To Be a Bird of Prey

Origins

I. The Hunter and the Prey

Chapter Four

Sara Lance.

The female vigilante hopping from Starling to Coast City, the Canary being hunted by the League of Assassins – it was Sara Lance.

She'd been at her grave – empty though as it was. Oliver had taken her there. Held her hand as he used the memory of the dearly departed Sara Lance to manipulate her.

Her anger came quickly, and it burned white hot. She threw the wig back at the woman – at Sara – and raised her crossbow again. "Is he making you do this?" she spat, pulling sharp breaths through her teeth. "He's using you to manipulate me again!"

"What are you talking about?"

Sara sounded surprised, but she could be faking it – like she had faked her death, evidently.

"It's not enough that he takes me to your grave, makes all these speeches about guilt and purpose and understanding, he has to send you in person to do the dirty work now!"

"Helena – "

"Don't you dare!" she yelled. "You don't know me!"

"Listen to m – "

Helena sent her arrow flying; even with the small distance between them, Sara's hand came up, and caught it. Her fingers curled around the shaft, with the arrowhead just against her heart; she looked down at it, then back up. Helena didn't care for the warning she saw there.

With a growl, she tossed aside her weapon and charged; the staff came between her and her target, and she grabbed it with both hands. Sara tried to throw her off but Helena countered it, putting her strength into a shove to the right and catching the other woman in the shoulder with her own staff.

That seemed to piss her off. Good.

The bo-staff was suddenly split in two, with one baton in each of Sara's hands, Helena parried the blows, taking the metal's sting on her elbows, until she had her opening. She slipped her arms in-between her opponents, pushing outward and sliding her hands along the black leather of Sara's sleeves until she had grasped both halves of her staff in her hands; she held her there, then threw herself forward and headbutted the other woman.

She went down, and Helena had her weapons. Sara didn't stay sprawled on the dirty concrete long and rolled into a crouch, like a animal waiting to pounce; Helena wasn't unlike one, either.

She brought one of the batons down but it only screeched against the ground as Sara moved out of its reach; then, she hooked an arm around Helena's ankle. They both went down, the batons rolling away from either's reach. Sara tried to gain control and stay on top but Helena brought a leg around her hip and pushed, throwing her off balance and on her back.

She could taste dirt and blood and the stringy feeling of her own hair in her mouth but Helena still aimed her blows at Sara's face; screaming out every time she missed or one of her punches was blocked. She did manage to get in one decent blow to Sara's jaw before she got one to her kidney, courtesy of the other woman shoving a knee to her lower back.

Next thing she knew, Sara was extricating herself from beneath her and she was being hauled back up her feet, with Sara behind her and her forearm against her windpipe; she latched onto it with both hands and growled again.

"You need to calm down," she heard the hiss in her ear, drowned out by the blood rushing to her head.

Helena didn't speak, only pulling heavy breaths through her teeth, which Sara seemed to take as her cue to keep talking. "I didn't know about what happened with Oliver," she said – obviously, they were dropping the last of the pretenses. "I'm still not sure what it was he did exactly, but I am not your enemy. And you need to calm down."

With another cry, Helena bucked and tried to throw her off again; this time, Sara let her.

Helena stumbled forward, swallowing past the sob of anger in her throat as she whirled around. "He told me he would never hurt me!" she shouted. "After I told him everything, he promised – he promised me! – that he would never hurt me! But last time I saw him, he was shooting an arrow to my chest!" She gulped in air, clenching her fists. "And he made me that promise while we were at your grave – " she jabbed her finger in Sara's direction, the adrenaline making her hand shake – "he took me to your grave to manipulate me! To lie to me! All that big speech about how sleeping with you hurt those he loved, how he was selfish, how he watched you drown – he lied about that, too!"

Sara had dropped her gaze to the ground. Helena watched her close her eyes for a moment, lick her lips, then take a deep breath. "I didn't know," she repeated quietly. "And the truth is, Oliver and I have a much more complicated history than you know." With another deep breath, she stepped closer again; Helena backed away. "But I'm not him," Sara said. "And I don't work for him. Whatever he did to you, it has nothing to do with me."

Helena let out a chuckle at that; she hoped it sounded as bitter as it felt.

After a moment, Sara nodded. "Well, my offer still stands," she told her as she bent to pick up her mask and wig and pulled them back on. "If you change your mind, I'm sure you'll find a way to let me know."

Helena didn't bother chasing after her when she leaped off the rooftop.

For the first time in a long time, Helena walked the city in daylight.

She had a wig, glasses and a hat, so it was doubtful anyone would recognize her – if anyone were still even looking for her.

It felt odd, to adjust her sight to sunlight instead of darkness, to feel the scalding heat on her skin. She strolled down the beach, finding a spot where no one ventured to by the rocky part of the shore; she still preferred to be alone.

The loneliness was what she knew now, and honestly, she liked it that way. That day, at Sara's grave, she'd told Oliver that Michael would be the last person she had ever let in – and Oliver had found a way to worm around her words, to make her believe that it would be safe to open her heart again. And then all he'd done was to confirm that she'd been right in keeping it locked away.

Letting people in meant depending on them. Trusting them. Having faith they wouldn't betray you. It was, essentially, what Sara Lance was asking her to do. But she was done with all of that.

Still, some of the things the other woman said had resonated with Helena. The need for something to fall back on – and more than that, the dispensing of justice. Her justice. Helena liked that idea.

Of course, trusting Sara Lance was not an option; not even if she had believed her for a second in her 'good and honorable intentions'. A favor for a favor? It was a nice idea in theory, and from what Helena had heard, a member of the League of Assassin was as deadly as they were honorable – in their own way, of course. They followed their code. Except Sara had broken it – and if she could break an oath made to Ra's al Ghul, what on Earth would make Helena believe that she would uphold her word to her?

But the thing was – the annoying, infuriating thing was, Sara had broken her vow to come back to her family. She'd done it for those she cared about – those she loved. And Helena, too, had started her crusade because of the one person she had loved with everything she had in her. In the end, there was only one thing you were truly loyal to, and Helena could understand, though she hated it, why Sara had made her choice.

But to make an alliance with someone so close to Oliver? That was – it was unthinkable. Oliver's friends were her enemies.

Then again, a member of the League of Assassins helping her track her father? That would end her hunt in a matter of weeks.

And what happens then?

She could go after Oliver. Settle their score once and for all.

And after that?

Honestly, she had no idea. She didn't have many plans beyond finishing her hunt.

Working – in the loose sense of the term – with Sara could be a way to kill two birds with one stone; her father would receive an arrow to the heart, and in the aftermath, Helena could still find a way to leverage the 'Canary' against her dear friend, the Arrow.

Of course, she doubted Sara was a fool – and she definitely knew she wasn't easily beaten. But maybe, if she played her cards right...

Helena rose to her feet, and couldn't help her smile. Her hunt was about to get interesting.

Letting Sara know she would accept her proposal took a bit of time. Five days, to be precise.

Helena decided that the best calling card she could leave was a trail of her own for the Canary to follow; that was, after all, kind of their thing.

She kept to a specific zone on the east side, going after the kind of low-lives Sara had an affinity for; rapists, musclebound creeps who liked to bully women, self-important men who thought that they had the right to get more than they'd paid for from a prostitute. And Helena had to admit, she'd very much enjoyed taking down every last one of them.

On the fifth night of her routine, Sara found her in a vacant parking lot.

"I've decided to take you up on your offer," Helena told her, then smirked. "Let's go find my father."

The other woman stepped closer. "Do you know where we should start?"

"Edge City."

After a moment, Sara nodded. "Then let's go to Edge City."