Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow.

A/N: I think this is the first one-shot of mine I've done that is from Laurel's perspective. Earth-1 Laurel's, anyways. I think I've done a couple that are from E-2 Laurel's perspective, which I'll be posting to FFN soon enough.

Dinah Laurel Lance stared at out of the visitor's room, her client Peter Declan rising to his feet, both their eyes going to the guard in the room as the alarm blared. "Secure all corners in Cell Block C," came the command over the guard's radio.

The guard turned to Laurel and Declan, gripping his gun. "The warden's setting up a secure perimeter in C block," he informed them before moving to the door. "Stay here, Miss Lance," he added.

"Wait!" Laurel shouted, gesturing to Declan as she headed for the door. Declan followed her as she ran out of the room, but he was already gone. Cursing in her head, because that guard was supposed to be there for Declan's protection as much as hers considering they were up against one of those wealthy scumbags who could buy off prisoners, Laurel raced off in the direction of Cell Block C, Declan following her. As they ran into one hallway, though, they found being beat down by the rioting prisoners. Laurel suddenly became very aware that she was a single woman in a skirt and high heels, faced with a half dozen or more men who hadn't had any female company in months or years, and she became very aware of the very real danger she was in as their lustful gaze wandered her body. Worse, many of these men were people she had helped put away, and they would be wanting to get some revenge for her sharp tongue putting them in here.

But before the prisoners could move, she heard the sound of a bow firing, and an arrow struck one man in the side. She turned, hope surging through her as she saw a man wielding a bow and arrow but in a guard's uniform. "Let's go," he said, and Laurel was struck with the fact his voice, unmodulated as it was, was somehow familiar. But she shoved that aside and rushed back through the door she had come through, Declan following her with the Hood in his guard disguise following them. The rioting prisoners followed, and Laurel and Declan turned back to see the Hood delivering punishing blows to the prisoners who managed to make it through the door.

With the rioters down for now, the Hood raced forward, seizing Laurel's hand and leading her away. Ahead, guards in riot gear appeared, and the Hood guided her and Declan into a sideroom. A man came out of nowhere and delivered a vicious right hook to the Hood's masked face, discombobulating him, then separated Laurel and Declan, flinging Laurel against the chain-links separating the room from an observation point. He approached her from behind and grabbed her, throwing her to the ground, and then pinned her to the ground as his hands found purchase around her throat and started to squeeze. Laurel felt her throat close up under the pressure, struggling to breathe and eyelids fluttering, wondering if this was it, if this was going to be how she died, as the victim of a prison riot. Then the man on top of her was gone, tackled away by the Hood, and Laurel pulled herself into a sitting position, hand going to massage her throat and choking as air passed freely into her lungs. She turned and her green eyes widened at the sight of the Hood savagely beating the man who had been strangling her. Laurel slowly rose to her feet and stumbled over to the Hood, trying to pull him away from the downed man.

The Hood pushed her away, and for a moment, their eyes met, and it was like the world fell away for Laurel, because despite the fierce anger she could see in those eyes, she also recognized them, because she had stared into them a thousand different times as she imagined the future she wanted with the owner of those aquamarines. Then the moment was gone as the guards in riot gear appeared, seizing both Declan and their attacker. Laurel stayed against the wall as directed, watching the Hood, watching Oliver Queen, walk out, bow clutched tightly in his hand.

Later, outside of the prison, Laurel was still in shock at her realization, leaning against the hood of a police car, when her father appeared on the scene. "Oh, Laurel," Quentin Lance said, rushing to pull his daughter into his arms. She melted into his embrace, needing the comfort after her near-death experience. "Sweetie," Quentin breathed in relief, holding his daughter in his arms easing the tension he had been feeling the entire ride to Iron Heights after being informed his daughter had been attacked in the prison while conferring with her client. "What are you…" he trailed off, knowing this wasn't the time.

Laurel had picked up on what he had been saying and immediately closed off, though. "I'm alright," she assured her father.

"You sure?" Quentin asked.

"I'm sorry about what I said to you," Laurel told her father.

"You were right. Brodeur's bodyguard just confessed to Camille Declan's murder. We got the wrong guy," Quentin said, trying to ease any remaining tension between he and his daughter. "But listen to me, Laurel, I'm right, too, about him. He's dangerous. He's outside the law."

"He's also the only reason I'm still breathing," Laurel said, deciding what to do about her newfound knowledge. "Ankov was strangling me, Daddy, and it wasn't a cop or a guard who pulled him off. It was the Hood. He saved my life. He's not what you think. There's something about him that tells me I'm safe."

"That's called the Nightingale Effect, Laurel," Quentin gruffed, "when someone falls in love with their rescuer." He sighed. "Let's not argue. I don't want things to stay bitter between us. You're all I've got left, Laurel."

"I know, Dad," Laurel said, pulling her father into a hug again. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," Quentin said.

*DC*

Back at her apartment, Laurel changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a light t-shirt and curled up on her couch, her mind turning her personal revelation over and over in her head. Oliver Queen was literally a modern-day Robin Hood. The scion of a wealthy family returning home after years away, he had taken up arms against the wealthy and corrupt to champion the common citizen. It was like something out of a fairy tale or a comic book, but this was reality, not fiction. Oliver Queen, her ex-boyfriend and one of her best friends since she was a little girl, was secretly a vigilante who fought for the very same people she did. "What happened to you, Ollie?" Laurel whispered to herself. No answer came, of course; and no answer would, until she confronted him about her revelation.

She pulled out her cell phone and sent a two-word message to Oliver. I know.

Almost twenty minutes later, there was a timid knock on her front door. Laurel got up from her couch and went to the door, swinging the door open wide and her lips quirked into a grin at the sight of Oliver on the other side, holding up his phone with a confused expression. "I gotta say, Laurel, your text is confusing," he said. "Figured you would want to tell me what it is you 'know' in person."

"Come in, Ollie," Laurel said, stepping back slightly and letting him enter her apartment. She swung the door shut behind him and headed into the living room, retaking her seat on the couch. Oliver followed her, sitting beside her, expression still politely confused. "I know it was you, Ollie."

"Know it was me doing what?" Oliver asked, seeming to be genuinely puzzled.

"Your voice wasn't disguised, and I've looked into your eyes thousands of times, seen a dozen different emotions in them," Laurel said plainly. "Do you really think I wouldn't recognize the voice and eyes of the man I've loved for half of my life just because he was wearing a ski mask?"

Oliver's smile faded slightly and he watched her carefully for a moment. "Still not sure what you're talking about," he said finally.

"I know you're the Hood, Oliver," Laurel said. "What I can't figure out is how or why."

"Me? The Hood?" Oliver asked. "You're imagining things, Laurel. Like I told you. I'm shallow. I could hardly be some vigilante."

"Don't pretend I'm other people, Oliver Jonas Queen," Laurel said sharply, and despite himself Oliver flinched. It was never a good thing when a woman used your full name in that sort of tone. "I know you. I know you like I know my own name. The two of us have been in each other's lives since we were eight years old. You and I have been together on and off since we were 14. Do you really think that you can hide the truth from me? I know who you are in your bones, Oliver, and the man you've been portraying since you got back? The shallow, selfish, arrogant man who wants to continue to live a hedonistic lifestyle? That isn't who you are! That isn't the man that I loved. So go ahead; try to tell me that that wasn't you who pulled Ankov off of me. The savagery the Hood displayed tonight makes no sense for someone who barely knows me, but a man who has loved me since we were kids? It makes all the sense in the world, Ollie." She reached out and took his hand in hers. "Your secret is safe with me, Ollie, even if you don't admit I'm right."

Oliver's face had shown a series of emotions throughout Laurel's speech. He looked down at their joined hands. "You're right," he finally said softly. Laurel squeezed his hand gently. He looked up. "You realize the danger this puts you in, if you get more involved with me? People will come after you to get at the Hood."

"I'm a big girl, Ollie, I know how to take care of myself," Laurel said. "Ankov surprised me tonight. He surprised both of us." She squeezed his hand again. "I know that you're probably blaming yourself for me being in danger, since I wouldn't have been there if you didn't bring this case to me. But without the two of us working together, an innocent man would be dead in less than a day, and a man who sees nothing wrong with dumping toxic waste in the Glades would have gotten away with two murders and that toxic dumping. We work well together, Ollie. I'm not saying you need to involve me in every case you do. But keep me in mind when I could be helpful. I'll do the same for you on cases I work."

"Okay," Oliver said. The two old friends spent the night talking about what really happened to Oliver in those five years away, and Laurel's remaining anger at her ex-boyfriend faded as she saw the scars he hid beneath those fine dress shirts of his as he explained each scar and the story behind it. It was early morning when green and blue eyes met seconds before their lips did in a short, yet searing kiss.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the one-shot.

Seeing as in my multi-chapter work, I tend to take my time getting these two together, I feel no guilt in bringing them together in these one-shots I'm writing.

To me, it's kind of ridiculous that Laurel, who has known Oliver most of his life and probably stared into his eyes a thousand times while they were dating, wouldn't recognize his eyes, especially when accompanied by the fact that when he was disguised as a guard, he didn't use the voice modulator based on my hearing during that scene. So, I wanted to do a little one-shot where she realized who it was under the mask and the immediate aftermath.

In this, Quentin never asked the question about it looking strange and Laurel telling him about the Hood's disguise. As a result, there's no trial scenario.