Laurel looked up at the flashing sign hanging above the entryway of the building she was standing in front of and grinned. She was definitely in the right place. Pulling open the big glass door, she was immediately hit by the smell of fresh paint and the sound of cursing coming from deeper in the building. Following the noise into a large open area dominated by two boxing rings, it didn't take Laurel but a second to find the source of the noise and her reason for being there.
Ted Grant stood shirtless in the left-hand ring, tightening up the top rope with a wrench.
"Are you running a gym here, Ted, or a strip club? It's hard to tell from all the neon on the sign out front and you running around half naked."
Ted didn't even flinch, she knew better than to think she'd startled him, but he did put down the wrench and climb out of the ring.
"If you got fifty bucks, I can turn it into a strip club just for you, Dinah."
Ted was the only one in her life that ever regularly called her by her first name, using it to needle her playfully since she was an eleven year-old with a crush on the sullen teenage delinquent he had been when Quentin Lance had taken Ted under his wing.
"Cheap. And don't call me Dinah," Laurel teased, letting herself be engulfed in hug from her old friend. "Oh my gosh, Ted, how are you?"
"Retired" Ted said, though he didn't sound happy about it. "You?"
"District Attorney."
Ted side-eyed her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her over to the bench where his shirt, wallet and keys laid. "I know that. I voted for you. How are you? Your pops told me it's been a bit rough."
Laurel rolled her eyes. "Understatement."
"Yeah, obviously," Ted said, pulling on his shirt and fixing her with a brown-eyed gaze. "My apartment is upstairs. If you want, you can hit up the Ted and breakfast and we can talk."
"Ted and breakfast," Laurel muttered under her breath. "You're such a dork."
Ted only grinned at her in response and Laurel felt a flutter in her heart as she realized just how much she'd missed him.
"You want more crepes?"
Laurel groaned emphatically and pushed her breakfast plate away from her in defeat. "No way. I still gotta fit into my court clothes on Monday."
Ted placed two fresh cups of coffee on the table and made a show of checking her out before he sat down across from her. "Something tells me that won't be a problem."
"Charmer."
"Always," Ted agreed. "But never, ever a liar."
Laurel raised an eyebrow.
"Well, almost never," he amended before kicking his feet up onto the chair beside her. "But definitely not about this. You look good, D. You look happy."
"I am happy. As happy as I've been for a long time but—" She cut the thought off with a shake of her head. "You spent half your life trying to get out of Starling, Ted. Why come back? Especially with everything that's happened here."
"It didn't take me very long after I left to realize it wasn't this city I was running from. It was me. But, like your pops liked to say, no matter where you go—"
"—there you are." They finished it together with a laugh, remembering how Quentin, when stumped to provide actual advice to them when they were kids, would drop movie quotes on them until he could think of something truly helpful.
"I should've come back sooner," Ted said when their laughter had vanished into the silence.
"What do you mean?"
"You ever feel like, if you had just done one thing different, it could've changed everything for the better?"
Laurel bit her lip, suddenly on the verge of tears as she remembered Tommy… and her father.
Seeing her distress, Ted laid took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over hers gently. "I'm an asshole. You know I didn't mean it like that, Dinah."
"I know, Ted. At least my brain knows. It's been harder to convince my heart. But I'm trying. Therapy rules, whoo." Laurel considered that for a minute, the nagging thought she'd had in mind since she'd seen the news report on Channel 52 about Wildcat's Gym upcoming grand opening.
"Anyway, that's kind of why I'm here."
Ted laughed. "What? I'm hurt at your ulterior motives. I thought you missed me and my hot bod."
"Good to know your ego is as healthy as ever."
"Damn straight," Ted replied, preening a little. "It's healthy as a horse. Which is awesome because I'm hu—"
"Will you train me to fight, Ted?"
That cut Ted right off at the knees. He didn't kid around about his art.
"Why? I know you know how to defend yourself. Seems to me if you'd stop hanging around with Queen—"
"Shut up," Laurel snapped. "You don't know anything about Oliver."
I know more than you think, Ted wanted to snap back, a hot wave of anger washing over him so suddenly it made him nauseous. He hated Oliver Queen then. Hated the world for taking the bright young girl he remembered and making her into this dark thing, not broken but definitely bent.
Instead he said, "You're right. I'm sorry. And I understand why you want to do this but you need to know I won't take it easy on you just because you're my friend or because you're a woman."
"The bad guys never do."
"You haven't met a guy as bad as me yet. That's not my ego talking, Dinah, it's just God's honest truth. You will get hurt and I won't coddle you."
"I don't care," Laurel said, meeting his hard stare with one of her own. "I'm tougher than you think I am."
The softly spoken words broke through Ted's pique and he couldn't help but smile. "D, I know you're plenty tough. You're still standing here after all."
He meant to say more but a loud bang coming from down in the gym stopped him. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after eleven which meant the first of the volunteer crew was coming in to put the finishing touches on the gym.
"I gotta get back to work, D," he said, standing up from the table and offering Laurel his hand to pull her to her feet. "I've still got some walls to paint. Wanna help? I'll call it payment for your first fight lesson."
Laurel beamed and kissed him on the cheek. "Fair enough. You won't regret it, Ted, I promise."
Ted wasn't so sure about that. Her father was going to kill him. But, as long as Dinah was still alive, he reckoned he'd take the hit.
A wildcat had nine lives, after all.