Chapter Six

Starting at Nothing and Counting to Zero

She hadn't closed the bedroom door all the way, but the old hinges still protested loudly, clearly audible over the whine of the air conditioner, as he pushed it open further and made his way into the room.

Dinah slept right through the noise, and for a second Oliver was tempted to take the coward's way out and just let her sleep. But no, he couldn't. She deserved to hear the details from him. Besides, she was kind enough to decide to let him sleep, which meant she'd leave the apartment without waking him and go to the hospital without any idea of what awaited her.

He leaned his bow against the dresser with care, then slung the quiver over his shoulder and onto the mirror frame in one smooth move. Grimacing at his shadowy reflection, he shoved back the hood of the dark green tunic he wore.

I swear I'm getting too old for this, he told himself as he peeled the domino mask off his face. It was a complaint he made often, every time he got tired or discouraged, and tonight he was both. It was true, he did sometimes — well, often — encourage trouble to look in his direction, but sometimes he wished it would just go away and bother somebody else for a change. However, standing there thinking about it was just delaying the inevitable.

Gingerly, he lowered his weight onto the bed. He studied Dinah's sleeping form solemnly, and reached out a long finger to brush the hair out of her eyes. She stirred slightly in her sleep, and he caressed her cheek tenderly.

"Hey. Wake up, sleeping beauty," he whispered.

"Mmm," she murmured, dragging herself to consciousness. She tried to focus her fuzzy vision on the illuminated dial of the alarm clock. "What time is it? Oh. Early. Anything happen?"

"Lots of things happened," he answered. "It was an eventful night. I met Batman," he added.

Dinah sat up, looking interested. "Does he live up to his reputation?" she wanted to know.

"Ho-ho, yes. I'd say. Fun guy." He lowered his voice to a deep rasp. "'What are you doing in my city?'" he mocked, and they both laughed. "I'm supposed to meet up with him again tonight."

"Did you find any leads?" Dinah asked hopefully, getting to the subject foremost on her mind.

Oliver was silent for a moment, then he took a deep breath and answered, "Yeah. Yeah, I did. I also got Johnny G." He could see the expression of pleasure that brightened her face even in the pre-dawn light of the bedroom, and cut her off before she could get too excited.

"That's the good news portion of the good news/bad news scenario," he confessed. "I put an arrow through his leg while he was in your mom's hospital room."

"Oh, my God...Oliver," she breathed, blue eyes wide with horror.

His gloved hands rested comfortingly on her shoulders, and his voice was low and soothing. "Sshhh, shh, don't worry," he reassured her. "She's okay. She isn't hurt, I promise."

"Thank goodness!"

There were tears in her eyes, and her breath came in ragged gasps that weren't quite sobs. She hid her head against his chest, drawing strength from him as he held her in a tight embrace and rocked her back and forth.

"Sssshhhhh," he murmured softly. "Everything's all right."

"Oh, God," she said again. "I knew something was going to happen. That's why I kept on at the police, because that's all I could do. But he'd just been snooping; I wasn't expecting an out-and-out attack in the middle of the night. I'm so stupid! I've lost every instinct I ever had."

"I wasn't expecting it, either," he reminded her.

"At least you were there," she said bitterly. "That's a lot more than can be said for me."

Oliver kissed her forehead tenderly. "If I know you, you'll be there all day tomorrow...today," he corrected himself. "And the police have a guard on her door now — finally. So there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Like hell there isn't," she argued, moving a few inches so she could look up at him, a worried frown creasing her face. "Mom is still in danger until we find out what's going on. Johnny G. couldn't have been working by himself, Ollie."

He didn't need to be reminded of that. In fact, he'd hoped that aspect of the situation wouldn't occur to her, but he knew better. Her instincts were too sharp, no matter how she berated herself.

"I realise that," he told her. "But I know who he's working for, and what they're after. I had a nice long talk with Diana after everything settled down. She had quite an interesting little story to tell about the old days."

He kicked off his boots and stretched out full length on the bed, pulling Dinah down beside him. Encouraging her to get comfortable, he began to tell her everything her mother had revealed to him, willingly or otherwise.

"Wow," she said at length. "So it really was connected to the first Black Canary, then."

"Yep. You were right on the money."

A hint of a scowl crossed her face. "I should have just asked her what was going on, instead of trying to keep everything nice and pleasant for her. You can't protect someone by pretending they're not in danger."

"That's true," admitted Oliver, the closest he was willing to come to 'I told you so'. "But don't beat yourself up over it, Di. Remember, this is your mother we're talking about. It's not like she would have told you anything."

Dinah sighed. "I know. I can't imagine her ever telling you anything if you hadn't just saved her life."

"Not without a snarl or two, I can tell you," he laughed.

She smiled as well, then grew serious again. "Thank you," she told him solemnly.

"What for?"

"Just for being in the right place at the right time, as usual. For taking all this on yourself when you should be off enjoying yourself, getting drunk with Roy."

Oliver gave a snort. "Well, that's a point," he said wryly. "Ironic, isn't it? I've been waiting that kid's whole life for him to get old enough to be a drinking buddy, and what happens when he finally does? He moves to the opposite end of the country and I can't even seem to make it for a visit when we're practically in the next city."

"Awww," smiled Dinah, patting him sympathetically on the arm. "I'm serious, though. You shouldn't have to do this. My mother, my problem."

"Your problem, my problem," he reminded her firmly. "'Whither thou goest' and all that stuff, remember?"

She shoved herself up on one elbow and gazed into his face. "Keep saying things like that, Mr. Queen, and I could seriously fall in love with you," she said, kissing him thoroughly.

Oliver returned her kisses with languid enjoyment. "I love you," he told her, barely able to stifle a yawn.

She simply smiled back at him, not insulted. "Why don't you get some rest?" she suggested gently. She pulled the archery gloves off his hands, and he winked at her as he sat up and removed the rest of his loosely fitting clothing.

"Good idea," he agreed as he lay back and closed his eyes.

->>> ————————>

Sleep, of course, was out of the question for Dinah. Long after Oliver had dozed off she sat beside him, back against the headboard, knees clutched to her chest, watching the sun come up. Occasionally she looked at her sleeping hero, stroking his hair lovingly as the increasing light brought his features slowly into focus.

He'd take care of her; she knew that. He loved her. Certainly he had his faults — San Andreas sized ones — but that was the one thing about him she could absolutely count on. He loved her enough he would willingly die for her, probably even kill for her if necessary. Anything to keep her from being hurt. And by extension, that protection included her mother also, because he knew...

Because he knew how much she loved her.

That was the hardest thing of all to face. Dinah was overwhelmed by emotions she'd never even suspected. Once, as a teenager, she'd been forced to admit having some sort of feeling other than antipathy toward Diana, and she'd dismissed it out of hand.

"Simple biological bond," she'd called it, with the facile arrogance of the very young. Her premise, which had made her mother's friend very angry, had been simply that the two of them would never willingly choose to have a relationship at all, were it not for that incidental connection of blood.

As it turned out, she was right about that at least, since that's exactly the sort of relationship they'd had since the period of legal dependence had passed. Without the presence of the person they'd both loved more than anyone else in the world, there was nothing left between them...or so Dinah had made herself believe.

It hurt to realise just how much she really did care about her mother. Whether it was nothing but a "simple biological bond" or not, the relationship was there. It might be largely adversarial in nature, but it existed. She was a central figure in her life whether Dinah wanted her to be or not.

There was an old proverb she'd always hated, something about every woman, at some point in her life, looking into the mirror and realising she had turned into her own mother. That saying had always made her angry, especially since she sometimes had the uncomfortable suspicion it might have more than a little truth in it. Good Lord, she was practically reliving aspects of her mother's life. Same occupation (why hadn't she chosen to become a detective instead of a florist?), same secret identity, same decision to give up her life as a crimefighter.

Diana had never asked her daughter to come to Gotham, in fact she hadn't even hinted at the possibility. She'd merely called to update her next of kin on the state of her health, and tell her she'd be in the hospital for the next few days in case she needed to get in touch with her. A very terse, matter of fact, almost entirely unemotional telephone conversation, but Dinah hadn't even considered not flying out to be with her.

Likewise, a few years earlier the same situation had occurred in reverse, although that was a time in her life Dinah never thought about if she could help it.

One minute she'd been joking with Oliver, making plans for the baby that had been very much wanted, if not entirely planned, and the next minute she'd been in worse pain than she'd ever thought possible. The emergency room doctor had diagnosed an ectopic pregnancy, disastrous at the best of times, but there was worse news to follow. An ultrasound revealed several tumours in her uterus, and although the biopsy proved them to be benign, she was told that most likely she would never be able to undergo a normal pregnancy. Furthermore, given such an extensive family history of that type of cancer, a hysterectomy was strongly advised as a preventative measure.

Oliver had gone against her urging and telephoned her mother, who had flown in to stay at her bedside even after she was released from the hospital.

Because she loved her?

But she'd accepted the fact that she'd never be a grandmother with such equanimity that Dinah had accused her of being glad. Diana had tightened her lips into a thin line and walked out of the room without, for once, saying a word in retaliation. It had taken months for the younger woman to realise that her mother had been hurt by the accusation

That's what they did, the pair of them. They'd spent twenty-eight years hurting each other and protecting each other.

Only this time, Dinah was helpless. They both were. Her mother was in serious danger, both from her illness and from some gangster with an inherited grudge of all things, and there was nothing she could do on either front to help her.

More than anything else Dinah Lance hated the feeling of helplessness. She got out of bed and went into the living room, pacing back and forth restlessly. She was angry, and scared, and frustrated, and utterly disgusted with herself. There was no reason she should be sitting back like a helpless little female, waiting on a man to make things right.

It wasn't Oliver's job to take care of things. Not this time. No matter how much he cared for her, no matter how much he insisted that her problem was also his problem, it was still her mother. She should be the one protecting her.

Black Canary could handle the situation...if only she hadn't given up.

———————— -

Seattle

October, 1991

"—ther for the Seattle-Tacoma area this morning: rainy, with a chance of showers this afternoon turning to thunderstorms tonight. Turning to local news, attorneys for alleged drug kingpin Derek Rambaldi claimed yesterday in a motion filed w—"

Oliver's hand reached out and silenced the clock radio.

"Hey, I was listening to that," objected Dinah sleepily.

He rolled over and kissed her. "I've heard enough about Rambaldi to last me a few lifetimes. You already caught the guy, your part's over. Quit obsessing already."

"You're right." She sat up and yawned, running a hand through her short dark hair. "Besides, I got a day job. How much sleep did I get, anyway? Oh, man. Barely three and a half hours."

"Getting too old to keep up with the late nights?" her lover teased. (He would be thirty-eight at the end of December.)

Dinah picked up her pillow and threatened him with it, then dropped it lightly onto his face and climbed out of bed. "Watch it, buster. Anyway, you've got to get up for work yourself, so there."

"Er—"

Dinah, in the middle of surveying the contents of her closet, grasped the clothes bar in both hands and rested her face against her outstretched arms, wondering why it should even catch her by surprise. The column at the Seattle Star was the third job he'd had in as many years; it was only remarkable he'd managed to keep it for as long as he had.

"What happened?" she asked him mildly.

He shrugged. "I just pissed off the wrong people."

"You seem to have a talent for doing that," she agreed. Finding the blouse she was looking for, she sat down on the bed next to him and looked at him quizzically. "I thought the publisher said the kind of controversy you stirred up sold papers."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well. They liked that all right — it was more the threat of the libel suit they didn't care much for. Seems I'm suddenly a 'libelity' to them."

Dinah moaned, though more over the news than the atrocious pun. "I knew that was going to happen, Ollie! I told you you couldn't carry on some sort of private vendetta against half the industrial leaders in town and expect to get away with it."

Oliver was hurt. She knew the situation as well as he did; he'd expected sympathy, not 'I told you so'.

"Private vendetta!" he scoffed, throwing off the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "This is as much a matter of public concern as it can be. I know you haven't had time for anything but this Rambaldi mess for months, but you ought to know what those guys have their hands in."

Realising she wasn't going to have time for the luxury of a shower this morning, she started pulling on her clothes while she talked to him.

"Yes, I know it," she answered impatiently. "But we can't prove it. And if we haven't been to find the evidence we need privately, what in the world did you think you were doing going public without anything to back up your claims?"

It was an old argument. Business tycoons involved in shady dealings had been a fact of life ever since civilization had become industrialized. But simply because the situation did involve corporate "fatcats", it had an infuriating effect on Oliver.

In the time they'd been together, she'd learned very little about the years he'd spent as a businessman. He hadn't enjoyed it, and by his own admission he didn't have the personality for it. He always claimed that the downfall of his family business — and the concurrent loss of most of his personal fortune — had been due to his own negligence, but there were hints of something else, something slightly more sinister, that made her wonder sometimes.

Either way, his spite against dishonest businessmen was deeply ingrained and he seemed sometimes a little too anxious to bring their sins to light. Given that fact, and his general lack of patience, Dinah had had more than a few reservations from the start about the kind of trouble he could get himself into with a public forum to vent his opinions.

He shrugged off the complaint. "This libel thing is just an excuse, Dinah. All this is just another way for the greedy, high-living bastards who control most of the damn economy to keep the little guy down where they think he belongs. What better way to do it than strangling the freedom of the press, keeping information away from the public? Get rid of the one guy who wants to tell everybody the truth about what those parasites are —"

"This has nothing to do with abridging the freedom of the press, or anything like it," she said angrily, cutting him off before he had a chance to start foaming at the mouth. "Not this time. This is all about you going off half-cocked and using that damn column as nothing more than a mouthpiece for Green Arrow, which is exactly what I knew would happen when you took on the job."

"So you were just waiting for me to fail? Again?"

She knew exactly what he was doing. Trying to get her to feel sorry for him, making himself the injured party. He'd done it so often over the last three years that she knew every variation of the theme by heart...but it still worked.

Her voice was much softer as she told him, "No, Oliver. Never." Turning away from the mirror where she was applying makeup with a hand that wasn't quite steady, she looked at him earnestly. "Honestly — you have the intelligence, and the education, to do anything you want to do. If you'd just give yourself half a chance you could work miracles."

Oliver gave her a slightly sour look. "Only on the streets, babe," he said sadly. "And they don't pay me for that."

"Pity."

"Yeah. Well, don't worry about it. I'll find something in the next couple of weeks, I always do. Hey, how do you think I'd do in the field of public relations?"

"What!"

"I'm serious. Somebody that came around the paper not too long ago was sounding me out about the prospect. What do you think?" He grinned, eyes dancing with merriment.

Dinah studied him seriously. He did have a knack for making people like him, but he also had a talent for making enemies that beat anything she'd ever seen.

"I think...you're crazy," she said finally. "You've got half the people in this city wanting to murder Green Arrow, and the other half screaming for Oliver Queen's head on a platter, and you want to introduce them?"

He gave a snort of amusement. "That's a point," he admitted. "Not really what it's all about, but I don't think he really meant it as a serious job offer, anyway. But still, it's something to think about, huh?"

Dinah bit her lip. "Just...don't think about it too long, okay?" she suggested tactfully.

"Don't worry about it," he repeated, blowing it off. "Something'll turn up before long."

"Something will have to," she told him seriously. "We can't afford for this to keep happening. You can't just work when you feel like it, and expect me to take up the slack."

The pattern she could see forming appalled her. She'd once found it captivating when he described himself as "irresponsible as hell". It was cute and dangerous and sexy, and God help her, she hadn't really believed he was serious. Now that she knew he was serious, she still found the trait just as charming and sexy, but the dangerous aspect frightened her sometimes.

There were women Black Canary met on a regular basis, different women with stories that were so exactly the same they all started blending together after a while. They put up with husbands and boyfriends who used them, cheated on them, beat them, sat around and drank while the women worked two jobs to support the family...not at all the sort of man Oliver was, but on some level there was just enough similarity to unnerve her.

Especially since every single one of those women made the same excuse she did. But I love him.

"What, you think I get fired deliberately?"

"Not deliberately," Dinah admitted. She was making a concerted effort to be patient with him, be reasonable about the whole situation, but it was getting harder with every excuse he made. "But I do think maybe you have a real problem with staying committed to something when it stops being 'fun'."

"Sooo...?"

"It's just that when you get bored you start causing trouble, and when you make trouble you get fired," she said through clenched teeth.

He stared at her blankly, unable to figure out why she should get so worked up losing about a stupid job. In the scheme of things it was worthless, at least in Oliver's mind. In his experience jobs like that were a dime a dozen: easy come, easy go. His real job, fighting crime, was the only one that mattered. Dinah of all people should understand that.

"And then I get another job," he reminded her.

"Eventually," she sighed. "And in the meantime what are we supposed to do for money? Look, I know you grew up rich, and never had to work for a living. But guess what? You do now."

Her condescending tone strained his temper to the breaking point. "Guess what? I know that, Dinah," he said angrily. "How about you stop talking to me like a child and give me a little support here?"

She took a deep breath, trying to quell the urge to laugh out of sheer frustration. What irony!

"Well, that's a hell of a way to put it, considering that's what I've had to do, more than once."

It was a low blow, and his pride was wounded. In a cold voice he told her, "Well, I'm sorry you fell in love with such a lazy, worthless slob who can't even be a decent provider."

"I didn't say that and you know it," she snapped back. "You're just trying to get me to feel sorry for you." And the trick wasn't about to work a second time.

"Be a nice change," he said unfairly.

"Why should I? You seem to be doing a bang-up job all by yourself. Poor little Oliver — somebody's always out to get you. Even me."

"Don't be a shrew."

The comment stung. She was surprised and hurt that he would say such a thing. "I'm not being a shrew, Oliver. I'm just trying to be a grownup — God knows somebody in this relationship has to be!"

Voice laced with bitterness, Oliver finished the thought for her. "Go on...you might as well say it. We both know it's not gonna be me, don't we?"

Dinah fought back tears, although she wasn't a crier by nature. "I have to leave," she choked. "I'll be late."

With that she slipped on her shoes and left, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

"Dinah?" he called after her, but he could tell by the silence in the apartment that she'd already gone. Punching his pillow angrily, he muttered, "All that over a couple of weeks between jobs."

->>> ————————>

Oliver's predictions turned out to be somewhat overly optimistic, and several weeks later he was still one of Seattle's unemployment statistics. He'd tried looking for work, meeting the same story everywhere he went: the white-collar types wanted nothing to do with the loudmouthed jerk from the Seattle Star, and the less discriminating places of employment were reluctant to hire someone who resembled the local vigilante to such a degree. "You'd scare off customers," was a complaint he'd heard more than a few times lately. "Nobody wants to be around a guy that even looks like that Arrow guy. Maybe if you got rid of that beard..."

Over the last few days he'd spent less and less time pounding the pavements during the daylight hours. As a result, when Dinah got home from work every afternoon he was usually to be found fiddling with his archery tackle or camped out in front of the TV set. Today it was the latter.

Dinah stepped inside the apartment they shared, shaking the water off her umbrella and placing it on the plastic mat by the door. If the look she gave Oliver was at all critical she was unaware of the fact, but his tone was laced with rather defensive irony.

"Hey, isn't this just what you always dreamed of? Trudging home in the cold rain from a hard day's work to find your unemployed boyfriend sitting around in his socks watching TV and eating olives out of a jar? However, it's not all bad news — I made dinner."

She smiled at him rather vaguely. A glance in the kitchen told her he'd made his famous chili, and hadn't bothered about washing up any of the pots and pans required. Normally that would drive her mad, but today she had more important things on her mind.

"I need to talk to you."

"Yeah," he agreed seriously. He gestured toward the television screen. "There's somethin' I wanted to talk to you about, too. The news —"

"I know. The Rambaldi thing." With a heavy sigh she sat down on the couch beside him. Oliver gave her a comforting pat on the knee.

"Ah, hon, I'm so sorry. I just can't believe they let him go. After all the work you did. Crooked bastards."

She reached out and put her hand on top of his, appreciating the sympathy. "It's about par for the course these days, seems like. That's part of what I want to talk to you about."

"Shoot."

Dinah closed her eyes for a second and leaned back against the couch. Then, taking a deep breath that turned into yet another weary sigh she said, "Oliver, I've come to a decision. It's time I hung up the tights. Maybe past time."

"'Hung up the tights?'" he repeated blankly.

She nodded. "I think maybe it's time for Black Canary to retire," she said simply.

He looked at her in astonishment. "You're kidding. You can't do that! It's your whole life...you always told me it's in your blood."

"So is quitting, remember?" she answered bitterly.

Oliver stared at her. He'd noticed that she hadn't really been herself lately, especially after a night out, but this was the last thing in the world he'd ever expected from her.

"But what about all the good you do out on the streets?" he asked, trying a different tactic.

"That's debatable." Once again, the tone of unaccustomed bitterness caught him by surprise. Instinctively he moved closer.

She let go of his hand and stood up, feeling suddenly confined. She paced nervously for a moment and then sat down again with a sigh. "I'm tired, Oliver," she said finally. "I mean, we come home in the middle of the night and it's time to get up for work almost before I even get to sleep. It was one thing when I was only doing part-time, but since I had to increase my hours, it's really starting to take its toll on me. I'm starting to burn out, I think."

He stared down at his hands in silence, suddenly too guilty to look her in the face. It was his fault she'd had to go to work full-time to support the two of them — not to mention his somewhat expensive "hobby". This was the result of his stupid, belligerent finger-pointing at the wrong people. The realisation made him feel about two inches tall.

"Dinah," he told her solemnly, "I'm looking as hard as I can, I swear. Something's gotta turn up soon, and when it does then we can get back to normal. It's just that right now it seems like the whole town's pissed at me — at least the establishment types, and they're the ones that do the hiring. 'It's that loudmouthed Queen guy from the paper. Let's get 'im!' But they'll forget all about it soon."

She knew it was the truth; he had made himself startlingly unpopular during his short tenure as a journalist, but she resented his habit of turning the conversation around to him as usual.

"And until then?" she asked, more harshly than she intended.

He had no answer for that. At length he said bitterly, "God, I wish I was still rich. Normally, y'know, I don't really care, but when it affects you..."

Dinah snuggled against his shoulder, laying one comforting arm across his. "Hey, at least you got to keep this apartment," she pointed out. "We'd never make it if we had to pay rent."

"True, Pretty Bird, true. God, I'm gonna miss you out there," he lamented. "Green Arrow just won't be the same without his Canary. Well, at least it's only temporary, till we get straightened out, right?" he asked with resignation.

She frowned. "You want to know the truth? I'm not so sure. I've been thinking about it for awhile. About how maybe I should just grow up and stop running around in fishnets playing superhero. Just the way my mom did."

"Yeah, but, Di — you've always hated her for giving up crimefighting," he objected. "You said she was an object lesson on how not to be a strong woman."

"I was a kid. I never stopped to think before now that maybe she had her reasons, maybe she wasn't selling out after all."

Oliver gazed at her sadly, hating to see what was happening to her. She was only twenty-two; she'd always told him she didn't intend to give up crimefighting till she needed the wig just to disguise her grey hair.

"You know," she continued, "I said I was tired and that's true. But I'm not just physically tired. I'm...I don't know. Frustrated. Fed up. The excitement's still there, the adrenaline rush, but after that...nothing. It all falls flat. I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything.

"I mean, look at Derek Rambaldi. All those months of work. My great triumph. And yet he's back on the streets tonight. Everything I did, and it hasn't left a single mark on him."

Oliver swore. "We'll get him, Dinah. Eventually we'll get him. I promise you."

"You'll get him," she corrected. "Honestly, sometimes I think you were better off with Speedy as a partner."

He shifted position slightly so he could put his arm around her. Hugging her close, he said softly, "Hey, kiddo, don't even think that. You're the best partner a guy could ever have, in every sense of the word. I mean, I'm not knocking Roy, but I always knew he wasn't really in it for the long haul. He was always talking about college, and what he was gonna do after that. The costume bit was always just some excitement till his real life started. With you, I thought this was your real life."

"So did I," she told him with a wan smile. "Guess we were both wrong, huh?"

With the sort of falsely cheerful voice he always used when he was trying not to admit anything was wrong he suggested, "Hey, partner. I think what you need right now is a little comfort food. The chili's just the way you like it — extra garlic. How 'bout it?"

Dinah shook her head. "Mind saving it for later? I don't think that's the sort of comforting I need, exactly. I'd rather just...go to bed for awhile."

"Yeah, you're probably right," agreed Oliver. "Get some rest, then you'll feel —"

"I didn't say anything about resting," she reminded him, and smiled as she watched his eyes go wide with pleasure.

They had a lot more going for them than just sex, but it was the great panacea for their relationship. Anything that went wrong for one of them usually became somewhat more bearable in the other's embrace, even if the problem couldn't necessarily be fixed.

Much later, holding her in his arms in their darkened bedroom, he told her quietly, "I still want to change your mind about all this."

"I want you to change my mind about it, Oliver. But I don't think it'll happen. I think this is what I have to do," she said miserably.

"Damn it," Ollie said helplessly.

He vowed to find himself a job as soon as possible, even if he had to try a different city. Hell, he'd commute to Vancouver every day if he had to. Surely, he thought, surely Dinah would start to feel differently about giving up her double life if she wasn't so exhausted all the time. The idea of what she was about to do scared him a little. Because if it really was his fault, if she turned her back on some part of her life she loved that much because of him, she would come to resent him for it sooner or later. And then it would come between them and he couldn't stand the thought of that.

On the other hand, if it really was a case of burn-out the way she said, the alternative might be even worse. She'd always spoken contemptuously of her mother's decision to put her family ahead of everything else, as if she'd betrayed her entire gender by doing so. And yet here she was doing much the same thing, and the signs of self-loathing were already evident. What kind of damage would this do to her?

"Will you at least go out with me tonight, for old times' sake?" he asked coaxingly, but Dinah was asleep.

Chapter title comes from the curiously appropriately titled Wings song, 'Arrow Through Me': "You couldn't have found a more down hero, if you'da started at nothing and counted to zero."