Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of its characters. DC Comics owns everything else.

Summary: Nobody wants to be a pawn. Everyone wants to be king, and everyone knows a queen is to be treasured, respected but above all feared. Olivia never imagined her life would include; superheroes, espionage, near death experiences or secret government organizations but destiny had other plans.

Setting: Post Doomsday. AU. A lot of creative liberties have been taken. A little from alternate verses, new and old timelines.

Notes: There won't be many of these. If you have any questions, I'm happy to answer in IM. Olivia is an original character, so please hang in there, love her or hate her, she's got a story to tell. Thank you for reading.

Chapter 1

Olivia walked down the street, scrounging around her handbag for her keys. Usually she had her keys in hand before leaving indoors, security conscious habit but she'd been talking to Tammy and grabbed her coat and bag from the desk clerk while trying to convince her wayward friend to stall calling her mystery man for at least one more night. She was far too eager and she'd send the guy for the hills. Guys liked to chase and even though her friend was pretty, it would only win her a callback, not a steady boyfriend. Standing in front of her little Volvo, she stomped her foot impatiently. Her handbag wasn't that big, how on earth did things always manage to get lost in there.

'Because you have far too much in-case-of-emergency rubbish in there,' her father's teasing voice reminded her.

She jingled the bag, hoping the sound would help her source her keys faster.

"Hand it over," he demanded.

Olivia felt a hand tighten around the back of her neck and force her against the car, and as she felt the cold of the metal through her clothes, she could picture the gun he might have hovering behind her head.

Slowly out stretching her hand bag with her left hand, she took a breath and calmly let it out. "There isn't much money in there, and there aren't any credit cards. Just tell me what you need and I'll..."

He shoved her against the car again and roughly tore the handbag from her grasp. She felt him back away. The stink of cigarettes wasn't as potent anymore.

"Don't move," he hissed in warning. He then released the vice grip he'd had on her neck.

Olivia slumped against the hood of her car. So far the thundering of her heart had kept the adrenaline surge coursing through her long enough to give her a clear head, just a little longer. She turned her head enough that she could glimpse his face. She had a photographic memory, she wouldn't forget him but she didn't need to let him in on that fact.

The man was wearing a hooded jacket, sneakers and a dirty pair of very worn jeans. Swearing angrily, he dropped her bag as he flipped through her wallet again and again.

"Twenty dollars? That's all you got? You dress rich lady. You drive a Volvo. Where's the rest?"

Olivia stopped breathing at the sight of his face, he had a black eye and a split lip, it look fresh. There were faded bruises on his neck and now that she could see his hands, there were blisters and bruises on them too. Her eyes flickered back to his wide green eyes. He looked scared for a moment, before his features turned angry again. "Don't look at me," he yelled. He shoved his hand in his jacket and angled it at her. "Give me your watch or I'll shoot you."

Olivia felt her stomach turn in knots, he needed help. If she gave him her watch, it might get him $50 dollars but he needed more than that. "Look please, I want to help you."

"Shut up," he growled.

There was a slight whooshing noise and then her assailant was on his knees clutching his shoulder.

Howling in pain, the thief tried to stumbled away from her when another arrow hit him in the calve. He hit the ground heavily.

There was only one archer currently prowling the streets toting green arrows but she'd never head of any being embedded in bodies. Sure enough, a leather clad, bow-wielding man dropped to the pavement a few short paces away.

"Leave him to me," a synthesized voice said.

Olivia dropped to her knees next to the cowering man and fished for her phone. Her fingers dialing, she hit connect before he reached them. "You'll clear off, if you know what's good for you," she warned, narrowing her eyes at him. So much for his being one of the good guys.

"Hey, he was mugging you, would you have preferred to be the one on the ground?"

Olivia fought the urge to slap him. She whipped off the hood of her 'would-be mugger'. "Does he look threatening to you? He's barely sixteen-years-old."

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Fourteen," the boy groaned. "I'm ta---all," he stammered.

Olivia shrugged off her coat. "Crap, he's going into shock. Help me." Looking around, she discovered that the green archer had disappeared.

"I need an ambulance. We're outside the Fremont building, I have a bleeding fourteen-year-old here. Please hurry."

Dropping the phone, she crawled closer to him and lay her coat over his chest. "This is going to hurt," she whispered in his ear. "But there will be less questions."

He nodded, his bruised lips quivering. "Pleas--se, don't ca--ll 'em."

Olivia felt her heart skip a beat, she hated whoever they were and herself in that instant. She'd do everything she could to help him, but first there was something she had to do and it wasn't exactly going to help him.

Guilt plagued her relentlessly but she ignored it as she snapped off the quiver from the arrow in his leg and pulled the arrow through.

The boy groaned and as she put pressure on the wound, his eyes rolled back in his head. Plucking a scarf from her handbag, she wound it around his leg and tied it off.

The second arrow was going to be a lot easier with him unconscious. He was curled awkwardly on his side in semi-fetal position, she cursed inwardly in every language she knew. If there was another way to do this, she hadn't thought of it yet. She fingered the area around the site and gave the arrow a light pull. It came out easily, and the wound was clean and not bleeding heavily. It hadn't gone in as deep as she'd suspected. No major arteries had been hit, for that she was intensely grateful. She hit the boot release on her key chain and tossed the arrows in. Closing the trunk with her elbow, she hurried back the the boy and pulled him into her lap. Putting pressure on his shoulder with her hand, she began praying for the ambulance to hurry.

The sound of sirens pierced the eerie silence and she felt tears sting her eyes. This was going to be the beginning of a very long night.

The next four hours were spent pacing the corridor in Emergency department at Star City Metro. The police had questioned her extensively. They were anxious to locate the boy's parents. She'd begged them not to, she told them what the boy had said and asked if they could have someone at the hospital speak to him first. It was likely he was running away from home when she found him. They looked at her skeptically. "You think that's how he got the arrow wounds?"

Olivia threw up her hands. "What I do know is what he asked me not to do. He said don't call them and I don't think he meant you guys, because he heard me talking to emergency services and he wasn't trying to get me to hang up on them."

"We have a couple of guys working the scene. Are you sure there was no one else there?"

Olivia shook her head. "I just came out of the building and there he was. If you want to verify, I left my friend about few minutes before I called 911. She works out of the Fremont building." Olivia wrote down Tammy's number and gave it to the detective.

The woman took it and shared a look with her partner. "Thank you for your help Miss King. Someone will be in touch if we need to speak to you again."

The Commissioner knew her father well, if thing got messy, she could have her father petition for temporary custody of the boy till family services could find out about his home situation.

There was evidence in her trunk that needed disposal too. Her thoughts were in overdrive and she could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. A gentle arm halted her frantic pacing.

"Olivia?"

Dr Wynter squeezed her arms and gave Olivia a hopeful smile. "We stitched him up and luckily, there weren't any big bleeders and the bones were all intact. I have to say though, the puncture wounds were clean and fairly small. It had to have been a long, sharp heavy duty blade to have not left any residue behind. It was clean in and out. Whoever hit him, came at him from behind."

"When I first looked him over, I noticed a lot of old wounds. I think he may have been abused."

The doctor with silvery gray hair nodded. "The cops had a photographer waiting till he was out of surgery. He snapped about a dozen or so pictures. I'm sure if he's got a file, something will show up in their database."

"Thank you, Cheryl. Will you give me a call when he's awake?"

"Come by in the morning, he won't be going anywhere." Putting her hands on her hips, she smiled at Olivia as she turned to walk away. "Tell your mom to call me, she needs to get out of her lab."

Olivia smiled, her mom did practically live in her office. "I will," she promised. Now that boy was out of surgery, she could rest a little easier. However her night was far from over. She had cleaned up in one of the hospitals bathrooms but her clothes were still a mess, she'd head home before going out again. A shower, a change of clothes, and some more supplies were in order.

Six months ago

Oliver finished his phone call to find Richard King glaring down at him. A black brief hit the desk in front of him with a resounding thwack and he fingered it closer, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "I take it you've heard?"

Richard scowled. "This is nothing to gloat about Oliver. It's one thing to play in the same sandpit as the Luthors, it's another to spray paint your name all over their front door."

"It's legal and binding, I don't see how you'd have a problem with this," Oliver said leaning back, not bothering to open the leather folder.

Richard paced to the window and looked down from the top floor view Oliver's office had of the bay. "You bought LuthorCorp shares with company funds Oliver. Queen Industries and LuthorCorp are irrevocably tied. I thought you were smarter than that. I don't know what your game plan is but you could have at least done it through several holding companies or your privately with own funds. Or don't you have anything left?"

Oliver's lips pursed into a thin line. He knew he deserved Richard's scrutiny. After all the man was like a second father to him and he'd done nothing but throw dirt in his face for years both figuratively and literally. However in the last six, he'd worked hard to try and earn the man's respect and while Richard had grudgingly trusted him with control of his father's legacy, he still questioned his decisions at every opportunity. Just like any good father would, Oliver mused dryly.

"I know about what Luthor did, and I don't blame you for the bender you took a couple months ago, but if this is about revenge..."

Oliver launched out of the chair and grabbed Richard before the older man knew what was happening. "How long have you known? Did you help him cover it up? Did you know they were going to..."

Richard's face grew fierce. "Let go, Oliver," he growled. Richard was as tall as Oliver and he was a big man. He might not lift weights regularly but he was a dedicated swimmer. Daily laps of the Grecian style indoor pool kept him in great cardiovascular health and well-toned. Oliver had always been athletic even with his drinking and wild partying, but he'd give him a run for his money if the younger man decided to push his luck.

Oliver's rage cooled slightly and he let go of Richard. "I'm sorry." Hanging his head he slumped into the lounge by the window.

Richard went to the drinks table and poured himself a scotch and another for Oliver. Walking back to his young charge, Richard handed him the drink. "You know I have people around don't you?"

Oliver nodded. He'd suspected as much, Richard was always so well informed and for a man who wasn't even a board member of Queen Industries anymore, sometimes he knew more than Oliver himself.

"When you asked the Commissioner to reopen your parents' case after all this time, it was enough cause to get a couple of my own people back on it. I had a PI on it years ago but he couldn't find anything. We paid for professional divers to scour the wreck and had it pulled from the ocean floor to reassemble it. But ocean currents and salt water destroyed any chance we had at determining the cause. To be honest, it hadn't even occurred to me that after all is time someone might have a burden of guilt to confess."

"I still don't know if Tess told me because she wanted to give me closure or if she did it out of spite."

Richard sighed. "Maybe both. At least we know."

"I didn't buy into LuthorCorp for revenge. With a merger we will have more control over LuthorCorp projects."

Richard was silent for a moment, and then nodded. "Well with LuthorCorp in namesake only, and Tess' cooperation, maybe your plan isn't as disastrous as it looks."

Oliver smiled. "Nice to know I'll always have your vote of confidence."

"It'll be rocky for awhile. Stock points are dropping for both companies. Your hospital stay and the complete demise of the board of directors guaranteed a downturn. You'll need to close on that NASA contract. If you have to hand your tech guys a bonus, do it. An early shipment means Christmas'll come early." Richard didn't wait for a reaction from Oliver, he just collected his briefcase and headed for the double doors. "And come by the house when you're not busy executing hostile takeovers behind my back. Family's important too."

Family. It was true that Richard and his wife, Hannah, had always treated him like a son. Even as an ungrateful, disrespectful, social horror of a boy he'd been they'd never turned their back on him. He'd always believed it was because he thought Richard owed his father, or he'd made a promise but recently he'd come to realize it had to be more than that. These past few years it hadn't been necessary for Richard to continue watching out of him, or inviting him to family dinners, or even checking in on him when he wasn't trotting the globe. They really did consider him. Problem was, he never treated them that way. Getting out of the cushions he made a promise to rectify that. If Clark had taught him anything it was to value those who cared about you. After all, in his world people like the Kings were a rarity. Everybody wanted a piece of you for something. Although he guessed it probably helped that they had money to spare.

Present day

An hour later she was standing outside a familiar penthouse door. What was with playboys and roof-top apartments? Oh right, they were perfect if you where hiding a dual identity and needed ready access to easy escape routes. A lofty vantage point an obvious selling point when you traveled by zip-wire.

Using her key, she called out, "Oliver?" The apartment was black. She knew he'd gotten back last week but she thought having been in Metropolis the past few months she'd let him get caught up with the office before having to face family.

"Ollie, you here?" she tried again.

As she moved further in she was hit by a smell that nearly took her knees from under her. She held her hand to her nose and closed her eyes, instinctively processing the stench one odor at a time. Fruit citrusy - maybe oranges, decaying meat, from the sweet tinge possibly pork, she opened her eyes again and blinked at the sudden sting. She had to get rid of that smell. She hurried to the sliding doors that lead to the balcony and pulled them open. Sucking in a deep breath, she ran to the kitchen and spotted the culprits easily. A fruit bowl stood forlornly on the bench, untouched and full of decomposing fruit. She threw it in the trash, but not before she nearly gagged into the bin. There were vegetable scraps and meat cutoffs that looked at least several weeks old. She searched for the bin liners, there was no way she was going to be moving it as it was. The soup at the bottom would have eaten through the plastic already. Tossing the sludgy bag into the new ones, she tied it off before filling the bin with water and half a bottle of bleach. She would let it stew while she headed downstairs to the dumpster.

When she got back to the kitchen she discovered the reason for the poor housekeeping. There was a hastily scribbled note from Nona. "Immigration warning. Must go back. Sorry Senor Queen."

Olivia rolled her eyes. Men. Undomesticated the lot of them, with the exception of England's Butler alumni that is. She didn't know if she wanted to venture through the rest of the place if she was in for any more disasters. It crossed her mind that perhaps she could send Henry to clean up after Oliver first and then hazard a visit. With a sign, she gave up the thought before she could give in to her survivor's instincts. She'd have to suffer the surprises, she was here on a mission.

Mission - give Green Arrow a piece of her mind.

She paused at his bedroom door. She'd been in there plenty of times, some of those uninvited too but never in the middle of the night. What if he was naked? The thought made her turn. Maybe this plan would work better in the morning.

Shaking her head, she let out a breath and threw the door open. The sight had her stopping in her tracks. His balcony doors were wide open, there was broken glass, papers, arrows and all sorts of weapons strewn on the floor. Her first thought was that Oliver was no where in sight and that someone had kidnapped him. His bed was unmade but empty. Where could he... then she spotted it. A boot. Following the haphazard trail it lead all the way to his large walk-in closet. There was Oliver, passed out in the middle of the floor. Leather arm bands still on and buck-naked with an empty bottle of tequila in his hand.

A closet drunk, wonderful, that was so much better than a social drunk. Olivia straightened the bed, and went in search of a pair of clean boxers. Most of his clothes were littered around his closet and bathroom, he obviously hadn't done laundry since Nona left either. Pulling them on him, she was grateful he was facing the floor. Not that she hadn't seen flashes of him during his exhibitionist escapades but she would be handling him and having that part of him glaring in her face was way over their platonic boundaries. Rolling him, she lifted his upper body and dragged him to the bed. Unceremoniously dropping him into the mattress, she pulled the covers up and started clearing his room. She piled the arrows in the closet and swept the glass into a pile, before scrounging up an empty box from the kitchen and shoveling it all in. Next she gingerly picked up the bows and knives, depositing them on the bench in the bathroom. When her hand hit the cool ceramic basin, a wave of dizziness overtook her. She closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the bench. Her head fell forward till it met the cold surface of the mirror. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs burned a little. She needed sleep. Opening her eyes, she noticed something odd about the mirror. There was no refraction to her reflection. Straightening, she didn't let go of the bench. Her hands drifting slowly along the surface, she searched for a hidden catch or a button. Finding nothing under the bench top, she tried inside the drawers and found no joy there either. Taking a step back, she looked at the entire wall. The mirror took up a good portion of it but in the narrow space on either side were the Queen emblems. Not quite as grand as the ones in the living room with stained glass but these were three dimensional with wrought iron arrows. Moving on speculation, she reached out to touch the center arrow on the right size. It didn't budge. Sure that she was on the right track she pulled it. There was a sharp click, and her heart skipped a beat. She'd either cracked it or something was about to happen, either way a surge of adrenaline coursed through her.

With a low rumble the mirror lifted into the ceiling and the bench swung inward to one side. There was an entire room behind that wall, and it was as chaotic as Oliver's room had been. Drawers open, paper everywhere, more glass and from the empty shelving she could guess what were the equipment was supposed to be housed. There was a desk in the center riddled with what she could only describe as geek heaven and a monitor hanging on the wall the size of her family's LCD TV. Computers weren't really her thing. After having a minor break down at one in college, she vowed to use them as little as possible. Her Blackberry was the closest thing she'd been to one since. Heading back to his room, she collected his Green Arrow gear and put it back on the racks. She didn't bother cleaning up, she'd leave that to him. Out in the hallway, she picked up her gym bag and went back into his hidden room. Taking out the damaged arrows, she left them on his computer desk. His secret identity was safe for now. His reputation, for the most part, untarnished.

Feeling exhausted on every level known to man, Olivia stumbled for the door. She had no idea what had lead him to this point, but she hoped that tonight would bring some serious re-evaluating.