Laurel/ Oliver Arrow

I am just playing in DC's sandbox as MG should not be trusted with these precious, wonderful heroes. I own nothing.

Because I think that Laurel really should have been in therapy for a long time over what Oliver has done and she has let him do.

Un-betaed and rough around the edges but i need to get back into the writing habit, and Arrow is as good a place as any to jump in.

Four times Laurel loved Oliver and one time she realises she still does.

The First Time:

When he lies on the bed next to you, you say "let's move in together" as you love him and he loves you: Laurel and Oliver, together forever. He is your prince, a little tarnished and a little rough but he loves you and you know that and you trust that.

Your insides crease and melt when he touches you: your arm, your stomach, your lips. You smile and laugh as you know you are so lucky that you are in love with your best friend and he loves you back. Life is wonderful and amazing and happiness, so much happiness.

When your grandmother died and you couldn't sleep for the numbness, you went to Oliver. When Sara started acting out, and you couldn't help her, you went to Olivier. Because he loves you and you love him and he is your forever. He holds you and his arms feel safe. Forever and always, Laurel and Olivier, you and him.

So what your father thinks you are too young to move in together. So what Tommy isn't happy and smiley when you tell him, but quiet and his eyebrows scrunch together, like he's worried, or in pain or conflicted and for the life of you, you can't think why. So what Sara seems to either ignore you or shout at you, she is still a teenager, she is still growing up. God knows you were a nightmare at that age (You weren't, deep down you know that you were never a nightmare. You never needed to be, everything came smoothly, you worked towards something and you got it: friends, school, Olivier. Maybe life isn't smooth for Sara, maybe she needs this pushing and pulling, you wonder?)

You go to Oliver and he is happy, he is safe and he is love.

Then the boat went down and the news came in and Sara. Sara wasn't here, with your father and mother and you. She was there. With him. Not you.

You were numb. You were angry. You would call his phone and scream and shout and curse and cry into it. Because you still loved him, even in death you reacted out to him.

Second Time

When he came back: because Oliver was back, even though Sara wasn't and five years, your mother and father separating and the press and having to grow up and the knowledge that princes die and fairytales and forever die with them. Nothing is forever. Love is fake. People, even, no especially, those close to you, lie. You never outgrow that pain, that distrust, that hurt. You have been to counselling, you have slept with the best friend to get back at his ghost and still you can't hate him when he rocks your world upside down.
Again.

When he smiles, you smile, when he walks away you follow, because he is back and back is better than dead. Because this is not about how you feel, how you don't know if you should slap him or hug him and you can't slap him as he was tortured and died and you were at his funeral. But you can't kiss him as he broke you.

He broke you into shattered jagged edges that never fit back together. Him and Sara, on that boat. They broke your trust in lovers, in friends, in you. How could you trust yourself to judge people, if you couldn't even see him or her truly, see what they wanted, what they needed?

When he kisses you, you kiss him back, because he is Olivier and you are Laurel and he was your first, your everything. But you know his kisses means nothing, you mean nothing to him. And it all comes back and you cry into a pillow over Oliver Queen again and you realise that this hopelessness, this pain, it's love and you can't seem to stop it.

Because he is back and miracles can happen. And even though Sara is still dead, still rotting at the bottom of the ocean, he is here. And she loved him, and you loved him and her and if you can only have one back, you'll love them.

Third Time:

Oliver's in your flat, you can see that energy on him, his skin is calling to yours. You haven't seen him like this since so long, since before the island, before you knew about Sara, before. When he asks you if he is too late and you kiss him because he is Oliver Queen, your first kiss, your first love, your first everything. He kisses you back, he calls you, says he is who he is because of you. He tells you he loves you.

And when you wake up smiling, curling towards him and you realise that you are alone, again, he is still your first and last heartbreak.

Fourth Time

You lie in your bed where one month ago Oliver told you he loved you and that he would ever leave you. You lie in your bed where he kissed you and held you and told you he missed you.

You think to yourself, as you lie in your bed, cold and numb, tears cloud your eyes and your face is tight and red and everything hurts. You think to yourself about this love and how you wish it would die.

Oliver has gone, he has left Thea, Moria, you, his club. He has left you all to your pain and your guilt. Tommy died for you, because of you. Olivier left, because you are not worth staying for. You can't crawl into his arms and wrap yourself around him and cry together. You can't tell each other stories, of when Tommy stole the school mascot and painted it blue, or when he had that blow out party for his 16th where Ollie and him streaked through the ballroom in front of Malcolm and Tommy was grounded for two weeks but you laughed till you couldn't breathe each time someone brought it up. You can't cry to each other about how you miss him, how you both love him, how he loved both of you.

Oliver has gone and he does not come back.

You worry about him, how is he coping with this constant pain? How is he missing his best friend? Does he look up and catch a glimpse of a dark haired man, and for a second, for a nanosecond, think, "Ah, there he is, there's Tommy". You do. You have a second of warm relief and then it hits you, again, that Tommy is not coming back. Tommy is never coming back, he died in your arms, covered in blood and you could do nothing.

You are not worth pain and hurt and tears and comfort. You are not worth staying for. You never were, you realize, not when Oliver got on the Queens Gambit, not when Sara followed him, not when Tommy came to the Glades, not when Oliver walked away after Tommy's death.

You drink and smile and kiss some boys but the pain is still there, still dead inside your stomach. Not letting you eat. Not letting you sleep, till pills are the only way you can close your eyes without tears. You still wake up with your pillow wet. Tommy isn't there, your friends don't understand why you cry Olivier's name, Joanna has other things to worry about what with her family and the business files, and Sara is still dead. Your mother is gone, still chasing after her own grief. Your father, you love him, you try to believe that he loves you, but both of you can't seem to talk, you stare and stutter but can't talk.

You are back to staring at the walls at 3.00am again but this time, you can steal a cure. You can steal away the heartache. You can pop a pill and kill the pain.

When he comes back, but when he doesn't come back to you, you can pop another one, and it's ok as everything is numb and cold and painless.

Fifth Time

When he tells you he is done and walks away. When he says he doesn't love you anymore and sleeps with your sister, again. Only this time, they are in love and you, stupid dumb you, you only bring them down, you bring everyone down. You brought death on Tommy, you brought pain to your family and you stopped them from being together. It still hurts.

It hurts that she is back, not dead, hasn't been dead at all, just not there with you and your dad and your mum. She wasn't there when it went wrong, as they screamed and shouted and cried and cursed the Queen name. She wasn't there when you felt so guilty and angry and sad as you introduced Olivier to your family, to her, and this, the boat sinking, the pain, was the result.

No, Sara is now back: Shiny and beautiful and alive. Back from the not-dead, back from the not-here. Everything is peachy, and they are in love, they smile at each other, they touch each other. Back from the not-dead, back together as soon and as quickly as possible.

You love your sister, you always did. No matter what she thinks, or thought growing up. No matter what she used to say about that party, where she told you she was going to kiss Ollie, where she wouldn't let you finish your sentence, didn't want to see what was happening. So you called your father and got him to shut it down. Oliver had already asked you out, you'd kissed, you'd danced, everyone already knew but her. You didn't want her heart to break, to be humiliated in front of the school, you didn't want to her to think that she was not loveable or kissable. You naively thought, your sister hating you, well, that was better than her having her heart broken too by Oliver. You wanted to spare her that pain. Plus, you thought, she couldn't hate you forever, could she?

It would hurt her less, let her think that he never knew not that he didn't care enough to notice. But you now know it was you that was wrong, you that didn't count enough to car about, you who's heart broke, you who's humiliation was printed in newspapers and the internet for all to see.

And you realise that it should have been you to ask him "Am I too late?" that it was never him that was late.

It was you.

Too late in realising that he never loved you, he was just a hormonal boy who shagged you as you were there, as your sister was not there.
Too late in realising that he never knew you, he just saw this perfect girlfriend that you tried so hard to be, he just saw this doll to roll out at parties and to his parents.
Too late in realising that your sister chose him too. Your sister, your best friend chose him over you.

You still hurt to picture them together. Although this time round they kiss in front you so no imagination needed. When the Gambit went down, imagination was all you had. They share heated glancing in front of you, each one cuts through your wall until you're nothing more than cold hard skin and bone that bleeds when you touch it. After all you are nothing, you do not count. You feel caught in this cage that you have put yourself, with this pain, their actions, their lies and you feel small and stupid and trapped.

You love them. No matter what they do and say. No matter what she thinks about you and how she thinks that you were dad's favourite, how her envy didn't turn back into love.

Because you are above all else her big sister and you couldn't protect her from the world, you couldn't protect her from the pain in the end.
When you pour the fifth drink of the night and the clock hasn't even past 8.00pm, you realise that this pain, this numbness, it's the remains of love for him and for her and it never dies.

God, when will it die?

Letting go:

When you find out that the Arrow is Oliver, when you see the scars on your sister's back and realises that she is the Canary, your world slips. It tilts and slides and shifts with memories pushing and pulling in your head and finally, it shudders into sharp focus and you want to cry. You feel so much awe and pride and guilt and shame and love.

They go out night after night, to help, to make people better, to make the city safer. This second life, this burden they hold for the city, for the people, for their families, for you. You want to shake them, tell them it's dangerous and you have already lost them both once before. You want to hug them and thank them and tell them they are amazing.

But you can't, you know that now as you take it all in. You can't tell them, this is not your secret to tell, but you want them to know that you love them, that they count so much.

So you go to Ollie and you hug him.

"Ollie" You stand in the middle of the dance floor, a small sad smile gracing your lips as you think of how far he has come, how much pain he has endured to be here, as he is, now. "Thank you" you reach him and hug him. He stays rigid, for a minute, and then he hugs you back. He curls into you, his lips at your ear, his arms holding you.

You know that he is always your first love, your first heartbreak, your knight in jagged armour only he is not just yours; he has never been just yours. He is so much more, he is this to everyone and he is always love.

And you feel small and light and warm and loved and you feel free.