Chase had been an ego-maniacal bastard to the very end, taking his own life in a final bid to take everything else from Oliver for choosing to save his son. With staring, haunted eyes Ollie had watched the blooms of fire erupting over that cursed island that seemed to only bring pain. He'd killed them. He'd gone after Chase and everyone else had paid for it with their lives. All he ever gave anyone was pain, loss. He could feel the familiar bleakness starting to settle into his heart once again when the warm solidness of his son intruded.<br/><br/>That was the old Oliver, the hardened killer who'd sought to cleanse his city under a mound of arrow-riddled bodies. He wasn't that man anymore. He had to believe he was no longer that man. He had a team now, people who believed in him. He had Thea. And somehow, there was always Felicity who seemed incapable of giving up on him totally. He needed to place his faith in them. Curtis and Felicity were two of the smartest people he'd ever met. Slade and Malcolm were cunning as fiends. They would have found a way to escape...<br/><br/>His train of thought cut off as he noticed smoke begin to billow from the inboard engine. Oliver seized William and flung himself over the side, kicking hard for distance. He felt a wave of blistering heat, light spearing through his eyelids, and pressure.<br/><br/><br/>He felt wet sand beneath his body and a vague sense of heaving himself out of the surf before collapsing. But he wasn't alone. Someone was getting closer, fingers pressed his throat. Oliver's hand flashed upward like a striking snake to lock around their wrist. A moment later, his vision cleared to the indescribable joy of seeing Felicity's gorgeous face alive and unharmed. She said he'd be OK, but that wasn't the priority. "William?!" he croaked. "Thea? Everyone?"<br/><br/>