To Be a Bird of Prey
Origins
I. The Hunter and the Prey
Chapter Three
Another rooftop, another tête-à-tête; maybe this one would be more insightful.
"So," Helena began, stepping up to the woman who had her back to her, "is that what they call you? Beloved?" She pursed her lips. "Or is it that other thing your buddy back there called you, whatever it was? I don't speak Arabic."
"Aletyewr alesfera'," the woman spoke, turning around. "It means 'yellow bird'."
Helena raised an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is, they basically called you a canary?"
"I chose to be called Canary," came the woman's reply. "It holds a lot of meaning to me."
Well, at least she had a name to call her by now. "To me, it looks like you flew away from the nest, Canary," Helena said, then chuckled. "The League of Assassins," she let out. "I did not see that one coming." With a shake of her head, she took a step closer, and smirked. "And now I'm curious, if you had to repeat your message, then they've found you before – in Starling City, right? And you're here for your family, but I'm thinking you have someone in Starling, too. Now that is interesting."
The tip of the woman's – the Canary's staff was under her chin in the blink of an eye. "You've helped me," she said, "and not just tonight. So, what exactly do you want, Huntress?"
"You know who I am," Helena retorted, "and you're bosom buddies with the Hood, so I think you have a pretty clear idea of what I want."
The Canary nodded. "Frank Bertinelli," she said. "The Arrow, too, obviously. You want revenge."
Helena smiled at that, then grabbed the staff that was still pointed at her, holding it tightly in her grasp. "And you're the best ticket to one of those I've had in a long time."
"So, you want to use me, leverage me, to get back at the Arrow somehow? That's funny, because a couple of weeks ago, you told me he was the one who used people." The bo-staff was yanked out of Helena's grasp with a sharp tug, making her stumble forward a step. "We've been circling each other for a while now, Huntress," the Canary went on, "and I think I've grown fond of you, but if I can challenge Ra's al Ghul for the safety of my family, what makes you think I won't put an end to your threats?"
Helena straightened her spine, raising her crossbow. "You haven't yet," she pointed out. "So, what gives?" She grinned. "You've grown fond of me, have you?"
"Yes," the Canary said, flatly. "There is more to you than your revenge, I can see it, but I also see the mess you're making of it."
Well, that was rude. "You and the Hood – sorry, the Arrow – really are two peas in a pod." She felt her lip curl. "He liked to get all high and mighty, too."
"I'm as much of a killer as you are," the Canary retorted, "so I'm not well-placed to teach anyone morality, but you can't live on your revenge alone."
Helena cocked her head. "And you want to save me from myself, just like he did," she commented. "If you try and sleep with me next, I'll have bingo."
"I am not inextricably tied to the Arrow, and neither are you!" the Canary raised her voice. "You've helped me, and it had nothing do with him."
"Actually, I need you alive for his benefit," Helena corrected. "And like I said, I do enjoy a good fight."
"And the girl you helped me save?"
Helena held her tongue at that, and the Canary seemed to take her silence as victory. "You have your idea of justice," she said. "That's why you want your father dead. Why you want the Arrow to suffer. Why you helped me save the girl in the alley. There are some things you won't stand for, and it has nothing to do with the revenge you seek."
Well, wasn't that nice. Problem was, Helena had been through it enough times to recognize manipulation when she heard it. "So, what?" she challenged, spreading her arms out wide while the Canary's eyes tracked the crossbow she still held a little apprehensively. "I'm better than I think I am, I should let it go – something like that?"
She didn't get her answer right away. Instead, the Canary seemed to think her answer over, and when she did speak, her words were quiet and measured. "Keep in mind where I came from, Huntress," she said. "Once you swear an oath to the League of Assassins, you only have one purpose – to kill. And I've seen people get lost in that purpose – not in the sense that they twist it, but they abide by it so strictly that in the end, it's all that's left to them." She paused there and looked over the city, then brought her eyes back to Helena. "And sometimes, I got lost in it, too – until I remembered my family. If I had let myself forget them, I would have never come back. I had to remember I was more than my purpose – more than an assassin. It's hard to truly value what soul you have left until you're on the brink of losing it."
"You're trying to save my soul? Really?"
"No." The other woman shook her head. "All I'm saying is, you've found a purpose for yourself; to kill your father – maybe the Arrow, too, right? And it's all too easy to get lost in a purpose like yours. But it's your choice."
"Well, that settles it, then," Helena concluded. "We're done with this little – what? Pep-talk?"
"Just one more thing," the Canary said. "After you've killed your father and made the Arrow pay in whatever way you want to – what happens then?"
What sort of question was that? Helena narrowed her eyes, adjusting her aim.
"When your purpose is over," the Canary went on, stepping closer, so that the arrow's tip was nearly touching her chest, "what will you be then?" At this distance, Helena could finally see the woman's features clearly; freckled fair skin, a dimpled chin and bright blue eyes. If she took off her mask, Helena bet she would be beautiful.
"Why do you care?" Helena answered the question with one of her own.
The Canary's mouth pulled at the corner. "I told you, I've grown fond of you," she said. "And...I don't know if you've noticed, but we kind of work well together – even inadvertently. Imagine if we really put our minds to it."
Helena couldn't help but laugh at that one. "You want to recruit me into vigilantism?" She chuckled again, lowering her weapon. "Sorry to disappoint, Canary, but you should do some fact-checking with your friend back in Starling first. He tried to rope me into it, too." She shrugged. "Didn't work out."
"Well, his isn't the only way," the Canary countered. "You know, I have another friend in Starling," she added, "and she believes in second chances. But more importantly, she believes that the reasons behind our actions are just as important – if not more important than the actions themselves." It was her turn to shrug. "I like to think she's right."
"Again, sorry to disappoint, but I have absolutely no desire to rescue puppies and help old ladies."
"But you do like a certain kind of justice," the Canary stated. "And some debts need to be paid in blood." She took another step closer – so close, her eyes were the only thing Helena saw. "And once you've collected your debt, you'll need something to fall back on."
There was a voice in her head, and she hated it, because it taunted her – it told her the Canary was right. It tortured her with images of Michael, alive and dead. Being good and noble got people killed, like it had him, and once you had nothing left to love, you were only stuck with the things you hate – like her father. Some debts did need to be paid in blood.
But Michael had been all about love. Love for her, love for justice, love for life – and Frank Bertinelli had taken it all away from both of them. She had no one left to love these days – though she did love the hunt. She loved to make people pay.
Michael wouldn't have liked that.
But he was dead.
It was a nice thing, she supposed, to have something 'to fall back on'. Something to love. But you needed to be at peace to have love, and she would not have peace until her father was dead, too.
"So, what are you suggesting?" she asked the Canary. "We pack up, go globetrotting together? Thanks, but I'll pass."
After a beat, the other woman nodded. "All right," she said. "You have a job to finish, I get that. But how about I help you finish it?"
That one, Helena hadn't seen coming. She knew the vigilantes' manipulation playbook by heart, but this was new. It must have shown on her face, because the Canary was almost smiling now. "I can help you find your father," she went on with her proposal. "I'm good at finding my targets. I'll bring you to him. And you can kill him, finish your crusade. You saved me tonight. I owe you. And this is how I can repay you."
That just...felt like a trap.
"I told you, I'm not like the Arrow," the Canary added, seemingly sensing Helena's line of thought. "You have a score to settle, I can understand that. And I owe you a favor. Once your father is dead, we can go our separate ways. Or you can try and use me to get revenge against our hooded friend. Or – " she smiled wider this time – "you can come with me."
It sounded like a good offer. Too good, in fact.
"That all sounds very nice," Helena said, "but you know what they say. Don't take candy from strangers."
The Canary nodded, as if to say she understood. She surprised Helena again when she gestured to her mask and what was obviously a wig, then spread her arms out; she was telling her to unmask her, Helena realized.
Though it all still felt like a trick, she couldn't help her curiosity. She raised her free hand slowly, watching for any sudden movements, any indication of an impending trap; she got neither. Her fingers curled around the wig's coarse strands, and when she pulled, it came off, along with the black mask.
Even as her hand fell back at her side, still clutching the wig, Helena recognized the woman's face; she'd never met her, but she knew her. And it was the biggest surprise of the night.
"My name is Sara Lance."