Disclaimer: I don't own the Arrowverse.

A/N: I decided not to bother with the preface since I'd have to write a completely new one. Seeing as FFN readers have already seen Chapters 1-19, I will be posting those plus Chapter 20 today while starting tomorrow I will *probably* do twice-daily updates. The joys of this story being complete.

And to the one Reddit-style troll who seems to think comparing my work to others' in a negative fashion is the height of hilarity: seeing as Ray and Okori both like my stories and have helped me brainstorm the back half of this one along with Nyame, you're obviously in the minority and shall be duly ignored.

Finally: if you don't want to wait to read the entire story, it is posted in its entirety already on AO3 and I am currently posting the sequel.

The Rise of the Emerald Archer:

Volume I of Arrow: Rebirth

By

ArlyssTolero

Oliver Queen barely remembered dying. Those last few moments in the Bunker, with his daughter staring down at him through tear-filled eyes, had seemed to him to be as though he were watching them from another's eyes. He hadn't even felt himself slip away. Or had he died at all? His eyes were heavy, but he could feel the bed beneath him, hear the hum of an air conditioner (or heater) blowing air, air that he felt drifting across his bare skin. He could feel the hospital scrubs he was dressed in; was he at S.T.A.R. Labs? Had they won? Oliver forced his eyes to open, heavy as they were, and found himself in a vaguely familiar room. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, feeling sluggish, and looked around. He was in a hospital room, a private one at that, like the one that he had been in when he first returned to then-Starling City all those years ago. In fact, he was pretty sure this was that exact room.

Oliver stood, grimacing as his body protested the movement, and headed for the window. He wasn't feeling the same as he had before. He had become more in tune with his body during his time with the League and that had continued over the following years. As a result, he could instinctively tell he wasn't in the peak condition he had been in while fighting off those Shadow Demons in the Crisis. How long had he been sleeping? Or would it be more accurate to say he had been in a coma?

Oliver stood at the window, taking in the view of his city, and he felt something cold and dark, akin to dread, begin to curdle in his stomach. The skyline wasn't the one he remembered from the last time he had been in Star City. For one, the 'twin towers' of Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global dominated the skyline. For another, the Glades remained undisturbed by the Undertaking and the aftermath of the destruction of Damien Darhk's 'ark' that had destroyed so many lives when it blew courtesy of Lonnie Machin, or Anarky as he preferred to be called.

This has to be a dream, Oliver thought to himself. Or I'm trapped in my own personal hell dimension now that I've died. Oliver turned and entered the en suite bathroom, intending to splash some cold water on his face and see if that helped, only to stop in consternation when he found himself on the platform where he and Barry had first confronted Novu. The being in question was standing in the center of the platform. "What is this?" Oliver asked. "What have you done?"

"I have grown… fond of you in our time together, Oliver," Novu said, and Oliver refrained from giving a snort of disbelief, not wishing to anger the powerful being. He doubted Novu was fond of anything, much less anyone. He saw himself as above those who lived in the 'mortal realm'. While what he had learned in Nanda Parbat had ultimately been about the Anti-Monitor (and wasn't that a revelation, that the League of Assassins had been founded to keep the balance in order to keep the Anti-Monitor from destroying the world), Oliver had come to the realization that beings like Novu and his adversary did nothing without gaining something from it for themselves. But he doubted Novu would reveal what he gained from whatever he was doing here; that would be a mystery for Oliver himself to solve. "You have gone above and beyond in your duties to prepare for the Crisis, and your noble sacrifice on Earth-38 helped to galvanize those left behind. So, I have chosen to reward you with a chance few are ever given. I'm sure you've noticed when you are."

"The day I returned to Starling," Oliver said. "I thought the universe was a delicate piece of machinery, that one change required another. What's the price of this 'second chance' you've given me?"

"For the most part, the universe will take care of that itself," Novu replied. "The universe and time will fight back if you move to deal with too much, too fast. Your knowledge will become obsolete if you change things too much. You will also face opposition from Eobard Thawne, the Council of Time Masters, perhaps even from those you once called allies." The allusion to Barry or even the Legends was obvious, and Oliver wondered if he would have it in him to deal with those that he called allies if they tried to interfere in what he did, if he didn't let things play out the same as they had.

"There's more to this than just wanting to reward me for a job well done," Oliver said after considering the Monitor's statement. "Something else is driving this. What is it?"

"I have looked into the future after the Crisis," Novu replied. "I believed your death, and the sacrifice of The Flash, would force your allies to change, force them to see the truth: that their own selfish wants and desires, their constant changes to the timeline, had consequences for the universe. But nothing has changed. Your allies attempted to reverse your death, ultimately failing, and the wrong Barry Allen sacrificed himself. The Barry Allen you left behind continues, along with his team, to think that the universe will make exceptions for them, as they thought it should make an exception for you when they tried to bring you back. The Legends continue to time travel without regard for the impact it has on those around them. There is also the future of your city, and your children, to think about."

"You mean the future that we stopped," Oliver tried to refute, thinking of that moment in the tunnels under Star City where he had stopped Mia, his adult daughter from the future, from killing Grant Wilson. According to what she, William, and Connor had told them, Grant would escape continually and become a cult icon to the disenfranchised of Star City. That eventually led to an uprising and a mutation of the word hero to refer to the likes of Grant Wilson and those who followed him rather than Oliver and those he had inspired to rise up. It had been a sickening revelation to be had. *1*

"No," Novu replied, causing Oliver to feel sick to his stomach. "As your daughter warned you, Grant Wilson escaped from Blackgate Prison again and again. Your daughter and the Canaries matched wits with him each time, but in the end, the Glades rose up and walled themselves off, bringing about the very future your team hoped to avoid. Your city was unable to rally behind your daughter, though she bore your mantle, just as it was unable to rally behind your sister Emiko after she began masquerading as the Green Arrow. The moment you revealed yourself, the perception of the public shifted. Suddenly, the Green Arrow wasn't a folk hero who could be anyone. He was a man, he was someone known to them, and any who tried to take the identity would be scorned."

"You're saying that it needs to be me that fights Grant, to keep the Glades from rising up," Oliver said.

"I have seen many futures, Oliver, and in each one Grant Wilson is the one who inspires madness and brings about a dark age in your city," Novu replied. "Only when you stand against him as the Green Arrow is the city kept safe."

"Alright, I get that part of this. But what do you expect me to do about what Barry's team and the Legends are doing?" Oliver asked Novu. "I can't force Barry or Sara to never time travel or force their teams to not react as they do. They wouldn't listen to me, anyways, even if they knew that I'd been sent back in time and even if I chose to change things 'responsibly'."

"As Kara Danvers once told you, Oliver, the heroes of Earth-1 looked to you for an example," Novu replied, and there was no mistaking the cold tone in his voice. "Is it any wonder, then, that when you began to put your own wants and desires above the good of your city, the others did as you did? You put your desire to be seen as every bit the 'hero' you saw Barry as above the city you swore to protect." Oliver flinched back at the painful, but truthful, accusation, but Novu wasn't done.

"You put your need for validation and acclaim above doing what was right," Novu continued. "Is it any wonder, then, that Barry Allen, who had stopped himself from changing the timeline a mere one year earlier, chose to create Flashpoint? Is it any wonder that Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, and others decided to use their journeys through time to validate their own status as heroes?" Novu stepped forward. "You are the beginning of this age of heroes, Oliver Queen. But what will this age of heroes be? A band of selfish glory seekers whose only desire is their own gratification? Or will it be a band of selfless heroes, dedicated to protecting their cities and their world, no matter what the cost?" Novu raised another hand, and in a blinding flash of light, Oliver found himself standing in the bathroom of the hospital room.

Almost on automatic, Oliver turned on the faucet in the sink and splashed water on his face, before looking into the mirror. It was very odd, seeing a much younger face staring back at him. It was shocking, if he were being truthful, to see how much the stress of his seven-and-a-half years of being a vigilante, or hero if you wanted to use that term, had taken a toll on him. Oliver returned to bed to try and get some rest for the remainder of the night, tossing and turning as the Monitor's words haunted him, as did images of future battles to come and the last image he had of his daughter, staring down at him in grief.

*DC*

"You don't look well-rested, Oliver," Moira Queen observed as she and her son sat in the back of the Queen family's Bentley (one of them, at least). "Though, I guess I'm not surprised. Hospital beds aren't intended for comfort, even in private rooms like the one you were in."

"They certainly don't want people thinking of the hospital as a hotel," Oliver couldn't help but quip tiredly, giving a small smile and earning a chuckle from his mother. It was so good seeing her alive, even though he knew about the many things she had done to keep their family 'together' without anything compounding it. Thea. William. Emiko. His mother seemed to have a habit of hiding things about family members (or outright hiding said family members). Just like his family tended to have a habit of getting involved in nefarious schemes, no matter what universe they inhabited or how close-knit or dysfunctional they were. "Mom, before we go to the mansion, there's something I need to do."

"What is it, sweetheart?" Moira asked, though she suspected she knew the answer; she knew her son very well, after all, and there was only one thing he would want to do more than get back to the comfort of the mansion. Oliver confirmed her suspicions only moments later.

"I need to see Laurel, tell her the truth before the news," Oliver said. "I owe her that much." Not to mention he wasn't going to pretend Sara was dead when he knew she was alive. Instead, he had a different story he would tell Laurel, one that would keep hope alive for her, her father, and her mother until he could figure out a way to free Sara from the League of Assassins. And this time, if she decided to walk away from her family and friends because of one setback, Oliver would let her have it and reveal his own dark past, what he had done to that man in Russia, to try and prove to her that no one was beyond redemption. Well, almost no one, Oliver thought darkly as his mind touched upon Damien Darhk, Adrian Chase, and Ricardo Diaz.

Moira, unaware of the thoughts swirling in her son's mind though she had seen his face twist slightly, perhaps remembering the death of Sara, called up to the driver. "Take us to C.N.R.I., on Wells Street."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver replied.

"C.N.R.I.?" Oliver asked, playing the role of the man who had been lost at sea for five years and unaware of all the changes in the lives of his loved ones.

"Short for the City Necessary Resources Initiative," Moira replied. "It's a legal aid office in the Glades. Laurel turned down a rather profitable offer in San Francisco to remain in the city and help the less-fortunate." Moira's expression softened. "She reminds me very much of Rebecca." Her tone was almost wistful as she remembered the only woman that she had considered close to a 'best friend' and the work Rebecca had pioneered. Work that Rebecca's husband intended to see wiped from the map along with thousands of lives.

Oliver stayed silent, knowing what his mother was thinking about. The soonest he would be able to stop Merlyn was Christmas, and that was if things played out the same. He was going to do things differently this time around; the Monitor's words had affected him deeply. It was up to him to be an example for the heroes that would rise in the next few years, and this time he needed to show them the path he had found the balance of in his seven-year journey as a hero. The times where extreme measures were needed were few and far between. He would need to curb his darker impulses, those left over from his time as Al Sah-Him.

That was something that he would need to avoid, if he could; the League of Assassins was part of what kept the Anti-Monitor locked away, or so the implications had been from the journal of the first Ra's al Ghul. They were servants of the balance of the universe, just like the Monitor was. He had to do his best to avoid coming into conflict with them, and if he did, finding a way to resolve that conflict without the League descending into anarchy and dissolving. *2*

*DC*

Oliver had only rarely ventured into C.N.R.I. when it had been whole and open for business, but what he saw was as he remembered it. Lawyers and assistants dashing to and fro, or typing on computers (which reminded him, why hadn't C.N.R.I. digitized their client files?), some on the phone with clients, cops, and court officials. Oliver made his way through the swarm of humanity, having already picked out Laurel seated at her desk. As he approached, he noticed her brow was furrowed, a little crinkle between her eyes showing the depth of her concentration. It was a familiar pose; one he had seen in her time and again during their youth and during particular intense cases over the next four years before she was killed by Darhk. He had even seen it a couple of times in Earth-2's Laurel during the missions she joined him on for the Monitor.

Oliver swallowed the lump that swelled in his throat as his mind registered that for the first time in almost four years, he was seeing the real Laurel, the one he had known, the one he had grown up with, the one he had loved, the one he had avenged. She was here, she was alive, and even though she hated him right now, he knew that wouldn't last. This is what emboldened him to take those final few steps to close the distance between them. "Hello, Laurel," Oliver said softly, and her hand (in the midst of taking notes on the case file she was studying so intently) froze, her green eyes widening.

Laurel turned in her seat slowly, looking up to meet his gaze. He saw a brief shine of relief that was almost instantly washed away by shock and anguish, because she instinctively knew he was here with bad news. "I-Can we talk? Privately?"

"We have a couple of rooms for client consultation," Laurel said, her voice flat. "We can borrow one of those." She led the way, both of them ignoring the whispers and pointing fingers. Once ensconced in the room, Laurel turned to face Oliver. "I know why you're here, Ollie. You want to tell me she's dead."

"Actually, Laurel, I don't know if she is or not," Oliver replied, and Laurel drew in her chin in consternation. "After the Gambit went down, I did think she was gone. I'd seen her sucked out of the ship, and I couldn't find her anywhere in the storm. A year after I arrived on the island where I washed up, a ship arrived. Sara was onboard."

"What happened?" Laurel asked, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat.

"The ship belonged to a scientist who was trying to recreate some serum from the 1940s, and he was experimenting on everyone aboard the ship," Oliver replied. "The serum he was looking for was on the island I'd washed up on. Once he had it, he continued his experiments. The ship ended up sinking off the coast of the island, and I saw Sara sucked out into the ocean again." Oliver leaned against the table inside the room. "Laurel, when the Gambit went down, it was in the middle of a storm. Sara survived that. When the Amazo went down, it was in calm waters off the shores of the island. She might've survived that, drifted to another island on the wreckage from the Amazo. I just… I don't know. But I swore when I came back that I wouldn't lie to you ever again, even if the only thing I said to you was about what happened to her. You deserve that much, especially after what I did."

Laurel nodded, closing her eyes and not able to help the small thrill of anger and hope that shot through her. Anger because she had half-expected Oliver to be the same callous playboy that she remembered him being in the rage-filled haze she had lived in for the past five years and hope because it meant there was a chance her little sister was alive. Oh, don't get her wrong; she was angry as hell at both Ollie and Sara, but that didn't mean she wanted her sister to be dead; she was her sister, after all! "Thank you, Ollie," Laurel said now, her voice thick with emotion, "for coming to tell me this. I need some time to think, to process all this. I know where to find you if I have more questions."

Oliver nodded and turned to go. He stopped at the door and turned back. "You know," Oliver said thoughtfully, "I can't help but think the phonetics for C.N.R.I. would come out as 'Canary'. Seems to me she's always been with you, even if she wasn't here." Oliver smiled softly at Laurel's surprised expression. "Goodbye, Laurel." Oliver exited the room without another word, leaving a troubled ex-girlfriend to figure out how she felt about everything he had told her (and to inevitably share it with Quentin Lance, who would undoubtedly maintain his grudge for as long as he was steadily drinking).

*DC*

Oliver stood looking at himself in the full-length mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist; much like his reflection in the hospital bathroom mirror, it was odd seeing his younger body, without the wear and tear it had been through while fighting super-soldiers, metahumans, aliens, and Nazi doppelgangers, to name a few of the issues he had had to deal with over the years. Oliver smiled wryly to himself. If he hadn't been through all of that, he would never believe such things existed. For all that it was daunting to imagine going through it all again, Oliver had come to realize the gift that Novu had given him, whatever his ulterior motives might be, and he doubted it was just what Novu had told him; the Monitor was an onion.

Oliver blinked as the image of Novu as said vegetable flashed through his mind. He shook his head. Way too much time spent around Barry and Kara, he thought, deciding to shunt the blame for any such thoughts off onto his perpetually cheerful super-powered friends. Sobering, Oliver's hand drifted to his chest, which was absent a few extra scars he had picked up over the years, including the one from Ra's… the one that had been a constant reminder that he was on his second chance in life. He had joked about penicillin tea and being 'close' to dying… but the truth was he had died.

He remembered being somewhere warm, somewhere that felt safe, like home, and then he remembered waking up in that cabin with Maseo and Tatsu. Ra's had killed him. Even if he hadn't punctured Oliver's lung when he put that sword through his chest, he had crushed Oliver's windpipe and kicked him hundreds of feet down a cliffside. It would've taken a good ten to twenty feet of snow to soften that landing, and there had been only three feet of snow, if that, on the ledge where Oliver had landed. And if Oliver was honest with himself, the turn towards selfish wants and desires the Monitor had accused him of following the path of had begun after he returned from his duel with Ra's. *3*

"Third time's the charm," Oliver whispered to himself before turning away from the mirror and headed for his wardrobe. It was time to be Oliver Queen, billionaire scion, again.

*DC*

The dinner went about the same as last time, though this time Oliver took special note of his mother and stepfather's initial reluctance about him swinging by the company the next day. Interesting, considering how they had tried to press-gang him into a position in Queen Consolidated the very next week. Something Oliver might well accept this time, because if things went as they did the last time around (that is, if Merlyn escaped their confrontation at Christmas), then he intended for himself to be the one who replaced Walter as C.E.O., not his mother. As C.E.O. of Queen Consolidated, Oliver would have the oversight of everything in the company… including Unidac Industries.

His meetings with Tommy and Thea had been as emotional, if not more so, than the previous timeline because of the last times he had seen them. The last time that he had seen Thea, she had been beginning work with Talia al Ghul to create a new League, a League dedicated to heroism; it was strange to see Thea before she became a warrior, before she gained those scars from Athena. The last time he had seen Tommy was the dark version of his friend on Earth-2, before the Anti-Monitor had wiped that universe from existence. Seeing Tommy be vaporized by anti-matter had been like losing his friend all over again. That had been the third time he had seen Tommy Merlyn die, and he was intent on making sure he never had to see it again.

As Oliver prepared to turn in, his mind drifted to tomorrow and the kidnapping that would unfold. He and his mother had had a lot of talks before and after her trial, and one of the things she had confessed to him was that the men who had kidnapped he and Tommy had been working for her, because she was afraid of what would happen if Malcolm ordered Oliver interrogated. That explained why the men had had no body-cams to record everything, as most professional outfits would've had. Because of this, Oliver would take a different tactic; and with any luck, since he wasn't going to go see Laurel at C.N.R.I. (as he had already done so), the bystander who had been killed would be spared.

This time, there would be no story of a hooded vigilante that saved him and Tommy. That had forced him to move up his plans. Now he had a chance to set up a solid base of operations, perhaps inside Queen Consolidated itself (like that used by the team while he and Felicity had been living their fantasy life after defeating Ra's until they'd created the Bunker). He also needed to work on a new arsenal of trick arrows. This time, he needed to do things differently. He needed to inspire as much as he brought justice. He didn't need to turn into the person he had in his first official year as Green Arrow; but he didn't need to be as brutal as he had been during his first and fifth years. Balance was the key; balance between the darkness and the light. The same balance he had found in the fight with Emiko and which he had fought with as he prepared for the Crisis.

Oliver laid back on the too-comfortable bed, closing his eyes, and hoped beyond hope he would not be haunted again by nightmares of a future that would, with any luck, become only a distant memory by the time he was done.

A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.

Chapter Notes:

*1* The Monitor's comments regarding Barry and his team feeling the universe makes exceptions for them is just how I can see them thinking of Barry Allen-90's sacrifice.

Regarding the mutation of the word hero and its association with Grant Wilson, that is just my interpretation to explain why Mia has such an aversion to the word and its meanings.

*2* I believe Crisis being moved up was the culmination of several things. What Thawne did with Nora was a huge part of it, but there's the destruction of the Council of Time Masters, as well as the end of the League of Assassins and H.I.V.E. to consider. At least, that's my head-canon.

*3* There was maybe a foot of snow on the ledge where Oliver landed. He fell hundreds of feet with a stab wound all the way through his right lung and landed on his back. At *best*, he would've broken every bone in his body, including his skull.