24. Some things change, some things don't

Laurel stepped out of the room where the hearing to notify her about the investigation by the Bar had been held. Joanna jumped to her feet. She had come as a show of support and had patiently waited in the hallway. Laurel flashed her a nervous smile.

"Is everything okay?" there was no way she could make a job offer to a lawyer under investigation, but she still felt guilty she couldn't help Laurel. The fall from grace seemed sudden and awful, as Joanna had watched Laurel clock long hours and brave threats from the underbelly of the city while at CNRI just for a better world.

That's not even mentioning that for solving her brother's murder – Joanna would always pick up Laurel's calls.

"It's fine," Laurel said, her smile tight, "It really is," she reached for Joanna, grasped her hand in reassurance and nodded to reinforce the message.

The doors opened again, and more people walked out.

"Miss Lance," a dark-haired woman walked up to them. She nodded at Joanna and turned back to Laurel, "Given recent events I can quite understand your current decision, however, should that change, don't hesitate to give me a call. There will always be work to be done at the DA's office."

Laurel nodded, "I appreciate that Mrs. Bray and I will keep that in mind."

"Susanna, please," she offered a handshake.

"Laurel, then," Laurel insisted back and shook the woman's hand.

"Thank you, then I won't intrude anymore," Susanna Bray gave them both another tight smile and moved away. Already, a phone ringing in her pocket.

Joanna looked between the woman walking away and Laurel, "What just happened?"

"The new DA offered me a job," Laurel decided to start from the most recent end of everything that had happened.

"There's a new DA?"

"As of some fifteen minutes ago. It's about to go official later today, so, you know," Laurel mimed her lips shut.

Joanna nodded, her expression growing more and more puzzled, "What kind of hearing was this?! I thought you were getting disbarred, not that I want that, but… So you're…"

"I'm still a fully qualified and licensed lawyer," Laurel confirmed promptly and hooked her hand with Joanna's locking their elbows together, "How about we go for a coffee?"

"I think I'm going to need something stronger," Joanna mumbled but went easily. She threw back one last look to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything on the bench where she'd waited and, "But really. Give me the details!"

Laurel chuckled; the smile came easier this time. It still felt like a whirlwind, "They had the hearing to inform me that my dismissal from the DA's office was against the state labor laws, and not something that could be upheld. Then they said that they had investigated the claims against me stemming from that drug charge, however considering the subsequent kidnapping and involvement of the arresting officer there is reasonable doubt as to the validity of these claims. And in the end, they had found more irregularities with Spencer's work and it all culminated with a new DA and me having a job offer for my old job."

"But that's fantastic!" Joanna cried out and blushed, because the echo on the stairs made her loud enough to be heard by most people in the atrium. "But that's great news! And means you can come work with me if you still want to!"

And this was the tricky part. Laurel bit her lip. "But I don't want to."

"Well, yeah, DA's office is more your style," Joanna sighed.

"No," Laurel stopped and made Joanna stop too. They were at the bottom of the stairs. "I mean I don't want either. I don't want to practice law."

"What?"

Laurel sighed, "I don't know. I just know I can't go back to that right now."

"But you love the law!"

"And yet as DAA what I did was pursue the Hood, or, Arrow as he's called now, and I know how you feel about him. And prosecute the mother of my closest friends – hell, Moira was there when my own mother run away. I just…"

Joanna nodded and tugged Laurel closer by their linked elbows. "Fair enough, you need time to sort out all the crazy stuff that's happened." It was Laurel and the Hood who'd gotten justice for her brother. Joanna would never forget.

"Yeah…" Laurel smiled at the support and started forward again. "At least the new DA certainly thinks it's temporary crisis of faith," she laughed.

Joanna rolled her eyes as they stepped through the whirlwind door, "I can't imagine why." It was obvious to her even if the answer was lost to Laurel for now. That fire for justice that had made Laurel push forward so relentlessly at CNRI – Joanna was sure it would find it's way out again. She'd been Laurel's friend through their defining years moving from just-grew-up-now-going-to-college into adults – some things just were core truths.

IKYWT

It had been another week. Oliver felt like he'd been chasing Laurel with no result for forever. Actually, it felt like back on the island where all he had was a picture of her and memory. And a hope that she was well. And a selfish wish that she was thinking of him. And thinking something good.

For all that he'd found her in Chile and now they were back in Starling – it felt like the distance between them was greater than the one between Starling and Valdivia. And now that it was there – and he could go on being the Arrow without her being threatened, because – well, even he couldn't find her… This should be perfect. After all, this was exactly what he had pushed for since coming back.

He hated this. He needed her. He didn't care anymore whether it was a weakness, a fixation, a madness (that's what Felicity said when he confronted her), but… It didn't matter. He needed the oldest and best friend that he still had. That he still hoped he had. He didn't have many of those, after all. It hadn't escaped his notice that it would soon be an anniversary for Tommy's death.

And he had many regrets. He didn't want Laurel to be another one of them. So, when asking, demanding, and pleading with Thea had failed. When he'd dropped all dignity and went to Detective Lance, only to get the response he'd already expected… Well, then he'd tried to solve the problem in an old-fashioned way.

And when bribing failed, he had called in a favor to get the information he wanted – and this is how he knew that Laurel was supposed to be at the courthouse on this particular day at this particular time.

He parked his bike near the entrance in a no-parking zone and waited for her to exit the justice building. It was a long wait, because he'd arrived obscenely early – he was sure he'd actually seen her walk in, but… It was worth it. And he could be very patient.

And then he saw her. Walking down the long, wide staircase in front of the building. Hand in hand with sister of Danny de la Vega. His vision zeroed in. His chest constricted with pain that should have been relief. He hooked his helmet on the handle of the bike and climbed down from the seat. "Laurel!" he called for her, even though she was still quite far away, even though she must have seen him already.

And Laurel had seen him. She froze and had to close her eyes for a second and take a calming breath. Ruefully she realized that she could never ignore him fully, "Oliver," she whispered. She let go of Joanna and moved to meet him halfway. And then her eyes narrowed. "Are you ok?"

Because Laurel was prepared for just about anything – apologies, excuses, negotiations, but as seconds dragged on – Oliver seemed to stumble just before reaching her, his face became pale, his breathing erratic.

No, goddamn it, no… Oliver struggled even though he made no outward motion. There was building's worth of cement suddenly weighing on his throat, suppressing his ability to speak. His lungs became like a broken air conditioner – there was noise and movement, but no relief. He did not notice that he was trembling, because black spots danced in front of his eyes obscuring Laurel from his gaze and…

"Ollie!" Laurel cried realizing that something was truly wrong. She swiftly moved forward and grasped him by his arms as he seemed to collapse in on himself. She tried to lower him to the ground gently even as his weight dragged her down with him ungracefully.

"Ollie, breathe," she pleaded, her hands frantically moving from his arms to his chest, to his suddenly clammy face to get his attention. "Joanna, call 911," she snapped over her shoulder more angrily than Joanna deserved. She realized this meant she was about to panic along with Ollie and that would be useless. She nodded, as if steeling herself, bit her lip hard enough to center herself and tried to grasp Oliver's face gently, but firmly, "Ollie, stay with me." It was an order; she made effort to be very clear.

This is ridiculous. It felt ridiculous. And awful. And absolutely terrifying. Oliver felt like he was underwater. Shame lived in his chest cavity along with the python that seemed to be squeezing his lungs. This can't be real. He had survived worse. He'd been through torture and beatings, stabbings, shootings. He was a survivor. He was the Arrow. He was the one that criminals were afraid of. He could… He couldn't. He couldn't protect this city. He couldn't protect Laurel. He hadn't and she'd…

"Ollie, look at me," Laurel reiterated, her tone even and patient. Calm as a summer evening. She moved one of her hands from his face to his chest, resting on his heart that beat frantically. "Look at me," pleading note joined the calm in her voice. "Breathe with me," she beckoned.

Feeling half-mad he looked at her. At the only thing that mattered. Through the dancing and swirling dark spots in his vision. How many times had he been here? Stripped bare of all his talents and abilities – gasping for survival. How many times had she been there… In his head. Stopping him from doing something stupid. Stopping him from dying.

"I think you're having a panic attack," Laurel said, explaining the obvious, but facts always helped her – so she gave him the best she had. "I need you to breathe with me," she took a deep breath in, held it for a count of four and expressively breathed out.

Oliver struggled to follow. There were a million thoughts in his head that he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't even seem to manage a lungful of air. This was just like that time a week ago when he'd stormed out of Verdant after John told him… Oh, God. The thing that John had told him. He didn't want to believe it. He stared back at Laurel as if he was drowning. Please, tell me I didn't do that to you. And then he'd went to her place only she hadn't been there, because she was no longer with him – not in any sense. He felt lightheaded. His chest was a prison, his heart needed to jump out and break free. In Laurel's arms. It'll be safe there.

"Breathe!" Laurel snapped much more forcefully as she felt him sag in her arms. Her grip on him became harsher. Her hand pressed into his chest.

And Oliver felt his attention snap to her. He'd listened to her so many times when she'd pushed him to survival that it felt like coming home more than returning to Starling had. He took a shallow, trembling breath and his head cleared for the tinniest bit. As she pushed at his chest, he remembered to choke it out.

"Good, good, you're doing great, Ollie," Laurel felt tears stinging her eyes. She'd never seen him like this – it was terrifying. Yet it couldn't be a surprise – she knew how the consequences of what he'd been through looked like. Has he been keeping it inside? Locked up, like a dirty secret. Just like she'd done with her grief. Sympathy for him washed through her with intensity that surprised her, because it felt like an understanding of a level, she'd forgotten they once had. "Breathe in," she took a deep breath. Held it for a few moments. "Breathe out," she encouraged him to match her rhythm, her hand on his chest, monitoring the rise and fall.

He managed a slightly longer, stuttering breath in. A ragged, wet breath out.

"Perfect, you're perfect Ollie, go on, breathe in…" she was so focused on Oliver, she didn't even hear the rapidly heightening noise of sirens from an approaching ambulance.

They went through several more rounds of breathing before he had enough control to manage a lie, "I'm good."

Laurel was not breaking the rhythm they established. "Out," she commanded pushing her own breath out, pinching his cheek as rebuke. "And breathe in."

"I'm sorr…," he tried. There were tears on his face from the strain of breathing like someone being killed on the spot. Laurel wiped them gently away with one hand, never letting go of his chest.

"Hold. … And breathe out. Just breathe, Ollie, just do that for me, okay?"

He nodded finally, giving in to her. Breathing. In. … Hold. … Out.

Their universe was disrupted when EMT's touched Laurel's shoulder to urge her to move away. Another dropped in her place in front of Oliver to assess him. Laurel felt dizzy as Joanna pulled her to her feet. The edge of her dress smeared with dirt from the ground. Now that medics were treating Oliver, as they gave him something to calm down, Laurel felt like the world was too big and too loud. The calm she'd felt when Oliver needed her disappeared into smoke.

"Joanna…"

"It's ok, it's gonna be ok," her friend tried to comfort her.

"Any of you know him?" one of the medics that wasn't working with Oliver stepped up to them.

"Yes," Joanna was first to answer, "He's Oliver Queen. I'm Joanna, I called the 911, this is Laurel…"

"Is he going to be okay?" Laurel had already asserted that it was a panic attack and those when ended caused no lasting harm, but the image of Oliver gasping for breath…

"We're giving him a sedative and then we can either take him to the hospital or release to go home, but he needs supervision, at least until the medication passes…,"

"No hospital," Oliver managed to grumble from between the medics.

Laurel's exhale came almost as a laugh with relief. Now that was Oliver that she knew. "I can take him home," she volunteered without second thought.

"And you are?"

"Laurel Lance, Oliver and I…" she paused, "He's been a friend since we were children. I'll take him home. Do you need my contacts or his family's?"

After giving her and Moira's details, later by the ambulance – Laurel was allowed to take Oliver back into her custody. Joanna had called them a taxi and left after Laurel assured her, she'd handle everything from now on.

"Heeeey," Oliver dragged out, a silly smile on his face as he sat on the edge of the ambulance. The EMT was finishing filling out notes for the report.

"Hey," a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. This face that he had now – it reminded her of a filched bottle of tequila from Robert Queen's alcohol cabinet when Oliver turned fourteen. They'd been lucky that nobody ended up with alcohol poisoning that night.

"You can take him now, he should be out of it for a few hours, but fine tomorrow. I do recommend seeing a specialist," the medic said.

Laurel nodded, deeply doubtful whether Oliver will take the advice given. "Let's go now," she moved towards him to help him up. "We already have a car waiting."

"You're waiting," Oliver said with absolute confidence as he rose and leaned on her only to be closer. "No, wait," he frowned.

She snickered. "I did wait, Ollie," there was no rebuke in her statement. She had. She'd waited for peace and absolution – for anger to pass, for the nightmare to end. She'd waited for the world to change. She was done waiting. She had to change what she wanted to by herself.

"No," he protested as they moved towards the taxi. "That's no," the thoughts of the five years away flashed through his mind wrapped in cotton candy and fluffy clouds. "That's not what I meant."

"I'm sure," she assured as she helped him in the taxi.

"I love you," he said as if remembering when she dropped in the seat beside him.

And now Laurel's gaze did turn sadder than before. "I know," she whispered. I know you think you do. And leaned forward to give the directions to Queen manor to the driver.

"Rest now," she patted his hand as she relaxed back in the seat.

Oliver wanted to protest, but his eyes were heavy. Whatever the medics had given him had a hell of a kick.