Prologue

"Sometimes the greatest journey is the distance between two people."

-Anonymous

Felicity…

Five Years Old: that was how old she was when her father left. They had never been very close mostly due to the fact that he traveled an obscene amount of time during her early life. In fact, she had been three years old when she'd first meet him. She had always assumed he was in the military based on the fact that he'd be gone for months at a time. Her mother was a quiet sort, young – younger than her father by at least twenty years – with unblemished skin that was naturally tanned and dark flowing curls that graced down her back. Her father was older both in appearance and in mind. You could tell just by looking at his graying hair and the wrinkles on his face that had suggested one too many tragedies and horrors that he had faced in his life.

She never spoke of her past or her family, not because it made her uncomfortable, but simply because she didn't really understand it. Shortly after her mother and she had said goodbye to her father, Henri, they had been taken from their home late in the night. Their new home after that was dark and dreary, with tall stone walls and ancient craftsmanship etched into the walls. They were the only females, surrounded by cages of men wearing long nightshirts and turbans of simple whites and creams. They were mindless and cruel to each other, always yelling and jeering at each other when one of them decided to make the climb, a thick old rope tied around their waist…but it was no use. They never made it to the top…no one did…they would always fall back into the pit.

Her mother often worried that she too would one day become a monster like them; a flower cannot grow without sunlight and nourishment, and neither could the human soul. Eventually their spirit would break and there would be no rope to catch them.

Felicity had many secrets. Her heart was full of them. Her heart, mind, and soul were one large secret garden...and the walls were very high.

Nyssa Al Ghul...

She had been fourteen years old when the League of Shadows - the League of Assassins - took her in. Their leader had taken a special interest in her. She reminded him of someone, she did not know who. Nyssa had no family, so the League became her family and in turn so did its leader, but their bond was forged from respect...not blood.

Slade…

Slade Wilson had fallen in love with Shado – it was a love based solely on friendship and respect for one another, but she did not love him back. That had been Shado's only downfall that she had loved a selfish boy instead on a true man…a man who would have ensured that she would live. Instead, the boy she loved had reacted in his own favor and she had paid the price. Yes, Slade new it was only a reaction, that Oliver had not intended to choose either Sara or Shado – but he should have…he should have chosen Shado – and that was not what angered him the most. Not even the fact that Shado was dead because of that whore, Sara Lance. No, what angered him – the true cause of betrayal – was the fact that Oliver had allowed Sara to keep it a secret from him and lie about the true cause of Shado's death. If anything it was Oliver's lie, and the fact that Sara was allowed to live in Shado's place, that angered him the most.

Slade knew Shado did not love him and he didn't blame her for that, but she had deserved better. The young blond woman he had been fallowing for the last 18 months was living proof that Oliver once again made the same mistake. Felicity Smoak was an innocent – just like Shado; their similarities were breathtaking – and she had given her heart to Oliver Queen. Slade watched as Oliver broke another's heart betrayed their love. Oliver would always be blind, never seeing the true treasure he had right in front of him and forever forsaking that treasure for the love…lust…acceptance of a Lance girl. Felicity Smoak deserved better.

Slade would not kill her, not another Shado. No, he would destroy and corrupt Oliver's precious Lance girls, only then would Oliver know true pain. That and he would reveal the truth to a certain Girl Friday.

Why was it that so many people could love Oliver, but he would rarely return that love, only to a select few – the ones who didn't even deserve that love?

Bruce Wayne...

Time seemed irrelevant to him. It all started the night his parents were murdered - he'd been eight years old - after that nothing else seemed to matter. Nothing but his anger. Anger thrilled and terrified him, because he was afraid of what it would turn him into. He felt the anger grow deeper inside of him over the years. It became the worst when he had gone to his parents' killer's hearing. Joe Chill, he'd killed two of Gotham's most generous, kind, and giving people...and the law had let him off with nothing but a memory of 14 years in prison and a future of easy probation. For all of those 14 years, Bruce Wayne had longed to put a bullet into the man who had stolen the most precious thing from him - family.

He was twenty-two years old when he'd left Gotham, Rachel's words echoing inside of his head, "Your father would be ashamed of you." But how could she possibly know that? She didn't know the taste of loss. For the next seven years he had spent wandering the world, looking for some answer - a cure - to his anger, to the beast that raged inside of him. He'd made it a six months in the criminal underworld of Northern China before he'd found his way into a cold and damp Chinese prison. For four months he sat in his dank old cell, contemplating people in general: good people, bad people, people in between, and people who were just too evil that there was no word to describe them...and why they did the things they do. That was when he met Henri Ducard, a man who offered him a way out of the darkness and into the shadows of right and wrong.

But...he was misled and the man who had taught him to fight against injustice caused it instead. The only thing that had kept him from killing Rhas Al Ghul that night eight years ago was the small fact that in spite of all of his sins and acts of violence to cleanse Gotham, Rhas had acted out of love - love for his lost wife and daughter. A twisted love, but love nonetheless.

Love.

Bruce thought he knew what that word meant, but now he wasn't so sure. Just that all those years ago when Rachel had said those damning words, "Your father would be ashamed of you..." now those words were replaced with those from her letter. She had chosen Harvey Dent; she did not believe in what he was trying to do to save his City...he doubted she ever did.

Would he ever find that person - that light - that support that would keep him going. He thought he had found his purpose behind the mask of the Bat, but now he wasn't so sure.

Oliver...Sara…

They had fought, not for each other and not because of each other…they had fought to survive even at the cost of the other's life. At first they had been naïve enough to try and save each other time and time again in the beginning of their stranded adventure, but in the end they learned that the only way to survive was to cut all ties and save themselves. So, they fought for themselves. For so long they had been so focused on keep their own heads above water in a drowning dark ocean that they forgot about the feelings and emotions of those around them. They were in this fight for themselves and everyone else was just a pawn on their life-sized chessboard.

When they both returned to the land of the living – back home – they had thought that they didn't need to keep fighting, but they did. They couldn't stop, so they put distance between themselves and other – they only let so many people in so far – and they forgot that this wasn't the island.

Sara forgot what it was like to have a family and she kept making that same mistake that had made her sister the way she is now. She pushed Laurel towards the edge and now she was forced to watch as she was seconds about from stepping over that edge. For years she'd been terrified of her family's reaction to the person that she had become – never giving a thought to how it had affected them instead. Sara Lance was a selfish person.

Oliver forgot what it was like to be honest about his feelings. He forgot what it was like to have a friend without the fear of losing them. He came back to right his father's wrongs, to save his city, but he never thought about what it would do to the people around them. Every act…every kill had a ripple effect on those he claimed to love. But, it didn't matter – only the mission mattered; the mission and Laurel – everything…everyone else was expendable. He forgot what it was like to truly love someone…until now, but he'd been too late for her. Oliver Queen was selfish.

They fought for so long for themselves that they forgot to fight for others with no reward for themselves. They forgot to care, to love, to hope, to understand, to see others before them

Talia Al Ghul...

She was no ordinary child: a child born in hell, forged from suffering, hardened by pain...

Who was she?

She did not know.

Bane…

A warrior.

A guardian.

A protector…

He loved nothing and no one. Except for the child that he had saved and honored all those years ago. That child was his redemption; a being of innocence that was meant to be cherished. He had saved that child…but he had lost her as well.

Selena Kyle…

Selena sat on the ledge of the tallest skyscraper in the city, the small black cat – she had named her Isis – climbed up and over her outstretched legs as she look out and over the dark city that was lit with a few bright street lights here and there. The darkness of the night blended in with her suit, embracing her into the shadows.

"I figured I'd find you here," said the rough voice behind her. She had sensed his approach before he'd even spoken.

Selena smiled before she turned to her vigilante, her eyes dark and seductive as she spoke to her love, "You found me."

A/N: This entire chapter was simply one big chunk of foreshadowing for everything that will happen in the story. I dare you all to try and guess what's coming next! Please, read and review!