Shiva (Arrow - Oliver Queen)

3 / home sweet home

"To think I forgot what a real showers feels like," Sandra remarked to Oliver as she stepped out of the guestroom.

Oliver gave a light chuckle, before leading her downstairs. He had been waiting to bring her down to the dining room for dinner. 

Sandra wrapped her damp hair into a bun as they walked, trying to appear somewhat presentable - or somewhat normal, at the very least - for the rest of the Queen family.  "Your family seems nice," she added. "Thea's just like you described her."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He was happy to be back, Sandra could tell. "What are you planning on telling them, anyways?" he asked. "About you... being here."

Sandra had worked up that backstory on the plane. "To the rest of the world, I'm a Starling City University graduate. A history and chemistry student who was travelling abroad for an anthropology report when my companions and I happened to spot a bonfire on a deserted island in the North China Sea."

To anyone looking closely enough, it may have been too much of a stress. But Sandra suspected the Queen family would take any story she fed them, if it meant having Oliver home and in their arms, once again. As for the rest of the world, (and, inevitably, she presumed, the police) - it was a good thing Sandra was a good liar. She had made new identities before, this time would be no different.

Oliver gave her a look. "History and chemistry?" he asked.

Sandra shrugged, although she did fight a smile. Chemistry used to be her forte, at a time when she hadn't known Oliver nor the true darkness of the world. "Couldn't help myself," she said. "I covered all our tracks. It would take a genius to uncover the whole truth."

They descended into the main foyer, and Sandra watched Oliver gravitate towards a small, central table lined with picture frames. His fingers trailed over the photos, silent, reverent. Sandra followed, picking one up. A teenage Oliver Queen smiled up at her, with a six or seven-year-old Thea on his shoulders. On Oliver's right was a stunning Spanish girl, with thick tresses of brown hair and pouting lips. She was looking up at the Queen siblings with a light smirk. She looked just as old as Oliver - and just as rich, if the flashy necklace and handbag she sported in the photo were any indication. 

"Who's she?" Sandra asked, pointing to her. 

Oliver peered over her shoulder at it. "Oh. That's Antonia - Antonia Bail, but we call her Toni." He gently took the picture frame from her, regarding it with a fond smile. "She was one of my friends, growing up. I called her earlier."

"Gave her a hell of a shock, I'm sure," Sandra said, trying to ease the tense frown she saw creeping over Oliver's face. 

He did give a brief smile, but it faded. "She's been travelling, but she promised to get back home as soon as she could."

"I'd like to meet her."

"You'd like her, I think," Oliver said. He set the picture down, fingers lingering on the frame. He then gave a small sigh. "She didn't sound the same when I called. I guess people change in five years."

Sandra didn't press any farther. She knew that, beneath the happy veneer, Oliver was beginning to realize that things wouldn't be exactly as he left it. It would be a hard pill to swallow.