To Be a Bird of Prey

Origins

II. The Coveted

Chapter Three

The basement of Verdant looked about the same as Sara remembered it. The complex set-up of computers, the glass casings, the weapons; the green hood.

Things were different, though. Oliver wasn't there.

And his absence was as tangible as his presence used to be.

Felicity laid on the basement's metal table reserved for unconscious injured parties, with an IV in her arm and a blanket wrapped snugly around her.

Sara stood right by her side, her eyes flickering to her monitored vitals every few seconds. Diggle stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Helena half-sat on one of the tables, leg propped on a crate on the ground, in a stance Sara thought was a form of taunt towards Diggle.

And the silence between them all was rather awkward.

Sara decided she should break it, by sticking to neutral subjects. "I think the Triad got the message," she said, feeling her voice was unusually loud in the quiet space, "but someone should still stay with Felicity. At least for some time."

Diggle nodded. "They might want to retaliate, too," he pointed out. "Or they might still think Oliver's around. In any case, we need to keep her safe."

"Get her a gun," Helena commented, in a tone that very much implied she was rolling her eyes.

Predictably, it made Diggle's posture turn very hostile. "This isn't any of your business," he warned.

Sara closed her eyes, and sighed.

"You may want to be a little more grateful," Helena fired back, "seeing as it was my shot that saved your little friend here from a bullet to the head. Maybe I should have just let that guy pull the trigger."

"Considering you threatened her life the last time you were here – "

"And now I helped save it," Helena cut in. "So we're even."

"Not by a long shot," Diggle said.

Helena was gearing up for a retort, but the soft mumbling sounds coming from the metal table made them all quiet. Diggle stepped closer while Sara watched intently, focused on the fluttering of Felicity's eyelids. When they lifted fully, Sara smiled down at her. "How was your nap?" she asked softly.

Felicity blinked a few times while a small frown creased her brow; she seemed to center herself after some moments, and her lips parted as if she wanted to speak. All that came out of it was a faint croak.

She cleared her throat and tried again. "Guess I didn't dream all of that," she whispered, her gaze dropping downward.

"No," Sara told her, "but you're safe now." Her own eyes lingered on Felicity's hand, where it lay at her side against the metal, and she moved to grasp it; weakly though as it was, Felicity squeezed back.

"Well, that's debatable," came Helena's comment, and Felicity's reaction was instantaneous. Her eyes lifted to the other woman and widened, as she stuttered, "Wh – what are – "

"Hi." Helena pushed herself off the table, coming closer. Sara shot her a warning glance. "Don't give me that look," Helena told her. "You're the one who insisted I come here."

"Sara, what's – what's happening?" Felicity's quiet question made Sara sigh. She ran her thumb over her knuckles to soothe her, then said, "She's with me. I was with her when I got your message. We came here together."

"We rescued you together," Helena supplied.

Felicity's eyes bounced between the two of them, and every new piece of information only seemed to confuse her further. "You – you're working with her?" she let out.

Diggle made a little sound, as if to agree with the sentiment behind the query.

Before Sara could try and explain, Helena was piping in. "Considering whom the two of you were working with before he left you hung out to dry," she remarked, "I don't think you're well-placed to take the moral high-ground on anyone's choice of partners."

The remark was biting, and it cut just the way Helena had wanted it to; by drawing all the attention back to the very noticeable absence in the room.

Sara watched as Felicity's eyes went over the corners out of habit, searching but not finding what they were looking for, and she watched as they slowly filled with tears.

While Sara tightened her hold on Felicity's fingers, John laid a comforting hand on her forearm, just above where a bandage was wrapped around the bruised wrist of her other hand. "You know he'd be here if he knew, Felicity," he told her kindly.

"But that's just the point, right?" she whispered, then sniffled. "He doesn't know because he's not here. And that's – that's a choice he made. He chose to leave even if – " she blew out a quiet breath – "even if that meant he wouldn't be here if things happened." She sniffled. "So, there's that."

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and she turned her head away, burrowing her cheek in the makeshift pillow they had made her and tucking her chin in the crease of her shoulder.

"Did you really expect better?"

Dammit, Helena, Sara thought.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Diggle issued another warning, with a definite threat lacing his words this time.

Helena raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm really starting to feel unwanted around here."

"That's because you are."

"Digg," Felicity muttered softly, in a tone Sara would associate with someone calling off their protective big brother. And John seemed to understand that, falling back.

Felicity raised her head next, only a fraction, to look at Helena. "I kind of owe you my life now," she said, "so...thanks for that, I guess."

Sara followed Helena's reaction out of the corner of her eye, withholding the urge to smile at the oddly blank expression on the Huntress's face; Felicity had surprised her with her gratitude, that much was clear, throwing her in for a loop when all she had expected was to be torn to pieces. Being blindsided into not having to play defense would throw off even the best of them, Sara supposed.

After some uncomfortable moments, Helena cleared her throat. "Well, I think I will go now," she announced, exchanging looks with Sara as she retreated. She gave her a slight nod, which Sara returned; she'd told Helena about the place she favored in the city, the clocktower in the Glades. They had agreed to stay there, for however long their business kept them in Starling. Sara surmised it would be longer than Helena would have liked.

Sara tracked her movements until she disappeared out of sight, and as the door clicked shut behind Helena, she could practically feel Diggle's eyes boring down on her. With a soft sigh, she met his, unsurprisingly, disapproving gaze.

"Something else you'd like to say, Digg?" she asked.

He stayed quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Not really," he said. "I'm just surprised at your...choice of partners."

"She's not as bad as you think she is."

"No, actually, Sara, I think she's way worse than you think she is," he retorted. "She's a psycho – a stone-cold killer!"

"And so am I!" Sara matched his tone. "I was an assassin for years. My body count by far exceeds hers, and if that's what you think of her, then I have to wonder what you think of me."

He dropped his eyes to the ground, shaking his head. "It's not the same," he defended. "She doesn't care about the destruction she leaves in her wake, about the collateral damage." He threw his arms out. "She was willing to start a full-blown mob war just to get to her father, she would kill anyone – McKenna Hall is still learning how to walk again after your new partner shot her femur to pieces!" He drew a sharp breath there, as if to calm himself, then repeated, more quietly, "It's not the same."

Sara pursed her lips. "You're right, it's not the same," she said. "I killed people I was told to kill – the way an assassin does. The same way your brother's killer does." Diggle reeled back, like the mere idea was outrageous, but Sara went on. "See, you're right, I'm not like Helena – I'm more like Deadshot," she concluded. "Except I didn't even get paid. And you want to speak about collateral damage? Every person I killed while with the League was collateral damage in Ra's al Ghul's endgame, and I played along to save my life." She felt the burning of tears in her eyes and ducked her head, pulling a deep breath through her nose. "So, if Helena's irredeemable, then so am I – maybe even more so."

Diggle looked distinctly uncomfortable after she was done. Eventually, he only said, "I didn't mean to offend you, Sara."

"I know," she assured. "And I get that...your history with Helena makes you wary. But she is my partner," she asserted, "and she was on your side tonight. I think that counts for something."

Eventually, Diggle nodded. Sara doubted it had made him any more inclined to welcome Helena, though. So, she dropped her eyes down, to Felicity.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," she apologized. "Again."

Felicity's shoulder moved against the table, in a small shrug. "I'm just glad you're here."

Her voice was quiet and thick, and Sara knew she was thinking of the one person who wasn't here again. While she understood Oliver's thought process better than she'd like, though she did not condone it, Sara also understood that Felicity's loyalty was absolute; and it hurt not be shown the same kind of loyalty in return.

So, she ran a soothing hand over Felicity's hair. "Get some more rest," she said. "You're dehydrated and exhausted. And your body heals best when you're sleeping." She patted her hand one last time before letting go. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Felicity gave her a little smile, while Diggle offered her a nod of farewell, and with that, Sara was on her way. Before she met Helena back in the clocktower, she needed to make a stop first. To check up on her sister.

From the little information Diggle had supplied her with, Laurel hadn't spoken to anyone since she and Felicity had been taken by Slade Wilson. And Slade was, in himself, a whole other can of worms Sara wished she could keep sealed. But that past had spilled into this present and sooner or later, she knew she would have to face the part she had played in that history. With both Felicity and her sister.

Still, she needed to check up on Laurel first.

And then, she would need to speak to her father.

Sara sat at the counter's far end, waiting for her father to come through the doors of their rendezvous place of choice.

She had looked through Laurel's window not an hour earlier, watching her sister cloaked in darkness save for the lone lamp that cast shadows on her face. Sara had seen papers scattered around, clothes slung over chairs haphazardly and far too many empty wine bottles. And Laurel –

Laurel looked terrible.

And now, Sara was meeting their father.

She smiled when the door was pulled open with far too much enthusiasm, and her father appeared in sight, his eyes taking in the patrons until they landed on her; he crossed the space in barely a few hurried strides.

Sara welcomed his hug, letting him hold her as tightly as he liked, for as long as he liked.

"I missed you, baby," she heard him say, and squeezed him tighter for a moment.

"I missed you, too, Daddy," she told him softly, taking a deep breath before pulling away.

"I didn't think you'd be back," he said, running a hand over her hair. "Not for a while, anyway."

"I wasn't planning on it." Sara stepped away from his arms, retaking her seat; her father followed suit. "But I had to," she said. After a beat, she added, "Felicity sent me a message. She said I was needed here...that Laurel needed me, after what happened."

Her father gave her a studying look, then sighed. "You probably know more about it than I do, then," he concluded. "The truth is, I don't – " He sighed again, and ran a hand over his face. "I'm not sure what happened. When we got to Queen's offices, we just – we found nothing. Laurel barely said a thing about it. Oliver only mentioned this...man who'd taken them hostage, said he didn't know him. Ms. Smoak didn't say much, either."

Sara looked away. She hadn't expected either Oliver or Felicity to mention Slade Wilson's name if they could help it – and Laurel had evidently made it easier for them to keep it secret. Diggle had said that Oliver's alter-ego had been kept secret from Laurel, too, so all that she did know was that a man named Slade Wilson had a score to settle with him; she knew who she had been meant to stand-in for, too. And that was what worried Sara the most.

" – apparently, Oliver tossed him out of a window, but we found no body, and it only accounts for part of all the broken glass – "

She whipped her head around to face her father again. "Broken glass?"

He looked a little startled by the interruption, and the query, but eventually, he nodded. "Every glass surface in the place was shattered," he informed. "I have no idea how. The best theory we have is that the lunatic who took them did it for sport but – well, it's not much of a theory, is it?"

That was...strange.

She would have to ask Felicity about it. But it was also not what she wanted to speak to her father about.

"I think you're going to have to accept that you won't get all the answers here, Dad," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "So, you do know more about this than I do?"

Sara gave him a little shrug in response. He shook his head at her, then asked, "Okay, then can I know where you've been?"

"Here and there," she told him, and he didn't seem to appreciate the vague response. So, she added, "I was in Coast City for a while." She smiled. "Watching over Mom."

"Does she know – "

"No." Sara shook her head. "She can't know I'm alive. Not yet." Maybe not ever. Too many people knew already – her father above all. It wasn't safe for him to know, in more ways than one. It wasn't safe for his own life, and if the League ever caught up with her and decided she had to pay her price for leaving, it wouldn't be safe for his heart, either.

Shaking that line of thought off, Sara said, "I was there for a few weeks. Then I...bounced from one place to another. I was actually in Argentina when Felicity called." She shrugged. "I packed and came straight here."

Her father hummed. "Well, the city's a mess – again. I think the Arrow could use your helping hand, actually."

Sara dropped her gaze to her hands. "The Arrow's gone, Dad," she whispered.

She could feel her father's posture shift beside her. "Gone?" he let out. "Is he – "

"He's not dead," she assured. "He's just...gone." She sighed. "And I don't think he's coming back anytime soon."

It was a while before her father spoke again. "So...does that mean you're staying?"

She couldn't, not for long. But for now, she was needed.

"For a little while," she said. "At least until things...settle." With a deep breath, she added, "I went to see Laurel. She's not well, Dad."

It was his turn to look away. "No, she's not," he agreed, quietly. "She's not been well for a while now. Ever since the quake, and Tommy..." He shook his head. "She went after the Arrow, and that fell through, and then she...got all these ideas about Alderman Blood and how he wasn't who he said he is, and now this, whatever it was...and I don't know how to help her with any of it," he admitted, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose; Sara knew he was trying to hold back his tears, and felt some of her own burn at the corners of her eyes.

"Maybe if you talked to her, Sara – "

She shook her head resolutely. "No, Dad – "

"Baby, look – " he covered her hand with his own – "you did a bad thing back then, with Oliver, but...you're still her little sister. She loves you, misses you. She'll forgive you."

Sara wished she could believe it would be as easy as that. And there were things her father didn't know, about her and Oliver. But Laurel did now, thanks to Slade.

"Maybe," she allowed. "But there are other things to worry about, too."

"That's an understatement," her father grumbled. "This mysterious kidnapper, we have no leads on him – or any idea when or if he'll return. Or even what he wanted." He pursed his lips. "Of course, I think you do have an idea, but I won't get to hear it. And then there's Merlyn...God only knows how he came back. But he's nowhere to be found, either. The Glades are a mess, everyone's in a panic, everyone's outraged...we were barely recovering from the quake, and then he struck again."

Sara frowned. "He just disappeared? Merlyn, I mean."

"Yeah. He had Thea Queen. Ms. Smoak said the Arrow was going after him, and last I heard, he found nothing when he got there."

"That sounds like he fled," Sara whispered, more to herself than her father.

"Who the hell knows what goes on through his head? He's a madman. But, he did leave the Glades scattered...crime's on the rise again. We can barely keep up – actually, no, we can't keep up, which is why it's a good thing you're here." He gave her a little smile. "Even if it's just you."

Sara bit her lip. "Actually, Dad...it's not just me."

Her father frowned. "You said the Arrow was gone."

"He is," she said, "but...I sort of met someone else while I was away, and they came here with me."

"Who?"

Considering what she had been told about her father's encounters with the Huntress, it was probably for the best not to go down that road just yet. "I can't really tell you," she said. "But I think you'll probably know soon enough." They were in the Huntress's hometown, after all, and every arrow of hers was a statement.

At least there were actual windows in this tower.

Well, if one could call a glass clock face with a hole in it a window.

Helena pressed her forehead against the cool surface, letting her eyes go over the city down below one more time. The whole of Starling was within her sights; the middle class apartment buildings and townhouses, the business district and its skyscrapers, the rich neighborhoods from where she had come. The Glades.

The Glades stood out from this high, like pitiful ruins in the middle of a harmonious landscape. She hadn't seen them after the quake, hadn't really cared. But the damage sustained then was still far from repaired – and now, they had been damaged again.

The soft clangs of metal and creak of leather sounded from behind her, until a quiet thud of feet hit the ground; apparently, stairs and doors were still for crazy people. Not Sara Lance.

"I'm starting to see a pattern with your hideouts of choice, you know," Helena commented.

"It's a good – "

"Yeah, yeah, a good vantage point," she finished the argument for Sara.

She heard the quiet huff of a chuckle before Sara stepped up to her, taking a place at her side. "You can see the whole city from up here," she said.

"Is that really the way to go here?" Helena countered. "This city's not exactly a sight for sore eyes these days."

Sara's eyes went over the city, and Helena knew she kept her attention on the Glades. "No, it's not," she agreed. "Malcolm Merlyn made very sure of that."

"The Dark Archer." Helena hummed. "Last time he was here, half the Glades fell. The little explosion he set off this time pales in comparison."

"That's because he fled," Sara said, piquing Helena's interest. "I spoke to my father," she added. "He said Merlyn had Oliver's sister, then when Oliver went to fight him, he was just gone."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "From what I heard about him, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would cower before the Arrow. Much less flee."

"He wouldn't," Sara agreed. "He fled from someone else."

Well, she knew that tone. Helena looked Sara over, noting the tense posture and set jaw. There was one subject, she had learned, that got the Canary in this state. "You know, I never asked," she began, "but those people I helped you with in Coast City...they were dressed like the Dark Archer." She shifted her stance, to face Sara more fully. "Was he part of the League, too?"

She didn't get her answer right away, but in the end, Sara nodded. "He was," she said. "But Ra's al Ghul released him."

Helena frowned. "If getting released is an option, why did you run?"

"It's not – an option, I mean." Sara sighed. "Or maybe it was, just...not for me. But Merlyn didn't honor the terms of his release. He used what he was taught for his own gain, his own agenda. That's betrayal."

"So...Ra's al Ghul wants him dead, I assume?"

Sara pressed her lips together and when the words came out of her mouth, they sounded strained. "He does."

Helena took another step closer. "The Dark Archer wouldn't cower before the Arrow, but he would before Ra's al Ghul," she concluded. "You think he's here."

"No," Sara said. "I'd be dead already if he were. But I think – " She took a deep breath, then tried again. "I think he was here. And if he wasn't, then he's coming."

"So, all the more reason for us to leave as soon as we can."

"No, Helena, I can't." She turned to her, eyes flashing with the kind of stubbornness that had brought them to Starling in the first place; Helena clenched her teeth.

"Why not?" she let out. "We saved your little friend, you saw your family – and they're fine."

"They're not fine!" Sara raised her voice. "They still need me! And I still need to keep them safe!"

"They've managed without you for six years," Helena countered. "But you are running for your life, and you're prepared to risk it for – what, exactly?"

It looked like there were tears in Sara's away before she turned away; her head bowed and her hands came up to cover her face. Helena heard the ragged breath she took, saw her shoulders slump then straighten. She waited for her answer, though she was pretty sure what it would be.

"I can't leave," Sara said. Craning her head around just enough to look over her shoulder, she added, "You can, if you want to. I could never ask you stay just to fight my battles."

Sometimes, Helena wondered if Sara still only spoke all the right things to keep her at her side. She couldn't ask her to stay, no; but she could entice her with promises of battles.

And besides, they were both big on loyalty.

Helena cast another look at the city beneath them, then nodded. "I'll stay."