A/N:- These characters are based upon how they appear on Arrow and my own character choices, rather than any comic canon. All characters belong to DC comics, Warner Bros, whoever it is that owns them, and not me.
The flow of pedestrians slowed as more and more of them glanced upwards. The early morning sunlight, already bright and getting brighter and warmer with each passing moment, reflected back from hundreds of sheer glass panels that stretched high into a sky clear and blue. Buildings lined each side of the wide roads, like huge canyons of metal and glass, monuments of mankind's genius and ingenuity.
The young woman tutted with vexation at the slowing mill of people around her, and it took several moments for the murmur of their words to slide into her thoughts. She looked up too, then, following their gazes and pointed fingers; up a white faced building that seemed made of arches and pillars. Around the lip of the building, at some twelve stories high in her estimation, ran a balustrade, made of the same earthy white brick as the rest of the structure. And standing by the balustrade – standing so that the balustrade was behind them in fact, and they on the very lip – was the unmistakable form of a person.
The woman bit her bottom lip as she lowered her eyes from the figure above, glancing furtively around her. Not that anyone was watching her, nor did they have any reason to watch her, and they certainly did not notice as she quietly slipped away from the ever growing crowd.
They looked so small down there. Like ants, that had just had their hill kicked, swarming around, clumping together. So small, so tiny. So insignificant. How she envied them.
She crept another inch along the edge, the hard brick solid and reassuring beneath her tread. Even this high up, she could hear the unmistakable wail of sirens as they came steadily closer. Her name was Sharon Diggity, and she was sixteen years old. Sixteen, and never to get another day older.
Up here, the wind whipped at long strands of straw coloured hair as she leant over the edge again, one hand holding onto the firm barricade behind her, looking down at the crowd of onlookers below, and thought about how quickly she could be down there amongst them. This would be something they would talk about for months, maybe even years, but they would never know. They'd never know, and eventually they would forget and move on with their lives and forget that Sharon never would.
"Oh, that's a long way down."
The sudden voice surprised Sharon, and she grabbed hard onto the barricade to stop herself from slipping. Tentatively, she craned her head towards the source. Another woman, someone Sharon was sure she'd never seen before, occupied the roof behind her, leaning over the edge to stare down at the floor so very far away, a distinctly sick look on her face. The woman almost instantly straightened, and then did her upmost not to look down again. "Never been a fan of heights."
"You a cop?" Sharon managed to get out from dry lips.
The woman shook her head, long brown curls swaying. "Me? No," she replied. "I'm a waitress." She had dark skin, though a lot lighter than Sharon's own, and a wide smile tinged with a sadness she could understand, a sadness that seemed etched into her very being. And she certainly was dressed to match her words; Sharon could spot a cop a mile away, even one in plain clothes, and while this woman didn't look exactly like a civilian, she didn't look like police either.
"You're… you're not gonna try and talk me out of it are you?"
"Out of what?" the woman said. "You come up here to smoke too?" And true to her word, the woman turned her back on Sharon, resting the very edge of her butt on the barrier between then, and proceeded to light a cigarette. She took one deep breath, exhaling out a wide plume of white smoke. Within seconds the area around the pair stank of it. "I remember when you could smoke inside," the woman said conversationally. "So much has changed. Always changing, ever changing, that's the way the world works I guess. I'm Kendra, by the way. Sure you don't want one?"
Kendra offered the slim red packet towards Sharon, but the young girl shied away. Kendra shrugged, and the pack vanished into a pocket. She took another long draw, then dropped it on the floor and crushed it beneath her heel.
"So you come up here for the fresh air?" she asked, still not really looking at Sharon.
Sharon shook her head. "I'll do it," she said. "I'll do it." Only then did Kendra turn to face her.
"I believe you," she said simply. "It's all gone to shit, hasn't it? Something's come along and ruined everything, and it just seems the easiest way to make it all go away. Trust me, I've both been there and bought the proverbial T-shirt."
"Is this the part where you tell me it'll all get better?" Sharon spat, feeling her ire rise. Without realising, she placed one hand on her belly, as if she could feel through the layers of cloth and skin, feel through to the thing that had ruined everything.
"No, no," Kendra said. She was staring off into space, as if looking at something that only existed in memory. "Not every time. Not every time." She let out a long sigh. "So why don't you tell me about it?"
"You said you weren't out here to try and talk me down."
"I'm not," Kendra replied. "But I've still got twenty minutes left on my break, and that seems as good a way as any to kill time."
Sharon was about to snap off a retort, but then clamped her mouth shut instead. What the hell, why not? It wasn't like it mattered. So she found herself telling Kendra, this stranger, all about Jimmy, all about how they had been in love (or so she thought), about how he had broken her heart and told her he wanted nothing to do with the life growing in her belly. About how she couldn't tell anyone. About how her parents would kick her out onto the streets without a second thought. About how her life was over now, how she'd never get into any half decent schools while trying to drag a kid around with her. About the fear of raising a kid when she was a kid herself.
Tears streamed down her face by the time she had finished. And Kendra listened, saying nothing, until she was done.
"So you're not gonna talk me out of it," she added, voice surprisingly firm.
"I know," Kendra replied. "I can see it in your eyes." She smiled again, a soft, almost sad, smile. Traces of damp appeared in the corner of her eyes. "Thank you for talking to me, Sharon. Sometimes talking helps." Then Kendra turned, and began to walk back towards the door that led to the stairwell.
Sharon turned back to the empty expanse before her. The air was warming up, though the breeze at this height kept a coolness flowing over her. She looked down again, seeing more people milling like ants, saw police cars and fire engines lining the streets, their lights flashing.
She leant forward, her hands leaving the barrier. Air whooshed by her as she plummeted, down, down, down, her arms outstretched and her eyes closed. In those seconds, which stretched for hours as she hurtled down, she saw it all in the blackness, relived it all. Reliving every second of her life, seeing the faces of her friends and her family, seeing the things that gave her great joy, seeing the things that gave her great sadness. Tears stung her eyes and breath caught in her lungs, and…
Something grabbed her, arms wrapping tight around her waist, and she suddenly found herself upright. There was a sound, like something large beating at the air, and her descent slowed. She opened her eyes, now keenly aware than someone was behind her, holding her, that someone had caught her on the way down. Her feet felt firm ground suddenly beneath them, and then the arms were off her. As she span, she heard another great beating sound, a rushing of air, and caught a glimpse of huge wings as her saviour soared back into the clear sky. Wings, and enough sight of the clothes the woman wore to know exactly who had caught her.
She knew one other thing too. She didn't want to die any more.
"…top story; Midtown pulled to almost a complete stop during rush hour this morning, as a jumper leapt from the top of the Draze Bank. The unnamed youth was saved, however, by a mystery flying woman. That's right, folks, you heard that correctly; a flying woman. Rumours were quick to circulate that this may have been Supergirl, the super powered heroine most associated with nearby National City. But those at the scene were quick to debunk that theory."
"Nah, I seen her, that weren't Supergirl. At least, no Supergirl I ever seen, unless she dyed her hair and grew wings. That weren't Supergirl, that was more like a hawk… girl!"
Laurel closed the laptop, cutting off the sound of the news, and pulled the headphones from her ears. She glanced around her, eyes roving her fellow passengers. Families, groups of friends, the odd single traveller much like herself. The guy over in the corner, who looked half asleep; he looked large enough to make Dig feel inadequate. And those teens over there, giggling and bantering amongst themselves; in their numbers, they could overwhelm anyone else in the carriage. She wondered vaguely when she had begun to see the world around her and judge the threats it might hide. Probably not long after she'd begun training with Nyssa, if she had to guess.
Beneath her, the repetitive thump thump thump of the train as it moved along the rails was reassuring, like a solid heartbeat, and she let it sink into her frame, soothing her.
The news of the day, of the flying woman saving the jumper, was troubling. Not for what it meant to the city of Keystone, but what it meant for Dinah Laurel Lance. She'd moved out here for one reason and one reason only; there was no place in Starling for her now. Not when it had Oliver, and Thea, and Dig, and Felicity, to keep it safe at night. And during the day, she had gone as far as a lawyer could before her career plateaued. Keystone would be a fresh start, for both of her lives. But this flying woman could spell trouble for her; it was going to be hard enough staking her claim to the city if someone else had beaten her to it. It was possible it was just a one off occurrence, one of those metas from Central City just passing through. It was even possible it was just Supergirl – she allowed herself a small smile at thinking of Supergirl as a 'just' – despite what the eyewitnesses had said.
She would have to find out, one way or another. And if the last few years of her life had been anything to go on, she did not imagine it would be long before she did find out.
The train shuddered as it slowed, pulling into Keystone's main station. The sun was just dipping low on the horizon, casting a soft pink hue to the sky. Within minutes, Laurel was out of the carriage, out of the station, and in a cab heading Uptown. As the cab wound its way through wide streets lined with tall buildings, Laurel gazed out of the window, trying to take it all in as much as possible. Nyssa had instilled in her that knowing one's surroundings was an important aspect of any fight, and she knew that held true for real life as well. Keystone, from what she could see, was little different than Starling, though this city lay on the banks of the Pacific Ocean, lending a tang of salt to the air for miles inland.
It was full dark when the cab reached its destination, and Laurel hauled her heavy suitcase from the trunk before glancing up at her new home. A four story brownstone amongst identical brownstones, it sat squat compared to the skyscrapers of Midtown, but had a warmth those monoliths could never hope to capture. Her new apartment lay on the top floor, and she had to drag her heavy case up the flights of stairs one by one; the old metal elevator had yellowed hazard tape barring any entry to it. Laurel wondered how long it had been out of use.
The apartment itself matched her old home in Starling in size; it had a living area that merged imperceptibly with the dining area and kitchen, a closed off bedroom far from the door, and a bathroom and linen closet besides it. There was even a spare room, which would no doubt double as her home office once she was set up. It felt larger than her old place, though that probably had something to do with the fact that most of her worldly possessions lay in large brown boxes, piled high where the movers had left them.
Unpacking would have to wait, however. She carried her suitcase into the bedroom, placing it on her bed, before opening the large wooden wardrobe. There, she would hang the armour of her day job; the suits that marked her as a member of the DA's office, the newly hired EADA of Keystone. There was another uniform she reached for now, though, unzipping the suitcase and pulling free the black leather jacket.
"Well, Laurel," she said to herself, voice barely a whisper, fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. "Let's show the world what you can offer."