DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters you might recognize in this fic. DC Comics, Warner Brothers, the CW, and a lot more people than I can possibly name here do and I am making no gains from this. I'm just borrowing them and I'll put them back when I'm finished, maybe a little the worse for wear, but I'll give them back. Please don't sue me.

Author's Note: This bunny bit me while I was watching Season 8 when Oliver started his downward spiral. It's obviously set in an AU, since none of this happened in canon. If AU stories offend you, then give this one a pass, okay?

Author's Note #2: My beloved AJ was helping me to RP this out, and helped me a great deal before her passing in March 2010. She was the driving force behind the bunny and my sounding board, my research partner, and so much more. This fic is therefore dedicated to her memory. I will always love you and miss you. Rest in peace, my darling.

Beta thanks go to Rick Berko, River, and Ithil-Valon. You guys have been terrific, and believe me, if there are any mistakes left, they're all totally mine. I take full credit for them.

And Lastly: HUGE thanks go to Rick and company for helping me research the best kind of liquor to use for this story. It was fun, wasn't it? *gryns* Thujone is the ingredient found in European blends of absinthe. To my knowledge, it's still illegal to include thujone in American absinthe. The stuff is so powerful that "one shot of this stuff will have you seeing green faeries in seconds," according to Rick's BF (a bartender). Unless you're a hardened alcoholic, of course. Then it takes minutes. *LOL*

Part Three

Oliver nodded but put out a hand to her. "Easy. Focus on me, okay?" If she could find a focal point maybe she could cut the input enough to stop the pain at least. And once they had found the source, he could teach her a little about shielding. What he remembered, anyway.

"Nice, Blondie, really nice," she murmured as she fought down the pure panic the boy was broadcasting. She found and focused on her companion's steady acceptance of her, marveling at it and trying not to think too hard about what it might mean. "But I can't shut this out, not completely. He's so scared, I have to find him, okay? He's hurt, and he's scared, and he thinks he's going to die. I have to find him, I have to stop that despair, okay? I have to. It'll kill me if I don't." She knew she wasn't making much sense but she had never felt anything so strong from just one person. "Please, help me find him. Help me before it's too late." She knew she was reacting to the terror reaching her and also that if she could focus on it without it overwhelming her, she might be able to save the boy. That it was a boy she didn't question; there was a masculine feel to the emotion, even if it was young. How she could tell, she was clueless, but she knew. "Please."

Oliver ached at her request, but finally nodded as he registered the desperation in her expression. He was going to act the hero again, and it was going to end badly. But she had begged him and he wouldn't turn down his only friend. "Can you feel where he is?" he asked softly as he saw her attention turn inward once more. "Maybe we can get close enough to at least call for help." He rubbed his hand over his face as he moved over to get a few things that might help them. He wasn't about to go anywhere without something to defend them with if necessary.

"I knew you were a good guy," Mouse murmured as she focused more tightly on the boy. Then she rounded on him suddenly as she picked up a sudden burst of sorrow, regret, and reluctance. "If you don't want anyone to see you, we can work that out," she said softly as she placed a gentle hand on his arm and felt the emotions strengthen before fading as he pulled them back to himself. "I don't know who or what you're hiding from, and I won't ask. But I will respect it. When we find this boy, you do a fade while I call for help, okay?" She was already focusing on the other again, half her mind on him, half on Blondie. She didn't know why she was so determined to stay on his good side, except that he was her friend, the first one in ages, and she didn't want him in trouble because of her. "Let's go. He's somewhere south of us, further into the Barrens. And he's fading fast."

Oliver took her hand gently. "Just get us in the right direction and we'll get him out," he said firmly. "And once we do, I might be able to teach you more about how to block this stuff and get you some quiet you don't need a needle for." He gave her a small smile as they headed out of the cubby and southward.

Mouse was grateful for that friendly hand as they headed deeper into the Barrens. If the part they came from was semi-safe, then the rest certainly wasn't. Some of the gangs had taken up residence in the southernmost part, and they had been known to kill trespassers. She wasn't at all certain she wanted to do this, but there wasn't much choice. If she didn't, that boy would die, and it would be on her conscience for the rest of her life. "It's pretty dangerous down here," she explained as she indicated the informal border and stepped over. The change was apparent; graffiti, vandalism, and even outright arson had littered the landscape and she felt a thrill of apprehension all her own. "That way now," she said as she pointed eastward. "It's getting stronger. We're close to him now."

Oliver pulled out a cloth to cover his nose from the smell. He handed her one as well, knowing it would serve a dual purpose; both to filter the smell of death coming to them in waves and to conceal their identities to the worst element in the place.

Mouse held her breath until she got the mask in place and gave a sigh of relief. The stench was horrible. There had to be at least one body near, but the one they were seeking wasn't dead yet, so she kept moving. "We're close, very close," she murmured as she moved forward, touching walls, tracing that elusive touch of terror and pain downward until she was so close to it, it was so strong, she felt she could reach out and touch it. "Here, somewhere." She started down the steps into an abandoned tenement, a dank and nasty little hole. "I wish I had a flashlight. Is anyone here?" she called softly. "Don't be afraid. We're here to help."

Oliver glanced around from behind her, but could see very little. "Damn it, where's Clark when I could use his eyes," he muttered as he moved forward. "Let me see if I can get in there, Mouse. If we need to, you'll have to run for help. Think you can do that?"

Mouse shook her head. She wondered about the mention of "Clark" but she wouldn't ask. Not her business. "I don't think the steps will hold you. They look pretty rotten. Probably how he got hurt." Was he unconscious? He hadn't answered their calls. She stepped carefully down and still almost missed the sudden emptiness that indicated a missing riser. "Yep. Almost took a header m'self. Okay, here's the game plan. I'll help him up to you and we can get out of here, then figure out how badly he's hurt. Maybe he can get himself home and no one will want to talk to us." She could always hope. If anyone came looking, she'd spend a couple of nights in jail, tops. Mostly because she wasn't about to tell anyone about the man with her if she was asked. He didn't exist. Her bunch protected their own, and he was one of them. They'd give up eventually and have to let her out. She wasn't wanted for anything so they could only hold her for twenty four hours before they had to charger her or release her. Finally she was able to make her way to the small child in the corner. "Easy, okay?" she said softly as she reached a hand out to him. "We're here to help you. Broke your leg, huh? And nobody knows where you are? Listen, if you lean on me, do you think you can get to the bottom of the stairs? My friend will help lift you out of here and you can go home."

The boy whimpered and shook his head. "Hurts too bad," he whispered as both hands closed around his knee. He looked up at her with something like awe in his eyes. "How did you find me?"

She shook her head at him. "Doesn't matter. What's your name, sweetheart?" That was the ticket. Keep him talking, keep him focused on something other than the pain, while she got a good look at it and decided what to do.

Oliver felt the hair on his neck stand up and got as close to the broken step as he dared. "Mouse. We need to get him out of here quick. Someone's coming." He could almost feel people coming closer.

"He can 't move fast enough," she hissed back as she made a conscious decision. "His leg's broken. Stay quiet, maybe they won't hear." It was a possibility, although slim. There were walls between them and the outside, but she, too, had heard the furtive sounds of approach. And the emotions flooding her head now were ugly, brutal reminders that people could take pleasure in hurting each other. "And I know how to fight. I had to learn to survive down here. We can protect him." Quickly she laid her fingertips onto the boy's leg. "This might hurt a little, sweetie, but it'll fix your leg so you can run." She hoped. But when Ratty Larry had come to her with a badly infected cut, it had gone away when she touched it. It had to have been something she did, and she was trying to duplicate it.

She was gratified to note the way energy seemed to flow from her fingers to the bone, straightening it and knitting it together once more. "Okay," she said softly when she was finished. "You should be able to walk now. Let's get out of here, okay? My friend will lift you up the steps and then I want you to run home as fast as you can."

She suited actions to words and lifted him into Blondie's waiting arms, then heaved herself upward as well, but would have fallen back had her friend not been waiting for her. There was no strength in her arms. She felt like a wet noodle when she finally collapsed to the decking at the top of the rotting stairway. It was the same feeling she'd had when she had healed Ratty Larry, so she knew she had done the right thing, but she was so, so tired...

Vaguely she registered that the boy had taken her words to heart and run off, and she tried again to get to her feet or at least sit up, but her body wasn't having it. She was too tired. But the kid was safe, that was the important part. "I'll be ready to leave in just a minute," she said softly to her companion. "Just let me catch my breath."

Oliver watched over her, a heavy board held in one hand in case he needed to defend them. She had done something down there, something he couldn't fathom, that had left her weak and nearly helpless. Hadn't she said the boy's leg was broken? Yet he'd scurried quickly away with not even a trace of a limp when he'd gotten topside. She must have been mistaken. Whatever. Mouse was down and needed protection and something or someone was coming.

The sound of running feet reached him and he hefted the board into a ready stance, but he didn't need to use it. One head stuck in and hissed that they should get out while they could and withdrew quickly. Then a sound came that chilled him to his bones.

It was the hunting call of a big cat. He didn't know which one, but he knew it scared him and it must have the gangs in an uproar if they were running too. "Mouse. Mouse, we have to go now." He held one hand down for her to grasp.

She took it quickly and let him help her up, clinging a bit when her legs still didn't want to move. She forced it anyway; she could rest later, when they were safe. His concern was hitting her like a runaway freight and it had to be something bad, because he had been consciously holding his emotions from her all this time. But it was the fear that rolled off him in waves that got her moving. "Let's go. I heard that, and I don't want to meet it down here. It sounds hungry."

Mouse let him help her along, but it didn't seem like they were going to make it. The call came again, much closer this time, and then just – stopped. It was silenced mid-cry and Mouse felt Blondie's apprehension first ramp up and then drain back to a much more tolerable level. "Something stopped it," she gasped as she tried to keep up with him. She caught a flash of satisfaction and then nothing more than his current concern. The relief was so great that she couldn't help but stop and savor it for a moment.

Oliver slowed and then moved back to where she'd just sat down on the ground. "It's still not safe here, Mouse," he said gently as he leaned down to take her hand. "Up you come. You can rest when we get back to the hole."

"You don't understand," she said as she looked up at him, her face full of wonder. "It doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything. I can't feel anything but you. It's... it's quiet."

Oliver gave her a smile but made certain to keep his emotions under a tight leash. No point in making it worse or bringing it back too quickly. If she was getting some relief, it was past time. "Then we'll celebrate it when we're back safe," he said gently. "Whether they usually come down here or not, the police could still show up. That kid was awfully young and they pull out all the stops for little ones." Still, this needed investigating, too. It wouldn't just stop. Unless she'd unlocked an automatic blocker in herself, and that was just too convenient. Or maybe not. He was too used to being paranoid.

Mouse stood up, still a little shaky, though her strength seemed to have returned as well and she was able to move much more easily. "You're right," she said simply. "We're not safe down here."

They made the rest of the walk in near silence.