A.N.: Hiya! Gonna try for updates on Tuesdays/Fridays until I run out of weeks in 2022, and then will improvise. Here's to good intentions :D

Chile 8 (and call to Starling 2)

The number was unknown. He was not in the habit of picking up calls for unknown numbers. But this felt different. Somehow. He vaguely recognized the feeling, but he hadn't felt it in so long, it felt entirely foreign. He frowned at the phone and pressed the answer button. He had already missed a couple rings.

If it is one of those imbeciles in Chile, I will skin them alive, he thought and glanced around hoping for a shadow of the woman he loved, but unlike usually – Shado did not appear with his murderous thoughts, instead…

"Hey.. Uhm. It's Laurel," came the voice on the other end of the call.

The phone fumbled in his hand. He grasped it tighter, but then released his grip – afraid that he would accidentally crush it. Again. He leaned on the window frame in his hotel suite as tension left his body. Thank God. Even he was surprised about where the thought came from.

"Uh, Laurel Lance? I'm sorry, I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm the one… The one…" she fumbled with her words, suddenly lost, suddenly embarrassed for calling.

"The one that apologizes entirely too much," he saved her. Again. His voice entirely too soft for a moment.

She laughed, "Ah, yes, thank you. You remember me. Actually, I'm sorry, it must be late, I'm not even sure of the time difference, it's…" she facepalmed as she leaned against the outside of the door to her and Thea's room. Could she be any more awkward? It's like I've forgotten how to speak to people.

"It's late, but I wasn't sleeping," he took a calming breath and didn't rush in reassuring her, he told himself it was because he didn't care all that much, but… That wouldn't explain why exactly his voice was still a little rough, his breath caught in his throat. "Time difference, though? Are you travelling, love?"

"Yes," Laurel breathed. She drew a hand through her hair and swatted a fly. "I had to… I had to get out. I had to leave for a bit," she wasn't sure why she was explaining herself. Though to be entirely sure, she wasn't sure why she had called him in the first place. It had been just an impulse – because he had seen her at her worst and now, she was coming out of it and… And that was enough for now. It had to be. She had precious little left to give.

"Understandable," he replied as if he hadn't known where and with whom she was since the moment she had left his place. He'd had her watched for intel, not safety, of course. Of course. "Do you like it there? Wherever you are?"

Laurel snorted. Laughed. Tried to speak and snorted again. Took a breath, "Sorry, it's just… Sorry. With everything that's going on… You asking me this… It kind of threw me," she laughed again. Do I like it here? She chuckled. Yes, the bed and breakfast is quite nice. Could do with air-conditioning, though. She bit her lip trying to contain the smile that she couldn't stop from spreading across her face.

He frowned. Did they drug her? Did they hurt her? I'll kill them. "Are you safe?" he snapped, surprising himself with the sharpness of it. He usually didn't show his emotions quite so freely, besides – he was not angry at her. At his henchmen, at Oliver Queen, at the entire world - yes, but… Not her.

It felt like admitting to a weakness.

Laurel blinked, slightly confused, "Oh, yes. I'm very safe now," how could she not be with an Air Force general and dozens of troops around. "It's just there was a bit of a thing and, well…," she didn't know how to put into words being kidnapped again, fighting the traffickers, killing them… The last thought chilled her, wiping away the previous amusement. "I'm okay now. Don't worry, it's not the same thing as before," involuntarily it made her laugh again – tinged with anxiety, it was still a laugh.

She laughed so much when talking with Slade. "I'm capable of producing diverse problems, you know," she winked, realized that she was winking at the wall, and hid her face in her palm.

He chuckled. "Oh, I believe that, love," he said, knowing she probably had no idea the kind of problems her very existence was causing in the background. All the plans he had put on hold, and all the schemes he had come up with in the past weeks just to keep Oliver entertained and away from her. And all of that just to give her the space he knew she needed. "But it's what makes you so fascinating, Miss Lance." The things you make me do.

"Oh, you think I'm fascinating?" there was a flirting edge to her tone, and she had no idea where that came from. But just like the night when he had pulled her from the wrong side of the bridge, he seemed to pull entirely an entirely different side of her back out. One she had almost forgotten she had.

"I think I'm definitely glad you decided not to be a stranger and give me a call," he said with more honesty than intended. He almost recognized the expression on his own face that was mirrored in the window in front of him. It'd been so long since his face had anything but angry lines in it. It was like a half-forgotten memory.

"Ah, now how's that fascinating? That's just plain polite and expected," she tutted, enjoying how easy it was for the banter to flow. Her head leaned back against the hallway wall. Her shoulders rolled down, her body easing into calm.

"Coming from a woman who had the gall to insult the fashion sense of a guy with one eye, I'd say it more than exceeds expectations," he replied just as easily, a grin teasing the edges of his mouth.

Laurel felt her jaw drop. Lately any rebuke had sent her apologizing, with a black pit in her stomach eating her up for another mistake made, but from him… It just always made her rise to the occasion – like fire fed with oxygen, "I guess I should have expected that…," she fake-sighed. "From someone who thinks persuasion will win over that appalling thing you call your style," she pressed her hand to her mouth to silence her follow-up giggles. It was their conversation in the elevator all over again.

He heard her amusement anyway, and the tentative grin became a full-on smile on his face. "I'll have you know neither my skills of persuasion nor style have ever been called into question."

"You must have paid the reviewer's very well," Laurel replied with just this side of insolence to her tone, grinning widely. Then added his usual moniker for her as a finishing touch, "love."

"Ahh, you wound me," he laughed and pressed a hand to his chest theatrically, for a singular moment forgetting that she was not going to see that.

Laurel just laughed. Then remembered that Thea was sleeping on the other side of the door and laughed quieter. "Sorry, I think I should go. I don't want to wake up my friend." She laid her hand on the doorknob.

"Laurel?" he spoke as if reaching for her, to stop her for one last moment.

"Yeah?" she paused.

Silence. Just three words, he had to say, and they made him feel like an imbecile. "Call me again." Please.

She smiled, softly. Eyes falling shut for a second. Warmth blossoming in her chest. "Okay," she whispered, smiling, her head resting against the door. "Goodnight." She opened the door, still lingering on the call. Waiting for those last words.

"Sweet dreams, love," he whispered back, and she closed the call.

IKYWT

Meanwhile for Oliver - everything was happening in flashes. Light streaking across dark sky – for a microsecond he thought it might be lightning, but the booming noise that followed let him know it was actually a missile. Blinding lightning. Someone punched the side of his face, he swiveled around – only to be lost in darkness, water climbing up to his throat. He was drowning. And Laurel was drowning with him. But… How could she be here? Blinding lightning.

He gasped for air. He wasn't drowning. He was on a boat. On that yellow rescue boat. And his dad was already there, but… dead. A hole in the side of his head. Oliver choked on a scream. Something leaned on his shoulder. Shado. Her eyes were open. Blank. Dead.

Her face changed to Sara. Thea. Laurel.

Blinding lightning.

Oliver screamed and fell from his bed. He was tangled up in the sheets, sweating and his heart was racing like he was running a marathon. It took him a moment to stop trying to fight the nightstand and the extra sheet he had used as a blanket. It took him longer than a moment to realize that the floor wasn't moving beneath his feet. That he wasn't on a boat. That he was, in fact, alone. In his hotel room. In Chile. There was a heatwave.

The fact that he was awake, and the terror had been just a dream dawned slowly. His breathing slowed. He untangled himself from the sheets and the blanket. He did it mechanically, even folding the sheet before collapsing on the side of the bed, his knees shaky. It had been a while since he had had a night like this.

He tried to take deep, calming breaths. He hated when this happened. Just after his return, his mother had run across him like this – he was still embarrassed when he thought of it. He hated losing control so much. He hated the shaky, unstable feeling he was left with after. Like no amount of salmon ladders would build muscles big enough to keep him together.

He almost never could go back to sleep after waking up like this. He sighed realizing, that it was going to be a long night.

"Where are you?" he asked the darkness outside. Emptiness was his answer.

IKYWT

Slade stood with the phone to his ear for a good moment after Laurel had ended the call. It felt precious – the moment when his heart slowly set to a resting kind of beat and tension eased out of his shoulders.

"So, this is how it goes…"

He startled, tension flooding back into his body, as the voice from the shadows made his hackles rise. "No, Shado…" his answer was almost automatic, he stood straighter and turned to face the ghost that would never leave him. The ghost he never wanted to let go. The laughter from his conversation with Laurel vanished and pain took residence back in his features. "It's not what you think."

The ghost in his head laughed, sadly. She sashayed into the center of the room. Into the light. Where nobody but Slade could see her. "You promised you'd make them pay," she accused, she kept standing, but her head jerked as if she were hit from behind. Shot from behind. A red dot appeared on her forehead. It grew larger. A drop of blood rolled down the bridge of her nose.

"I'll make him pay," Slade promised, moving forward, violence and anger in his frame. And no compromise. Him. He would make Oliver Queen pay. Blood rolled down Shado' s face and Slade looked away from the accusation on her face as she collapsed. When silence lasted, he turned away completely. For the first time in a long time, he walked away from her specter dying on his hotel room floor.

IKYWT

"Did you go partying last night?" Thea asked, her eyes still full of sleep, but it was too warm in the room to keep sleeping. There was no air conditioning in the small village B&B. "I think I heard you laughing. Or did I dream it?"

Laurel's eyes widened and then she had the sudden and childish urge to hide her face in her pillow.

"You did! You went partying! With whom? Daniel and the other guys? Why didn't you wake me…"

"Ididn't gopartying,Ididn'tgopartying…"

"What? What are you mumbling… Laurel, I don't speak pillow," Thea rose from her bed, arms on her hips, but amused expression on her face.

"I didn't go partying. I called a friend," Laurel felt her face heat up. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Friend? What friend?" Thea's eyes widened. "You're blushing! What friend?!" she squealed and grabbed for the pillow.

Laurel hated her traitorous face. Why did it betray her so? She was a goddamn adult. A lawyer. Ex-lawyer. Something and something and other. And a goddamn adult. Why was she blushing over … what exactly? A phone conversation? With Slade? She felt her face heat up even more. For heaven's sake what is this… Middle school? "It's the heat," she mumbled, giving up the pillow to Thea.

"Nuh-huh, missy," Thea was relentless, climbing on Laurel's bed. "Tell me." There was something new about Laurel. Something Thea hadn't seen at all in the past weeks. She shook her finger at Laurel, "Come on! Spill!"

Laurel shook herself out of it. Why did everything about Slade throw her sideways from her usual ways? Then again, her usual ways lately were downright miserable. "It's a friend. In Starling. He… helped me. That day. I called to check in," and that did it. The mention of that time had all the heat dissipate from her being. She wondered if she would ever feel comfortable speaking about it. She almost wanted to forget that it had happened, even though it had.

"Oh," all the teasing drained out of Thea too. She settled down, hugging the pillow she had won. "Of course. I'm so…" she took a look at the change in Laurel's face and changed her tactic. "So… is he a good friend?" she waggled her eyebrows leaning back closer.

A part of her felt she should plead Oliver's case, but… All she knew was how her brother had messed up again. She wasn't sure she had it in her to promote him. Especially when she remembered the laugh, she had thought she'd dreamed. It had been forever since she'd heard Laurel laugh.

Laurel just grabbed for the pillow.