Now it was a very loooooong time. Haven't forgot about this story, writing it is a lot of fun. Quite unexpectedly Oliver's chapter appeared on the scene, with some of his reflections about Carrie, some Team Arrow interactions and his conversation with Quentin.

Many thanks to Perosha for beta. :)


Chapter 3

Desire

"I'm sorry, Carrie," says Oliver quietly, not sure if she can even hear him. He brushes a strand of her long, curly red hair from her face without any conscious thought behind the gesture, looking down on her.

Her breath is steady and her eyes tightly shut, and she is completely limp in his arms, feeling surprisingly heavy. He holds her for a while longer, for the first time taking a really good look at her features. She is very pretty. Vixen-type, just like Felicity had said. Unlike Tommy, he hadn't had a special thing for redheads. He has always liked blondes the most. But he must admit that there is something... captivating about Carrie. Pity that it comes paired with craziness, unpredictability and obsession.

He places her delicately on the ground, once he is sure that she has lost consciousness for good. Hell, what was that woman made of? Iron? She resisted his tranquilizer longer than he had expected. As if she just refused to go down.

He puts his dislocated thumb back on the place with no more than a brief wince of pain appearing on his face. It seems that there won't be too much swelling. He feels also a throbbing pain in his right arm and hip. He had landed rather heavily, although the fall was fortunately relatively short. He needs to add to his injuries the bruises left by Cupid. She kicked him rather hard in his left thigh. And in the face... He licks his cut lip, still feeling taste of blood...and her kiss. He shouldn't have allowed her to do that, but she caught him by surprise. He just used the opportunity and distracted her long enough to put that tranquilizer dart in her neck unnoticed. He tries to convince himself that it was better than having another brutal brawl with her. Even if what he did was a very... morally questionable deed.

He had been stupid to underestimate her only because she was a woman. What if she had shot him with an arrow straight to the chest? He was sure that she didn't truly want to hurt "her lover," but it was still a close shave.

He ponders briefly over the changing nature of Carrie's "feelings" towards him. From love to hate, then from hate to love again... She was more unpredictable than the weather in Starling. God, and truly insane. If he hadn't stopped her, she would have be on him in the blink of an eye. Carrie was worse than all those girls that were practically throwing themselves at him when he was a carefree party boy. He is not that guy anymore, but Cupid has managed to strike a certain chord that still has been deeply rooted in him. He wasn't made of stone after all. It takes him a while to push out the images that involuntarily come to his mind after being kissed by an attractive woman. Slightly embarrassed, he thinks that he could use a very cold shower right now.

He gets up rapidly and walks several steps away along train track. After a quick search he finds his bow lying close by and picks it up—it seems to be undamaged. He reminds himself that Carrie's recurve was left up there, abandoned near the entrance to the station, when he knocked it out of her hand.

He walks down the tunnel, searching for a way back to the surface—he is sure there must be stairs somewhere. However, his thoughts still drift around Cupid and what has occurred between them. And what has not occurred. Maybe he is also insane to even think about that... Or perhaps he has brought the game a bit too far after all. He feels an empty feeling in his chest he can't really place. It has nothing to do with Carrie's obsessive love for him... After all he was not that desperate to actually even consider getting together with his stalker and screwing her in that underground tunnel moments after she had wanted to kill him. But it made him realize something.

He is lonely. He usually doesn't think about that—his mission is the most important thing for him and it doesn't exactly leave room for pursuing relationships. But right now he wonders if one day he will end up alone and abandoned by all his allies, because everyone will eventually move on with their lives. Roy won't be his sidekick forever. John mentioned lately that—as crazy as it sounded—he planned to propose to Lyla again; and if she agrees he wanted to marry her second time. Once that happens, things might get more complicated. Oliver wished them all the best, but it was hard to imagine that a governmental agency wouldn't have anything against the husband of one of its high-rank agents actively supporting a vigilante.

Felicity has followed him this far despite occasionally having doubts about his way of meting out justice. She is faithful and dedicated, but the mission of making things right where the system fails is not her only motivation to support the Arrow. She is doing it for him, and eventually she will want something in return. Something much more than a platonic friendship. And he can't give her that, so it will end up in tears and painful disappointment.

And Laurel...

Things with Laurel got more complicated ever since she'd decided to take on Sara's mantle, after it became clear that she can't come back, as Ra's al Ghul refused to release her from the League. Oliver knew she'd been training with Ted Grant, a former vigilante, and she didn't even wanted to hear about his objections. He is aware that he can't forbid her to go out in the field—who he was to tell her what she should or shouldn't do? When it came to some matters she could be as stubborn as he was himself, or perhaps even more. He is aware that he needs to find a way to make amends with Laurel—he doesn't want to lose her again. But first he has to take care of the matter he currently has at hand...

After a brief walk, he finds a way back to the surface. There is a steel staircase behind barred doors. Apparently it was meant to be used by technical staff that maintained the tunnel. The padlock and chain are old and rusty though, so he easily gets rid of those obstacles by shooting an explosive arrow.

The lock in the second door is not much of a challenge as well. He emerges into the rainy night and breathes in cold air with delight. It feels refreshing, especially after being almost run over by a speeding train. Once his comm is back on, he hears Felicity's scream that is almost deafening.

"Oliver?! Oh my God, Oliver! Are you... are you all right?!"

He realizes that they must have been freaking out with Dig after they had lost his signal so rapidly. He'd been silent for so long that they must have imagined that Cupid had torn him to pieces.

"Yes, I'm fine," he answers. "Nothing broken."

Except a woman's heart, he thinks silently to himself. He can't help feeling a little guilty about the way the events between them unfolded. But no one will ever learn what had happened in that tunnel. Nobody will believe Carrie even if she would be willing to share the story, and he certainly has no intention to tell anyone how exactly he had taken Cupid down.

"Dig? Are you there?"

"Yes."

"I need your help. Take the van. We need to pay A.R.G.U.S. a visit. I'll be waiting for you by the old entrance to Northgate station."

"Got it," replies Dig. "Will be there shortly."

Once it is set (and after assuring Felicity again that he is truly all right) Oliver goes back into the tunnel the same way he came out, to return for Carrie. She is lying where he left her. When he approaches Cupid, he is struck by a sudden thought that something in her brings to mind a wild leopard. Her face is turned away from him, partially hidden by her strewn hair. In the light cast by lamps installed on the tunnel's walls, her hair looks as if set aflame.

He stops by her side and looks down at her quiver. He should disarm her and check that she doesn't have any surprises hidden in her pockets. When he reaches under the flap of her coat he stops halfway, suddenly thinking guiltily about their "intimate" moment and his hand traveling on her body. He would lie to himself if he pretended that he hadn't enjoyed to a certain extent holding a woman in his arms again. Even if she was crazy, and would probably put an arrow into his neck if she found him a bad kisser. But right now it just feels wrong to paw her when she is unconscious.

He makes up his mind and just checks her pockets. Fortunately most of her clothes fit her body tightly, and it doesn't look as if she's been hiding something in her cleavage. He turns away his gaze, ashamed, once he realizes that he has been staring at her bosom. He decides that he can take off her quiver once they are back on the surface and picks her up—she is not heavy, but as he also needs to hold his bow in one hand, it turns out to be kind of a challenge to carry both at the same time.

He gets to the surface though, and goes back with Carrie in his arms to the main entrance to the station. Her bow is lying where it was dropped and there isn't a living soul in the vicinity. That's good. Civilians appearing on the scene would complicate matters.

He waits on Dig, sitting on the stairs, the Oneida Kestrel across his knees. He tries to not look at Cupid, who lies close by on the dry scrap of ground where he has placed her. Once he took off her quiver, it become hard to believe that she is a dangerous and ruthless killer.

He tells himself that what he intends to do with Carrie is the best option. A problem easily solved. It shouldn't be hard to convince Amanda to take her into Task Force X. She mentioned recently she was short on men. Oliver knew that she even considered bringing into the fold China White, who was currently incarcerated in Iron Heights—but she had too many connections to the Triad to make it work. That shouldn't be the case with Carrie. She operated solo.

But still, at the same time he feels guilty about the decision deep down. Maybe because he is aware that this girl is not right in the head. Maybe he should take her to the mental hospital, not to A.R.G.U.S. He could drop her at their doorstep and flee, before the staff made an attempt to keep both of them inside. Maybe she would get some real help there...But then again, the treatment of that shrink of hers hadn't proved to be successful. They wouldn't be able to hold her in St. Walker's; that place had crappy security and someone as determined as Cupid would manage to break free in no time in order to get back to her "lover". And the problem would start all over again. So A.R.G.U.S. is really the only plausible option. But the awful truth is that Waller won't care much about Cutter's well-being. She will send her in the field once she will make her cooperate—and knowing Waller it would be before long—and sooner or later it would get Carrie killed. Oliver had no illusions about the average longevity of Suicide Squad's members. So he has just sentenced that girl to certain death.

He casts another brief glance to Carrie, who in her current state looks completely harmless. He knows that he shouldn't pity her and she fully deserves what she is about to get. But he is also aware that her fate will always lie heavy on his conscience.


Oliver was sitting in the foundry, keeping his left hand in a bowl full of ice cubes. Hardly any lights were switched on, and he enjoyed the silence and the sense of security his hideout provided him with. It had been a crazy day and he was glad it was nearing to an end. He was sure he would remember Carrie's rough way of showing him affection for a very long time. He'd already examined all his injures when he was taking off his suit and discovered an even wider collection of bruises than he expected to find.

He pulled his hand out of the bowl and looked at it with a sour expression on his face. He still felt throbbing pain when he tried to move his thumb. It seemed that he would need to take it easy for a few days.

He heard the door to the foundry opening, then footsteps on the stairs. He turned in the swivel chair to face Dig.

"How is the hand?" asked John.

"Could be worse. Everything set with A.R.G.U.S?" Oliver had left the agency headquarters early, before Waller made a decision whether she would take Cutter into Task Force X or not. Dig insisted that he should call it a night and get some rest. He also offered to stay behind and fill him in later.

"Yes, it's done," said John. "Lyla said that Cutter agreed to sign up with the Squad. Do you think it was wise to hand her to Waller?"

"Iron Heights isn't right for her. At least on the Squad…She could make a difference." He fell silent for a while. He hoped that Carrie, with an adequate combination of motivation and discipline he was sure Waller would be able to provide her with, would be able to find some new purpose. Other one than getting into the Arrow's pants. "Did Lyla say anything else?"

"Well, she mentioned that Cutter is even nuttier than the last woman they had."

"Terrific," muttered Oliver.

The door to the foundry opened again. Oliver was a bit surprised to see Roy and Felicity entering.

"Weren't the two of you supposed to be at home?" he asked.

When he was waiting for Dig by the entrance to Northgate station, he contacted Felicity again and suggested that she should go back home. He wasn't planning to go out again this evening, so there was no point in keeping her sitting in the foundry idly and waiting for their return, especially because the business at A.R.G.U.S. headquarters might take some time.

"I just wanted to check if you're all right," said Roy.

"We both wanted to," Felicity cut in. "I wouldn't be able to go sleep anyway, after all these nights of staying up so late. Or early? Is 3 a.m. late or early?" she pondered.

"Depends on the season," offered Dig.

"Makes sense," she said, offering him a light smile. But when she turned her gaze to Oliver, her expression became serious again. She sensed that something was bothering him.

"Are you feeling okay?" asked Roy, also looking at him with concern.

"Not really," admitted Oliver. "And you?"

"Not really," he answered like an echo, smiling sadly. Ever since he learned about the cop he had killed when he was affected by the Mirakuru drug, he didn't seem to be all right. It bore down on him like a heavy weight—the awareness of his actions that were irreversible. Oliver knew that the thought that he had no control over what he was doing didn't make him feel much better. "Slept most of the afternoon. Figured I'd phone Felicity to check the progress with the case and if you need me. She told me everything. So it's the end of Cupid problem?"

"It seems so," Oliver muttered half-heartedly.

"Oliver, what's wrong?" Felicity shot him a worried look. "What happened in that tunnel?"

The last thing he wanted was to tell them the full story. But he couldn't brush them off with silence, so he decided to offer at least half the truth.

"You know...just looking at her...being so far gone...plunged deep into her obsession. It was almost like a warning signal."

"You're not like her," Felicity assured him hastily.

"How could you know?" he asked grimly.

"I…I just know," she said, approaching him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "She is…well…she is just a certified nutzo. And you…You are not crazy," she stated firmly.

He glanced up to her and gave her a ghost of a smile, deep down feeling gratitude. But it didn't reduce the uneasiness he had felt. It was not only about Cutter. His earlier encounter with her shrink proved to be quite disturbing as well.

Ever since he had put on that green hood, many different insults were hurled at him—psycho, nutjob, costumed freak and many, many worse. But somehow the psychiatrist's words, although in fact not really offensive, were the ones that got to him and kept echoing in his mind even now. He couldn't forget that look full of contempt Doctor Pressnall had given him.

You could use a little therapy yourself.

He wasn't able to come up with a proper riposte. So he had just glared at her and turned away to leave her office. He doubted she would call security, but nevertheless he preferred to disappear from the view as fast as possible.

"Lyla is preparing a late dinner. And you're all invited." Dig's voice shook him out of his thoughts. He realized John was looking at him, waiting for his answer.

At first Oliver wanted to say that he was good. Usually he didn't mind the solitude of the Foundry and he was tired. But then again, after what had happened tonight, he really didn't want to be alone.

"Thanks, man." He got up on his feet and reached for his leather jacket, draped over the chair. "You guys are coming?"

Roy and Felicity accepted Dig's invitation as well. The four of them left the foundry together.


"I need to ask you something," said Lance. It was one of their usual meetings in the back alley behind the precinct, a couple of days after the business with Cupid was over.

"What's that, Detective?" said the Arrow a bit absent-mindedly, as his glance kept darting at the back door. He was not a fan of this place. Some cops used this exit, as it was closer to a small parking lot where most of them parked their private cars. While the sight of the Arrow talking with the Captain wouldn't be found to be extraordinary by most of the policemen serving under Lance, Oliver still felt some reservations about advertising their close cooperation like that. Besides, the alley was narrow and offered a scarce amount of escape routes. He comforted himself with the thought that he could always use a grappling arrow to get to the roof, but he would have still preferred a bit more open space.

"What have you done with your crazy girlfriend?" asked Lance, putting an end to his deliberations. "You didn't deliver her to the station, so I've been wondering..."

"I took care of the problem," answered the Arrow curtly, shooting him a grim look. He hadn't thought much about Carrie over the last few days, as going about his usual vigilante business kept him occupied enough to not bother any more about his stalker.

"I wonder In what manner exactly, since I haven't heard about her any more." The Captain narrowed his eyes, looking at him a bit suspiciously. "You didn't let her go just because she was a fan, I guess?"

"And what do you think? That I've put an arrow through her heart and thrown the body into the bay?" asked Oliver bitterly.

Lance neither confirmed nor denied that suspicion, but he looked as if that thought had crossed his mind.

"She was dangerous. Unpredictable," he finally said slowly. "If you didn't have any other choice..."

"She's alive," Oliver interrupted him. "And in the custody of A.R.G.U.S. That's all I can tell you."

"Those government guys again, huh? Maybe it's better that way."

"Believe me, it is." He fell silent for a longer while. Lance seemed to be content with this explanation. However, since the topic of Cupid was already brought up, Oliver couldn't stop himself from asking Lance something more about her. He remembered that she was a cop. "Cutter used to be SCPD. Did you knew her before she...lost the touch with reality?"

"Not really. Glade's precinct was her first station, but she wasn't answering to me, so we didn't cooperate too closely. She was just one of the new kids in the force for me. Not too many women sign up with SCPD though, let alone to work as a beat cop, so I can't say that I don't remember her at all. She was good when there were some delicate matters...You know, when there was a need to talk with a victim of abuse... Or domestic violence. Or a rape. Most women don't want to talk with a man after being violated. She was emphatic, I would say. Inspired trust." He sighed. "After some time, she got a promotion and was moved to the Central station. Eventually made to SWAT. There was some shitty situation Cutter's team got caught in, a shootout between gangs. I don't know the details, but she was put on limited duty shortly after. And...you know the rest of the story. Next time she appears, she is one of costumed freaks. Cupid." His expression full of disgust clearly showed what he thought about that moniker. "It's really a shame that she ended up like that."

Suddenly he realized that the Arrow had kept silent for a longer period of time and he started to wonder if he'd accidentally insulted him, talking so negatively about people in costume.

"Hey, no offense about the costumed freaks. Although I find a hood and dressing up in a leather outfit a bit silly to be honest."

"None taken," answered the Arrow.

Quentin wondered if he had asked about Cutter because he had seen a twisted mirrored image of himself in her. Maybe he shouldn't tease him and call Cupid his "girlfriend". After all, he was not sure how exactly that mind of his worked. And since he had connected all the dots and was almost one hundred percent sure that it was Oliver Queen hiding under that hood, he also knew that he'd been through a lot. He had no idea how many traumatic events he'd suffered on that island, but life wasn't exactly easy for him after his return. All of that connected with that focus on his mission, almost to the point of obsession, put a lot of strain on him. It would be easier for Quentin if he could distance himself and still pretend that the Arrow was someone faceless. A superhero who could do everything, fearless, unstoppable and devoid of the weakness of human nature. But he was aware that the vigilante was just a man. Who looked very weary tonight. And he simply wasn't able to not care ever since he figured him out. Especially since he had made amends with both Oliver and the Arrow. Two years ago he would never ever think that it was possible. Life held many surprises indeed...

"You know, if you need to talk..." offered Lance.

The Arrow gave a long sigh. He hunched a bit, as if a great weight was pressing down on his shoulders. His face was almost completely hidden under the shadow of the hood, but the grim tone of his voice betrayed enough.

"I'm just...afraid," he admitted. "That one day I can turn into someone like her. And not even realize that I missed the point of no return. You have no idea, Detective, how often I question the rationality of my actions," he added honestly.

"Well, that alone is a sign that you don't need to worry about your sanity," said Lance firmly. "And as for the rest...You have people around you who make sure your fears will never become true."

He glanced at him, and it seemed that Quentin's words gave him some renewed confidence. Apparently he valued Lance's opinion. Somehow up to this moment Quentin had never thought that the Arrow...Oliver...might look up to him.

"Thank you, Detective. I appreciate that. I really do."