Upstairs at the club, Maseo and Oliver were arguing.

"You should thank her, for what she did."

"Thank her? How do I know this wasn't all her fault in the first place? What if someone had gotten hurt, Maseo? Would you be willing to thank her then?"

"Her fault? Oliver, you and I both know those men were there for us. For the Arrow and his accomplices. And who knows where we would all be if Bennett hadn't been there. We could all be dead by now, or worse. You need to let go of your grudges, and especially your anger towards Ray, since I'm assuming that's what this is really about."

With that Maseo walked away, leaving Oliver behind fuming. Maybe this was all about Ray. He was impressed that Bennett had acted so quickly considering her deteriorated mental state. And that she was willing to risk her life to help save three people she just met that day. Felicity seemed to approve of her, like her even, so maybe she wasn't a horrible person after all.

But forgiving and forgetting was not Oliver's strong suit. He would thank Bennett for her help like Maseo wanted, but he didn't trust her. He would keep her eye on her and find out what she was really up to.

Letting out a sigh, Oliver headed back downstairs. Bennett had fallen asleep again in Ray's arms, and he and Felicity were debating if they should take her to his place or Felicity's.

"She can stay here." Oliver's voice pierced through the rest. Felicity turned to look at him in disbelief. "It's the most logical. Besides, I should check her vitals every now and then. Make sure the drugs are wearing off correctly. You and Felicity should go home, get some rest."

"Thank you, Oliver. Thank you so much." It didn't help that Ray could be such a stand-up guy sometimes, especially around Felicity. Oliver nodded his head in acceptance as he watched Felicity squeeze Ray's shoulder. He turned to occupy himself with the computer as Ray carried Bennett to the cot. He waited for the door to click behind them, then turned his attention to Maseo. He had pulled a blanket from the closet and was covering Bennett, tucking the edges in around her.

"Do you want me to stay? I could help you watch her."

"No, it's alright. I can't sleep anyway. I don't mind." Maseo gathered up his things.

"Alright. But Oliver? Just don't kill her in her sleep or anything." Oliver gave him a look, and Maseo turned and left, closing the door tightly behind him. Finally alone, Oliver took a deep breath and rubbed his temples.

Every thirty minutes or so, Oliver went and checked Bennett's pulse. A little slow, but nothing to be alarmed about. A few hours later, he went to check on her again, this time taking a closer look at her neck and wrists. Definitely some sort of bondage wounds. From the looks of it, it looked like several different occasions with some scared and some fresher, still red.

He started to lift up her jacket sleeve when her eyes opened. He moved his hand and took a step back.

"Oliver?"

"I was just checking your vitals. You're okay."

"Where's Ray?" She tried to sit up slightly, but winced and laid back down.

"Everyone went home to get some rest. I figured it would be best for you to stay here. For convenience and also so I could keep an eye on you. On your vitals, I mean." She laughed a little at this.

"You mean keep an eye on me as in 'make sure I'm not a sociopath who's going to hurt the people you love', way. I understand."

"No, that's not-"

"I saw the way you looked at me tonight. Or yesterday, whatever day it is. It's okay, Oliver. Really. You don't have to like me, or trust me." Her eyes started to close again, as if they were getting too heavy to hold open. "Just know, that I'm not here to hurt anyone, not even you." Her breathing evened out, and Oliver stared blankly at her. How could she have known that's how he felt? Did he really make it that obvious? He didn't know if this made him trust her more, or less.

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I heard voices calling to me, begging me.

"Kill me, please. Please kill me!"

"My child, you have to help her. You're the only one who can do it."

"Her next. Please, please end her pain."

"You should have killed her! Why didn't you kill her? She wanted to die and instead look what they did do her! Look what you did to her!"

Waking up, I realized my face was wet. I had been crying. Recognizing the metal and glass room around me, I remembered where I was. And who was here with me. I silently hoped he was asleep, and hadn't heard or seen me crying, but as I opened my eyes I realized he was hovering nearby me, appearing almost worried.

"Hey." My voice cracked, so I tried to clear my throat. As I saw up in the cot I felt a rush of vertigo and had to hold on to the sides in fear of falling out.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a little dizzy."

"You were crying. And whimpering."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother me." Oliver didn't reply, only looked down at his feet. His face seemed stonier than usual. As if he was trying twice as hard not to let any emotions out.

"I have nightmares, too." He didn't look up as he spoke to me, so I wasn't one hundred percent sure he even meant to say it out loud.

"About what?" I asked in my softest voice. I decided it was best to treat Oliver like a wild animal: no sudden movements, no loud noises.

"Everything. Things that already happened. Things that might happen. Horrible things most people can't imagine."

"I can. I have those same nightmares. It's easy not to think about them when you're awake, but as soon as you fall asleep they're all there waiting for you."

He didn't seem like he wanted to say anything else, so bracing my legs I stood up. My legs only slightly felt like jell-o, so I took it as a good sign and started walking around the room. As my muscles warmed, I noticed what was in the room. Weapons, bows, arrows, a ton of computers I guessed belonged to Felicity, and hooded outfits in glass boxes.

"I'm guessing this is all stuff you didn't want me to see, huh?" I found Oliver standing right behind me, moving silently just like Maseo. I walked over to the green outfit complete with a hood and bow.

"Not exactly. But Felicity trusts you."

"But you don't." He smiled. Well, half-smiled. "I know, I know. But you don't have to trust me, just trust Felicity. And I won't tell anyone. Not that I have anyone to tell, but I know what it's like to have secrets. I certainly wouldn't want anyone telling mine. What do you do, with all this stuff? Some kind of superhero stuff?"

"You could say that. It started with just me, trying to save this city from the evil and corruption. But along the way I picked up some help, and it turned into all this."

I placed my hand around one of the smaller bows. Brushed the feather arrows through my fingertips. An ache grew in my chest.

"Do you shoot?"

"I used to. My dad, he liked to take me out in the woods when I was younger. He tried to train me to hunt, but I could never bring myself to kill anything, so I just shot down little trinkets he would hide in trees." I tried to force my lips to smile, tried to focus on the happy part of the memory, but my heart hurt.

"Did he teach Ray, too?" I put the arrow down and moved down to inspect some knives. A small voice in my head thought how easy it would be for Oliver to kill me right now, if he wanted to.

"No, uh, it was my real dad who taught me. He died when I was twelve." I traced the outline of a short sword, and found myself anticipating Oliver's response. Would he really not trust me, now?

"Did you love him?" I looked over at him then, surprised by the sincerity in his question.

"Yes, yes I did. He loved me very much. I miss him everyday. But nothing is permanent you know, you have to learn to love and let go. At least that's what I tell myself when it hurts more than it usually does." I tried to smile again, I didn't want him to think I was completely weak and go in for the kill. But when I looked at him, I saw something I didn't expect. I saw myself. The pain and the grief. The lies and the secrets. The loss and despair. I had the strange desire to reach out and comfort him. My arm even moved slightly, my hand lifting towards his face.

But he turned away then. He picked up one of the bows, and handed another to me. Grabbing a quiver he motioned for me to follow him to the practice targets.

"Let's see how good you really are. No squirrels, I promise." I chuckled almost in disbelief. Oliver, joking?

I placed an arrow in it's home in the bow, and tried to lift my arms. My jacket was too constrictive, and after a few moments of debating, I decided to take it off. My shirt still hid most of the scars, but my wrists were visible. I gambled that he had already seen them, especially after I caught him "checking my pulse" earlier.

Raising the bow again, my muscles burned in a way that felt familiar. A took a few breaths, hearing my father's voice in my head guiding me, and released. The arrow slammed into the center, silently and accurately. My father was an amazing shot, and an even better teacher.

"Wow. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

We each took a few more shots, enjoying the sport and the quiet mind it gave you.

Afterwards, we downed some water and ate mildly stale potato chips in silence. At nine, I borrowed Oliver's phone and dialed Ray's number.

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