Chile 10 – Let's be done

They entered the hotel hand in hand. And found themselves face to face with Oliver Queen.

Everything stopped. It was a moment frozen in time. And then unforgiving – the pendulum in the antique style hallway clock continued to swing.

Thea's jaw dropped.

Surprise, relief, and anticipation warred for dominance on Oliver's face as he jarred to a stop mid-step.

Laurel… Laurel waited.

She waited for joy or anger or pain. Anything. And yet nothing came to her. Except Oliver who quickly moved towards them. She cocked her head sideways and turned her gaze to Thea, "I'll get the room keys," she whispered before moving away.

"Laurel," Oliver started towards her, but Thea side stepped in his way and hissed at her brother, "What are you doing here?!"

Laurel tuned out the sibling conversation as white noise behind her and turned on a charming smile for the receptionist. She gave him Thea's and her details – they hadn't checked out for the hiking trip duration, just left the keys with the hotel staff.

While receptionist turned away to program the electronic keys again, Laurel let her make-shift smile drop for a second. The foremost question at the top of her mind was the same one she'd heard Thea ask. What is Oliver doing here? But the answer to that was likely painfully obvious – he was Oliver. Just doing what he wanted, when he wanted, regardless…

Regardless of what? She stopped herself. She'd been so twisted up in herself about Oliver and Sara and her mother and father, and everything, that she had completely lost track of time. While it felt to her like Oliver's presence had not stopped haunting her – it was just in her head. It's been weeks, she realized. Weeks had passed as she glued herself back together, and now she was hard pressed to remember the last time she had actually seen him.

"Laurel, we have to talk," Oliver's voice came near her. He had finally fought through Thea's defenses.

Oh, right. She remembered. "I think I said something about a restraining order, the last time we talked, Ollie," she said conversationally as she took the keys from the receptionist. Taking a steeling breath, she turned to face her demon with a smile.

"Laurel," he grimaced. "Look…"

She shook her head and sighed, "No, Ollie…" She was about to attempt to push him away, again, before another thought struck her. "Is everything alright at home?" Sudden fear spiked in her heart – there was always a possibility that something had happened to her father, he was a cop after all. Or even her mother. Or Sara. And she cared, goddamn it.

He saw concern as it took over her features and couldn't help but melt a little. This was his Laurel. Always so caring about everyone and everything. Always trying to save the world. "Nobody's hurt, it's okay," he reassured her quickly. "We're just worried about you. I'm worried about you," he said the first part like chastisement, and the second part like it was a great revelation and a grand gesture all rolled in one.

Once she would have perked up at that. Once she'd been desperate for any type of compliment or sign of attention from him. For any sign that he cared for her at least halfway as much as she cared for him. But right now, she was just exhausted. "Okay," she had no idea what to say to him. They were done after all.

Their last conversations had gone along the lines of him promising to never run after her again and her promising to get a restraining order if he came near her place of residence again. But here they were – both breaking their promises. He had travelled halfway across the world to get to her and here she was – nowhere near demanding his arrest.

She did move past him. Their shoulders barely brushing.

He caught her by the elbow. "We have to talk," he insisted.

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "We have nothing left to talk about," the sharpness in her voice stunned him, and he did not follow. For now.

IKYWT

The next morning as she brushed her teeth after breakfast, Laurel realized she couldn't avoid Oliver for much longer. The previous night she'd had dinner in her room with Thea. She'd had breakfast in her room. She couldn't stay locked in for forever. She shouldn't.

The situation was frustrating, and she itched to have someone to whom to complain about it. She almost called Slade, but it was too much to burden him with. And she had enough awareness not to dump all her frustration on Thea either. Thea who was entirely innocent in this situation and already understood altogether too much about Oliver and Laurel. And was on Laurel's side. If there were any sides to be picked, anyhow.

It made her feel like she had stolen Oliver's sister. Then again, he took mine. Laurel thought ungraciously, and while the thought didn't ring true, it did give her some grim satisfaction about a point scored in their undefined battle.

"Argh," she groaned in frustration and anger spiked in her like a lit match. And the imaginary flame was doused as soon as it appeared, because as she lifted her eyes to the mirror, toothbrush still in the corner of her mouth – she saw that the mirror had cracked. And it definitely hadn't been cracked a minute ago when she'd walked into the bathroom. Wow and Shit were both simultaneous thoughts.

She put aside the toothbrush and carefully spat out the remaining toothpaste – as if her mouth was a weapon - and leaned closer to examine the mirror. So, this is what happened, she thought as she traced the cracks with her finger. The same thing that had happened to the mirror was what she had done to those traffickers. But where is this coming from?

She'd never been anything special. She had never had anything that she hadn't worked her ass off to have. But this power seemed to come from her, and she hadn't done anything to gain it. And it didn't even seem to take anything from her – at least not anything that she noticed or that impaired her. Right now – it had been a sigh, a hiccup. In the jungle it had been… Like a wave, she thought, remembering. It had come from her and carried her with it. She had been surprised by the explosion of force that came for her, so much, she had landed on her face afterwards, but she hadn't been hurt by it.

She quickly washed her face and walked back into the room. If she could call it twice, surely, she could do it again. But how? She looked around and picked out a decorative vase. She walked over to it. Bent down. Breathed on it.

Nothing happened.

Laurel did not let that dissuade her. "Arrrrr," she tried growling. Nothing. "Whooosh," she tried louder breathing. Nothing. "Aaaaa!" she tried quiet screaming. Also, nothing.

Apparently, it wasn't going to be that easy.

She straightened, her arms on her hips. She tried imagining that she hated the vase. Like the traffickers. She coughed towards the vase. Nothing. She hissed at it. Nothing. She accidentally spat at it. Nothing. She tried it every way she could imagine. She said words at the vase, she growled at it, laughed at it, even tried burping at it. But nothing.

Finally, she went back to the bathroom, fetched the toothbrush, put it in the corner of her mouth and was about to try again when the door to her room suddenly opened and Thea walked in. "Ah!" she jumped in surprise. And a sound wave broke the laptop in Thea's hands.

"I just bought it!" Thea exclaimed at about the same time as Laurel pondered whether it wasn't the toothbrush that had the magical powers.

"I did that!" Laurel exclaimed, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth and pointing it at Thea.

"I saw that!" Thea shouted back, nodding her head, and waving the laptop as evidence, her eyes growing larger as the situation dawned on her in its entirety.

"Wow," both women sighed at the same time.

IKYWT

They ate dinner in the restaurant and Oliver joined them. Hesitantly. Laurel grimaced – sometimes Oliver could be endearing, and it annoyed her that she still noticed when that happened.

"Hi," he said, almost shyly, sliding into his seat.

"Hey," Thea smiled brightly – the orchestrator of this meal.

Laurel just nodded and hid behind her menu. Though if anyone asked – she was just very engrossed in it, and not hiding at all. And in truth – she did have a lot on her mind. She and Thea had spent the afternoon trying to get Laurel's voice to do the thing. With various results. But anyhow all of that had led to only one inescapable conclusion – it was time to go back to Starling.

And Laurel wasn't yet sure how she felt about it. It felt inescapable and inevitable. But it also didn't feel wrong. Thea had offered to travel further – she had originally come up to Laurel's room with a new travel plan that included Argentina and Uruguay and Paraguay, but… It was time.

Laurel had had no expectations when she had first boarded that plane to Chile with Thea, and she felt like she had come so far from that moment regardless. She was no longer that shell of a woman, incapable of managing herself and drowned under all the disappointments and sorrows that came with living. She didn't feel like a new or completely hale person either, but she felt like she had found a way. Or at least something to hang on to. She had Thea. And she had saved people. And her voice could do a thing. That was three things more than she had thought she had. That was something to build on.

And she had never been afraid of hard work.

"How was the hike?" Oliver spoke up after their drinks were served. "And since when do you hike, Speedy?" for him the silence felt awkward and oppressive.

Laurel and Thea shared a quick glance and an even quicker understanding, just as Thea replied, "It was fine. Nature and all."

Oliver caught the interplay, but not it's meaning. "That's it?"

Thea took her glass, to hide behind it, "Yup, that's it."

"We can recommend a route, if you're interested in staying here for a bit," Laurel felt brazen as she said it, reaching for her own glass.

Thea snorted in her cocktail.

Oliver frowned, "I'd certainly like to join if you are planning something."

Laurel shook her head, gently, "I'm afraid it's time for me to go back to Starling." She bit her tongue not to continue with – especially since you're not there. It was neither the reason, nor she would have meant it. She wasn't looking to score shots that were quite that cheap.

I'm glad, Oliver thought it, but did not say it. He felt like he had to watch his words like in an interrogation. He did not want to set off another argument. He did not want to give her cause to walk away. "You've certainly been missed there," he finally said. He was surprised when Laurel frowned as if his words confused her. "Your sister…"

"Venison!" Thea exclaimed. "I think I'll have venison steak," she said decisively, while she had in all actuality ordered seafood when they all had ordered their food some minutes before.

"I don't think they serve venison here…" Laurel replied, grateful for the abrupt change in topic. Out of all things she did not want to discuss Sara with Oliver on her last night away from Starling.

Oliver grimaced. His sister had gotten very good at getting between him and Laurel. He looked at her and wondered when she had become so protective, almost a force to be reckoned with. It made him proud and annoyed at the same time, because… he wanted only the best things, he meant only the best things for Laurel. Unfortunately, that's not the way it had worked out so far.

Consequently, dinner overall was a somewhat awkward experience for all of them.

"Laurel, please, can we talk?" he tried to catch her as she rose from the table just as the plates were cleared away. The silence during the meal had made food tasteless in his mouth.

Laurel sighed and nodded at Thea that it was ok. All of them still had an equally awkward 18-hour flight back home to look forward to – there was no scenario in which Oliver would not be on the same plane with them, so Laurel knew it was either here and now or on the plane, where she wouldn't even be able to walk out for air.

"I don't think there's anything to say, Oliver," Laurel sat back down, napkin thrown across her lap as a gauntlet. Thea walked over to the bar, leaving them alone, but glancing over her shoulder every now and then.

"I didn't mean it," he said. Now that he had a chance to speak with her again, he wasn't sure where to start. This felt different than all the other times he had apologized to her. And he should know – he had apologized a million times for two million offenses. He wondered why this felt different and an unsettling feeling whispered in the corner of his mind that – maybe because this time she won't forgive.

Oliver had spent his entire life pushing her away and pulling her closer, wondering when he'd reach the end of her endurance and now that he had found it – he bitterly regretted ever racing towards this point.

"Which part?" she asked. Sighed. And decided to help him out. "How far back do we go? Did you not mean it when you said that I'm blaming you, but should be blaming myself for everything in my life that's failed? Or did you not mean to ruin the only family dinner we've had for the last six years? Or did you not mean to leave me after Tommy died? Or did you not mean to get on that boat with my sister? Which part, Oliver? There's so much, I can hardly keep track of."

Her words felt like slaps. And he felt he deserved every one of them. His eyes fell shut for a second as he felt the impact of what she laid at his feet. "All of it."

Laurel nodded. Her shoulders sagging in apparent defeat. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to say," she replied, exhausted. "You didn't mean any of it. And yet it still happened. So, okay. What else is there to say?"

That you forgive me. "Anything. Everything. Laurel, I want to try…"

Her eyes went wide. Panic rising like a tsunami. "No!"

"I promise…"

"Don't!"

Crystal whined as the glasses still left on the table shattered. Laurel startled and Oliver jumped from his seat, eyes scanning the room for enemies. But none were there. Second by second time moved forward – servers came to clean up the mess. Tension slowly eased from Oliver.

Laurel rose to her feet. "You said you're done with me, Oliver. So be it. We're done," even though she wished she could say it with confidence, it still hurt, there was still a pleading edge to her voice that seemed to beg – don't let it be true. She hated it. "Let's be done," she said it with all the determination and resolution she could find in her body.

"Laurel…," Oliver tried to catch her as she moved past him, but she slipped from his grasp. His reflexes failing him as he felt stiff with heartache.

"See you on the plane," she said as a goodbye and as fast as she could, moved away in her high heels. I need better shoes. Laurel felt him watching her. It burned.