"I don't deserve forgiveness," that's what Sara Lance had told John Constantine that night in the asylum.
She hadn't just been playing the damaged card, she truly felt that way. Although Constantine and her sister had saved her soul after her resurrection, she felt as if it was still deep in that pit. There was nothing inside her, just a void and the cold fire of bloodlust in her veins. No one on her team quite understood what she was. Rip had, he knew what kind of monster hid in the assassin's shell. He had understood, and helped her tame it. But now Rip was gone, and although she didn't quite miss him, for all that he'd done, it made her feel alone.
Ava had read her file, and loved her anyways. Sara would always be thankful for that, but lately her mind had guiltily traveling to Nyssa. Nyssa Al' Ghul knew what it was like to face her kind of demons.
Whatever her file in the Time Bureau said, it could never cover what she has really gone through.
All those years in the League, training to feel nothing and to kill.
Going back to Star City only to break her father's heart once he saw what she had become.
Being the Black Canary.
Dying, and then being resurrected.
Losing Laurel.
Time-travel was supposed to be a way to start over. A new team, a new suit, and a new name. She had tamed her bloodlust, to an extent. Where she could focus on her team first and killing second.
Sara Lance would never be free of her demons. They would always be there. Her only salvation was to beat them back over and over again until she couldn't feel them anymore.
She needed a drink. Sara wandered through the Waverider, searching for her hidden hard liquor. The real stuff, not what Gideon made.
Sara often wondered if she would struggle with alcoholism like her father. It would be fitting, now that Laurel was gone. Now that Laurel couldn't help her cope like she had with their father. As she gripped the bottle of vodka, she was struck with an idea. "Gideon, plot a course for Star City 2012."
"I would advise against that, Captain Lance." the AI responded.
"Just do it. I'm not going to do anything stupid." Sara took a swig of the liquor.
Sara hung back in the shadows, waiting. Waiting. There she was. Laurel Lance. To her, Sara and Oliver had been dead for five years, lost to the sea. Gideon had taken Sara to about a month before Oliver's return. In other words, he wasn't even on the Lian Yu, he was somewhere running around in Russia still.
Laurel's russet brown hair reflected the last of the day's sunlight. Her face held a kind of light that Sara hadn't seen in years. Before corruption and sorrow had tainted it. This Laurel didn't even know how to throw a punch; to her, a canary was just a bird. She had just gotten out of work, fresh from the DA's office. She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed, then lifted the phone to her year. "Hey, Daddy it's me. I got out of work early. I was thinking I'd pick up some Chinese takeout and come over? A nice family dinner. Call me when you get this, I love you."
A single tear slipped out of Sara's eye. I love you. She closed her eyes and imagined the words were for her and her alone. Sara allowed herself a smile before she slunk back into the shadows.
Sara had had Gideon take her on one more trip. Star City, 2018. One phone call later and she found herself in a bar. Sara smiled as Oliver Queen swiveled around on a bar stool. She sat down next to him. "Hey Ollie," her voice was soft.
"Long day?" he asked and pushed a beer over to her.
She just gave a half hearted chuckle.
And so they sat there for who knows how long, drinking and talking about Laurel and the League, and everything in between. They drank and said nothing at all, but that was just as nice. For an evening, Sara Lance chased away her demons, but not to the bottom of a bottle, but with the company of an old friend.