Okay, so this story only has five chapters done and is currently being written without any notes. I already have an idea of how it's going to go, but it's just so angsty that I have a hard time writing it. I'd figure I'd post the first chapter to see if I could get any feedback for this.

Warning: Implications of suicide in the first drabble/section, along with suicide ideation. If that's triggering to you, then this story isn't for you.

Spiral

"I have loved you for half my life. But I'm done running after you."

Laurel felt her heart shatter the second time as she watched Oliver walk away, leaving her all alone. But that wasn't anything new. It hadn't been the first time, either.

Another person, gone from her life. And like always, it was her fault. Oliver had said it himself. She could blame it on everyone else all she wanted, the only person that was always there when they left was her. Because the problem was her. It always had been.

Tommy was dead because of her. Sara had ran off again because of her. She had lost her job, and quite soon her career, the permanent laughingstock of the city. Even Oliver had finally had enough of her. Because in the end she was causing all these problems, and couldn't accept any of the blame.

It wasn't a hard decision to make after that. She had plenty enough pills stored in her apartment. The moment her family was all gone, she fired up her computer and began to type. All the realizations she had just made, the apologies she had to make. Other things too, like how much she had hated her job at the DA's office because of all the politicking, and how much she had loved helping people with CNRI. Tommy, and Thea, and Mrs. Queen. Joanna. Sara. And of course Oliver, thanking him for helping her finally see the light.

When she was done, she printed it out and signed it with her best fountain pen. She set it aside on her coffee table, and the headed to the bathroom to get the medicine bottles. Laurel set them all down next to her letter, before sitting down herself on her couch. She picked one of them up, staring at the label, before screwing it open.

"Well, bottom's up," Laurel said sadly, before opening her mouth wide open.

Twice

The next time she woke up, it was in an unfamiliar bed, with bright lights blaring down on her face. Laurel slowly got up with a groan, blinking her vision clear. Where was she?

"Laurel? Laurel!"

Sara? A cup of water was gently prodded towards her, and she took it gratefully, sipping it. Her head began to un-fog, and she looked around, her gaze landing almost immediately on Sara and Ollie. Laurel could only swallow when she saw them and looked away. She had survived her suicide, it seemed.

"Go away," she told them. "I don't want to hear it."

Whether it was their apologies or recriminations, she didn't care. Laurel had enough of it all. They would just leave in the end, anyway. Like always.

But when several minutes passed and they had yet to leave, she couldn't help but snap at them again. "Didn't I tell you to LEAVE!" Laurel shouted, only to rear her head back when she saw some kind of wave escape her mouth. They slammed into her sister and her ex and sent them stumbling away, and she could only put her hands to her lips in horror. What was that?

It was only then that she got a good look around her room. Instead of the sterile white she was expecting, it was dark and cavernous, if decorated opulently. Whatever this place was, this wasn't a hospital.

"Where am I?" She found herself asking, voice barely a whisper. "What's going on?"

And then she appeared. The woman that kidnapped Mom, who Sara called Nyssa. She gazed upon Laurel with an inscrutable expression, and then spoke.

They were in a fortress called Nanda Parbat, located in the Hindu Kush region of the Himalayas. It was the headquarters of a cult called the League of Assassins, a literal league of assassins who took hit jobs to rid the world of evil. The same cult that Sara had been a part of for the past four years, before she had been released from her vow around the time she finally returned home.

A cult that Sara had sold herself back to, in order to bring Laurel back to life.

Her suicide had succeeded. Laurel had been dead for the past few days. And Sara had willingly reentered her own personal hell in order to get the chance to use this… magical fountain of youth they had in order to resurrect Laurel. It was almost unreal, and if it hadn't been for that weird soundwave earlier, she almost wouldn't have believed it. They didn't know what it was, but it had been a side effect of her resurrection. She had nearly destroyed the entire main atrium with it when she had arisen from the Lazarus Pit, angry and wild and completely out of her mind until they had managed to find some way to knock her out.

"What now?" another voice asked, and Laurel recognized it as Mr. Diggle's. She glanced over to see him and Thea's boyfriend Roy Harper standing together, both looking grim.

There was a brief flash of reluctant satisfaction in Nyssa's eyes. "Now, it is time for Taer Al-Sahfer to rejoin our ranks."

It took a moment for Laurel to realize who she was talking about, and her heart stuttered. Sara. "No," Laurel said, just a little bit louder, trying not to shout again. The last thing they all needed was for this place to crash down all over them. "Sara, you don't have to do this!"

But Sara was smiling at her sadly. "Yes, I do," her sister told her, resolute. "This is the price I need to pay for betraying you a second time."

"No, it isn't!" Laurel responded in a rush, panicked. "Look, I'm sorry, okay! I forgive you! Just please, don't do this!" Don't leave me again!

Sara closed her eyes for a brief moment and then backed away to stand side-by-side next to Nyssa. Laurel's eyes widened in horror and she scrambled out of the bed to go after her sister. "Sara! Sara!"

"I'm sorry, Laurel. For everything." She turned around and began to leave. "Go and live your life. Be happy. Forget about me. Just… just pretend I died on that boat, like I should've six years ago."

"SARA!" Laurel tried to follow her, but found herself being held back Ollie and Mr. Diggle. All she could do was watch as she lost her sister for the second time, just as helpless to stop it as the first time. When the door shut behind the two assassins, Laurel collapsed to her knees and began sobbing into her hands.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

Insincere

Laurel didn't know how long she laid on the cold, hard ground, sobbing her heart out. It was the same kind of pain that had led them all here. The pain that had left her drowning, unable to breathe and slowly sucking the life out of her second by second. It was like dying all over again, and Laurel hated it.

Eventually, she had cried so much that there was no tears left for her to shed. All she could do was just claw at the ground, heaving in and out, trying to regain some semblance of control. Barely, she could hear someone kneeling next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to gently pull her up. "We need to go, Laurel."

Ollie. Laurel wrenched her body away from him, his very touch like poison to her. She might've as well have gutted him open, judging by his reaction. "Laurel…"

"What are you doing here, Ollie?" she asked, tired. He sounded so pathetic, but she couldn't find it in herself to spare him an ounce of consideration right now. "Didn't you say you were done running after me?"

He winced at those words. "I didn't mean it."

Laurel froze, and then leveled him a flat look. "You didn't mean it."

"No… I… I was angry," was his glum response. "And I lashed out at you. I'm sorry."

Unbelievable. Those harsh, cruel words, the words that had been echoing in her mind for hours after they were said, the words that had driven her to kill herself, and he hadn't meant them. Apparently, he had just been angry, and had used her as a convenient target. It was such a weak excuse, the kind you made only when you weren't really sorry about what you did, but rather the consequences you faced for it.

She couldn't even bear to look at him right now. Instead, Laurel just grabbed the offered bag of clothes and ran off to the bathroom to change.

Enough

They departed from Nanda Parbat in silence, walking down the mountain trail with Sara's last farewell ringing in their ears. Laurel was beside herself, numb with pain, everything she had just learned sending her reeling. She had died, honest to God died, and her baby sister had sold her back to the murder cult that had enslaved her for the past four years to bring her back to life. The very thought of it all brought so many conflicting emotions to the surface, it was hard to process any of it.

Her listlessness continued throughout the entire plane ride. She barely remembered getting on or strapping into her seat. Then, somewhere along the way she fell asleep, and was jolted awake when the plane touched land again. They were back home, in Starling.

Home. Just thinking about it made her ill.

She didn't want to get off. She just wanted to curl into her chair and forget the world ever existed. But then Mr. Diggle touched the tip of her elbow, and Laurel knew she had to leave. Carefully, tentatively, she unclipped her seatbelt and carefully picked up the small bag of clothes Sara gifted her before their second parting, including the black leather jacket she had worn since her return. It was all she had of her sister now, for how little it was worth.

Mr. Diggle guided her down the steps, where Roy and… and Oliver were waiting. Roy was looking anywhere but them, while Oliver was… God.

"We'll need to figure out a cover story," he told her softly. In a different time, in a different place, something in her would've warmed at the tone. Now, it just made her skin crawl. "I have some contacts with the government. With their help, I can—"

"Stop."

It took a moment for Laurel to realize the voice that spoke was hers. Oliver blinked, wilting. "Laurel?"

"Please, just stop," Laurel said again, tears gathering in her eyes as she backed away from him. She couldn't do this. Not anymore. "I can't do this. Not again."

Her ex-boyfriend stared at her, mouth agape. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this, Ollie!" she replied, gesturing to the space between them. "This whole song and dance! Like always, you fucked up and want forgiveness and you're willing to do anything for me now to have it, but I can't give it to you. Not for this."

"Laurel—"

"You drove me to suicide, Ollie," Laurel cut him off, and he flinched at the reminder. "You drove me to suicide, and then you let my sister sell herself back to the cult she was doing everything in her power to get away from just to bring me back. That…" She clenched her eyes closed, and then spoke again.

"I have forgiven you for so much. All the times you cheated on me. All the times you lied to me. Cheating on me with Sara, taking her on the Gambit and for years letting us believe you got her killed. Abandoning me in the wake of Tommy's death. Leaving me to flounder alone while I turned to drugs and alcohol to cope with everything I'd lost." Listing it all out, it just made her realize how messed up it all was. "I forgave you because I loved you and honestly thought you had learned from all of that. That you were better than you were before. That the fault lied with me."

"But now it's clear that you haven't changed at all. You're as selfish as you've ever been. No matter how much you might claim to love me, the very moment I make mistakes or struggle, you demonize me and cast me aside for someone else. You aren't willing to afford me the same grace I've afforded you for all these years, and it's obvious you never will. And I can't take that anymore, not after everything it's cost me. Me, and my family."

It hurt. It hurt so much. But there was relief there too, and that it was even there was proof this was the right choice.

He was crying, but she couldn't even bring herself to sympathize. She was crying too.

"So this is me saying enough is enough. Stay away from me. I never want to see or speak to you ever again."

And with that, Laurel finally walked away.

Departure

Laurel left Starling in the midst of the biggest media circus since the sinking of the Gambit. Despite the nature of their parting, Oliver had gone through and gotten her a sufficient cover story to explain why she was miraculously alive and kicking. Apparently she had attempted suicide, and it nearly succeeded, but a kidnapper had invaded her home and managed to save her life via some kind of experimental drug that made her look dead so he could steal her later. It was all convoluted and stuff, and Laurel only memorized it just so she would have an answer for anyone who tried to ask about it.

Of course, the cover story was for the masses. Those closest to her — her family and the Queens — all knew the truth. Oliver hadn't been able to hide it from them, not with what happened to Sara. With her doing everything in her power to avoid him, she had heard everything from the mouths of the gift horses themselves. Both Thea and her mother had appeared at her apartment to apologize on Oliver's behalf, but Laurel wouldn't hear it.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," she told them. "His words, his actions, his choices. The fault lies with him, and only him."

"Even so, my dear, we are sorry nonetheless," Moira responded, looking genuinely repentant. "Our family has caused yours more than enough pain over the years, and I cannot blame you for finally having enough. And as for Oliver, I thought I raised him better than that, but…" The older woman sighed.

"Please keep in touch, Laurel," Thea pleaded. "I know you can't forgive Ollie, and you have every right to leave, but… I'll miss you."

Laurel swallowed, and pulled her into a hug. "I'll miss you too, Speedy."

She exchanged numbers with Thea and Mrs. Queen ("Moira, my dear."), and then had one last lunch with Joanna. Her friend had also been saddened by her decision to leave, but knew she didn't have the right to stop her. Instead, she asked Laurel where she was going to go. "I mean, with your hearing dismissed, you can practice law anywhere you want."

There was a wince at that reminder. Apparently, in the wake of her death, her suicide note had been leaked to the media by some tabloids seeking sales and a chance to smear the Queen name again. Ollie had become the city pariah overnight, and the DA's office was currently under investigation for all the claims made in Laurel's suicide note. With their heads on the chopping block, Kate Spencer and Adam Donner had immediately dropped the disciplinary hearing upon her return to the living and offered her job back (along with a promotion and a raise) in hopes of getting back into the public's good graces. Laurel, seeing right through their ploy, had refused.

"I'm not even sure I want to practice law anymore, Joanna," she admitted to her friend.

"Everything that's happened, it's made me reflect on what's going on in my life, and that includes my job. And the truth is I haven't been happy being a lawyer in a long time. Even with CNRI, it was hard because we kept on getting all those cases stonewalled and it wasn't until the Hood showed up that many of them started going somewhere." Laurel shrugged helplessly. "I became a lawyer to help people with the law. But what's the point of the law if no one else is willing to play by the rules?"

Joanna frowned sadly. "So…"

"So, I don't know. I know I still want to do something that involves helping others, I just don't know if being a lawyer is it anymore."

It was a sobering realization to make. Joanna accepted it as well as she could have, and they exchanged farewells with promises to keep in touch. Laurel returned to her apartment, preparing to pack up the rest of her things, when she saw someone she didn't want to see standing right next to the door: her dad.

Quentin Lance had been the one to find her dead body after her suicide, and had been an absolute wreck ever since. He had quit the SCPD in his grief and driven himself back into the bottle to deal with the guilt. When Laurel turned up alive, he had been the first person to see her, disheveled and smelling of alcohol.

"Glad to see Sara took responsibility for once," were the first words out of his mouth. "Now we can go back to the way things were before, when she was dead. It's obvious now things were always better off that way."

Before she knew it, Laurel had slapped her hand across his face. As her father was reeling, she gripped the door knob that much tighter and glared at him. "If you can't love one daughter without disparaging the other, then you don't deserve to be a father," she told him, before slamming the door closed and locking it behind her. He had spent the next several minutes banging on the wood, begging her to let him in before finally giving up and leaving. Laurel had hoped that would be the end of it, but she should've known better. Here he was now, trying to guilt her into sticking around.

"You're really leaving?" Quentin had asked her the moment he caught her eye, sounding betrayed. It irritated Laurel just to hear it. He was one of the last people who had any right to sound like that and judge her choices. "After everything?"

"Everything is exactly why I'm leaving, Dad," Laurel replied, refusing to budge. "The longer I stay here, the more I can't breathe. I don't even know what I'm doing here any more. Outside of a couple of friends, there's nothing for me here. Not really."

"I'm here," her father pointed out. As if that mattered at all.

Laurel closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her expression was resolute. "Yes. And that's probably the biggest reason why I need to leave. Because my feelings are always going to be subordinate to your own, and I can't live like that. Not anymore."

Living like that is what landed Sara back in the League. She couldn't afford to let people walk all over her anymore, cutting and cutting her down until there was nothing left. That didn't mean she had to stop caring about others, but it did mean she needed to guard herself better from them. She couldn't afford to let herself get hurt like that again.

He tried to argue further, but Laurel wouldn't have it. She entered her apartment and locked the door behind her before Quentin could bust himself in, and waited for him to leave before finally letting herself breathe again. There was pain, knowing she was leaving behind her father like this, but there was relief too. After six years of being his scapegoat, the daughter that lived, she was finally going to be free.

Laurel supposed she should be grateful that at least Dinah had the sense to leave and not bother confronting her like her father. Instead, her mother had just left behind an apology letter with her contact information and headed back to Central City. She knew she didn't have the right to force any forgiveness from Laurel anymore. And with Sara once again gone from her reach, there was no reason for her to stay.

All the most important people in her life were leaving her again, one by one and one way or another, but this time Laurel couldn't find it in herself to care anymore. She just felt numb to it all, knowing that it took her dying for them to feel any remorse for how they'd been treating her for all these years. Laurel wasn't even sure if any of them were really sorry, none except Sara at least. Actions spoke louder than words, as they said.

So when the day came, she found it much easier than it should've been to lift her suitcases and walk out that door. All her life, she had given everything to Starling City, and it had swallowed her whole. But by the grace of her sister, Laurel had her life back, and she was going to live it the way she wanted to. Anyone who said otherwise could take a hike.

Yeah, so this is a really angsty Lauriver AU, to the point you're probably wondering how this is going to end up Lauriver. Well, you'll see.

I've been up to my eyeballs in different, somewhat angst-ridden Lauriver AUs and planning them out, but this is the only one that's really gotten me to write. Right now I'm doing it by ear, but once I reach I certain point I'm probably going to have to start planning again.