A/N: It's been about 9 months since I've updated, and for that I apologize. A couple of things played a part in that, but the main reason it took me this long was because I was lost in where I was going with telling Jakes past. I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to properly convey what happened in the flashbacks. The first three were decent, but after re-reading/editing them for mistakes and changes ( turns out I'm hopeless in finding a beta as well ) I realized how... bare they were. I knew where I wanted to take things, but my mind would go blank on mapping out how to get there. I still haven't 100% decided on the HOW. But as I continue this journey of writing Jake, and how he specifically fits in with the Arrowverse, I've come to realize something important about myself.
I will continue to make mistakes, and I may regret some of them. There will be plot holes in this fic that I won't see until the last minute. There will be parts that are not so great, and others that are written well. I'm not a perfect writer, no matter how hard I try, and this story won't be either. But I'll keep writing it anyway, because I love every minute of it. I enjoy writing Jake. I like crafting the crazy -and at times, unrealistic- idea I have that is HIS story.
A few more things:
1. After reading recent reviews, I realized another flaw of the flashbacks. They WERE'NT in the perfect order I thought they were in. *facepalms.*
2. I've also come to realize how difficult it is to translate a show to paper. A television show can show more of what happens without making the story look disjointed. This is another reason why I'm struggling with the flashbacks. I can't show everything. Maybe- and this is just a thought- I could alternate between Jake AND Maia once she's introduced into the present. Of course, everything would be seen from her point of view like I've done so far with Jake. I also could alternate between them using the journal I introduced in chapter 5. But still, I'd love a another opinion.
3. From now on, when describing Maia, I won't use "Filipina-Brazilian" anymore. That is why it's edited out of the previous chapters. It's who she identifies as, but I want to show it. Not tell it.
4. I made a final change to Jakes pair of blades, switching out the Kampalan for the Ginunting. I also added dual pistols to his arsenal, which will be seen in action soon. More weapons will be added as the story progresses.
5. In light of Arrow concluding this fall, I've decided that my story will be something akin to an alternate version of S4-S7. Some storylines will be the same, some won't. But this way, I'll try to erase/change some of the canon storylines I didn't enjoy. And, it will be easier for me to write without feeling the need to include everything.
That's all I've got for now! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
OTPGalore19
:)
Jake gawked at the well dressed man in front of him. An all in one tidal wave of confusion, anger, and shock overwhelmed him. He felt dizzy, the sounds around him fading into a low hum once they reached his ears. They blurred together and meshed into persistent murmurs, forcing him to momentarily zone out of his present predicament.
"I needed Nigel alive," he stated after zoning back in, irritation laced within his tone.
The faintest of smirks found its way along the line of Damien's lips.
"Mr. Lima was only a plague to himself, to you, and this world. Besides, he betrayed your trust before. What made you think he was being truthful while he pleaded for his life?" The well dressed man paused, gesturing to the deceased Brazilian with his free hand.
"Deep down, you knew his promises were possible lies. You knew that he didn't have any information regarding your father's murder. It was only a matter of time before the "Ghost" claimed his life."
Jake glared, his deep blue eyes flashed in anger for a bit before simmering to ground level.
"What the hell do you want?" He questioned stiffly, clenching his jaw.
"It's quite simple, actually. I want what's best for my daughter," Damien stated, resuming his cold stature.
Resisting his urge to scoff, Jake raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"What's best for her? You don't even know her."
"That's where you come in, Mr. Hawthorne," Damien stepped closer toward a frozen Jake.
"Maia still loves you. Three months apart doesn't change that fact. No matter how much she's tried to hide it. That unwavering loyalty was not a trait she received from her... mother," his ice blue eyes had softened once again before hardening into a menacing stare.
"Her search for Mr. Garmudela led her to Coast City, the current residence of Jose Silva."
When the all too familiar name hit his ears, Jake clenched his jaw. He was suddenly taken back to some of the worst moments of his life. Images of barbed wire and his twisted smile escaped from the box it was discarded in, triggering him and fueling his burning hot rage. It filled his core in seconds as he recalled the man who took part in the pain he had endured.
"Channel that anger. That raw, white hot rage, and use it to take Mr. Silva's life," Damien stated, authority spilling from his voice as he continued inching closer to an aggravated Jake.
"Become the Ghost, Mr. Hawthorne. And then," he reached forward to grab a hold of the Damascus Steel pendant that was tucked behind the front of Jake's hoodie, his tight grip pulling the necklace toward himself, "Convince my daughter to return with you. Bring her home."
Damien backed away, his steps were slow as he made a move to leave. However, his movements were suddenly reduced to a pause, and he turned to face Jake with his forefinger raised, "One more thing, and forgive me for my genuine curiosity... Why do you seek vengeance from a ghost?"
His question echoed through the stiff air as, suddenly, the lights that had previously illuminated the warehouse flickered. Soon, they ceased, and the well dressed man was nowhere in sight. As if he had vanished into thin air.
Jake stood there for what felt like hours, frozen as his mind continued its reeling cycle of processing what had just happened. His gaze eventually landed on the still corpse of Nigel, who stared back at him with unmoving hazel eyes. He should have felt remorse for his untimely death, but he didn't. He couldn't. Not after he had given him his trust, his friendship, and was instead repaid with betrayal.
He turned his head to the ground, spotting his butterfly knife. With narrowed eyes and a frustrated huff, he leaned forward and snatched it from its place on the concrete floor. Then, he found himself walking toward Nigel, his feet moving before he could even think about it. He stopped in front of him, his narrowed eyes scanning for the phone that was always on him. The only hope in finding what he needed.
Jake found the device underneath the shadow of Nigel's hovered hand, which had been discarded into the opened crate of cocaine. He pulled back his left arm through his hoodie, the sleeve fully covering his fingers as he reached to grab the phone. Blinking, he discarded it into the pocket of his joggers and prepared to do the same with the knife in his other hand. However, once his gaze landed on the blade, his thoughts drift over to Darhk, halting any further actions.
Another wave of emotion hit him, but was instead filled with anger. It's hot flames filled him as he recalled Darhk's words, and he focused on that feeling for what came next. He welcomed it as fuel for a battle he needed to finish.
It was time for the Ghost to claim another life.
Arrowcave
Laurel watched Constantine closely, her anxious gray eyes following each step he took in a prepping Sara's body for the ritual. Although her gaze was focused on the blonde Brit closely as he moved about, her mind was clouded with thoughts of the events that had transpired almost two hours ago. The blonde vigilante had regrettably pulled a gun on her own sister in an attempt to put her out of her misery. And, if it wasn't for the bold actions of Jake, everything the Lazarus Pit had done to bring Sara back would've been wasted. She was almost certain of this.
His unwavering determination in Sara had surprised Laurel at first. However, that shock had soon worn off and an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia had taken its place. And soon, she had begun to realize why his loyalty had felt so familiar to her.
The blonde had always known him to be fiercely protective. Whether it was herself whenever Oliver would stop by her apartment for a "visit", or Thea whenever they'd roam the city together. He would always be there, like an alpha looking after members of his pack. It was a trait that was quite annoying back then, but she soon had come to discover its charm over time. And now, she found herself appreciating that part of him more.
Her faith in Jake and the man he could become had been restored after he relentlessly advocated for Sara's life. She still believed in him, and she still loved him. The notes she found in the cave and the suspicions from her father that suggested he was a murderer didn't matter to her after that. Her heart told her that the young man she had come to see as a little brother was still good, despite all of the darkness that surrounded him.
Laurel fought tooth and nail to bring her sister back. And no matter what it took, she was going to do the same with Jake.
"Constantine is a friend, and a great sorcerer. He knows what he's doing," Oliver told the eldest Lance sister, forcing her to turn to him as he moved to stand beside her.
"We'll get Sara back," he reassured her.
Laurel gave him a slight nod, glancing towards the unconscious form of her sister.
She cleared her throat, bowing her head down as she turned her attention toward the ground, "I went too far at the hospital."
"You made solid points, specifically with Jake," Oliver conceded, crossing his arms.
Laurel's head snapped up abruptly in shock before turning toward the former billionaire. Her confused gray eyes bore into his electric blue ones, prompting him to elaborate.
"You should have been the first person to know as soon as I got a hold of Lonnie's footage. I should of told you what was going on with Jake the moment I knew something was wrong, and I didn't."
Since she was still in shock at Oliver's revelation, at his unexpected choice of words, Laurel continued to eyeball him in response. Except now, one of her blonde eyebrows were raised in skepticism.
"Oliver Queen, admitting he's wrong? Never thought I'd see the day," she teased, an amused scoff escaping her.
The corners of the billionaires lips turned up a bit, forming into a faint but amused smile at her quip. Soon, it disappeared altogether, and his expression retreated back into its serious demeanor.
"Jake doesn't need me, he isn't my responsibility. Which is why I am passing his investigation on to you. Everything we have on him is yours. But, if this escalates, and he threatens you or Thea in any way, I will step in. Without hesitation," he told her, his eyes hardening just a bit.
"It won't come to that," Laurel replied defiantly, shaking her head.
A small beat of silence had settled between the two, until Laurel turned to Oliver again, her expression questioning, "What about Thea?"
Oliver sighed, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced over to his sister. She was across from him, standing off toward the side by Felicity and her monitors.
"She needs to hear it from him."
"I know," she agreed, but shook her head, "But I'm talking about her wanting to tell Jake what she does to keep this city safe. What we do."
Oliver considered her words for a few moments before he replied, his jaw clenching as his thoughts of their situation intensified, "Jake is reckless. It doesn't matter if he hears it from Thea, or discovers it on his own. This is about trust. He may have yours and Thea's, but he hasn't earned mine."
Laurel looked as if she was going to protest, but his next words rendered her speechless before she could even utter a response.
"The man he became in Brazil... No matter how hard you push him in the right direction, he decides his own path. He has to want help, Laurel. You can't force it on him," Oliver looked her right in the eye as he said this, making sure she understood every word.
She did, confirming it with a slow but firm nod. Deep down, she believed he was right. And yet, it didn't prevent the truth from hurting any less.
"Not to interrupt your chatter, mate. But I'm ready to get this show on the road," Constantine called out to them, rubbing his hands together.
Laurel exchanged a look with Oliver, who gave her a reassuring nod before they made their way over to the rest of the group.
The following day, early afternoon...
Parked out by the side of his apartment complex, Jake leaned into the driver seat of his custom Boss 429 and reached for the Frappuccino situated between his legs. He took a long sip and closed his eyes, seeping in the sensation of the cold sliding down his throat. The feeling was calming, coupled with the indie rock humming from the stereo. He needed this, a moment to zone out of his own mind. To ignore all of his buzzing thoughts, and forget about the feelings that overwhelmed his core.
In the past, he wasn't really the type to dwell on the misfortunes in his life. He would work to fix what was wrong instead of complaining, which made him focus on the task at hand. If what was wrong couldn't be fixed, he would push through and move on. Or, if his feelings were too extreme, he would exert that energy into physical activity: baseball in the Spring, track in the Fall, and Thai boxing to fill in the gaps.
That was his go-to approach, and it had seemed like a solid way to handle things. However, since his father's untimely demise and recent events, he found himself unable to keep his feelings at bay. Or more specifically, his mixed emotions that pertained to yesterday's events.
The day started off average for the most part, at least from Jake's perspective. He had woken up tired and sore from his injuries, like usual. A portion of his thoughts were of Brazil and Maia, like usual. The only "new" occurrence that took place was him accessing his case of equipment, which hadn't been opened in months. Seeing the blades he used to shed blood brought out a darkness in him that he had been trying to subdue. Luckily, it had worked for a bit, with the help of Thea.
His afternoon had been more than average after he agreed to meet with her. Talking with her, hell, just being around her was enough to make his day. Things between them felt familiar, unchanged. Like old times, when they were just wild teenagers, desperate for anything that took their minds off of their grievances. It was strange how easy it was to follow that same pattern, considering how long it had been since Jake last saw her. He expected concern from her, anger. Instead, there was only acceptance, and a pinch of awkwardness that had melted away without notice. Everything that followed was only mixed sensations of nostalgia and contentment.
Jake was familiar enough with the feeling to know why it felt so comfortable. She was one of the best parts of his old self, and it felt amazing to be that for a few hours. To reminisce, submerge into those times when he was happy. When life was less complicated and more grounded, despite the suffocating grief. A part of him wished things could stay that way, but he wasn't naïve. He knew he was a different person now, using his pain as a weapon to fend off anyone who posed a threat. And if, at any point, he were to forget that aspect of himself, he had two unexpected meetings to remind him of those changes.
One was Sara's impromptu interruption, which terrified him and made him hopeful at the same time. The other, more mind boggling event was a revelation that made his brain go into overdrive.
A man in charge of an elite organization, which was suspected in the city's recent attacks, shared his ex's DNA. Damien Darhk... was Maia's father.
In case he had forgotten within the last nine hours, he had received a reminder from who he had reasonably assumed was Darhk. It was in the form of a text from an unknown number. Attached was a message and a map with three locations Maia was last seen in within the past few days: an auto repair shop, a small warehouse by the docks, and a nightclub in the downtown area. He had skimmed over each of their names briefly after a quick shower and began packing a bag once his mother left for work.
Jake still couldn't fully wrap his mind around his encounter with him. However, fortunately for him, understanding everything was not his first priority. Darhk was dangerous, sure. He had the power to shake up the scattered pieces of his life, and put them together in his own image. However, his sketchy presence in Star City was not an immediate threat. Whatever he had in his cards couldn't be accomplished overnight, which gave Jake the leeway to focus on seeing Maia again, which was overwhelming.
Before he left Brazil, things between them were... complicated. His relationship with her had never been simple to begin with, or normal for that matter. For one, their beginning wasn't exactly slow paced. Part of that was the lifestyle they followed, working for a notorious drug dealer.
Secondly, they were nearly identical in terms of the way they approached intimacy. Maia was just as expressive as Jake was, preferring to communicate with actions rather than words. This lead into not having a concrete label for what they were doing, or who they were to each other. A title just didn't seem to fit them, so they never tried to simplify what had already seemed in place.
Though it was reckless, this method of navigating their relationship had worked steadily for awhile. That was, until Phillippe's influence over Jake took a sharp turn for the worst. For months, he had consumed the shit that had been fed to him, most of which pertained to his father's death. He was too focused on finding out what really happened, on earning that information for his work in the gang, that he didn't realize that he was losing himself along the way.
It got to the point where it wasn't just about survival for him anymore. Hell, it wasn't even about avenging his father. The longer he stayed in the survivor mentality thrust upon him, the more it became a part of who he was. He wanted to strengthen himself so he never had to worry about not making it out alive. And when he climbed to the top, oblivious and not caring about what he did to get there, he ended up hurting Maia.
She did everything she could to steer him away from that path. However, her warnings and opinions were stubbornly dismissed, prompting the start of their fractured relationship. The arguments they had gotten into had only added fuel to their growing fire, which matched the intensity of everything around them. And the consequences of Jake's involvement were white hot upon impact, searing the fabric of their romance.
Although, that wasn't the worst part of it. Hurting her had hurt Jake, of course. But it didn't hurt him as much as it did when he broke a vow he had made to her indirectly. It didn't drive him to fight as hard as he did to survive, and fix what was broken.
With a rough exhale, Jake opened his eyes, the blinding light from the afternoon sun greeting him through the windshield. Once his sight adjusted to the brightness, his gaze had immediately landed on the necklace around his neck. His left hand had absentmindedly grabbed a hold of the arrowhead-shaped pendant, its rough edges poking into his palm as his grip tightened around it.
July, 2012
Ilha Grande, Brazil
"I don't think you're old man likes me," Jake muttered, his words slicing through the silence as he helped Maia clear the dinner table. His eyebrows were knitted together thoughtfully, and his tone held a hint of humor despite the slight frown his lips curled into.
It had been about a half an hour since he and Maia arrived at her grandfather's house; a comfortable two floor cabin in the woodlands of Ilha Grande. They were in a space that conjoined the kitchen and dining room, cleaning up the leftovers from the meal that had been prepared.
Design wise, the cabin itself was pretty nondescript, both the exterior and interior consisting of only iron wood and rock. Nothing too extravagant, and nothing with bright and lively colors. Same for the small shack resting a distance behind it, which looked akin to a tool shed kept in the back of a house. Yet, there was something beautiful about how they simply fit with the lush green atmosphere. Despite this, however, what really stood out to Jake were the origins of its construction.
About four decades ago, after serving his two four-year tours in the Brazilian Armed Forces, Rafael Cruz purchased a few acres of land not too far from the marketplace. With that space, he built a house for Maia's grandmother and their daughter, who was born not too long after. To further support his new family, he had learned the trade of bladesmithing and opened a forge in Vila do Abraão; the islands main village, and the nearest settlement.
Over two decades later, Maia was born, and a fraction of her life had resided there ever since. With the man who raised her, loved her unconditionally. She vowed to stay by his side, even after she moved to the city in search of her own opportunities. Her visits were short when she started working for Phillippe, and only sufficed to deliver his kidney medication. But when her birthday rolled around the corner every year, she made sure she had the day to spend with him. No matter how long she had to bargain with the drug lord.
Jake admired her loyalty towards her family, and he had been looking forward to meeting the man who had instilled that value. That was, until he actually faced him, and was met with a coldness he had never seen in person. Which was kind of strange, considering its contrast to how warm he was when he saw Maia. Hell, his whole face lit up like Fourth of July fireworks when she stepped into the threshold of the cabin.
But when Jake followed her in, it was like a cold wind had blown by, snatching the light of a lit candle along with it. That tension lingered as they ate supper, and he focused more on his plate of barbecue while Maia held a conversation with her grandfather in Portuguese. She had been teaching Jake the basics of the language, so he understood a handful of words exchanged. However, being familiar with the language didn't dull the awkwardness he felt. In fact, it had only increased the sensation tenfold.
His past relationships never made it to the "Meet the Father" stage, so a part of him just assumed this was a normal part of the experience. A bump in the road that would flatten over time. But the other part that had usually took into account his gut feeling felt like there was something else underneath the surface. And he was too stubborn to let it go without attempting to solve the issue.
"That's funny, because I don't think he likes most people," Maia retorted with a snort, standing beside the chair her grandfather had sat in.
She was balancing a dirty plate and a pair of glasses in her hand as she reached for the bottle of Cachaça. As soon as her forefinger and thumb latched around the neck, it was lifted off of the wooden surface; the dark liquid sloshing around inside at the sudden movement.
Her gaze met Jakes briefly before she turned toward the kitchen behind her, a soft sigh escaping her when she took notice of his genuine expression, "I wouldn't take it personally. He's always been reserved."
"Reserved? That's not the way I would describe staring at someone like you want to skin them alive," he deadpanned, standing near his seat from across the table. He watched her with an incredulous look as she placed both the bottle of alcohol and the dirty dishes by the sink.
Maia turned back to Jake, her expression unreadable as she stared him in the eye. She was silent as she did this, until her features suddenly hardened in realization, "You care."
Jake blinked, taken aback as he sensed their banter shifting to serious, "Why wouldn't I?"
She hesitated, avoiding his gaze for a moment before she finally spoke, her words a soft murmur, "I wasn't expecting this."
Maia said it like she was speaking to herself, and he was about to ask her to explain before she continued.
"Things were good between me and my grandfather, even though he didn't want me to leave the island. He was fine when I left, and then he fainted. And the doctor told him he had kidney disease," her voice quivered slightly, "His meds weren't cheap, and we were running low on cash, so I- I went to Phillippe. He was offering, and I knew he wasn't gonna make it easy, but I needed it. And then you.. you're not supposed to care Jake. That's just making this harder."
Jake stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise as if he had just been slapped in the face. His mouth shifted into another frown as she rambled on. But the lines were firmer this time, solidifying his feelings of dejection and confusion.
"Whatever's happening between us can't interfere with my job. Without his meds, he could get worse and we can't afford dialysis-"
"Hey, I get it," Jake interrupted, shaking his head as he crossed over the threshold to stand in front of her, "This is important. I'm not the only one who needs Phillippe. I get it," he repeated, looking her in the eye as he reached out to her.
His thumb made contact with her cheek, and her ocean eyes shot up to his face as he began caressing her soft sun-kissed skin.
"And like it or not, I give a damn. Okay? So don't ask me not to," he muttered softly, looking her in the eyes.
Maia sighed, relenting against his touch as she slowly let go of the tension in her muscles. She let her eyes flutter shut as she felt him crashing against her, his large arms wrapping around her small frame.
They stood like that for a few moments, silently indulging in each other's company. However, at the sudden sound of wood creaking, they pulled apart from each other. Jake was the first to turn toward the source of the noise, and he gulped at the sight of Maia's grandfather staring back at him.
Surprisingly, the middle aged man wasn't glaring daggers at him like he did prior. His gaze still held its heat, but the flames were controlled as he measured the young man before him with mapel brown eyes. They lingered for a little longer before migrating to Maia, softening as soon as they landed on her.
His steps were slow as he walked into the kitchen, only stopping a good distance in front of the pair. One hand held a drawstring pouch. The other held something behind his back, but Jake couldn't tell what it was until his right arm came into view, revealing two sheathed blades. They were different lengths, one was less than half of the bigger blade in feet.
"Isso ficará ótimo com seu arco, minha vida," he gave his granddaughter a knowing smile, his hoarse accented voice filling the room.
She slipped free from Jake's grasp, her stunned expression melting into excitement as she stepped forward. Her eyes danced with mischief as she reached for the smaller one. It was released from its scabbard with a crisp scrape of steel, the sound hitting like music to her ears.
With practiced ease, Maia slid the dagger back into its sheath and placed it in a cleared space on the table before she moved onto the larger blade and repeated the pattern.
"It's beautiful, papai," she beamed, trailing a finger over the base of the sturdy steel.
Her grandfather only hummed in response, and she turned to meet his gaze. Before she could find his eyes, however, she found something else along the way. The pouch in his grasp was empty, it's item laying flat against its fabric, rendering her frozen in her stance.
Jake, who was watching the ordeal with narrowed eyes, could sense that something was wrong. Maia was quiet- so unusually quiet. She only moved to place the sword by its counterpart, her hands shaky as she let it slip from her grasp. A thought of intervening crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside as heard her grandfather utter the words, "She would want you to have this."
He could have sworn seeing the older man's eyes glaze over as he stood at his full height and leaned in, planting a chaste kiss to Maia's forehead.
Pulling away, he whispered something to her before taking a step back, his gaze finding Jake again, "You know how to use a blade, garoto?"
Jake hesitated, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment.
"Depends on how you want me to use it," he decided on with a shrug, glancing over to Maia as she turned back around.
Though, she didn't look at him. The necklace clenched in her left hand had her undivided attention. A green, frog-shaped stone hung from the side of her hand as she stared it down with an unreadable expression. Her other hand hovered over the Damascus steel pendant around her neck.
Raphael eyed him silently for a few moments before he huffed, "Good enough. I need eh... how do you Americans put it? Test subject?"
That snapped Maia out of her trance. She turned to Jake, fighting the urge to smirk as he gave her a wide-eyed look, "I'm sure he means assistant."
He didn't look convinced, however, because there was that mischievous glint in her ocean eyes.
"They are new blades that need testing. I need extra hands, and my neta needs a break from hovering over me," Raphael clarified, his tone switching to amused at the last bit, and his gaze darted over to Maia as she scoffed good-naturedly.
His eyes returned to Jake, measuring him closely. They were expectant, and made up from the lack of emotion in his expression.
Jake was still a bit wary of the request. He felt out of his element, but it wasn't a new feeling. It had been like this since he came to Brazil. He was thrown out of his comfort almost everyday, and he had adjusted just fine. Besides, this was minuscule compared to what Phillippe put him through. And he didn't feel like messing up what was going on with Maia by poking the hornet's nest.
She was a source of light in new life. He missed his mother and Laurel. He missed Thea and their good times. But they were all elements of his life old life- a part of his past when times where simpler. He needed to focus on the present, no matter how much it stung. He needed closure for his father, and his unjustified murder. And, though it was unexpected, Maia was a part of that. She was the light he needed more of if he was going to survive this dangerous path.
"Sure, Mr. Cruz. I'm happy to help," Jake finally replied, reaffirming his answer with a resolute nod.
Raphael blinked, nodding as well. Though, it was less noticeable.
"Follow me, then," was all he said as he crossed the room, his steps slow and a bit stiff as he walked over to the patio door.
The sound of it sliding opening and then closing alerted them of his departure. Before Jake made a move to leave as well, he turned to Maia, who stood beside the table with the new necklace still in her grasp.
"You okay?" He asked her, his hand reaching out like a snake to rest over the small of her back.
Maia lifted her head up at him, tilting it sideways as she met his concerned eyes.
"Yeah I'm fine. I just..." she hesitated, glancing down to the necklace as she smoothed her thumb over the green stone, "This was my mom's. I've seen her wear it before, but I was too young to know what it was. Though, I remember how distinct the color was, and the shape. I just got hit with nostalgia. That's all."
He wasn't sold on her excuse, so she shot him a look, "My grandfather doesn't like to wait. Go before he hurts himself overworking, and I blame you."
Jake's bottom lip curled over his front as he attempted his best sad puppy face. He only received a glare and a light shove against his chest, so he took a step back, raising his hands in surrender.
"Alright, fair enough. But just so you know," he began with a suggestive smirk, the space between them widening, "I like your punishments."
He opened the screen door so fast that he barely saw the way her cheeks flushed, or how quickly she had reached for her dagger. She didn't chase after him, but the image crossed his mind, making his lips curl up in amusement.
His smile melted away, his expression shifting to neutral as he took in the sight of what was in front of him. The shack was opened wide, and six cutting dummies were scattered about in the grass. They were all different in both material and size, but he recognized the three tatami stands just by glancing at them. Immediately, he was reminded of when he was younger, and Benji had taken him to his first martial arts class. He remembered being in awe as he watched his sensei slice through the rolled up straw mat.
"You move slow for one of Phillippe's drug runners, garoto."
Jake turned to his far left at the voice, and he found Maia's grandfather shooting him a glance from where he stood beside a picnic table. The tabletop was covered with the blades needing testing.
"The cabin's making it hard for me to leave my past behind. Reminds me of my uncle," was Jake's honest reply, the sun hot against him as he finally began making his descent down the small stack of steps.
His feet hit the thick green grass, but they kept moving as he trekked further into the backyard, passing the small field of cutting dummies.
The older man didn't offer a reply when he joined him, standing across from the table, so he spoke up again, "And how'd you know I moved drugs?"
Raphael laid down another blade with a rough exhale, the bags underneath his eyes scrunching together as they began to narrow, "You smell like weed. Now, so does my home."
One of Jake's eyebrows quirked up, and he pulled the front of his shirt up over his nose. He sniffed the dark fabric a couple of times; and after discovering that the article of clothing did indeed have a musky odor, he let it slip back down with a shrug.
"Yeah, well, I won't have to shove sealed packs of coke down my throat anymore," he paused, gagging at the memories of walking through security with pounds of drugs in his stomach before he continued, "He promoted me."
Once again, the wind's whistles and the cricket's chirps were the only response Jake received. Although this time, the sounds were accompanied by footsteps, and he looked up to find the older man wordlessly walking toward the shack.
Assuming the conversation was over, Jake decided to get a closer look of the blades, his narrowed eyes gazing down to the table. A lot of them were shaped like knives and daggers, with just a few looking long enough to suffice as a sword. The majority of them also appeared to be made out of regular steel, but there was one near the middle that caught his attention.
The wooden handle faced him, and it didn't look too big, so he reached for it with a calloused hand. His fingers latched tightly around the grip as he lifted it from the table and pulled it closer so he could inspect every detail.
It was a sword, but compared to the others, this one stood out like a sore thumb. The color of the steel blade wasn't the typical sterling silver. Instead, it resembled a pattern akin to the arrowhead Maia wore around her neck. Black and grey meshed together, forming swirls like the wavy grains of wood. It had also seemed to be curved as a whole, with both the top of the blade and the pommel of the handle bent downward.
"I don't care why you're here, working for a madman like Phillippe."
Raphael's hoarse voice cut through his focus, and he turned around to find him staring back at him with a sharp glare. A blade was in his hand, which looked thin enough to be a machete. But it was curved like a boomerang, and it was made with the same steel of the blade Jake was wielding.
"If she gets hurt, and I find out you were involved in any way, I will slit your throat and feed you to the cães vadios," the older man continued, lifting his weapon.
Jake watched as it stopped at his face, it's sharp tip pointing toward him before his gaze found Raphael again, his expression hardening, "That won't happen."
"Can you promise this?" Was his immediate reply, firing it off with more intensity than the last words he had spoken.
Jake didn't hesitate however, and he replied without blinking, "Yeah. But I would rather show you."
They stood like that for a few minutes as Raphael eyed him, the heat radiating from his gaze relentless. Finally, it cooled down, his facial expression returning to neutral as the blade in his hand fell back to his side.
His mapel brown eyes fell toward the sword in Jake's hand, and he hummed in approval, "Ginunting's a fine weapon. Used one during the Cold War, but it was carbon steel," he paused, nodding back to the group of testing dummies, "Lets see how it does in Damascus."
Raphael turned to walk without waiting for Jake, but he followed quickly, staying behind and letting the older man lead him.
Present Day
A sudden round of repetitive taps against the driver seat window startled Jake out of his thoughts, and he reacted instinctively. The hand clutching his Damascus steel pendant had migrated over and slid effortlessly into the denim pocket of his jeans, his fingertips brushing over the small handle of his butterfly knife.
He turned toward the source, and exhaled a breath, quickly removing his hand from his jean pocket. Relief immediately replaced his paranoia as his gaze found Thea, who stood outside of the drivers seat door with her purse hanging from one shoulder. Her feet were firmly planted against the concrete of the sidewalk.
She eyed him with a questioning stare as he set aside his coffee, placing it inside the cup holder adjacent to his outer thigh. Afterwards, he moved to push a button down, jump starting the glass panel's descent inside the driver seat door.
"How long have you been standing there?" Jake asked her as he breathed, his eyes still wide open in surprise at her sudden appearance.
"Just got here," Thea retorted, stepping closer to the window, "I wanted to check in. Make sure you were okay after all the craziness last night," she paused, giving him a once over, "You look tense."
"Oh, I'm just fine. My stress induced headache could never compare to your battle scars," he replied dryly, nodding as he glanced over to the bruising over her eye, which was still noticeable underneath the layer of makeup she wore, "Can't even compare it to what Sara's going through. How is she doing, by the way?"
"She's exhausted, but good. Laurel's taking care of her," she told Jake with a small smile, making him feel reassured.
He nodded once again and exhaled, releasing the breath he hadn't realized was held in. Then, he bit his upper lip and succumbed to the thoughts buzzing around in his mind. Several of those consisted of informing Thea about his sudden departure were on the frontlines, along with reassuring her of his return. He could break the news by telling her he was meeting up with an ex. Which, in his defense, wasn't really a lie. He was leaving to find her. Though, if anything, it was a vague truth painted over undisclosed details.
However, before he could even find the words to inform her of his temporary departure, his thoughts had absentmindedly shifted over to the night before. Specifically, the moment at Verdant, when he had advocated for Sara in front the Black Canary.
In front of Starling City's masked heroes.
It suddenly occurred to him that Thea, who had informed him of the game plan prior to his arrival, had to have known the group of vigilantes. Once Sara had been rendered unconscious, the youngest Queen had convinced him to go home, and insisted on staying behind. She claimed that she needed to stay behind and close up shop after Sara was taken for treatment. However, Jake had an inkling that there was something else going on.
He was too mentally exhausted last night to even question her about that hunch. Hell, he still felt as though his brain was going to explode from all the unanswered questions. At the moment, though, he had an opportunity to find out the answer to one of them.
"When were you gonna tell me you had Robin Hood on speed dial?" He asked her, cocking up his scarred eyebrow.
Thea blinked, taken aback by the abruptness of his question. She didn't answer him right away. Instead, she opted to stare at him for a few moments, her eyebrows knitting together as she thought of a response. There was no point in dodging the question, or giving him her best poker face and acting like she didn't know what he was talking about. Even if she wanted to lie to Jake- which she didn't- it wouldn't have worked. Not while he was looking at her like he used to whenever he knew she was keeping something from him.
His dark blue eyes... they were soft as they stared into her. Welcoming, but also determined and relentless in finding the answer he was seeking.
"You know, I was going to. But I apparently can't catch a break when it comes to interruptions," she decided on with a simple shrug, wanting to start the conversation off with a little humor. A tactic from Jake that had rubbed off on her.
"I noticed that," he deadpanned, the upward curve of his lips contradicting the sharp look he gave her, "But we weren't interrupted at Verdant, Queen. Not before Sara showed up, and not after. You had time."
Thea bit her bottom lip, her gaze darting away from Jake and migrating to the midnight black Mustang he resided in. While she pondered on her next words, she began analyzing almost every inch of the muscle car, starting with the hood. From there, her eyes moved toward the bobble head that decorated the dashboard. She lingered there for a few seconds, her expression softening as she recalled that the military themed souvenir was a gift from Benji.
Her lips parted slightly in preparation when she found her voice, and her emerald eyes finally landed in the backseat. She noticed the closed duffel bag situated in the center, but she was too focused on her reply to truly process its meaning.
"We have time now," she finally offered, a thoughtful look adorning her features as she gazed his way, "I have a couple hours before I need to head over to the campaign office. We could-" Thea paused, the steady beating of her heart halting in its tracks.
Again, her wide eyes found the backseat, and something clicked in her brain.
Jake picked up on her sudden silence, his expression softening, "Thea?"
"You're leaving," the brunette uttered breathlessly, inhaling a sharp breath.
The tone of her voice matched the level of sadness that corrupted her gaze, erasing any prior trace of contentment.
Jake froze as her words reached his ears, his eyes widening slightly before he turned toward to the back seat. He cursed inwardly as his gaze found the duffel bag, and he remembered why it was even there in the first place.
"It's only been a week, Jake," she continued, her arms meeting to cross over her chest, "You just got back, and now you want to leave? Again?"
His reply wasn't immediate. But when the words finally flowed out of his mouth, he turned to Thea. His deep blue eyes, which had averted away from her before, were raw with emotion. They pleaded with her to understand, and to trust in what he was telling her, "I don't want to leave, but there's something that I need to take care of. I will be gone, but only for the weekend."
His gaze remained locked onto her in an attempt to convey how much he meant what was said. They were meant to reassure her, but they only added to the jumbled doubts swirling around in her head. They were relentless, cutting through the image she had of him with a claim she was beginning to believe true: Jacob Hawthorne- her best friend, her rock in this unforgiving world- wouldn't always be by her side.
He wanted to leave after his father died and his grief was too much to bear. She understood that pain more than anyone, and had even voiced her own urge to leave after the Gambit's shipwreck. But Jake had been her reason to stay. He strong armed his way through her defenses and gave her a reason to stick around. He took the time to understand her. He saw through the spoiled brat who could go from buying out an entire mall one day, to spending half of her allowance on drugs the next afternoon.
He was her constant in a world where anything could happen as fast as the blink of an eye. While he was in her life, Thea believed that no matter how bad things got, he would be a text away. Ready with a destination to escape toward. Then, after three years of knowing him, his father had died of a homicide. He experienced what she felt when she found out her father had perished. And before she even began to repay him for being there for her, he left. He said his goodbyes, and disappeared without disclosing where he was going, or whether he would return.
He left her behind. And she had been naïve enough to think he wouldn't do it again.
Before she could stray further and get too caught up in her head, she shook it and closed her eyes. They stayed shut for a few seconds as she exhaled through her nose.
"How can I believe you?" she asked, more so to herself than to Jake, who looked like he was going to answer.
However, he averted his gaze, and nothing left his lips but a shaky sigh. As a result, her question had settled in the air between them. It was whisked away into the beats of wary silence, which was soon broken by her voice.
"You were gone, Jake. I didn't hear a thing from you after you left the first time. And now you expect me to trust that it won't happen again? That you'll come back?"
Jake felt the pain radiating from her tone as she spoke to him. He had hurt her, and it made him feel like the worst kind of person. However, that fact wasn't enough to sober him up. What really hurt was that, deep down, he knew she was right.
Along with his mother and Laurel, Thea wasn't aware of the journey he stumbled into after he left. She wasn't exposed to the man he became, or the things he did to survive. If she was, she would have known why he wanted to, but never reached out to her. She would have believed him instead of questioning his words.
Even though what had happened in Brazil was not a can of worms he ever wanted to open, he wasn't naïve enough to think those events were going to stay hidden forever. Especially not after his unexpected encounter with the Green Arrow. He at least thought he would have some time to come up with a way to explain everything. On his terms. But, as Thea stared at him, sad and disappointed, he realized that maybe it was time for her to know.
"You don't have any reason to believe me Queen. My track record on this isn't great, and I'm sorry for that. But I- my friend needs help. I have to be there to help her," Jake turned back to her, his eyes filled with all of the honesty he could muster.
Thea was silent as she held his gaze, her own softening gradually as she mulled over his words. They were sincere, and his tone was gentle like whenever he spoke about his loved ones. But this was a different kind of gentle, a rare softness used only for a girl who had managed to capture his attention.
Jake had dated a fair amount when he was younger, but those relationships never lasted long enough to even be considered official. The main, or more apparent reason, was their lack of electricity. The feeling that things were going to go somewhere. Or an emotion that bled into the words he spoke, and she could tell how he felt just by hearing them. Like the way he had talked about the girl he had met while he was away.
"Maia needs your help," she realized out loud, her eyes still on Jake as his expression shifted. The softness in his features instantly hardening at her words.
"She does," was his quick reply, and he gave her a lazy nod before avoiding her stare again.
Thea sighed in return, her breath silent as it joined the chilly afternoon air. He was still hiding something from her, and she hated it.
In her opinion, secrets were poison. They hid the truth, and were padlocked with lies and half truths. Her mother and her brother used them to keep things from her, despite their good intentions. It nearly destroyed what was left of her family, and she would be damned if she didn't try to stop it from wrecking another relationship.
"I could use another weekend getaway," she broke the silence, tracing a finger over the smooth exterior of the door.
Jake turned to her, his hard expression melting into a baffled look as his eyebrows shot up to meet his forehead, "What?"
"I'm coming with you," she stated like it was the most obvious answer, "You said she was like you. If that's true, and she's in real trouble, you can't just go alone without any backup. I can watch your back."
"Yeah? And who's gonna watch yours if shit hits the fan and we get separated?" He shot back with a pointed look.
She took a step back and gave him her own look in return, "I can take care of myself."
Jake let out an exasperated sigh, "Look, Thea I don't think-"
"I can't lose you again," she interrupted, her voice level raised an octave higher than usual, "And I can't just believe that you won't disappear again."
It was Thea's turn to sigh, though it was more breathless than Jake's, who grimaced at her response and swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat.
"Look, I want to help, but I don't have to come if you really don't want me to. I'll just call Laurel, and she could just get a GPS for the car," she finished quietly as she dipped her head down, suddenly taking an interest in the pair of vans sheltering her feet.
Jake turned away from her as well, favoring the sight of his steering wheel as another bout of silence filled the air. It felt more suffocating this time around, but he let it linger for a few moments, his eyes closing as he came to a decision. Soon, they opened, and another exhale escaped him before he reached for his door handle. He pressed a finger against one of the buttons on the keypad of controls, and the door guarding the passenger seat unlocked with an audible clicking noise.
Thea's head shot up from its lowered position at the sound, her expression questioning as she met his gaze again.
"I love Laurel, but I don't want her to worry about me. Sara needs her right now. And, if I'm being honest, I'd rather have you keeping tabs on me than an actual tracking device," Jake teased, his eyes glinting softly.
His words brought an amused smile out of the brunette, her face brightening as a warmth spread to her freckled cheeks.
She waited as a couple of cars passed them before crossing over to the other side and opening the door. Then, she slid effortlessly into the smooth leather seat, pulling her purse from her shoulder and letting it fall in her lap.
Jake leaned forward to turn the keys in the ignition. As a result, the classic car roared to life before dissolving into a fit of rumbling growls.
"Where are we headed?" Thea asked, a little too eager as she reached to fasten her seatbelt.
He did the same before shifting the gear to drive. Placing a hand on the wheel, he glanced her way before turning towards the street ahead, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Coast City."
Laurel's Apartment
Sara awoke with a jolt, shooting up from the bed. Panic filled her as her wide blue eyes surveyed the spare bedroom, but it began to dissolve as her gaze roamed over the beige walls. A familiar warmth washed over her, and she remembered where she was.
She was home. Or, at least, a place she recognized from a life that felt so far away. The warmth that had spread through her grew cold as she recalled her life before her abrupt and untimely demise: rides with Benji in his Mustang before they took a break and he enlisted, starting college, her affair with Oliver, the Gambit's shipwreck, Lian Yu, joining the League of Assassins. Her name was Ta-er al-Sahfer, and she was a survivor; someone who was willing to do anything and everything to survive.
Of course, she had attempted to assimilate back into society in the form of the The Canary. Tackling the crime that slithered in the dark depths of the night, while adjusting to being back and repairing her relationship with Laurel during the day. Under normal circumstances, she might have been able to thrive. But things got too complicated, and her skills were needed to defeat Slade Wilson. His act of terrorism was yet another example of her hometown being a beacon for hostile takeovers.
Sara exhaled softly and turned to the nightstand at her left. Her lips curled up slightly at the mug of coffee sitting near the edge, and her sense of smell was immediately drawn to its aroma. Sweet and comforting, just like hazelnut. It was a flavor she had associated with her sister, and the rare moments they had shared before their relationship ran its rocky course.
Absentmindedly, her gaze took notice of the cardboard box at her right as she reached for the mug, it's heat warming up her hand as she grabbed it. At a glance, the contents of the box looked familiar, just like everything around her. But she wasn't in a hurry to question it, and instead opted to take a sip of her coffee first. That small sip turned into big gulps as she realized she was thirsty, and she found herself draining almost half of the warm beverage before she finally stopped to take a breather.
She sighed, lowering the mug to her midsection as she turned to the box again. At the top, an item of clothing slouched over the edge as if someone had pulled it out and forgot to put it back. It's fabric was black, and she could see a group of golden letters crinkled together.
An H, a W, a T and an E...
Sara felt the muscles in her back stiffen suddenly as she realized who it belonged to. Blinking, she set aside her coffee and slid off of the bed. Her bare feet landed on the carpeted floor with a soft thud before they began shuffling across the room. Soon, they stopped in front of the box, firm in position.
She just stood there for minutes that felt like hours, her gaze focused on the baseball jersey. Jake's baseball jersey. Remembering that name made her recall the face it matched, and a swarm of memories overwhelmed her thoughts.
Compared to her rocky relationship with her sister, Sara got along with Jake like rum did with coke. She just... clicked with him in terms of personality, and found herself impressed at his antics more than she should have. He matched her so well- and at times rivaled her- in acts of rebellion that it only boosted his charm. That way, she couldn't be mad at him even if she wanted to. They had disagreements, sure. Some of which made her want to thank Laurel for putting up with her. But they never escalated or ran past their natural course.
He was the little brother she never had growing up, and she felt fortunate enough to have him in her life before everything changed. Before life put them through the ringer, and they came out on the other side as killers. It was a strange thought for Sara; to think of Jake as someone who was capable of that. However, it was something she had learned to accept as a survivor. That people changed, and could become something no one could ever imagine.
Sara had noticed his absence when she returned to Starling, clad in her black leather and signature blonde wig. Though, it didn't alarm her until Laurel had informed her of the circumstances. She was angry and heartbroken for Jake, but like her sister, she figured he would be fine. However, after defeating Slade and leaving her home once again to rejoin the League, she discovered how wrong she was.
It was one of the last missions she was sent on before she felt the sharp stab of arrows piercing her chest; the wind whipping past her when she fell from the rooftops, and her body slamming against the hard concrete before darkness took over. Sara remembered being confused when Ras had sent her to Brazil, tasked with killing a man who gained notoriety for killing an elder member. The location she had stumbled into was busy with a heated fight, but she only focused on finding her target. However, when she finally found him and went in for the kill, she was absolutely blindsided by Jake. He didn't hesitate in firing his gun upon sensing her presence. And she was too stunned by him to retaliate, so she only had enough time to dodge the spray of bullets and disappear from his view.
He was in her way; that alone was enough to warrant his death. She could of have fought long enough to subdue and kill him like she had been taught. Like she had been given permission to do if necessary. She was a killer, and yet, she didn't have the heart to take the life of someone she once loved.
A shaky breath escaped Sara's lips as she bent her knees and leaned over the box. Slowly, and almost hesitantly, her hands reached for the jersey. Her calloused fingers gripped onto the black polyester like a lifeline, and her eyes fluttered shut.
Somehow, from wherever she was while her body roamed rampant without her, she had heard his pleas to fight. To come back home.
Laurel guided her physically, bringing her back from the dead and helping her power through her demons so she could return. But it was the thought of seeing Jake again- of helping him conquer his darkness- that reclaimed her soul.
Coast City
Thea hummed softly along as she listened to the music from Jakes Walkman, it resting in her lap as she googled the locations he had given her. As she typed along to the beat, searching the last place Maia had been spotted in, she made a mental note to look for clothing store.
Once she joined Jake for the ride, they hit the road immediately, and she didn't have enough to time to stop by Laurel's for a change of clothes. Thea didn't really mind since Sara was there, and she didn't want to disturb her while she adjusted to being back. Besides, Jake had offered her his sweatshirt and a few t-shirts that wouldn't look too baggy on her. She had worn some of his clothes in the past, usually whenever they were together and she had forgotten her jacket. So she was more than fine with wearing them again.
Jake had finally slowed down when they entered the city four hours later, stopping by a local Chinese restaurant before settling in a nearby motel. He rented them a room for three nights; it was on the second floor, and it only had one bed since it was the cheaper one out of the two that were available. The sky was darkening into a shade of midnight black by the time they arrived, so Thea was the first to shower before they ate. After she finished, Jake went in, and she went straight for the laptop he had unpacked from his bag.
The youngest Queen stifled a yawn, her gaze darting away from the bright screen and to the bathroom door on her left. The music in her ears was low enough for her to hear the clinking of shower curtains, which told her he had just gotten out of the shower.
She exhaled, closing the laptop and leaning back into the king sized bed. Her emerald eyes fluttered shut, and she felt herself relax. She succumbed to the peaceful moment, and found her thoughts drifting off to Jake.
Coupled with listening to his collection of music (which usually consisted of 80s rock and 90s hip hop, but she was surprised to find some pop and a variety of EDM), wearing his sweatshirt overwhelmed her with familiarity. It was comforting, and made her want to smile. But it was also heart shattering, and made her want to cry. He wasn't the same charismatic dork she had ran into at one of her mother's charity galas, suffocating her with his boyish grins and bold remarks. He wasn't the same boy with black curls and eyes that were light and full of energy, despite their darker shade.
She knew he would change at some point. Hell, she was far from the same person she had been back then. She just wasn't expecting him to be so... distant. He had always been moderately introverted, keeping to himself sometimes instead of sharing his thoughts with her. When he did fill her in, he would always been truthful with her. Brutally honest, even. But since he had been back, she felt like he was holding back from her. And at times, she couldn't even read him well enough to figure out what was wrong. Deep down, she knew it had to do with him being gone the last few years. It hit her like a wave when he mentioned that he visited South America, and she had remembered the nasty thought that crept upon her. She did well in hiding it from him, but she couldn't fight it as it plagued her mind, making a part of her believe it was true. That maybe, just maybe, his prolonged time away involved Phillippe Garmudela. The man responsible for ruining his life.
Thea's peace was interrupted by a sharp creak, and she cracked an eye open to find Jake leaving the bathroom with a hand lost in his mop of navy curls and the other grasping his shampoo.
He glanced her way as he passed the bed, shooting off a smile as he shuffled toward his duffel bag; his covered toes sifting through the carpet.
She watched him lazily, both eyes readjusting to the lit room as he tossed the bottle of Axe into the bags opening. Once they did, her mouth opened as she was about to comment on his newfound taste in pop music. However, she froze before she could utter out the words, her gaze locking onto his right arm.
"When did you get a tattoo?" She asked as she slid off of the bed, removing the buds from her ears.
Jake turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down to his bare arm, "A couple months ago, why?"
Thea didn't offer a reply as she crossed the room and stood beside him, her gaze never leaving his arm. At a glance, the design appeared complex, with several objects connected yet separated into invisible columns. Some of them popped with color, bright reds and pinks that looked orange underneath the lighting of the bedroom. The others paled in comparison, marking the ivory skin of Jake's arm with black and grey.
Reaching out to grab his hand, she tugged the limb closer. Her touch was gentle, coaxing it to relax in her grasp as she scanned each detail of the tattoo; starting where it began above his wrist line. First was his father's SCPD badge, and her lips curled into a faint frown as she read over the engrained initials. Above it, her eyes found the caduceus symbol, which she was certain was a representation of his mother. The cycle continued as she analyzed the sleeve, her fingers running over what looked like an assortment of flowers and a cracked three-dimensional skull scattered between the sections she had just seen. Then, she moved onto a set of glinting dog tags, and an image of Benji's radiant smile crossed her mind. When her eyes lifted to the next object, however, she found herself attempting to place a name to it. She figured it was a flag of some sort, the center resembling a globe with a rhombus around it. But it looked like it had seen better days, tattered with several tears and holes.
"Y'know, if I thought getting a tattoo would attract this much attention, I would have gotten one sooner," Jake teased suddenly, disrupting the comfortable silence that had settled between them.
Thea was caught off guard, but she was able to resist the urge to snort and instead delivered a particularly sharp poke to the upper part of his arm. Afterward, she spared a glance at his face, which stared down at her with a sly smirk.
"You were a blank canvas before. And I've only seen you in sleeves since you've been back, so I just assumed it stayed that way," her gaze found another assortment of flowers below the half sleeve of his black v-neck, and she traced over the outline once more.
They were the same as the others she had seen; roses with its thorns alternating positions with the one skull and the surrounding objects, each petal and pointed thorn drawn with intricate detail. However, as her gaze swept over the whole design, she realized that the flowers were the only parts of the tattoo with color.
"Yeah, well it's not finished. My arm took awhile to heal, so I had to space out each appointment. I couldn't fit the last one in before I had to leave, but at least I have some time to figure out what I want for Sara and Laurel's piece," he informed softly as he slid the fabric up to the top of his shoulder, exposing the area of unmarked skin to the ventilated air.
"It's beautiful, Jake. Really," Thea told him after a moment, her voice a bit breathless as she tilted her head up to him.
Her heart fluttered when she found him staring at her softly, and she discovered he was closer than she remembered. The arm in her grasp was folded, his knuckles resting against her chest while serving as the only divider between them.
She bit her lip, glancing down to Jake's arm as she slowly released it from her grasp.
It fell back to rest beside his hip, but he remained in the same place. Thea stayed still as well, and they both avoided each other's gaze until he spoke.
"I'm glad you're here, Thea," he whispered gently, finding her face again.
She turned to him, her eyes widening as she met his gaze, which stared back at her with a level of intensity capable of making her melt right there.
"Of course," she somehow managed to whisper back, though it was a bit louder and rushed.
They held each other's gaze for another moment, and she could've sworn he was leaning further towards her before all of a sudden, his serious expression washed away just as fast as he had turned away from her.
Just like that, the electricity she had sensed in the air between them fell flat, and he trudged over to the bag of takeout resting on top of the tv stand.
Thea stood there stunned, watching his back as he removed their containers of fried rice. She almost didn't react in time as he turned to hand over her's with a grin before reaching for the television remote.
Jake rarely called her by her first name. When he did, he had always said it out of frustration or fear. Never with ease, like the way they had just flowed from his lips.
He was so nonchalant about it, which confused and frustrated her at the same time. What he said was so simple, and yet they carried meaning. It was something she couldn't recognize at that moment, but a part of her couldn't help but feel that this would change things between them.
A/N: What did you guys think of Jake's tattoo?
Also, here are all the translations for the Portuguese phrases/words in the flashback!
Isso ficará ótimo com seu arco, minha vida: This will look great with your bow, my life.
Papai: Dad
Garoto: Boy
Neta: Granddaughter
Cães vadios: Stray Dogs