I own none of the dialogue, it all belongs to the creators of Arrow. Please don't be mad...
Death and Memories
Laurel had always known she was going to die. Death was just something inevitable. But she had never imagined she would die like this, trapped under a slab of concrete, screaming for help as her office and city crumbled around her.
What had it been like for Sara? How much time had her little sister spent thinking "I'm going to die"? Would she see Sara, if there was such a thing as heaven?
Laurel hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to anyone except her father, and she was sure he was going to die. She had pushed Jo out the door when CNRI had started falling. And Tommy...God, she didn't even know how to figure the reasons for that one.
Everything had been going so well, and then he'd just ended it, for no reason. She couldn't understand why. She'd been so hurt and upset, her judgement so clouded, that she had slept with Oliver, her ex and his best friend.
It was sort of wasteful, spending her last moments thinking about her screwed up relationships.
Tommy had seemed different though.
She still remembered the morning after they'd, well, hooked up, would've probably been the best phrase.
Laurel woke up to empty sheets, the distinct smell of Tommy's cologne, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She felt a small pang of disappointment he was gone, but made herself get out of bed and put on her clothes. She walked into the kitchen yawning, and then froze.
Tommy was poking at something in a frying pan. A sizzling sound was heard as he turned a mound of yellow over, and adjusted the stove settings.
Tommy Merlyn...was making eggs. She couldn't quite fathom it.
He looked over at her, and grinned. "Hey, sleepyhead. Hungry?" He gestured at the pan. He looked tired, and his hair was sticking up adorably in spots.
"How…" She was at a loss for words.
"Hey, not all rich boys are completely clueless when it comes to cooking!" Tommy lifted a small pile of eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. Toast sprang out of the toaster, and he deftly set the pieces on the plate. He held it out to her.
"As you can see, I made breakfast." He looked very pleased with himself. Laurel smiled and took the food. He beamed back at her, his eyes sparkling.
If this was what happened every time, this was definitely going to have to happen more.
It had been amazing. And then, it had just stopped.
Laurel struggled for breath, and managed a final cry for help. "Please! Help me!"
Seconds later, Tommy had rushed in, and instantly tried to lift the concrete.
"Tommy! What are you doing here?' she gasped.
"Kinda figured you'd come back to CNRI," he said, still struggling.
"You came back for me?" she asked.
He faltered for a moment. His eyes met hers. "I love you," he said.
Just like the day he'd made breakfast, she was speechless. Tommy gave a shout as he lifted the slab of rock. Laurel inhaled as air came rushing back into her. "Get up! Go! I'm right behind you!" he yelled. Laurel scrambled to her feet and ran. She made it all the way to the street and her father before she looked back.
Just in time to see CNRI fall to the ground.
She flipped. She fought against her father as he tried to hold her back. "It's too late!" He said. She continued to scream his name.
Finally, she managed to get in.
Tommy was lying on the ground, impaled by a piece of metal. Laurel fell to the ground, sobbing, looking up to see the vigilante she had trusted running away from the scene.
Tommy.
Tommy.
