A/N: Hello m'dears… I hope the week has been a good one to you!
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It was not easy for a man like him to be able to take a few days for himself. It was a complicated and extremely taxing business to have to reschedule meetings, postpone appointments, inform underlings and alert his small staff about his intended vacation. His entire game plan depended upon his being involved in even the minutest of details. There was nobody in his organization that he trusted to oversee the day to day operations or the smaller aspects of what it was that he had planned for Oliver Queen. Even more problematic than that was figuring out where to go that would allow him to be close by in case his underlings ran into a problem (as he anticipated they would), and which allowed him and Sienna the privacy he craved.
A few days away from Starling (especially with the changes going on in their relationship), was something he'd felt was critical at this point in time. After careful consideration (and Isabel's reckless attack upon the kid resulting in his needing to give her an injection of Mirakuru), Slade decided there was no place besides his private penthouse which offered him the viable and satisfying compromise he wanted between his personal and professional lives. Sienna had been amenable to remaining at home (as he'd suspected she would be) and pretending that the world outside the window was not the same one they'd been seeing for the last few months. Nobody was to know that he was taking this time away to spend it with Sienna. Not his minions, not his research staff, and certainly not Oliver Queen. Naturally, he could still be reached via cell if there was an extreme emergency or crisis. Otherwise, and until he made it clear that he was back from his hiatus, he was not to be bothered at all.
So far, he'd managed to get away for one day without his professional world intruding upon his private one. Only one part of his world refused to obey his edict for privacy: Shado. He had not been able to silence the woman who haunted his every waking moment. He would wake at night in a cold sweat from images of Shado, his Shado, standing at the foot of his bed with hot, hot eyes. Accusatory, and mocking him. Clearly condemning him for allowing himself to care for the woman who was asleep beside him. The two sides there were of him were tearing at each other. One side demanded that he remember his promise to the woman he'd lost while the other told him that it was okay for him to love again, that he wasn't breaking his promise by finding happiness for himself.
Only Shado continued to torment him.
The terrible grief and encompassing guilt he'd felt upon her death had turned slowly, inexplicably, into a cold and killing rage. Had he forgotten her? Hardly. Had his promise to Shado become overshadowed by Sienna's entrance into his life? No. Everything he had done up to that point had been done as a means of fulfilling his quest to avenge Shado's death. He hadn't imagined that he would find himself drawn to his dove when he rescued her. He had not imagined that she'd become the light inside his darkness. And yet, Slade knew that Sienna was much more than his calm, his moral reasoning and his anchor.
She was his heart.
What good that was left inside him she held in trust. He wasn't a romantic man, or a man who wore his heart upon his sleeve. He was, however, a wise man. He knew that the diminutive figure standing across from him, those eyes sparkling with a hint of feminine mischief (and a surprising amount of determination) was the keeper of that fickle muscle that was beating inside his chest. That was why he'd decided it was high time he teach his little dove how to protect and defend herself. Small of stature she might be, and delicately built at that, there was a fighter still inside of Sienna James. Nobody survives the hell that she did without being a fighter, he thought as he studied her.
"All right, love," he commanded gently. "Hit me." He watched her eyes pop open wide at his order. Then she quickly shook her head.
"Oh, no..." she stammered. "I ca.."
He interjected with a quiet, but firm, "Yes, you can. Now," he repeated, more firmly. "Hit me."
"Open handed?" she squeaked.
He had to fight his urge to smile at her nervousness. "Closed fist."
"I thought you'd say that." She hesitated, studying him with wide, panicked eyes. Then she chirped, "... you promise you won't get mad if I actually hit you, right?"
He smiled then, he could not help himself. "Love," he rumbled, his tone a jocular one. "I assure you that you will not, in fact, actually hit me."
"Oh, is that so?"
Slade nodded and watched as she lifted a bunched fist, then let out a deep chuckle that had her heart tripping over itself in her chest. She'd never heard him laugh like that. Not an honest and true laugh that had the years and all his troubles melting from his face. He looked so much younger, happier... free. He was freed from the chains of grief and binding ropes of hate which held him fast. The rage that dominated so much of his existence no longer darkened his face. It was a sight that gave her hope for their future together. By the power of whatever gods were listening, she was going to make him laugh like that more often. She vowed it. And if it killed her, she was going to keep that vow. Sienna blew a lock of hair from her face as she took the ready stance he'd shown her. He chuckled again.
"Sienna," he said gently. "If you hit me with your thumb tucked in that way, you'll only end up hurting yourself more than you will hurt anyone else."
"Really?" Sienna looked at her fist with great interest. "And why is that?"
"You shall end up breaking your thumb for one," he told her, taking a step towards her. "And you will cause pain to radiate throughout your hand and wrist for another."
"And that will distract me and make it easy for the person I am fighting to take advantage of me, right?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She heaved one long sigh before looking up at him. "I'm beginning to think that you teaching me how to defend myself might have been a very bad idea, Slade." Her lower lip jutted out in a little pout that he found to be entirely too enticing. "I'm just too much of a girl, I think."
Slade reached out to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, his smile that wolfish one which made her toes curl. "I am rather fond of you being a girl, little one."
"And when I am with you I don't mind being a girl so much." She reached up to take his hand in her own. "But as fun as my being a girl might be, you were right. I should learn how to defend myself." She gave him a grin that edged towards sheepish. "I just might not be as capable of it as you hope I am."
"Love," he began by saying, "If I can teach Oliver Queen how to fight, I can teach you how to fight."
Her eyebrows shot up with the force of her surprise. "You taught him how to fight?"
It was the first time that he'd volunteered any information about his past relationship with the former CEO of Queen Consolidated. Even though they had talked the night they'd spent onboard his yacht, and no matter that Slade had revealed much about his life, there was still one large part of his life he only doled out in spades: the time he spent trapped on an island he called "Lian Yu." She'd already gleaned from the few nibblets he'd given her that it was during his time as an island castaway that he'd met (and apparently trained) the man who'd become the Starling vigilante. It was also on Lian Yu that he'd met the woman who was at the heart of the conflict between him and Oliver: Shado.
Slade did not speak of her very often, but when he did there was always a husky timbre to his voice and this softness about his face which told her he'd cared greatly for the young woman. Overwriting those softer feelings, though, was a thick layer of steel edged grief and guilt overlaid by smoldering hate and anger. Even though she did not know how exactly Shado had been killed (he refused to answer her the one time she foolishly had asked), she did know two things: that Oliver Queen was somehow involved and that Slade blamed himself for not being there to stop it.
She wanted to ask him more about those events, wanted to delve deeper into the secrets of the life he'd lived before they'd met, but knew she had to tread lightly. Slade was a man who could switch between hot and cold without a moment's notice. He needed to be ready to talk about the events of the island (and Shado's death) with her. And while she suspected that he had opened the door to that chamber, she much doubted that he was ready to allow her through it.
So she repeated her earlier question. "You were one of his teachers?"
"I was one of the kid's teachers," he said with a slight nod of his head. "Yes."
"Mm," was the only sound she uttered in reply. Slade smirked as he watched her mulling that particular little tidbit over. He could see the plethora of questions swirling in those mahogany eyes. However, she didn't vocalize any one of the thoughts that he could see were being analyzed by that logical little mind of hers. He appreciated that she refrained from pushing him for answers at that moment. He wasn't honestly sure he was completely ready to give her those answers she sought.
"I can see that you want to ask me a thousand things right now," he said curiously. "Why don't you?"
"Because I want you to want to share that part of yourself-and your life, with me, Slade."
Yes, he thought as he cupped her face in his hands, tangled them in her hair; she was the keeper of his heart for a reason. She was patience and trust and everything else that once had been good about him. He lowered his head, took her lips with his own. He took the kiss deeper when she made a quiet sound that was a mixture of amusement and pleasure. When she pressed invitingly against him, he slid his hands down her back, pulled her even closer. He was about to pick her up in his arms when he heard a discreet cough. He let out a low vehement curse before lifting his head and fixing the man standing in the doorway with a blistering, burning stare.
"This had better be important," he growled.
Sebastian Blood shivered beneath the threat that was thick in that rich baritone. Yet, he knew that he could not back out now. Not without there being serious repercussions. He stepped farther into the room, his gaze sliding over to the woman whose body was still pressed tight against Slade's. He saw the sliver of dislike that flickered over her face, through her eyes and resented it- her, for it. He gave her a tight, polite smile before glancing again at the man who held her in his thick arms.
"We have a problem." He heard the resentment in his tone even as Sienna did. He saw her eyes widen, and then narrow in a silent warning that amused the Alderman more than impressed him. But if the blasted man she clung to noticed, he made no acknowledgment of it. Sebastian felt his hatred for this man flare into a raging inferno. Soon though, he promised himself. I will have my vengeance upon you soon. "And it is a potentially catastrophic problem, in fact."
"And what potentially catastrophic problem do we have?"
"Moira Queen came to see me about an hour ago."
That dark eye gleamed. "Did she now?" Slade purred. "And what exactly did she come to see you about?"
"She's dropping out of the mayoral race," he paused to let that sink in. "Tonight."
"Is she now?" Slade's lips thinned into a hard, disapproving line. "Go," he ordered Blood. "Wait for me in my office. I will be there in a few minutes."
Sebastian just nodded and turned to walk from the room. Slade watched him go before he then glanced down at Sienna. She was gazing up at him with concern. "Love," he said with an apologetic sigh. "I..."
"Need to go back to work," she said for him. She leaned up to brush a kiss to his cheek. "It's okay, Slade. I understand."
"I will make this up to you," he told her. "I promise."
Her lips curved into a decidedly mischievous smile. "Oh, well," she quipped playfully. "You can make it up to me by taking me to Hawaii then."
His lips twitched. "An island joke, love?"
"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." She then sobered and looked at him, her face serious. "Will you be with the Alderman long?"
He placed a kiss to her forehead. "No."
She nodded and stepped back. "Then I will tell Marta not to hold dinner."
"All right," was all he said before he turned and exited the room.
"You told me to leave Moira Queen to you!" Sebastian Blood exclaimed a few minutes later. He stalked over to the minibar in Slade's office and poured himself a drink. The single-malt whiskey did little to staunch the flood of temper streaking through him. He paced back and forth across the floor, fingers clutching at the tumbler he held. "You told me that you were going to take care of her! When is that going to happen?"
Slade studied him in silence. The man's smell was Calvin Klein and nerves. It was an empowering, intoxicating scent. His lips lifted into a slow, predatory smile. "And I will handle Moira Queen as I promised I would," he said in one low, moist hiss. "What I don't understand is why you are upset about Moira dropping out of the mayoral campaign. I would think that this is exactly what you wanted to have happen."
Sebastian stopped pacing and turned to stare at the man who was seated behind that ornate desk. Slade Wilson looked nothing like the suave and debonair businessman he normally did, not with the days worth of stubble darkening his cheeks and his salt-and-pepper hair mussed. If anything, he looked like a pampered playboy. A well-fed and completely content playboy, Sebastian amended, his teeth gnashing together so hard he was sure that the man watching him could hear the cracking sound.
The night he'd watched them had made it brutally obvious that Slade Wilson and Sienna James were lovers. Even still, seeing his hands on that lush body down in the armory had made him sick. Knowing that this man was sleeping with Sienna...it was beyond disgusting. Him! he thought maliciously as he downed his drink in one fiery gulp. He gets the pleasure of her servicing his physical needs! Oh, but the rest of them? They were treated like vermin. Like dirt beneath her lily white feet. It was inconceivable! Unconscionable even! However, he would soon have her at his mercy and repay her for her insolence.
He could not wait.
For the moment he focused again upon the man who he was going to make pay for his unmitigated arrogance.
"Why shouldn't I be upset about Moira Queen dropping out of the race?" he asked. "It is an unexpected move that could well blow up in our faces!"
"And it is a move that could be exactly what it appears to be," Slade said smoothly. "You should be happy now that all of Starling will soon be at your command."
Sebastian regarded him with eyes he knew shimmered with his hatred and resentment. "Happy?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could manage at that moment. "And pray tell me, what stops Moira from changing her mind the moment she takes the stage tonight?"
"It will not matter whether she changes her mind or not," Slade assured him in a silky smooth tone. "What I have planned will ensure that becoming the Mayor of Starling is the very last thing that will be upon Moira Queen's mind."
"And I should trust that, why?"
Slade fixed him with a look so black that Sebastian swore he was staring straight into the middle of Hell. He felt himself begin to squirm beneath that glare and hated himself for it-for his cowardice. Slade's lips twisted into a knowing smile that Sebastian just itched to wipe off the man's smug face. He could not do that, and he (as well as Slade) knew it. Just as he knew that that smile was a taunt. A taunt as well as a challenge. The despicable man was daring him to do something-anything! to him. As if there was anything he could do to this man. Even the Arrow was not enough to stop Slade Wilson.
"I would mind my manners, Alderman," Slade said in an ominous baritone. "You are already treading upon very unstable grounds with me."
"And..." Sebastian began, but Slade cut him off with a wave of one hand.
"A man who has promised to deliver much, and only delivered failure after pitiful failure should be more mindful of the things that he says. I have already started to lose my patience, as well as my faith in you. I do not need to remind you, for the third time, about how easily another can wear your mask, do I?"
"No," Sebastian replied in a sullen tone. "You do not need to remind me about how another can wear my mask."
"Then I suggest that you do not question me again." Slade pushed away from the desk and rose to his feet. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to get dressed so that I may attend to your little problem." His smile, Sebastian saw, was the essence of predatory. "Just as I promised you I would."
When he returned home that night it was to find his bedroom awash in a pearlescent light that was spilling in from the huge bay windows. Sienna and Marta both had forgotten to pull the heavy drapes before she'd retired for the evening. Not that it bothered him. After the disastrous events of the night, he found the rooms translucence to be calming.
He stood in the doorway and watched the light as it crept over the floor, the walls and over the huge four poster bed. He saw it caress the creamy flesh of the woman who was curled on her left side, fast asleep. A faint smirk twisted one corner of his mouth as he took notice of how Sienna was sleeping on his side of the bed. And that she was wearing one of his dress shirts (one of his favorites, in fact). He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his sleeping dove, fervently praying she would realize he was in need of her and awaken.
Awaken and wrap her arms and love around him, soothing away the maelstrom of emotions tearing his soul to shreds. Yes, part of one promise had been paid that night. There was only one other who needed to die in order for vengeance to be had. But the cost of this promise came at the expense of breaking another. And all for what? he found himself asking. What did tonight really serve? As he sat there, his black soul cast adrift inside the swirling abyss he'd created with his choice that night, he found himself wondering if what the kid had flung at him that night was remotely true.
"That's not what happened!" Oliver screamed at him, his eyes as well as his face a torment of fear, disbelief and agony.
"That is what happened! It is! She told me!" Slade shouted back at him, pointing to where Shado was standing between a copse of trees. Oliver had looked to where he'd pointed and then back at him, stark confusion intermixing with the other emotions warring for dominance on his face; in his eyes.
"What do you mean 'she'?" he'd bitten out in a cold whisper. "There's nobody there!'"
Nobody there because Shado wasn't there, he realized now. She'd never really been there. She was a figment of his imagination, a hallucination caused by the Mirakuru running rampant through his veins. He felt that familiar trickle of air as it blew across the back of his neck, prickling his overheated skin. He ignored it and those cold fingers which skimmed along his overly sensitive flesh. "Why do you doubt my existence?" he heard Shado whisper in his ear. "Why do you think that I am merely a hallucination caused by the Mirakuru?"
Slade raked his fingers through his hair, desperately wanting five minutes of fucking nothing in his head so that he could pull himself together. "Because I know that you are not real."
"Why do you think I am not real?" she queried. "Because Oliver said I am not? Or because you believe that I am not?"
"Because I know you are not real!" he rasped. "You're dead, Shado. Dead!"
"And why is it that I am dead?" she murmured softly. "Is it not because Oliver chose another woman over me?"
"Did he, Shado?" he growled, glancing over to where she stood in front of the window, her white dress voluminous and ethereal in the moonlight. "Did Oliver choose Sara over you?"
"I have told you he did."
"Is it what really happened though?" he cried desperately. "Is it what happened? Tell me!"
"Slade?"
He turned and saw Sienna was sitting up in bed. "I'm here, love."
"What is it?" she murmured sleepily. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He reached out and cupped her sleep-flushed cheek in his hand. "Go back to sleep."
His dove was far from a stupid woman. She knew something was wrong with him, was bothering him. And he suspected she knew that something bad had happened to unhinge him this way. She reached up to take his hand in her own. "Let me help you. Please."
"You are helping me, little one." He pulled her unresisting body into his lap. "You are helping me."
"Please, talk to me," she begged. "Tell me what's happened, Slade."
"No." He held her close, stroked her hair. "I cannot tell you about what happened. I will not."
God he wanted to tell her though. The agony of his secret, of what he'd done, was shredding his soul in two. He let out a low moan, an animal in agony, and felt her arms band tightly around him, holding him close.
"There is nothing that you can tell me that I will not understand, Slade. Nothing."
He heard Shado laugh throatily. "So trusting she is. So loyal. I wonder if those blinders will come off when she learns about what a monster you are?"
"Leave her be," he snarled. "You leave her be! She's got nothing to do with this!"
"Slade...?" he heard Sienna asking, worry and fear evident in her tone. "Who are you talking too?"
"Shado," he told her. Only dimly did he recognize his mistake. It was the second time that night that he'd made such a mistake. Yet, he did not attempt to correct himself. Not this time.
"Shado?" Sienna murmured in confusion. "But... Slade," she said slowly, cautiously. "Shado's dead."
"I know she is," he murmured against her throat, and stroking his hands up and down her back, breathed in that haunting scent he knew was only hers. It brought him little comfort. "I know she is," he repeated again.