It's Been Too Long
By Morganperidot
1.
"Oliver," Laurel said as she stood in front of him. He was sitting on the stairs in Verdant, looking at a photograph, clearly distraught about something. At the sound of her voice he looked at her and stood up unsteadily, grasping the handrail to his left as he walked down the stairs. He might be The Arrow, Laurel thought, but in that moment he was simply another person – and one she still cared about deeply. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him, holding him against her.
"What's this for?" Oliver asked softly, putting his right arm around her.
Laurel thought: Because I love you. She said, "Because you're important to me." Oliver completed his embrace of her, and they held onto each other. Laurel closed her eyes and opened her heart to the feelings that flooded into her. Both of them were silent and immobile; time seemed to expand or collapse or just disappear altogether.
Eventually Oliver slowly withdrew from the embrace. He said nothing, just looked into her eyes. Laurel touched his cheek with her fingertips and then kissed it softly. "I've missed you," she said.
"I've missed you, too," he said. "Thank you for...coming here."
"It seems like we've been out of sync ever since you came back," Laurel said.
"Yes," Oliver said. "We have been."
"And now you're with Sara," Laurel said. Oliver looked away. "I don't blame you for that. She's been there for you. I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten you." Laurel turned and felt Oliver grasp her arm.
"Don't go," he said.
"Oliver..."
"Stay with me, Laurel," Oliver said.
Laurel hesitated briefly, and then said, "OK – if you'll tell me what's going on."
Oliver let her go and walked past her. Laurel turned around; his back was to her. "This has to do with a man named Slade Wilson," he said. "He is…"
"I know who he is," Laurel said.
Oliver turned to face her. "What?" he said. "How?"
"He came to at my apartment," Laurel said.
"He went to your place?" Oliver said. He walked back over to her. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah," Laurel said. "He didn't want to hurt me. He wanted to tell me a secret – your secret."
Oliver was briefly silent. Then he looked her in the eyes and said, "What secret?"
"Will you tell me if it's true?" Laurel asked.
Oliver sighed. "There was another secret he told that was true," he said. "So, most likely this one is too." Laurel could feel him shutting down, distancing and protecting himself. She understood that response, because she behaved the same way. But she didn't want to lose her connection to him, not now. She needed him, and it was clear that he needed her. Whatever damage Slade had done to him emotionally, it was a deep wound, and she wasn't going to desert him with that. She took a step toward him, and then grasped his left hand with her right hand. He looked at their hands together, and for a moment Laurel was certain he would pull his away. But that moment passed, and he brought his gaze back to her. "What secret?" he asked again.
"He told me you're The Arrow," Laurel said.
"And?" Oliver said.
"You are," Laurel said.
"Yes, I am," Oliver said. He withdrew his hand from hers. "So, what now? You have me arrested?"
"No," Laurel said.
"Not so long ago you set me up…"
"I wanted someone to pay for Tommy's death," Laurel said. "I thought The Arrow was expendable. But now I know he's not." Oliver's eyes became watery again, and he turned away. Laurel knew then that whatever other secret Slade had divulged was far more painful than the one about The Arrow. "Ollie," she said.
"You should go," Oliver said, without looking at her.
"Is that what you really want?" Laurel asked. He was silent. "I don't care about The Arrow. The only one I care about is you. Let me help you."
Oliver wiped his face with his hands, and then turned to face her. "Not here," he said.
2.
Laurel opened the door to her apartment and stepped aside for Oliver to go inside, then closed and locked the door. She watched Oliver as he paced around the apartment. "Can I get you something?" she asked.
"No," he said.
"Have you eaten?" she asked.
"I'm fine," Oliver said.
"Ollie," Laurel said.
He stopped and looked at her. "OK," he said. "I'm not fine. Slade wanted to ruin me, and he has. The company, my family…"
"What about your family?" Laurel asked.
Oliver shook his head. "Thea…"
"My God, he didn't…"
"Harm her?" Oliver said. "Physically, no."
"The other secret," Laurel said. She walked over to Oliver. "Slade told Thea some other secret about you?" she asked.
"Not about me," Oliver said. "About her."
"About her?" Laurel said.
Oliver nodded, and Laurel saw his pain shift to anger. "My mother," he said as though the words had a bad taste. "My mother had an affair."
"Let's sit down," Laurel said, indicating the sofa with a tilt of her head.
"No," Oliver said.
"Ollie…"
"No," he said more firmly. They stood there briefly in silence. Then he said, "I can't sit down."
"OK," Laurel said. "It's going to be OK."
"It will never be OK," Oliver said.
"I thought the same thing after Tommy died," Laurel said. "I wanted to believe that everything was destroyed beyond repair. I wanted to believe I could never be happy again."
"This isn't about me," Oliver said. "Thea is the one who will never be happy again. Slade destroyed her life. He told her that Robert Queen wasn't her father."
When it seemed like he wouldn't continue, Laurel asked, "Who is?"
Oliver's face contorted, and he swallowed like there was something repulsive stuck in his throat. Then he parted his lips and took a breath. Laurel took his hand, and he resisted – at first – before finally letting her lead him into the bedroom. Laurel closed the bedroom door.
"Laurel," Oliver said.
"You only need to say one thing," Laurel said. "Just say his name; get that poison out of you. You're safe; it's just you and me."
"I knew, and I didn't tell her," Oliver said.
"Robert Queen was her father," Laurel said. "He raised her as his own. Whoever this man was, whatever he was to your mother, all he was to Thea was a sperm donor. That's all."
"It's not that easy," Oliver said.
"Nothing is easy," Laurel said. "Say the name. Just say it."
Oliver sat on the bed. "Malcom Merlyn," he said finally. "Thea's father was Malcom Merlyn."
Laurel was shocked, and she could only imagine how devastated Thea must be. "It's going to take some time for her to get past this," she said.
"She won't," Oliver said.
"She will," Laurel replied. "Love is strong. It can survive a lot of unexpected, seemingly insurmountable obstacles."
Oliver shook his head. He stood up. "I should find her," he said. "I should try to talk to her."
"You should take care of yourself right now, Ollie," Laurel said. "Give her some time to think about things. Give yourself time to rebuild what's broken inside of you."
Oliver barked an ugly laugh. "I can't be fixed," he said. "That island…The Arrow – I'm just a monster now, some terrible mutation wearing a hood and a mask…"
She pulled him against her. "You're Oliver Queen," she said.
"He died in that water with his father…"
"He's here," Laurel said. "He's right here. I've known him, and I've loved him for years and years. He's right here." Oliver hesitated a few seconds longer, and then he put his hands on her face and kissed her firmly and deeply. Laurel pushed him down on the bed and then joined him there in continual hot kisses that made her brain and her heart spin out of control. "I love you," she said, with what little breath she could muster.
He whispered close in her ear, "I love you, too."