Prologue
Laurel ducked sideways as a fist flew through the air, exactly where her head had been just a second before. The force of the blow ruffled her hair as his knuckles grazed the side of her head.
Oliver shot her an apologetic look that vanished immediately as she returned a swift kick to his sternum. He rocked back a few paces, but recovered quickly. He always seemed to be able to anticipate her moves far easier than she could his.
Sweat was dripping down her back and her face felt flushed. They had been sparring for almost an hour now and her body was painfully aware of it. Her muscles protested as she bounced on the balls of her feet, watching for his next strike. She would not let him see how taxing this was to her. She needed him to know she was capable.
Oliver, by contrast, seemed as if he had only just started exercising, a faint shimmer to his forehead the only indication that he was exerting himself.
Faster than she expected, he came at her in a series of rapid punches and jabs that she deflected more out of instinct than any conscious move. Her hands were raised in front of her face, the way Wildcat had taught her all those months ago, and she used forearm and elbow to bat away his powerful blows. She darted back out of his reach before he could launch another attack.
"Good," he encouraged, though his facial expression remained impassive.
She didn't know if it was his encouragement, so rarely given, or her eagerness to end the fight that caused it, but she suddenly launched herself at him. He may have been significantly stronger than her, but she was smaller and faster, and her fist cracked against his chin before he had time to react. Eager not to lose the upper hand, she kicked at his hard stomach. He swayed backwards, about to fall.
Finally, she thought gleefully.
She kicked again, the final strike to put him on his back, but he caught her outstretched foot in one hand, inches from his face. Her eyes met his for one fateful second and then he twisted her ankle as he kicked her other leg out from underneath her. She fell back onto the training mats with a dull thud, her head colliding with the floor.
The room swam above her, the harsh lights blinding her for a brief second before Oliver's silhouette appeared above her. The Arrowcave came back into focus as he offered her a hand. She took it gratefully and he pulled her to her feet.
"What did you do wrong?" he asked, still holding onto her hand.
"I don't know," she said, tugging out of his grip in irritation. "I thought I had you."
"Exactly," he said, walking over to retrieve his towel. "You thought you had me. You had good defense there, but you dropped it as soon as you thought you had the advantage."
He tossed her own towel at her and she gratefully wiped the sweat from her face.
"Aren't you going to miss this?" She asked him.
He contemplated her question as she contemplated him. It was strange to think he would soon be gone. He had been a huge part of her life: lover, friend, and hero, saving her life more times than she could count as the Arrow, and changing her life in more ways than she could fathom as Oliver Queen.
"Probably," he said, looking intensely at the bow hanging from the wall. "You know how it is, Laurel, you've done this long enough. It's addictive. Being out there, helping people, it will always be something I want."
She nodded. She did know how it is. In fact, she knew about addiction more than she would care to admit. Could she give up being a vigilante if she wanted to?
Yes, she decided. She could. She had started this because the law system wasn't good enough to keep bad people from harming innocents, but one day she would fix that system and then there would be no need for vigilantes. She was sure of that.
"When do you leave?" She asked him, hoping it came across as a casual question and did not reveal the depth of emotion she felt at the prospect.
"Tomorrow morning," he said wistfully, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself.
She suddenly remembered the last time he left her, the day he disappeared with her sister on the Queen's Gambit, both presumed dead for years. The day her life fell apart. She threw her arms around him tightly, surprising them both. His arms came up and cradled her to him in all too familiar embrace.
"It's okay, Laurel. We'll be back to visit before you know it. We're not leaving forever."
"I know," she said, pulling away from him gently. "I'm just really happy for both of you. And don't worry, we'll keep our city safe while you're gone."
He smiled, a rare smile that reached his eyes and reminded her of the mischievous boy he used to be when they were younger.
"I never doubted it," he said. "Dinah Laurel Lance, you've been saving this city long before I started, and now it has Black Canary too. I feel sorry for anyone who comes here looking for trouble."