Previously. . .

His grin disappeared as the Arrow vaulted up from the railing and vanished into the spot of darkness above, reappearing a second later under the flickering illumination of the streetlamp, several feet away and swinging towards the adjacent building. He took a moment to stare after the disappearing figure, face slack with surprise. Then the corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk. So that's how he wants to play it, huh? Roy leapt to his feet, and with a crack of his neck, shoulder and finger joints, followed after the Arrow. . . a tad more slowly. Just a tad.

I can do this all night.

Two hours later, Roy landed what seemed like his hundredth jump of the night, tumbling head over heels onto the cement rooftop of yet another building. He picked himself up with a groan. The Arrow's deep, synthesized voice coming from within the shadows of the rooftop startled Roy into whirling around.

"Congratulations, kid," he said, sounding completely sincere, the ass. "You made it."

Roy only gave an angry grunt in reply; all his smartass comebacks gone along with his energy. Peering into the gloom, Roy made out the vigilante's outline, crouched at the edge of the rooftop and looking down at the night lights of the city.

The man made no move to acknowledge him when Roy approached and made himself comfortable on the cold ground beside the vigilante. A sharp wind tugged at both their hoods, threatening to uncover the Arrow's head for a moment before it died away. Roy stifled his disappointment, turning to look down at the city himself.

The city was beautiful from this vantage point. Though even from up here, the divisions in the city were obvious. The upper class districts were brighter, teeming with life and light and energy while the Glades were covered in a strange patchwork of light spots and dark spots, the life there hidden quietly in the dark spots, the residents like insects hiding from the revealing light.

Roy looked at the Arrow from the corner of his eye. What did the guy see when he looked at the city? Is it the same thing I see? For a moment Roy thought of Oliver Queen grasping his elbow in an iron grip and getting in his face. The world broke a long time ago, he had told Roy, eyes more intense than he'd ever thought he'd see in a man who'd grown up with the world at his fingertips. Is it the same thing Oliver Queen sees?

"My teacher," the Arrow's voice broke Roy from his thoughts. Roy glanced to the side to find that at some point the man had moved from his ready crouch to an actual sitting position- like a proper human being who knew that at ease actually meant relax. "The one who used the water slapping exercise to train me," the vigilante continued, "was a woman named Shado." .

The Arrow paused and turned his head to look at him. At this distance, Roy could see into the shadows of the man's hood. Light-colored eyes stared out of the new mask that had replaced the dark green warpaint the man had on when Roy first met him on that subway car that fateful night.

"Do you remember how I told you of the woman Slade had loved?" the vigilante began, sounding hesitant, as if every word weighed on his tongue, and saying them taxed his strength.

"Who died because of something you did. . . or didn't do?" Roy completed for him. "Of course I'd remember that." It's rare enough to see you being all human, I couldn't forget if I tried.

"She taught me to shoot with a bow," the Arrow said with a subtle tilt of his head. "In the beginning, I couldn't even draw the bow properly. I didn't have the strength. So she had me slap water for weeks on end. "

A flash of white teeth broke through the darkness of the rooftop for a brief second. "In your defense, I didn't complain as much as you did when I was doing the exercise because she had this way of distracting me." The Arrow looked away but Roy could hear the fond nostalgia in his voice as he spoke of her.

"She would do all these flexible yoga poses in front of me while I slapped water out of a bowl. I don't know if she did it on purpose or not, but I was so distracted watching her that before I knew it, my bowl was empty and she'd be refilling it again." The man glanced at him briefly and Roy hastily shut his jaw with a clack.

"I can't do yoga," said the Arrow after a moment went by and Roy continued to stare at him, wide eyed and tongue tied.

"Please don't," Roy replied when he finally found his voice. He snorted. "I can't believe we're having an almost normal conversation about hot girls." Roy thought for a moment. "At least, I'm assuming she's a hot girl."

The Arrow made a strange sound that Roy took to be a laugh warped by whatever device changed the man's voice. "She was," he said. "Very hot, and very much a warrior."

"You said she was Slade's woman."

"Slade loved her," said the vigilante, "but they were never really together, I think. At least not like Shado and I were together. After she died, Slade implied that while he loved her, she only really loved me." The man shook his head, "I seem doomed to always be one third of a love triangle, no matter who I'm with."

There was nothing to say to that so Roy kept quiet. In the distance, a train passed by, the wheels chugging noisily in the tracks. To himself, Roy thought, It wasn't just Slade who went crazy after she died, you did too, didn't you? In your own way and without the Mirakuru. Roy couldn't imagine what he'd do if Thea died. She changed his life just as much as the Arrow did.

"Slade always said that she was a distraction," the Arrow said, looking off into the night sky where a sliver of the moon was starting to peek through a cloud, "but I think she made me. . . " he trailed off, trying to find the right words. He shrugged his shoulders. "She made me."

Roy caught what he didn't say.

. . . what I am today.

A.N: That last part took me by surprise. I only planned on Oliver sharing about his time slapping water out of a bowl, maybe mention Shado a little bit. But Oliver went and started talking about love and all that deep stuff. I'm a little hesitant now because it might be a bit OOC for the boys to start talking about their feelings. I know they're not the type to do that. But my defense is that they are talking after a round of endorphin-inducing freerunning across the city while sitting in the dark. It's not the same as talking in daylight under ordinary circumstances.

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