Laurel doesn't dream in colour.

It's not that she dreams in monochrome either, though. When she dreams it's not black and white, exactly - more drab tones of darkness tinged with grey. She can make out the colours, more or less, but it's like looking through a tinted window, watching her thoughts and hopes and demons without the sharpness and vibrance she sees when she opens her eyes in life.

But she's sure it wasn't always like this. To this day she still remembers vivid dreams from her childhood - the bright yellow of their pet canary, the gleam of the sun shining on a red apple in a tree, the strong blue of Ollie's eyes. It was easy to remember dreams when there were things that stuck in her memory like that.

She wonders, now, when that faded away.

Actually, she knows exactly when - the night she found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her with her sister and that they were both dead. The colours, the life, inside her slowly seeped out until there was nothing worth remembering left. In a way it's easier, because the previous sharpness of her dreams was sometimes (often) too much. It's become easier, for her, not remembering, because with unfocused dreams come blunted feelings and that way it's never too much.

Tonight, though, as she settles into bed, it's with a smile on her face. Sure - Ollie's in Nanda Parbat, Roy is in parts unknown on the run because he took the fall for Ollie, and she's pretty sure Felicity and Diggle are keeping something from her, whether they want to admit it or not.

But she's okay. All of that is okay, somehow, because of Nyssa.

Laurel's in love with her. It's as simple and as complicated as that - even though she knows it could never amount to anything and that Nyssa doesn't feel the same way. (How could she when the love of Nyssa's life was Laurel's sister?)

She doesn't know when she started falling for Nyssa exactly. Maybe it was as early as their moment together in the foundry when Laurel - for the first time - understood what Sara meant when she said she loved Nyssa.

"That was the moment I fell in love with her, I think. All I knew, all I craved was to hear her laugh once more."

There was something startlingly, alarmingly beautiful, in a way that made Laurel's heart soar, in how Nyssa's eyes lit up, brimming with love and sparkling with unshed tears.

"Thank you," Laurel whispered. And she wasn't sure why, but she slipped her hand through the bars of the foundry's makeshift prison and Nyssa instinctively reached up and squeezed Laurel's fingers in return.

But as quickly as the moment began it ended, and Nyssa let go, and Laurel's hand returned to her side.

"You're welcome."

"And - I'm sorry," Laurel said suddenly.

"For what?" Nyssa asked, furrowing her brow a little.

"You… shouldn't be in here."

"Need I remind you, Laurel, that I am -"

"- Nyssa al Ghul, badass assassin and heir to the Demon?" Laurel interrupted. "Yeah, I know. But you're also the woman who saved my sister's life. Merlyn took my sister's life. For that alone, he deserves to be in a cage, not you."

"I appreciate that," Nyssa said unexpectedly. "Truly. And, Laurel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Laurel raised her eyebrows. "For what?"

"For… reminding me of who I was. Since Sara's death, I admit I have been… lost."

"You're not the only one," Laurel said quietly.

"But you found a purpose again in taking up her mantle. One that suits you, may I add."

"Thank you," Laurel said again. "And… for what it's worth, I hope you find what you're looking for too."

"My heart will rest when as-Saher is under six feet of earth," Nyssa declared, and despite her misgivings Laurel secretly agreed.

She wouldn't have admitted it to herself, not that early on. Even now Sara's ghost haunts the pair of them, reminding them of her presence. They feel it, both of them, especially when either Laurel or Nyssa gets too emotional and a few too many sparks fly between them and they're on the delicate cusp of something greater (edging over the line of friendship and mentorhood and into unchartered territory that neither of them, Laurel thinks determinedly, need to stray into).

But somehow she's made peace with it - with more ease than she expects, really. Laurel's not quite sure how, but most of the time, loving Nyssa from a distance is enough. Maybe it's because in a way it's easier to keep her at arm's length.

That way, when Nyssa leaves - and it's not a question of if but when - perhaps it won't hurt as much.

"I am so very sorry," Nyssa said for what felt like the umpteenth time as she followed Laurel into her apartment.

"Nyssa, seriously, it's not a big deal," Laurel said with a laugh. "But you didn't have to come with me to the ER. You were right - it was only a hairline fracture. And I'm fine."

"If I am to teach you, I think it prudent to ensure my student's safety. Particularly given I am the cause of her injury."

Laurel couldn't help but smile at that weird, stilted way Nyssa spoke, like someone straight out of a Jane Austen novel. To her relief some of the pain she was fighting dissipated with the distraction. Then she tried to lift her arm to shut the door behind her and ended up involuntarily whimpering, only able to bite back some of the sound in time. Nyssa's expression changed from one of guilt to concern in an instant.

"Are you sure you would not like to take something for the pain?"

"I'm fine," Laurel replied. "Get the door, please."

"What can I do to help?" Nyssa asked, and presumably at the way Laurel raised her eyebrows in response, she said, "Whatever I can do to make it up to you, ya Laurel."

"What does that mean - 'ya'?" She was curious; it wasn't the first time Nyssa had called her that, but Laurel liked the sound of it. It sounded - affectionate, almost. And Nyssa's voice always seemed to soften considerably when saying her name.

Nyssa had to think for a moment. "Well, literally, it translates to 'oh'. It is hard to explain. The word tends to… slip into my speech when I grow to care for someone. A term of endearment, if you will."

And Laurel wasn't sure why, exactly, but Nyssa's words made her heart thump just a little faster as she smiled at her new friend, not quite believing - or not wanting to believe - what she had just heard.

But then Laurel shook her head and the moment was broken - because, really, it wasn't like it was even there at all. "Not that you need to make it up to me… but if you insist -"

"I do," Nyssa replied firmly.

"- there is something you could do."

"Anything."

"Do you mind - staying over tonight?"

Nyssa raised her eyebrows. "May I ask why?"

Laurel didn't quite realise the faint pink hue on her cheeks until she sensed the heat of a blush working its way up her face. She looked away quickly."I could, uh, use the company. But if you have somewhere else to be, it's fine, I can call my sponsor and -"

"Your sponsor?" Nyssa repeated sharply.

"My AA sponsor. I'm a year sober." She held up the AA chip on her keychain.

"Something I already knew."

Again Laurel shook her head. "The thing is - alcohol wasn't my only poison. I got hooked on pain meds last year too. Which means whenever I get hurt I have to pass on them and right now I'm - really feeling the urge and I guess what I'm saying is… I could use a friend right now. If that's okay."

Laurel suddenly shivered, goosebumps erupting on the back of her neck, because she felt like she had stripped herself bare, in a way she didn't intend. And for what felt like the longest time Nyssa didn't say anything.

(Nyssa had a way of looking at you like that, though - she somehow made her gaze last days, or nights, maybe, just with the intensity of her stare, and Laurel was sure Nyssa didn't even realise the effect it had on her.)

"You need not call your sponsor. I am happy to keep you company overnight."

"Great. We can order pizza - there's this little Italian place called Mario's that does the most amazing pizza with pineapple -"

"Stop right there," Nyssa ordered. "I do not believe in mixing fruit with savoury food. Of any kind."

"You haven't even tried it," Laurel tried to reason, but she couldn't hold back a laugh at the look of distaste on Nyssa's face.

"Ya Laurel, I am far from the epitome of good values, but surely you can see that such a combination would be culinary blasphemy…"

Laurel smiled, heart soaring, as she led the way into the living room. It was going to be a long night.

She turns on her side, kicking off her shorts and flinging them to parts unknown in her room, wishing there was more of a breeze coming through the open window. But she has no such luck, so she tries lying on her back, forcing her eyes closed and wishing sleep would come.

Her hand has settled on her bare thigh, and she imagines, for a brief moment, how Nyssa's hand would feel there. Laurel's felt Nyssa's hands before, all calloused fingers and soft palms (when she was checking Laurel's arm to assess the damage done, early on in training) and it's easy to widen her legs just a bit and picture her between them. Nyssa would look her right in the eyes as her hand would inch up Laurel's thigh… the very thought sends a pool of heat straight through to her panties and Laurel lifts her hand, slips it past the now soaked cotton where she reaches her entrance.

She's dreamt of her before. Laurel can't quite remember everything, just Nyssa's lips on hers and a flower - muted purple - placed in Laurel's hair by Nyssa. But this is different - maybe because Laurel's still drifting between sleep and consciousness and so can still feel the faint trace of her own touch on the inside of her thigh.

Or maybe because if she squeezes her eyes shut tightly enough, the fingers curling inside her would be a bit longer, rougher - and feel infinitely more pleasurable because they belonged to -

"Nyssa?"

Nyssa turned around on the spot and immediately her eyes widened. She didn't say anything, though.

"How does it look?"

"The dress?" Nyssa asked and for some reason she seemed momentarily distracted. "Well, I am certainly no one to object to it being a little low-cut, but -"

Laurel laughed. "The cast. Though I could do with your opinion on the dress too - I'm not sure if orange is really my colour -"

"It is," Nyssa interrupted. "It looks fine, by the way." At Laurel's raised eyebrows she added with a smile, "The cast, I mean."

"It still hurts after last night, I gotta say."

"You must grow accustomed to fighting whilst injured, ya Laurel," Nyssa told her.

"Yeah, I know, we've been through this. I'm just tired, that's all."

"Besides which, need I remind you, my dear student, that I will not be in Starling forever? There will come a time when you will not have my guidance."

"But that won't be anytime soon," Laurel said quickly. "You'll still be mine - my teacher - for a while longer, right?"

"Correct. Now, do you need me to check it before you go to this wedding?" Before Laurel could answer, though, Nyssa was already stepping forward and lifting Laurel's injured arm so she could examine it closely. "Wiggle your fingers," Nyssa ordered, and Laurel did so, wincing a little but managing okay.

"You sure you don't want to come with me?"

"I doubt Mr Diggle would appreciate a deadly assassin like myself on what should be the happiest day of his life."

Laurel put her good hand on Nyssa's arm. "Hey. There was a plus one on the invitation. I'm allowed to bring a friend with me. And you're a friend."

"I appreciate that, Laurel, truly. But I would prefer to keep my presence in Starling between us, if possible. Especially given your nighttime companions are not nearly as fond of me as you are."

This last was said in a gently mocking tone, the kind that Laurel was unused to that made her smile… the kind that made Laurel fall just a little bit more in love with her.

Laurel yanks down her panties to her knees, not even bothering to pull them off completely, and she arches her back, gasping as the pleasure courses through her, searing, white hot, to the point that she can barely breathe.

But her imagination doesn't stop there and when she lifts up her t-shirt (thankful now that she isn't wearing a bra) the hand tweaking her sensitive nipple, kneading her breast isn't hers but Nyssa's, beautiful, strong, kind Nyssa who would probably whisper sweet melodious Arabic nothings in Laurel's ear while bringing Laurel to the very brink and then tortuously, teasingly pulling back her hand just enough to make Laurel whimper in protest.

"Nyssa…" she whispers, savouring the name on her tongue like a prayer, fingers still inching up inside herself until her nails scrape the swollen nub of her clitoris. She closes her eyes, imagines Nyssa sprawled on top of her on her bed, fingers buried deep inside Laurel while looking her right in the eyes and watching unblinking as she reached her climax, rocking her hips upwards and uttering once more - louder this time - "Nyssa…"

Then as she collapses back onto her bed, breathing heavily, Laurel comes thudding back down to earth, too. It's just her in the bed, just Laurel. No Nyssa kissing her way between Laurel's bare breasts, a delicate line towards her navel. No Nyssa meeting her eyes for permission and then pushing her legs apart with such force that Laurel's underwear rips. No Nyssa kissing up Laurel's thigh, tongue tracing delicate prayers into her skin until she reaches her dripping centre, and it's easier now in a way because she knows she's going to come quicker this time but Laurel's also still sensitive from her last orgasm, so her arousal feels sharper between her legs, the ache for her almost painful - and she's gasping for air now, arching her back so her hips thrust right against Nyssa's mouth -

Laurel comes again with a final gasp, and it's as she's whispering Nyssa's name under her breath that she wakes fully and tears spurt uncontrollably from her eyes. She's spent, still breathing heavily from the exhilaration of her semi-dream, but it's now that the truth hits her, really hits her.

And that truth, more painful than one of Nyssa's arrows could ever be to her heart, is that the closest Laurel Lance can be to the woman she loves is only in her wildest dreams.