After making love for the third and final time, they laid together in bed, both thinking about the future, but neither willing to speak up about it. Kara rested her head on his chest, tracing the outline of abs with her hand. Eventually, she mustered enough to courage to talk about the elephant in the room.

"I go back to National City tomorrow," she said.

"What if you extended your trip?"

"I can't."

"I'm sure if you asked Ms Grant nicely, she'd extend your leave."

"Oliver, we can't keep running from this," she said earnestly, "We're eventually going to have to go home. What happens to us when we do?"

"We go our separate ways," replied Oliver, bluntly, yet woefully. "Never seeing each other again."

Kara was taken aback. "Never?"

"We're living in a fantasy right now, Kara. We would never work in reality."

"Don't you want to try at least? Are you willing to live the rest of your life wondering if this could've been something more?"

Oliver sighed deeply before answering. "Yes… I know how our story would end, and it's only in heartbreak and pain."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm not the man that you think I am."

Oliver leaned over, kissing her on the forehead before getting out of bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back."

He got dressed before exiting his room, closing the door behind him. He moved to the bar, scanning his collection of drinks. He opted for the Russian vodka instead of Australian Reuther Rum, pouring half a glass for himself before downing it in one go. He had to stop himself from slamming the glass down out of frustration. He hadn't lied to Kara about how he felt. He really could live with this being the last that he'd see of her, but that didn't mean that he didn't wish things could be different.

As much he wanted to, he couldn't allow himself to see her ever again once she left. The more time they spent together, the stronger their feelings became, and that was something he just couldn't afford to happen right now.

Suddenly, he sensed someone outside of his hut. His sharp hearing picked up on footsteps outside of the door, and while it could simply be lost tourists or locals, Oliver was still on high alert. He moved to the kitchen, placing his glass on the counter just as the door opened.

In stepped a tall, rugged man. An American. "Good evening, sir," he said, with a broad grin and smug arrogance.

Oliver could immediately tell from his demeanour that he was up to no good. "Who are you?"

"My name is Otis Graves. I'm here for the girl."

Oliver's gut sunk. "There is no girl here."

"Really? Well, that's funny," he said, acting surprised until he pulled out some sort of a GPS device from his pocket and held it up to show the screen to Oliver. A large yellow dot stood out on the map, its location right where Oliver's hut is.

"Listen here, pretty boy," continued Graves, "Hand her over nicely and I'll let you live. Then you can just forget all this happened, and continue sipping on mojitos and living the good life. Or, I'll just put a bullet in your brain and then forcefully take her."

"Like I said, there is no girl here, and if you don't leave right this second, Mr Graves, I'm going to make you leave," replied Oliver sternly.

"Oh, Pretty Boy thinks he can fight. As much I'd love to whoop your ass all over this nice place, I'm afraid I ain't got time for that."

Oliver hadn't just stepped into the kitchen to place his glass by the sink. It was a tactical move, as right in front of him on the counter were several of his kitchen knives. If Graves was to even think about raising a gun, Oliver would send a blade through his throat before his hand could even reach his holster.

"Come on in boys," said Graves, "Search the place."

Five more men came in, each heavily armed with assault rifles and body armour. Oliver glanced down at the knives in front of him. He only had four…

"There is no girl here," repeated Oliver with more vigour, but just as he did, the bedroom door opened and Kara stepped out, causing Oliver to grimace.

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned at the sight of the armed men in the hut.

"Oh, there you are, Miss El," said Graves enthusiastically, "I assume you're related to him, right?"

Kara's heart skipped a beat. "I'm not a Miss El, I'm Kara Danvers," she replied in vain. Knowing that this was eventually going to get ugly, Oliver discreetly slid the knives into his pockets before stepping in front of Kara.

"So that's the name you go by. Lex will appreciate that bit of info."

"You clearly have the wrong person," repeated Oliver. "Leave now, and we won't say anything to the authorities."

"You're getting on my nerves, Pretty Boy," said Graves. He turned to one of the men next to him, "Shoot him."

With the man's weapon already raised, the gun fired before Oliver had time to reach for a knife.

It all occurred in slow motion for Kara. She had to make a choice now. Let Oliver die, or save him and give up her secret in the process. It was a no-brainer for her. She pulled Oliver back, stepping in front of him as she raised her left hand to catch the bullet that was now travelling towards her.

But she didn't…

By the time she realized that the tip of the bullet was green, it was already too late. It ripped through her hand before embedding itself in the left side of her chest. Slumping to the floor, the kryptonite already began to poison her as she suddenly found it hard to bring air to her lungs. She began choking and gasping.

Oliver had no idea how she'd managed to move in front of him so fast. "Kara!" he exclaimed, kneeling next to her. He frowned, shocked at how her veins were now glowing green. "What the hell have you done to her?!" he screamed at Graves.

"You really have no idea who she is, do you?" asked Graves, mocking him.

Seeing Kara hurt and in pain sparked a very primal rage in Oliver. There was no way that he was going to let them leave with her. "You've just made a very serious mistake," he growled.

He swiftly pulled out a knife before thrusting it towards Graves. It penetrated his throat, his body dropping to the floor quickly. The remaining three knives were thrown in less than a second, taking out three of the other men. Oliver leapt forward as he threw them, now close enough that the remaining two men didn't have enough space to fire their weapons at him. He initiated a fist fight.

The indescribable pain surging through Kara's entire body diminished her senses, but she still had sufficient vision to see Oliver fighting. First watching him propel knives into throats, she now watched as he engaged the remaining two men. He fought with extraordinary skill, avoiding their strikes while landing his own. But not just with skill. With ruthless brutality. Frightening aggression.

She'd stay immobilized if the bullet remained in her chest. Her only chance to recover would be to take it out. She brought her uninjured hand up to her chest, wailing as she reached in to the wound. She almost lost consciousness from the horrifying pain and grotesque feeling of her fingers digging into her own flesh. They wiggled around, eventually finding the bullet and pulling it out. With her little strength, she threw it as far away from her body as she could. She rose to her feet after a few seconds, having regained some strength.

Oliver had already took out one of the mercenaries. Only one remained in front of him now. They put up a good fight, but he was far too skilled and slick for them as he spun around the man, wrapping his arm over his neck and pulling him down.

"Oliver," said Kara meekly.

But his arms had already tensed, and the snap of the man's neck was sickeningly loud before Oliver let his lifeless body drop to the floor. He turned to face Kara, dejected from the petrified look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Kara. I told you that I'm not who you think I am."

A body rose from behind Oliver, and Kara spotted a pistol in the man's hand.

Oliver heard his movements, spinning around and reflexively ducking to avoid any bullets. With Oliver out of the way, Kara saw her opportunity and blasted her heat vision into his chest. Weakened, it only burnt him, but it caused enough pain for him to drop the pistol and stumble back. Oliver quickly picked up the pistol, firing a single shot into his head, killing him.

Bewildered at what he'd just seen, he turned back to face Kara, her eyes still glowing blue before reverting to normal.

"Neither am I," she said. Shocked beyond belief, Oliver could only stare at her, unable to propel any words out of his mouth.