Behind The Arrow ➳ Oliver Queen [COMPLETED]

Chapter 24 | He's A Dirty Blonde Blue Eyed Spitting Image Of His Father

Six Years Later

Working at a small diner in Central City wasn't one of my most greatest plans in the world, but they were as good as they got. I had moved to Central City about six years ago, dropping everything, and without a word to anyone. I feel as though I needed a fresh start in a new life, a reset. The city was better; quieter.

Six years ago, my son, Connor Hawke Graham, was born. He's a dirty blonde, blue eyed, spitting image of his father. I delivered him alone, along with a group of medical staff and a doctor of course, but without his father. I hadn't anticipated that Connor would begin to ask questions about his father, but he has, and all I can reply with is 'he's protecting us'.

My dad kept frequently visiting me every couple of times a month, checking up on me and Connor. He insisted on me seeing Nathan, but I had refused altogether. It was hard enough leaving him, so I wasn't planning on seeing him hurt again because of me.

As for Oliver, I hope that he has moved on, started a family. I hope he has had all the wishes in the world come true for him. I hope he's happy, because at the end, that's all I've wanted for him to be.

"Mommy, we're going to be late," Connor squealed in his car seat, noticing me driving slowly.

"No, we're not, honey," I smile at him, stepping on the gas.

Soon enough, we pulled into the driveway. As soon as the car had stopped moving, Conner unbuckled himself and dashed inside the house, not missing a heartbeat. I slowly got out,  picking up his backpack and books from out of the backseat before closing the door and making my way inside the house.

I plopped his stuff on the hardwood floor and collapsed next to him on the couch. The theme song of Thunder Cats boomed out of the TV, Connor's eyes glued to the screen.

"Hey, Cons," I get up and stretch, "want a snack?"

Silence.

"Cons," I call again, but his eyes wont budge from the monitor.

"Fine," I huff, playfully, "I guess I'll eat the last chocolate-chip pancake batter then."

"Listen," he bargains, and I begin to laugh, "I'll have it."

"I knew it," I snapped my fingers, walking into the kitchen. As I was making the pancakes, I heard the door bell ring followed by Connor's little voice.

"...she's in the kitchen making me and her some delicious chocolate-chip pancakes," he giggled.

"Can I come in?," the voice spoke.

"Nope," Connor said, popping the 'p'.

"Alright then," the voice chuckled, "Can I talk to your mommy?"

"I don't know, mister," Connor hesitated, but by now, I was already making my way to the front door. Connor ran up to me and I engulfed him in hug, placing him on my hip, then walking towards the door.

"Cons, what'd I say about answering the door to strangers?," I scold, lightly, before looking up at the stranger.

But what my eyes met weren't a strange pair of eyes. I'd known those eyes.

Oliver.

"H-Hey, Cons," I set Connor down and looked at him in the eyes, "Go up and play with your toys, okay? Mommy'll be right up."

"Okay," he put his knuckles under chin and waved his fingers, that was our way of saying 'I love you', then running upstairs after I did the same hand gesture.

"What are you doing here?," I cross my arms across my chest.

"Where have you been, Sam?," he exhales sharply.