BTBD Amnesty & Challenge 81 - Playing with fire

[m_findlow]

Title: Playing with fire
Fandom: Arrow
Characters: Tommy Merlyn, Malcolm Merlyn, Moira Queen
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,524 words
Content notes: Spoilers for season one.
Author notes: Written for Amnesty and Challenge 81 - Accusation at beattheblackdog
Summary: Moira visits the Merlyn residence in the aftermath of her failed assassination attempt.

Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang.

'It's fine,' his father assured him, sensing the disquiet. The events of the day before had left the young man rattled. And why not? Yesterday he'd had people shooting at him.

'Dad, what if it's-'

'We have a half mile driveway and security gates, Tommy. No one is getting in or out without my knowing. Besides, Moira called ahead and said she was coming.' He went to push himself up off the sofa.

'No, Dad, it's fine. If you say it's okay, I'll get the door.'

Tommy stepped out into the foyer, wondering why they'd never installed a camera above the door, slowly opening it. 'Mrs Queen, good to see you.'

'Moira, please,' she insisted. 'We're all adults now.' She reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a brief kiss. 'How are you? How's your father?'

'We're good,' Tommy replied, leading her into the living room. 'Probably getting close to killing one another, mind you. We're not big on father son bonding moments.'

'What he means is that I don't need taking care of,' Malcolm said as they stepped into the room.

'Dad, be nice,' Tommy warned. 'You have a visitor. Someone new you can drive crazy.'

'No, don't get up,' Moira said, already walking over, watching as Malcolm made to stand up. He still looked a little pale, but there was nothing wrong with his mind and the way his eyes suddenly connected with hers. They had a lot to discuss. She leaned down and gave him the perfunctory kiss.

Malcolm sighed. 'Moira. I keep telling everyone that don't need to treat me with kids gloves, but it seems no one wants to listen to me.'

'Don't be dramatic, Dad,' Tommy said. 'We're just helping get you settled in. You've been through a lot.'

'I'm fine, honestly.'

'Says the man who went to be honored at an award ceremony wearing a bulletproof vest and got shot.'

'Everyone envies what they don't have,' Malcolm lectured. 'Isn't that right, Moira?' he asked, gazing intently at her.

'It sounds crazy, but thank God you did,' she said. 'It's just terrible, though. Your father was very lucky to have you there,' she added, resting a hand on Tommy's arm.

'Lucky the Vigilante was there, you mean.' Tommy looked down at his phone, seeing it ringing and noting the caller ID. He didn't want to speak to Oliver. Luck just didn't cut it right now. 'You sure you'll be okay, here?' Tommy asked. 'You don't want me to organise extra bodyguards?'

'I can handle myself,' Malcolm said, nodding at his son. Suddenly the image of his father having disarmed and killing that assassin came flooding back him. Was that something he'd learned at this Nanda Parbat place, too? Why did he have to have so many secrets? First his dad, now Oliver. He walked over and took his dad's hand, shaking it, unable to bring himself to hug him. 'I can come by later, bring a pizza or something. Save you being subjected to my cooking. You're as likely to be poisoned by me at that rate.'

Malcolm gave a brief chuckle. 'Any excuse to break into the cellar.'

'So much fine wine going to waste,' Tommy teased.

'Don't you have a nightclub to go get ready?'

Tommy threw his hands up in mock surrender. 'Yeah, alright, I know when I'm not wanted. Keep an eye on him, Mrs Queen.'

'He's in good hands,' she promised, watching as Tommy grabbed his jacket off the end of the sofa and headed out, hearing the door shut behind him.

'It's good to see you Malcolm,' Moira said, sitting tentatively on the plush sofa next to him.

Malcolm sat up a little straighter on the sofa. 'It's good to see you, too.'

'I can't help but notice you haven't double your security.' She gave him a troubled look. 'Is that wise?'

Malcolm's expression turned stern. 'Someone we know hired the Triad to get rid of me. They tried to do it publicly. If they'd wanted me dead they could have attacked me in my home a dozen times over, but they didn't. They wanted it to look like an accident. An innocent casualty in the chaos. They won't make that mistake again.'

Moira frowned and fingered the edge of her skirt. 'Are you sure it was someone close to us? That's a pretty serious accusation to make.'

He set his hands in his lap. Despite the casual attire, he looked every bit as foreboding as he would have if he'd been dressed in his sharpest suit. 'What have you been able to find out so far?'

'Malcolm,' she pleaded.

'I said, what have you been able to find out?'

She dropped her head, unable to meet his intense gaze. 'Nothing. This is crazy. You're suggesting one of the members of the Undertaking wants you dead. One of our closest allies. People we've known for years. What's if it's not got anything to do with them? We could be jumping at shadows.'

'It has everything to do with them,' he replied, his look fierce.

'You're high-profile, Malcolm. Perhaps it was a disgruntled employee, or someone you've crossed paths with in business. Terrorists even.'

Malcolm leaned forward, making sure he had her undivided attention. He didn't believe any of those things were possibilities even for a second. 'They had it all planned down to the last detail. They were waiting for us, knowing we'd head upstairs rather than take to the streets. They had a rocket grenade to break through bulletproof glass. They shot me and poisoned me. This wasn't some half-baked retaliation. They weren't taking any chances I might survive. I should be dead right now.'

'I agree it's a terrible thing to go through, and for Tommy as well, but...' She diverted her eyes. 'To think it's someone close to us...'

'Someone talked, Moira. Someone decided they wanted to disrupt our plans. Someone,' he emphasised, 'has grown weak in their resolve. Our tasks is to find them and eliminate them.'

She leaned across and placed a hand on his knee, hoping it wasn't too presumptuous given their history. 'Malcolm you've just come home from the hospital. Give things a few days to settle. You've obviously been through a lot. I'm sure there's a far more logical explanation for everything. Let the police-'

'The police don't have the resources. We do. Whoever it is will rue the day they put our lives and our plans in jeopardy.'

'Please don't do this,' Moira begged. 'Haven't enough people suffered for our plans?'

Malcolm sat back, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. 'If you're talking about Walter then remember that he stuck his nose where it didn't belong. I could have had him killed but I didn't. Out of respect for you.'

Moira shook her head, withdrawing her hand. It didn't belong there, no matter how much of a pretense she was holding up. 'He doesn't know anything. If you would just release him, I'm sure he'd let it go.'

'Oh, I've no doubt,' Malcolm replied. 'But I didn't get where I am by taking unnecessary risks. Walter became a liability. I removed him from the game for his own good. And ours.'

'Walter is innocent!' It felt good to say it out loud. She feared their plans being uncovered, but this was too much.

'Once this is all done, he'll be free to come home, I promise you,' Malcolm replied, sounding sincere. 'Right now, I need you to focus on what's important. Finding the mole that threatens to unravel all of our plans.' He reached across and gripped her hand hard. The force of it caught her by surprise. She'd assumed he'd still be weak from his stay in the hospital. Instead it was like a vice, threatening to crush her if she didn't comply. 'You are the only one I can trust, Moira. I need you.'

There was a hint of desperate need in the request. It made her stomach turn, thinking how close they'd come to finishing the job and putting Malcolm's plans to a swift end. Had it not been for the Vigilante, Malcolm would surely have been dead now. And with him all their plans, all their secrets and all the guilt she'd felt for the atrocities they'd already committed.

'I'm here for you, Malcolm,' she lied, squeezing his hand in return, though much gentler.

'Thank you,' he said, adding his own on top. It made her skin crawl, that tender gesture that reminded her of the intimate moments they shared together a lifetime ago. She wished she'd never let that weakness take over her. Malcolm had used it as leverage even since, and he didn't even know the whole truth of the matter yet. If he ever found out about Thea...

'Please take care of yourself,' she said. 'I'd hate to think of anything happening to you. Not when I've already lost so many of the people I care about.'

'Always,' he promised. 'No one can stop us, Moira. No one.'