in human form; it served them well in harsher temperatures but could be irksome in warmer climates. "I'd rather just stay right here, with my boyfriend, and not have to worry about anything, okay?"

Oliver didn't say anything. Sara blinked and propped herself up on her elbows, hovering over his face. "Oliver?" But his eyes were closed, and all that answered her was a soft snore.

Smiling fondly down at him, Sara kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment before she resumed her normal position. If she closed her eyes and focused, all she could hear was his heart beat underneath her skin, the tempo akin to something like a lullaby that began to dull her senses.

"My hero," she murmured lowly, before she began to drift.

The next night, Oliver found himself in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs to his dress shirt. He and Sara had decided upon 'casual' wear for the dinner, although the billionaire heir doubted that this is what Sara had in mind. Even his simplest dress shirt and slacks were custom-tailored and had designer tags; still, it was the best he currently had, and Oliver truly doubted that anyone would care about his choice in clothing and would be much more focused on the fact he was showing up uninvited to Laurel's apartment for the Lance family dinner.

Should he wear red? Oliver was still certain that Quentin would shoot him on sight, or, more likely if he wanted to be realistic, at least try to punch him in the face. Red would conceal the bloodstains better.

Deciding that he was overreacting, Oliver kept what he wore and headed out of his bedroom, walked down the long hallway and the main stairwell, and headed towards the kitchen, where he could hear a television playing.

"You're dressed nice," his mother noticed the moment he walked in to the kitchen. Off to the side where the kitchen opened up to the living room, Thea was lounging on the couch watching a show he was unfamiliar with. "Are you heading to the club with Tommy, dear?" His mother was sitting at the counter, still in her work clothes as she went over a stack of documents.

"Nope." Oliver told her casually, even as he mentally prepared himself for what came next. "I'm going on a date."

Thea's head shot up from the couch, her television program completely forgotten, while their mother looked up from her papers with a startled look.

"Well it's not really a date," Oliver hurriedly told them, making sure to convey a good level of nervousness. "Dinah, Sara's mom, is heading back Central City in the next few days. They're all gathered for a farewell dinner, and Sara invited me."

"Sara?" Thea asked, wide eyes peering over the top of the couch. "Wait, you don't mean Sara Lance?"

"Do you know any other Saras I know?" Oliver countered.

Thea's eyes narrowed. "Touché." She replied, more on reflex than anything. Oliver saw the moment Thea came to realization by the way her eyebrows rose and hid behind her bangs. "Wait, are you two together? Aren't you, like, supposed to stay away from her because of what the doctors said?"

"The doctors recommended," he stressed the word while barely managing to hold back the surge of genuine frustration from showing in his tone, "that we spend some time apart. Five years on an island is apparently enough cause for separation for a month." He couldn't even hide the joy from slipping out as he added on "but now the month is up, so I can go see her again."

His mother began to protest. "But the doctors-"

"Mom." There was steel in his tone as a sharp edge revealed itself. "I'm going."

"Mr. Oliver, the car is ready for you." Raisa appeared from the doorway, smiling. In her arms was a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Ah, Oliver was glad he had had the Russian woman take care of flower arrangements, they were stunning.

"Those look lovely, Raisa, thank you." Oliver said, accepting the bouquet and holding them tenderly in his hand. "Ms. Drake will surely love these."

"Wait by the car for me, I will grab the casserole." Raisa instructed him before she hurried off again so fast her skirt snapped in the air.

Without even looking at his mother, knowing without a doubt she was fuming, Oliver began to head out of the kitchen towards the drive.

"Hold on a minute, Oliver." His mother called out, and he stopped in his tracks, swerving around to look at her.

His mother was looking at him intently, searching for something. Finally, her face cleared. "Are you alright?" She asked him, and that simple question threw him off his guard.

"Terrified." Oliver couldn't help but admit, and when his mother's mouth opened to speak, to no doubt protest, he quickly amended. "My hair… it looks terrible doesn't it." He rubbed the short hairs sheepishly. "I'm still so used to long hair, there were no barbers on the island y'know, and I think it just looks…" he gestured at his hair morosely. "… It looks bad, doesn't it?"

"Nonsense, you look so handsome," his mother rushed to assure him. Oliver distinctly heard Thea cackle from behind the couch as his sister turned her attention back to the television. His mother didn't entirely look very pleased, but she went on. "You go have a nice time, alright?"

"Thanks, mom," Oliver said, relieved that his mother wasn't going to argue further. It was a small step, but maybe this meant that his mother was willing to try. He could ask for nothing more than that. As he left the room he called out to them. "Wish me luck."

"Try not to die." Thea yelled back, already distracted by her show.

Oliver cracked a grin to himself at that, absentmindedly accepting Raisa's casserole with a small utter of thanks. Who knew how this night was going to go?

It was time for dinner with Sara's family.

We'll get along like a house on fire. Oliver thought to himself as he entered the car, flowers and casserole in hand.

It was time for dinner with Sara's family.

How terrifying.