A/N: I don't own Arrow or its characters. Please Leave a review :)
Everyone is exhausted, and before long Felicity and Oliver retreat to their bedroom, and Roy follows Thea to her room.
She feels gross, dirty and wrinkled. She wants to take a hot shower, scrub her skin until it's raw. She's still dizzy, the mac and cheese sitting heavily in her stomach.
"Bed?" Roy asks hopefully. He looks dead on his feet, he and Oliver were up all last night and today trying to find her.
"I need to shower," she says, her voice scratchy.
He nods tiredly but doesn't argue, letting her lead him to the bathroom. He runs the water for her, waiting for it to heat up, while she leans against the wall, watching him blur in and out of focus.
"Hey," he says, his face looming in close to hers. "Okay?"
"I feel weird," she admits.
He cups her face in his hands, taking in her pale skin and unfocused eyes. "You look like you're on something," he mutters.
"They injected me with something to keep me asleep," she explains. "But the doctor at the hospital said I was okay."
He frowns. "You don't look okay."
"Just help me shower, please," she says quietly, looking away.
"Okay. Lift your arms up," he says gently, and she stretches, fingertips towards the ceiling.
Warm fingers brush her stomach. She tries not to flinch as he pulls up the hem of her sweater, lifting it over her head.
"Thea," he says sharply, looking at her wrists.
They're red and raw from the rope, the skin chaffed.
"You said they didn't hurt you."
For a moment she contemplates telling him the truth. The pain of the needle plunging into her skin, waking up to someone's hand tearing her apart in a place where only Roy touches her.
How they defiled her. Made her weak.
And then she recalls something Felicity told her once. How, when rescuing her from the Count, Oliver shot arrows into him with no hesitation, even though he had promised no more killing. That he had said he didn't have a choice, not when she was going to get hurt.
Thea won't let her brother kill again, not for her.
If she tells Roy, he'll tell Oliver. There are no secrets in their little bromance, she knows that.
"They don't hurt," she says, but hisses when he kisses her wrists.
His hand goes down to the fly of her jeans and she startles, accidentally banging her head on the wall.
"Hey," Roy says softly. "It's okay."
"Sorry," she whispers.
"It's okay," he says again, pulling her jeans down over her hips and helping her step out of them.
Thea pulls her bra up over her head without bothering with the clasp. She peels her underwear down, shoves them in the little trash can next to the toilet when Roy turns around to check the water.
"It's ready," he tells her.
She steps towards the shower but stops when the floor starts to tilt, making her lean against the glass door.
"Maybe I should get in with you," he says worriedly, and she nods.
He strips quickly, opening the shower door and helping her in. The water is hot and she moans when it hits her skin. Thea feels so strange, dizzy and almost like she's not really here, like she's just dreaming it. She presses down on her skinned wrist, the pain helping her focus.
"Don't do that." Roy pulls her hand away.
He pumps liquid soap into his hands and washes her carefully, his hands rubbing down her skin in gentle smooth strokes.
"Again," she says shakily, when he's washed her whole body and she still feels filthy.
"Thea..."
"I still feel dirty," she says, choking on a sob.
"Hey." He holds her carefully, his skin hot and wet against her chest. "You're okay. You're clean."
"I don't feel clean," she says and then she's crying again, harsh sobs coming up from the back of her throat.
"Alright," he murmurs. "Come on, it's okay."
"I'm sorry," she cries, one hand braces on the wall for balance. "You were right. I should've told him no. I wasn't ready."
"It's gonna be okay," he says. "You're okay."
She shakes her head, tears scattering.
"Thea." He combs wet tendrils of hair off her face, tilts her head back so water doesn't get in her eyes. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"
Like he knows she's lying.
"I was scared," she says, offering a half-truth. "They scared me."
He kisses her, so tender it makes her want to scream. "I'm here," he says. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."
xxx
Thea doesn't sleep much that night.
She's too out of it to relax, her body coiled and tense. She drifts in and out of consciousness, one minute in her room, the next back in the warehouse.
Every time she starts to drift off she hears some little noise and jerks awake.
She curls around Roy (out cold, the moment his head hit the pillow), tucking her knees in the bend of his legs, and tries to hold on to his solid heat.
She tries to remember good things, things that make her strong.
The warmth of her brother's hand on her shoulder.
Felicity trying on her wedding dress for the first time. Thea had cried, because it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
She kisses Roy's sleeping face, his strong jaw and feathery eyelashes.
She thinks about waking him up, just to make him talk to her, but decides against it. He's exhausted, and there's nothing he can do, anyway.
You can't change the past.
Maybe it's karma, she thinks. Some universal payment for the things she's done. A balancing of the scales.
If she was brave enough to tell Ollie she would ask him about it. That's what he's been doing this whole time, hasn't he? Atoning for his sins on the island, finding a way to be more than a killer.
Death would be kinder than this, she thinks, this very specific kind of torture. She shudders, pressing her forehead against the flat space of Roy's back, nestling between his sleeping shoulder blades.
She is thinking bad thoughts, she knows. She can't help it, it's like something in her brain has unwound. Like a loose thread that has unraveled all the progress she's made in the last six months.
Bad, bad girl, who got what she deserved. The voice in her head warps, turns into the voices of the men in masks. Pretty little thing.
She shivers against Roy's heat all night long.