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Slade left her as the band began playing Dance Macabre. With a sigh, Sienna started to make her way off the floor, doing her best to ignore the masked faces crowding in on her as they drew abreast of her. A hand clutched at her arm, detaining her. Her shriek died in her throat when she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

"Stay, and dance with me, Miss James. Please."

Sienna went cold to the marrow.

What are you doing here? she silently beseeched the man at her back. Don't you know what Slade will do if he finds you here?

"Dance with me," he urged her again in a low, charged whisper. "Before people begin to notice how we are standing here in the middle of the floor."

Sweat popped out, cold and clammy, over her skin. It was taking every ounce of her willpower to not turn tail and run. Or scream at the top of her lungs for Slade or one of his minions. Something stopped her from calling out, though. Sienna figured it was because of the fight that would break out once he saw his sworn enemy with her. But a part of her, a dark and desperate part, told her that that was a lie. A voice she recognized as That Woman's whispered to her that she didn't call for Slade because "she didn't want to see Oliver Queen hurt."

"Miss James, please," Oliver entreated in that rich tone he'd used the night she met him in his club, Verdant. "Dance with me."

"No..." she jumped when a couple dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Incredible swung by them. The bands returned, clenching tight. More people moved around them and she shuddered. Oliver heard her breath rattling out from between her teeth because he settled one of his large hands on her back and rubbed it in those same slow, soothings circles her brother Jonathan would whenever she'd be freaking out about midterms, finals, term papers and failing out of school because she couldn't keep up with all her studies.

"Easy," he murmured. "They are not going to hurt you." Then he added in a voice ripe with understanding and sympathy, "I'm not here to hurt you. Now, please, dance with me, Miss James."

"No," she said once she'd collected herself. "No, I wo-won't dance with yo-you." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him, hissed, "And you shouldn't even be here. Have you lost what sense your mother gave you? Coming into Slade's home? Approaching me? Stupid!"

"Dance with me and I will explain why I am here."

"No."

Yet even as she (again) told him no, she allowed him to turn her, to lead her into a slow waltz. After a few tense seconds she finally found the courage to lift her head to look at him. A forest green mask and a hood with the center shaped to resemble an eagle's beak concealed the majority of his features from view, but there was no mistaking it was Oliver Queen looking at her.

"Wh-what are you do-doing here?" she stammered, feeling a scorching heat creeping up into her cheeks. "Do-don't you know how dangerous it is for you to be here?"

"I needed to talk with you," he replied. "And this was the only way that I thought I might be able to get near you without Slade noticing."

"Me?" she squeaked. "Why do you need to talk with me?"

"I want to help you, Miss James."

"Help me?" She frowned her confusion. "Help me do what?"

"Leave Slade Wilson."

Sienna reared back as if he'd slapped her. She was about to open her mouth and scream, but Oliver, seeing her intention, swung her out onto the small balcony that was between the living room and Slade's office. Sienna pulled away instantly, and rounded on him, fire singing in her veins and blazing from her eyes.

"How dare you!" she hissed at him. "Who do you think you are?"

"Right now?" Oliver didn't growl it. He just sounded exhausted. "A friend."

Sienna felt a stirring of sympathy for him, but quickly slapped it away. "Right," she scoffed. "And why should I trust you, Mr. Queen?"

"Miss James," he began saying. "I realize you have no reason whatsoever to trust me..."

"I don't."

"However," he continued on a long breath. "My intention tonight is merely to offer you a way out."

"A way out of what," she gritted. "Exactly what are you implying here, Mr. Queen?"

"I want to offer you a way out of this prison that Slade has locked you away in."

"Look around you, Mr. Queen," Sienna's voice dripped acidic honey. "Does it look like I am a prisoner of this house? No. What I am is the Queen of this domicile."

"Look, Miss James, I know you think that you're safe with Slade..."

"I am safe with Slade," she stated firmly.

"-but you're not."

Sienna fisted her hands and planted them upon her hips before demanding, "And why is it that you think I am not safe with Slade, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver went to settle his hands upon her shoulders but Sienna scurried out of his reach. He dropped his hands to his sides, and stood there looking at her. What little of his face she could see showed her a man who genuinely believed he'd come to rescue her. The earnestness in his eyes, upon his face showed her his intentions were honorable ones. Misguided though those intentions may be, she thought. Sienna took a moment to study him. Oliver was a tall man, a few inches taller than Slade, in fact, with a lean, disciplined physique that was well-suited for his career as Starling's Vigilante. The long cape he wore draped over and around his left arm and shoulder billowed around him in the warm breeze blowing. That he'd chosen to come dressed as the Renaissance Assassin, Ezio Auditore da Firenze was not lost upon Sienna.

Nor was the frustration that oozed off him in waves.

"Slade is not the man you think he is," he told her. "He's a..."

"Mercenary?" she supplied for him. "Yes, I know."

"He's a murderer."

"Oh, like your own ledger has no red in it?" She snorted even as he swore, long and foully. "I know you have taken lives, Mr. Queen. Some," she pointed out with a small sniff, "while the person is living under the guise of a hero."

He took a step towards her. "I killed men who hurt a lot of innocent people. And," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "unlike Slade, I regret each life that I have taken."

"So does he."

"Slade Wilson regrets nothing."

"Oh, Mr. Queen," she said sadly. "Slade regrets many things." She paused, sighed. "A regret is what I feel drives his vengeance against you, in fact."

"That is why you should leave him, Miss James."

Oliver shifted close enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne. The spicy, musky scent reminded her of another man, a good man. One who was just as broken and angry as Oliver Queen. And just as rich as well.

"Pray tell, why should I leave him, Mr. Queen?"

"You could be hurt because of his vendetta against me," she heard him say. "And I don't want to see you get hurt because of it."

She turned away to look out over the glittering skyline of the city. "I understand what you are trying to do... and I appreciate it." She glanced at him from over her shoulder. "Truly I do. But I'm not leaving him."

"Why?" Impatience sang in his voice, was stamped upon his face. "Why won't you leave him?"

"Because he needs me." At his scoff she turned to look at him, her brow puckered with her disapproval. "Scoff if you want, but it is the truth. Slade Wilson needs me. And," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, near conspiratorial tone, "I need him."

The breath that Oliver released stirred the waterfall of curls gathered at her crown. That he didn't understand, that he couldn't see, that he refused to believe that a strong man like her cantankerous pirate could have need of anybody was clear. She felt his fingers brush her wrist and went still as stone. Her breath hitched as she waited, frazzled nerves tensing in readiness of his taking her hand in his. Oliver must have sensed her unease because he retreated with only a faint whisper of sound to show his sympathy and apology.

Sienna opened her mouth to say something, but whatever she might have said was cut short by a commotion in the ballroom. A quick glance showed her both a brawl had erupted between two men dressed as Batman and Robin. Masked goons instantly broke it up, nimbly ejecting the offenders from the apartment. The disruption the fight had caused the other guests was a palpable and tangible feeling upon the air. As the Queen of this domicile, Sienna knew it was her responsibility to restore order and see that the Ball got back underway.

"I," she said apologetically. "Must go and see to Slade's guests."

"Miss James..." Oliver began but Sienna interrupted him.

"Go, Mr. Queen. Go, now, before I change my mind and call for either Slade's men, or Slade himself."

Oliver went to set a hand upon her shoulder and Sienna let him even though the effort to stand still cost her dearly. "Come with me. Please."

"No."

Short, succulent and sweet. His fingers tightened reflexively upon her shoulder, but not hard enough to cause her any discomfort. Frustration and something else, something darker and that Sienna couldn't identify snapped in his voice when he said, "He will never forgive you for letting me leave."

"When I tell him why I let you leave, he will understand. And he will forgive me for my one indiscretion."

Only silently did she add, I hope.

Through the flood of annoyance, the dark desire to protect, he struggled to understand. She saw the flicker of uncertainty, the multitude of questions he wanted to ask but knew he couldn't because there was no time for multiple questions. He finally settled on the one bothering him the most.

"Why are you letting me leave, Miss James?"

"Because, Mr. Queen, you've reminded me that not every man in a mask means to harm me."

She saw understanding dawn in his eyes, upon his face. She reached up to set a hand upon the one on her shoulder. Her fingers trembled around his, the only outward sign of how nervous she was. It had been two years since she'd touched any man besides Slade. Two years since she'd been tempted to trust any man other than her moody bandit. It was a... liberating feeling. It was almost as if a great weight had been lifted off her heart. Giving her that release was the sole reason for why she urged him to take his.

"Go, Mr. Queen. And," she stated in a soft, but firm voice, "don't come here again. I may not allow you to leave the next time."

Sienna turned then, walked back into the penthouse. She could feel Oliver's eyes upon her, and glanced back, once. Their eyes met. Held. Shared secrets. Then she smiled quietly, moved into the sea of masked people. And was gone.