When it comes to 18-year old Connor, Oliver, you are the father!

Summary:
March 10th, 2015: Connor Hawke meets his father for the very first time

Queen Mansion

The home of Oliver Queen.


Characters

NPCs


Mood Music:


It's a bright sunny morning in the Bristol Township, and for once, Oliver Queen is awake to enjoy it. He had an early night, and got a decent night's sleep for once, so he's bright eyed and bushy tailed as he walks out through the main doors to the Queen Estate. He has a good reason. He has a golf game to attend, something to do with Queen Consolidated, so he's planning on getting a couple of practice shots off before he heads to the golf course.

By his standards, he's dressed oddly. He has a blue sweater vest over his shirt and trousers, and it looks like it's from some Scottish town, St. Andrews or something like that. He has his seven iron in hand, and a couple of balls in his pocket. Tossing a lone ball up into the air, he is briefly blinded when It rises high enough for the sun to get into his eyes, but he recovers quickly enough to catch the ball. Why he caught it is anyone's guess, as he just drops it afterwards, lines up, and takes a swing.


The past few months of Connor Hawke's life had been surprisingly eventful. Most of it was for the better, but he did have a chip on his shoulder that heavily weighted his day-to-day routine to a unbearably slow crawl. Eventually, Connor's quest to find his long-lost father turned into an obsession. Oliver Queen was a hard man to contact, and even more so to locate.

After the last lead, things went cold for the fatherless boy. Frustration turned to desperation, and Connor turned to less then favourable means of locating him. After a week undoubtedly breaking several cyber laws, Connor was finally able to get an address, gleamed off an unsecured mailing list.

Connor was awake at dawn, hailing a taxi. He had no car, but he did have the remaining funds which remained from his trust-fund which easily took care of the ridiculous bill. Upon leaving the taxi, Connor walks to the front gate. Pressing the com-box button, Connor patiently waits outside, even if there's no response. He was going to meet Oliver.


The Queen's do value their privacy. The neighbours are so far away that they are practically in a different time zone. Okay, so that's an exaggeration, but the estate is secluded and yet, well protected. When Connor presses the com-box, a man steps out of the booth near the front, still standing on the other side of the gate, he knows that the man does not have an appointment. The Queen's aren't expecting visitors. "How may I help you?"

Meanwhile, blissfully unaware of the proceedings, one Oliver Queen is working on his game. He hit a nice ball, it sailed pretty high, but then it landed in the pond. Oh well, that's a water hazard. So he drops another ball, and gives it a mighty swing.


Connor stands calmly with his hands behind his back. If there's any sort or internal anxiety or anticipation, the boy does a pretty damn good job of remaining formal. He's wearing a high-dollar set of dress clothing designed to look more casual, but there was no denying the quality, even for a guard.

Connor offers a kind, polite smile, "Good evening sir, my name is Connor Hawke. I know this is a bit of… a… random exchange, but my-… Mister Queen is quite difficult to get a hold of." He pauses, shifting his weight momentarily, "I would like to request a brief meeting with him… you have no… idea… how long it took me to find this place." For once, there appears to be a slight amount of desperation present in his brows.


It's the desperation that does it. Ordinarily, Mike Bishop plays dumb, he refuses to acknowledge that the Queen's do in fact reside here. If you don't have an appointment, then you weren't invited. Parties are another matter, but nobody who isn't in the know learns about those until after they've happened. Plus, Ollie doesn't throw many parties these days. The guard takes a good look at Connor, and finally asks, "all right, what's your name, and what is it regarding?"

For his part, Oliver has been getting in some decent practice, but he's no golfer. If he didn't have to deal with these things, he would avoid them, but to some extent, the boardroom is still dominated by the links. So he heads on back to the manor, ready to hop into one of his many vehicles, and make his way to the golf course.


Connor exhales a deep sigh of relief, "Oh thank you sir. My name is Connor Hawke. It's about…" Well he can't just go telling the guard about the scandalous knowledge. The blonde-haired teenager pauses for just a second, articulating a way to lie, and not lie at the same time. He couldn't really lie after-all. Bad on the karma, "… it's about some knowledge that I've gained that directly involves Mister Queen. It's too important to send in E-Mail or over the phone."

Whew. Connor's karma was spared! It's a trick you have to learn after-all. You can't trick karma… but you can reword truths to be appealing! And not appear to be a liar!


And the guard's no longer as keen to help out the young man. He's been around long enough to know when someone's lying to him, and even if Connor did sell it, that was a pretty bold twisting of the truth. Paraphrasing some science fiction show he once watched, the guard asks, "did that skill come naturally, or did you attend some kind of special martial arts school for the philosophically inclined?"

"Look kid, if you had an appointment, you'd get in. If you had a good reason, you might get in. But if you're going to lie to me, I can't help you." But then things change when a red Ferrari begins to drive down the interlocking brick road, on its way to the gate. Turning to look in the direction of the car, the guard says, "well, what do you know. It's your lucky day, kid. I hope you make the best of it."


Was that supposed to be a real question? Because he had indeed attended something similar and it throws him off that the guard would guess that. How did he know? A suspicious look is offered directly after the martial-arts comment, "I uhh… am not lying at all. I just can't tell you what it is. It his business and his business alone." He never loses his composure once; that is until the Ferrari catches his sapphire gaze. When he realizes that it was actually him, Connor's face flushes and he actually mutters to himself, "Oh dear buddha, I wasn't ready for this…"

All of that planning? Right out the window, and his mind goes blank. Ignoring the guard for now, Connor composes himself, attempting to make eye-contact with the man to clue him in on his interest.


In a delicate situation like this, the guard doesn't open the gate. Not at first. "Sir, you have a visitor." In theory, the guard could open the gate and immediately go for Mr. Hawke so that his employer could escape. But that would probably be an overreaction.

Stepping out of the car, Oliver says, "it's all right Mike, open the gate." He takes a step forward and extends a firm hand, "Oliver Queen, pleased to meet you, Mister…" And the guard pipes up, "Connor Hawke."


It takes all of Connor's willpower to hold back tears. He had dreamed about meeting his father since he was a boy, and it was finally a reality. The firm hand is met with a very similar grip followed by a very respectful bow, similar to the buddhist monks of Japan, "… Co-…" The guard cuts him off, and an eyelid actually twitches. It wasn't a big issue though, and Connor recovers with a charming smile, reminiscent of… someone familiar.

"Good morning Mister Queen. My name is Connor Hawke. I've been looking for you for a very long time." He clears his throat, "I know you are a busy man, but I have to tell you something very important…" He glances to the guard, as if to signal 'in private'.


The guard isn't being very helpful, but then they're not paid to be. Here's here to protect Oliver Queen and his family. But then again, Oliver's never put much stock in his own security. He plays things far too fast and loose. At least they're used to it. After Connor glances to the guard, Oliver will hold a hand up, palm out, and turn his head abruptly, suggesting that he should head back into the security hut so that he can have a moment alone with Mr. Hawke.

Oliver's a big boy and he can take care of himself. "All right, so what's so important that you just had to show up at my door on a Sunday morning?" If he weren't on his way out, he'd invite the guy in, offer coffee or something, but he had a golf game to attend. He had to close the deal with Hawker Siddeley.


Connor smiles once more as he gets his request, but it fades when it's time to get serious. "Well, I would've attempted to contact you sooner… but I should probably start from the beginning…" There's a brief moment where he looks absolutely terrified; and he is. Terrified of rejection. Terrified that this might have been all for nothing.

Finally he sighs, as if just now getting the courage to continue to speak, "Eighteen years ago, my mother Sandra Hawke…" He lets the name sink in for a moment, "Told you that she had a miscarriage…" Falling silent, he looks down at his feet, in which he is shuffling his toes… almost like a cartoon character, "… but she didn't. She only revealed your identity to me because I was heading down a dark path. But when I looked into your identity, you had been assumed dead, and I thought that I would never get a chance to meet you face to face. When you returned, news hit Japan… and well… yeah…" Great end to the story.


Well that was unexpected. Oliver Queen isn't easily riled, but he was floored. It may not show, but on the inside, he's beside himself. On the one hand, there is overwhelming joy. He's a father? That's wonderful. And yet, this man, this Connor Hawke, is a grown man, eighteen years old. Oliver missed out on so much joy. And then there's the possibility that it could all be a lie.

Oliver proceeds carefully. "Well, that's not what I was expecting… but I suppose, welcome to the family? No, that just doesn't sound right. What is the proper thing to say? What would hallmark say? Obviously, you know, I'd like to be, well, tested. My lawyers would have a field day with me if I didn't. But, wow, really, I'm a father?" He seems stunned, but at least he seems open to the idea. He's just a little guarded. After all, he is a billionaire. He knows others have had similar claims, though this is a first for him.


It would be hard to deny Connor's claims. After all, he's got the same build, same hair colour, same eyes… yet he has Japanese features that were prevalent with Sandra. If it were a lie, it would've had to have been an overly-well played one. Connor's intense nervousness instantly melts away once Oliver makes the Hallmark comment. Grinning, the blonde-haired teenager shrugs, "I… didn't really think that far ahead."

Connor also seems stunned. All that worrying! He should've just been upfront from the get-go. Reaching into his back-pocket, he pulls out an old Polaroid picture from nineteen years ago. It's folded and ragged along the edges. He hands it over to Oliver. It's a picture of Sandra and Oliver laying on a bed posing in horrible 90's fashion, "this is the only thing I've had to reference you by all these years. So, either my mother is a really good liar, or you are indeed a father, and of course I'm willing to go through testing. I want to know just as much as you do."


Oliver says even before he's handed the Polaroid, "I knew your mother, and it is certainly possible… it's just… sad that we live in the kind of world where tests are necessary." The story's a good one. It fits with the evidence. And the boy does have some similar features. But that's not proof. The hair is likely a dye job. Oliver's never met someone with even a hint of Asian heritage who didn't have dark hair, well, except for that one albino girl, but she doesn't count. That's very different.

"I was on my way… somewhere… unimportant. But I think a visit to the lab might be in order, son?"


Connor nods slowly, taking a deep breath. His cheer momentarily lapses as he speaks up, "What's sad is we live in a world where mothers feel the need to hide the truth from their child's Father." There is more than likely harsh feelings harboured towards his mother for having lied to Oliver about his birth, but any signs of his feelings on the matter are quickly nixed by a big toothy grin, "Well, I can't help but feel like I might be interrupting something… but I do like that idea, dad? Dad." That was weird for him to say, so he had to say it twice to convince himself that he said it correctly.


"I wouldn't be too harsh on her. I don't know them, but I'm sure she had her reasons." At that point, he gestures towards the guard, who was still sitting near the window of his little booth, and gives him the signal to open the gate. "Hop in. Have you ever rode in a Ferrari?" Best to get this sorted earlier rather than later. As inclined to believe Connor as he is, he still wants proof. And suddenly he wonders how long it takes to perform a parentage test.


Connor shakes his head at the Ferrari question, "I can honestly say, the nicest car I've ever rode in was a Mitsubishi Gallant…" He could be joking… but judging by the way he's looking at the Ferrari like it were worth more than his soul, he could very easily be telling the truth. He doesn't respond to the commentary about his mother, for he doesn't possibly believe there was any reasoning good enough to keep the secret from him.

Connor offers a faint smile and nod to the guard before opening the Ferrari door and carefully entering, as to not damage anything at all. If it turned out he wasn't Oliver's kid, he didn't want to have to pay for scratched upholstery.


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