18 Epiphany 

[Queen Mansion, January 8, 2008, 10:05 PM] 

In the living room, Oliver sat beside Moira and held her as she cried. There was a little bit of awkwardness on his part from having to deal with such intimate actions, but these sobs, unlike those that occurred in the bedroom, were calm and silent, making the situation bearable.

Three minutes had passed since he told her the P.G. version of his experiences this last month. Unable to avoid the topic of his "father," he was forced to come clean about the man's demise, leading to well…this. Frankly, he understood her grief, but her reaction perplexed him a bit. 

With what he knew of this family, all the adults in it were cheaters. Robert cheated on Moira repeatedly. The son followed in the father's footsteps and cheated on his girlfriend with other girls. And the wife didn't remain left out and even did it once, that single moment of weakness leading to the innocent girl asleep upstairs. 

And the thing was, both parents knew about each other's infidelities, but that never really changed anything between them. If the way his mother wept told him anything, it's that she still loved the man despite his faults. Such a thing confused him, because why cry for a man who treated you like dirt? 

After thinking about it for a long time, he could only chalk it up to love, a troublesome emotion in his opinion. But hey, what did he know? It's not like he'd ever been in such a serious relationship. 

Feeling her sobs cease, he let the woman go and faced her. There was a lot he wanted to say and get out of the way, but the grieving woman beat him to it. She grabbed some tissue paper and wiped her tears, forcing out these words amidst sniffles. 

"You must have felt so alone…" 

The mere thought gave her the urge to start another shower of tears, but she stifled it and instead palmed his cheek, her red and irritated eyes gazing at him with worry and sympathy. 

Oliver, on the receiving end of these emotions, didn't know what to do with them nor how to respond. If anything, it made him look away, a small bit of guilt eating at him. He'd taken over her son's body and written her and her husband off as terrible people.

But here was this terrible person, putting aside her own grief to deal with his non-existent own.  How could he go through with his plan of brute-forcing these awkward situations? 

Deciding to stow his judgments and respond with more empathy, he put on a solemn expression and wrapped his hands around her own. "Mom. It's okay. I know how much you loved Dad, despite everything he did." 

Moira withdrew her hands as she took on a surprised expression. Instantly, she switched from her best quality (unyielding love for her children) to her worst (lying), and asked, "What are you talking about? Your father nev-" 

"Dad told me everything..." 

Uninterested in the pointless drama, Oliver cut her off instantly. As he expected, she clenched her hands, crumpling the tissue paper into a ball. Her fear and anxiety went through the roof. Taking advantage of her stunned silence, he pressed on. 

"He told me about his mistresses, the undertaking, the councilman from the glades and even Thea." 

Each revelation struck her like thunder and pushed her further into the abyss of despair. At the mention of Thea however, she snapped out of it. 

"What about Thea? What did he say?" she asked with a shaky voice, fearing the worst. Instead of an answer though, what she got was Oliver standing up and pulling her along. 

"I shouldn't have said anything," he said and wrapped his arms around her shoulders to drag her to her room. "It's late. We'll talk tomorrow when you're well rested." 

"No. Oliver. You-" she tried to get the answers out of him to no avail. What did Robert tell him? Did he know about Thea? That she wasn't his all this time? She had to know. Unfortunately for her, she would not find out tonight, her worried inquiries silenced by Oliver's next words. 

"Mom, stop," he said and turned her to face him, his arms holding her small shoulders. Looking into her eyes, his voice and gaze conveyed finality. "There is a lot to unpack and now is not the best time. Like I said, we'll continue tomorrow, when I've showered, shaved, and slept in a proper bed." 

Initially off-putt and confused by her son's uncharacteristic assertiveness and seriousness, the words at the end of his sentence made her calm down in understanding. 'Right, he was stranded on an island,' she thought. 'Of course he wants to shower…. I bet he wants to eat too…' 

Now less agitated by the reveal of her shameful secret, she asked in a worried tone. "Are you hungry? I can wake Raisa and have her put something together." 

"No no, it's okay," Oliver hurriedly shut that down, finding the thought of waking up an elderly woman to prepare food for him almost blasphemous. "You just focus on getting a good rest," he said as they arrived in front of her room. "And mom, if you want to find me, go to my room. Don't let anyone know I'm back." 

She tried to ask why but stopped halfway. "Oliver, you're scaring me," she said, grabbing his arm with no intention to let go.

Pulling her into a hug, he patted her back and reassured her. "Tomorrow. Everything will make sense tomorrow, I promise," he said and let go with reluctance, stifling the urge to wrap his arms around her one more time.

To ensure she really slept, he led her to the bed and sat in a chair nearby to watch her. He thought he'd be waiting for a while, but she entered dreamland in less than ten minutes after lying down. It seemed she was really tired, or maybe his presence really counted for something. 

Rethinking his whole stance concerning life as Oliver Queen, he silently left her room and navigated the dim house. After a brief and stealthy exploration, he found his old…or new room and didn't bother to explore and relish in its size and comfiness. 

He instead stripped down and rushed into the shower for his first proper bath in this world.

...…

His hair slightly wet, Oliver sat behind the computer in his room and munched on cookies. Clad in just underwear, he scrolled down the site he had browsed to and memorized all the foods it recommended as America's greatest dishes. There were burgers, tacos, pies, and a host of other things, most he'd never tried. 

'I'll order some pizza and burgers tomorrow,' he thought and instantly noticed an issue with the plan. 'That's going to be a problem.' 

Malcolm Meryln had people watching the Queens' every move. If he ordered a large number of meals to a house where only two women lived, that would definitely draw attention. Thinking of ways around this problem, he picked up the glass of cold, delicious milk and gulped it, washing down the cookies in one tasty go. 

"That's the stuff," he sighed in contentment and smacked his tongue, refilling the glass with milk from the gallon he'd taken from the ultra stocked fridge. As for the cookies, he'd just gone through half of the first jar. 

Memorization complete, he took another swig of the sweet stuff and retrieved a small notebook from the inventory. During his time on the island, he'd written down many random thoughts that popped up whenever he tried to recall anything about the DC universe. 

Names of individuals, companies, devices, anything that came to mind, he wrote down. Now that he had access to the extensive data reservoir known as the internet, he could use them to gather information. However, his first few searches weren't from the book. 

Before he started anything, he started with research on famous heroes. 'Clark Kent, Smalliville, Kansas,' was his first search query. Knowing there might be thousands or tens of thousands of people with these names, he narrowed the search down by adding the names of the town and state. 

The results he got were worrying. Only one or two news reports mentioned some Kents, and none of them were Clarks. Probing even further, he found information on Martha and Jonathan Kent, a couple with no child despite being married for over twenty years. 

Where the hell was Superman? 

Unable to sit still, he searched up another family; the Waynes, and discovered information that confirmed his fears. A notion he had dismissed as a passing and outrageous thought had been given life right before his eyes. 

When he first woke up as Oliver Queen and received the original's memories, he found out what caused his death. 

When the boat went down, he hit head before falling into the water. Even though Robert replicated the murder and suicide to ensure his survival, his injury, combined with the lack of proper sustenance and care, proved too extensive and he died as a result, long before he reached Lian Yu. 

Upon receiving this vivid recount of events, Oliver marveled at how little differences could manifest into such huge changes. A non-life threatening injury, treatable with timely medical care, had been the catalyst to snuff out the future greatness of his favorite hero and prevent it from ever coming to life. 

It was then he wondered about other heroes. If his years of consuming comic related content taught him anything, it was that alternate universes followed a pattern. If the genders were reversed in a particular universe, it wouldn't be so for just one or two, every hero would be genderbent. 

And so, if in this universe, Oliver Queen died prematurely, which other hero died before their time? The moment this thought came to life, he cursed and banished it. Because its implications signified a world of horror he wasn't keen on exploring. Besides, no matter the universe, the big three always existed… sometimes. 

Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. These three were a constant in most universes. Why would it be any different in this one? His luck couldn't be that bad for him to end up in a universe where they didn't exist. Or was it? Well, he just confirmed it. His luck was that bad. 

Bruce Wayne's parents weren't the only ones to get shot the night they got mugged. The future dark knight had his light snuffed out along with that of his parents'. 

Reclining in his chair with wide eyes, Oliver blinked a few times at the unbelievable news. This was a major deviation from the Batman origin story. Even he got shot!

What about Wonder Woman? 

With what he'd seen and having no way to check her status, he had no choice but to assume the worst. 

There wasn't a Wonder Woman.

Going ahead to type in "Barry Allen," he pressed the enter key and instantly got many results, all of them reporting the gruesome and sudden death of an eleven year old boy who was stabbed in his own home.

At that, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, reeling from the fact that a passing assumption of his turned out to be true. And not just any assumption, the one he dismissed and hoped to death would remain just that…an assumption. 

He was shocked, but not as much as one would expect. 

As someone whose assumptions and plans for the future always ended up getting ruined in his past life, he had learned how to assume the worst. After all, the saying went, "Assume the worst, and you'll never be disappointed." 

With the entity, the system, the island, and the realization of his situation, he had taken them all into account and accordingly prepared himself mentally. And so even though these findings phased him a bit, it wasn't to a crippling or paralyzing extent. 

He took it as one of those, "It is what it is" situations. Worrying was pointless. The best thing to do with this information was to build up his strength and prepare as much as possible. Resources, allies, power, information. These were the things he had to focus on if he wanted his new life to be long and prosperous. 

That's why even before he arrived in Star City, he'd formulated a plan to gain more power and solve his current issue in one go. However, the implementation of that plan would have to wait till tomorrow. For now he would focus on gathering information with his scribbles and search for other heroes. 

Who knows, there might be a few who haven't died yet. Perhaps, he could save them and improve the world's and his own chances of living happily ever after. 

Like a spark of electricity, this thought lit up a bulb in his mind, giving him a sudden epiphany regarding his regeneration and existence in this world. 'Is this the reason?' he wondered. No sooner had he asked this question did he shake his head. 

'It doesn't matter. What's important is for me to be strong and prepared enough for anything.'

Flipping to the first page of the notebook, he read the first few words and typed them in the search bar. In this manner, he persisted throughout the night, reading and taking more notes till day broke.