Chance

Like everyone suggested, Oliver made himself scarce the next couple of days. The public already had divisive, polarizing opinions on his family, and what happened with Laurel and the leaking of her suicide note had only made the situation worse. He got constant dirty looks from people on the street who noticed him, and any chances of rehabilitating his image had been effectively nuked. As far as Starling was concerned, he was always going to be "that dickhead playboy who drove his ex-girlfriend to suicide".

Even Roy had been leery coming in for training. He had spent the last few days comforting his girlfriend over the death of the woman who had been the closest Thea had to a best friend, and understandably now had mixed opinions of his mentor, the man who had given the final kick to push Laurel over the edge. Clearly, whatever blind idolization he had for the Arrow was gone; instead of being his hero, Oliver was now a flesh-and-blood man who made terrible, horrific mistakes.

Oliver tried to put it all out of mind and focus back on the mission. His civilian identity might be the city pariah, but the Arrow still had a growing movement behind him. People still believed in his vigilante alter-ego, in part because they didn't know it was Oliver was behind the mask. And regardless of how great a tragedy it was, crime in the city didn't stop because one woman had committed suicide.

It was weird having to stop criminals without Felicity on comms. He had begun to grow used to her excited chatter and clever quips, so to hear John's serious, focused voice instead was a bit of a jolt at first. John was just about the only one who had yet to seriously rip into him for what happened to Laurel, and when Oliver asked him about it, he had been surprised at the answer.

"Because I can't help but feel that part of this is my fault," had been John's confession. "I'm the one who kept telling you that she was a blindspot, that you needed to ignore her. That was a mistake, and as Felicity pointed out, was completely disrespectful. She wasn't a blindspot, a distraction — she was a person you cared about, who I told you to push away."

They didn't speak again after that, and Oliver had so many conflicting emotions inside him that he did his best to keep his distance from his friend, even though John was the only one really sticking beside him. Yes, John's prejudiced advice against Laurel had negatively influenced Oliver's perception of her. But did that really make him at fault? It had been Oliver decision's to finally act on that advice, leading to the colossal mistake that had more-or-less completely ruined his life all over again.

In the end, like always, Oliver only had himself to blame for how things had turned out.

Chance

Oliver thought he'd never Sara ever again after she walked out on him all those days ago. But one night, she appeared, severe, cold, and focused. Like a woman on a mission. He could only wonder what exactly would make her like this so soon after her sister's death, and for a brief moment, thought she was here to kill him to avenge Laurel. It wouldn't be particularly surprising; the way people talked about him now, he might as well have killed her with his own two hands.

What she said instead, however, made his heart stop.

"I know a way to bring Laurel back to life."

At that, John, Roy, and himself all froze, genuinely stunned at her words. "What?" Oliver asked, almost like he couldn't breathe. "The dead can't come back to life, Sara." If they could…

Sara shook her head. "There's a way. But it's going to come at a cost. For both Laurel and for me."

John frowned. "What is it, Sara?"

As it turned out, the method was a magical hot spring of some kind, called the Lazarus Pit. Located in Nanda Parbat, controlled by the League of Assassins, bathing in its waters could heal just about any mortal wound and extend a person's natural lifespan. It was the reason why the current Ra's al Ghul had been able to live for so long, like every Ra's al Ghul before him.

And apparently, it could resurrect the dead.

"It'll come at a cost to Laurel's soul, but I don't care anymore," Sara told them. "It's our fault she's dead, so it's our job to fix it. No matter what it takes."

"Sara…" Oliver trailed off, then sighed again. She had yet to say what using the Pit would cost her, and he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"Look. I'm only here because I need help stealing Laurel's body from the morgue and getting it on a plane to Nanda Parbat. If you aren't willing to play ball, then I'll figure out some way to do it myself."

There was a stubborn line to her shoulders, a stance that said 'I'm doing this no matter what anyone else says', and never before had Sara looked more like her sister right now. Maybe that was what convinced Oliver to finally give a consenting nod. Besides, if this worked, if this really could bring Laurel back to life…

He had another chance to fix everything. A chance to finally make things up to Laurel, to everyone. No backtracking this time, no giving up. This had to be a sign, the universe throwing him a lifeline. Oliver would be a fool not to take it.

Real

Breaking into the morgue was easy. The SCPD's competency had not increased in the wake of the Undertaking, and Sara had grown up in police precincts practically all her life. With her expertise, it took only a bit of planning and a quick infiltration to get inside and find where Laurel's body was stored. Some efficient lock-picking later, Oliver pulling out the metal slab and removing the white sheet to reveal her corpse.

They very sight of it caused him to go rigid. Laurel's pale, motionless face gazed up at him accusingly and all Oliver could do was just stare back. It took Sara jabbing him with her elbow and reminding him of their limited time table to get him to move, and they quickly lifted her body away and into the bag they had brought with them, before carrying it out.

John was waiting for them outside with a van, and they stuffed themselves into the back, letting him drive them to the airfield where an A.R.G.U.S.-commissioned cargo plane was waiting for them. Roy was already there, and the four them walked right inside, strapping in for take-off.

Once they were fully settled into the air, Oliver removed his seatbelt and walked towards the platform of crates where they had laid the bag that contained Laurel's body. Quietly, hesitantly, he unzipped it open to gaze another look at the body of the woman he once loved.

Laurel was still as pale and unmoving as when he first saw her in the morgue. Tentatively, he reached out to brush back her hair, cringing at her ice-cold skin. His hands trailed the rest of her head and neck, trying to feel for some kind of pulse. Nothing. Not even a twitch.

This was real. Laurel was dead. Because she had given up on life. Because she had killed herself. Killed herself.

Killed herself… because of something he said.

Oliver began to breathe in and out, hyperventilating as his heart started beating rapidly. The tears he had done his best to hold back started leaking out of his eyes in droves, as he clutched the edges of the crates. A high-pitched wail escaped him, echoing throughout the entire corridor and startling everyone else on the plane. What had he done?

They — John, Sara, Roy — were asking him what was wrong, but Oliver couldn't bear to speak a single word to any of them. All he could do was snake his arms around Laurel's neck and shoulders and pull her up, pressing her cheek against his as he sobbed horrifically, repeating a million apologies with every breath he took.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm sorry, I'll be better, please come back, please…"

God, he wished he had never gone to that dinner. That he had never once looked Sara's way with any sort of lust, had just chosen to stay faithful. If he had, Laurel would still be alive. None of this would've happened.

They were right. They were all right. This was his fault, and there was no taking it back.

Monster

"Nobody say a word," Sara hissed to them all when they arrived at the beginning of the path that led to Nanda Parbat. "Let me do all the talking."

There was not a word of protest. None of them knew of the intricacies and the politics of the League of Assassins, not like Sara did. With that established, they marched up the mountain trail towards the fortress, only stopping when they arrived at where the current sentry was stationed. As Sara instructed, they let her do the talking, rapid Arabic escaping from both assassins.

After they were done speaking, the sentry guided them further up the trail and through the caverns to where Nanda Parbat was located. They barely had any time to stare in awe at the massive fountain fortress that Sara had called her home for four years before they were guided inside and through the corridors to the main atrium. There, they were instructed to kneel, and despite his instincts, Oliver complied. He didn't want to risk losing the chance to bring Laurel back.

An imposing man dressed in opulent armor and a cloak appeared, flanked by Nyssa. Ra's al Ghul, no doubt. He flickered his gaze across them all before addressing Sara in Arabic, using her League name. Sara replied, and soon rapid Arabic started being exchanged between them, with Nyssa occasionally chiming in. The conversation grew heated, and Oliver feared the worst.

He chanced a glance at John, the only one of them that could understand the conversation at all. His bodyguard's expression shifted minutely, for a moment growing worried, until suddenly shock appeared as he glanced at Sara in horror. Oliver could only wonder what it all meant.

The conversation ended not long after. Women — priestesses — were called into the hall to collect Laurel's body. Only at Sara's nod did they give her up. After that, they were guided to a room to wait.

"They're preparing her body for the ceremony," Sara explained once they were all alone. "There are certain preparations that need to be made to ensure that Laurel's soul comes back with her body once she's placed into the Pit."

"Yeah, speaking of that," John stepped forward. "What was that in there, Sara? Were you really serious about that?"

Sara flickered her eyes downwards. "Like I said: using the Pit will have a cost for both Laurel and myself. That was just me paying my half of the price."

"And just what would that be?" Oliver asked, finally calling attention to himself. He just knew there was a catch to all this.

John and Sara exchanged a look, and then the latter sighed. "In exchange for being allowed to use the Pit on Laurel, I agreed to re-join the League," she revealed.

"What?" Oliver all but shouted, Roy equally disbelieving beside him. "You can't do that. We just got you back from the League!"

"Yeah, and that was a mistake!" Sara snapped back. "If I hadn't come back, Laurel wouldn't be dead and none of this would've happened!"

"Sara—"

"No! This is my fault just as much as it yours! I allowed myself to believe that the past six years entitled me to continue being a bitch to my sister and couldn't even bother to offer up an apology to her for the betrayal that started all this, and that led her to believe that I didn't give a damn about her at all and killing herself over it!" She grabbed and tugged at the ends of her hair, angrily gritting her teeth. "I should've never left the League! If I couldn't even bother offering that little bit of decency to my own sister, then… then…"

Oliver faltered as Sara began to cry. Part of him wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he knew that as no longer his place anymore. He had lost that the moment he had said those words to Laurel and destroyed the Lance family for good.

"I'm a monster. A monster who betrayed and practically murdered her own sister. I belong here, with all the other monsters here."

They all tried to protest those words, but Sara wouldn't hear it. She pushed them all away and went to sob in another room, and all Oliver could do was watch her go. After everything they had gone through in order to finally free Sara from the League, here she was, back with them again, a mere few weeks later. It was just another crime of Oliver's to add to the list, and he couldn't help but hate himself for how long it was starting to become.

Scream

Sara stopped her tears in time for the ceremony, cleaning herself before her once again-fellow assassins could return. Once she was ready, they followed their guide (Maseo, or Saraab as he called himself now, much to Oliver's shock) to the Pit. There, an apparatus had already been set up, with Laurel's body, clad in a white nightgown, laid.

At Maseo's instruction, the four of them took one of the four ropes attached to the wooden apparatus and slowly began to lower it into the Pit. The Priestesses began chanting in Arabic, and once Laurel's body was fully submerged beneath the waters, the chanting stopped. The sickly green waters began to bubble, as everyone quietly waited for something, anything to happen. Oliver swallowed as he watched. Come on, Laurel, come on…

Suddenly the rope slipped out of Oliver's hands, everyone's hands, as the bubbling grew worse, before abruptly stilling. There was a brief moment of silent tension in the air…

Water splashed everywhere as a figure leapt from the Pit and onto the stone ground in front of it. At the edge of the pool, Laurel, alive and breathing, crouched, her hair hanging in front of her face like a wet, haphazard veil.

And then she looked up.

Nobody made a sound. Nobody moved. The pure animal rage in her eyes was nothing like the Laurel Oliver knew, that any of them knew. She glanced around at the room, a horrible snarl, and then she closed her eyes and screamed.

Some kind of force, a sound wave for lack of a better word, blared out of her mouth and slammed into them all, sending them flying. Everyone present, from the lowliest assassin to Ra's al Ghul himself could do nothing as she screamed and screamed. The cavernous Nanda Parbat began to shake under the pure power being unleashed.

Finally, something, perhaps exhaustion, hit Laurel and she stopped screaming, breathing hard but eyes still wild. One of the priestesses snuck towards her and injected her with something and she collapsed, unconscious. Oliver quickly rushed to pick her up, reveling once more in the warmth of her body, the feel of her pulse. She was alive.

But was she even Laurel?

Impotent

He had known it had been coming. From the very moment Laurel awoke from her resurrection-induced slumber and was forced to watch as her sister was taken from her a second time, Oliver had known at the back of his mind what was going to happen next. The way she reeled away from his touch was only more proof, and it ran him through.

It didn't stop him from hoping that she wouldn't though. That she still had enough in her to give him one last chance. Oliver wouldn't waste this one, he'd assure her. He already had it all planned out. His mother still had contacts in the local government, that was one of the reasons she was running for mayor. With her help, he could fix everything — get Laurel legally declared alive as soon as possible, figure out a cover story for her resurrection, get her job back, her dad his job back… Even Sara's current circumstances, they could figure something out. They had gotten her out of the League once before, certainly they could do it again.

But it didn't work out that way. Before Oliver could even get started, Laurel made her opinion known.

"…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."

Every word made Oliver flinch, his face wet with tears. Laurel was crying too, but there was anger mixed in with her grief. She had made her choice, and she was making it clear to him, once and for all.

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

The love of his life turned around and walked away, refusing to give him so much as a second glance. Oliver finally found the strength in his legs to move, to run after her, to go on his knees and beg and plead for her not to do this, to not leave him, but someone grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him. He turned to see it was Roy, who simply shook his head, his face grim.

Oliver turned back to Laurel, watching her slowly disappear in the distance. John gave him a sad expression, but then turned to join up with her, no doubt to offer her a ride home, to wherever she needed to go after being brought back to life. With Roy holding him back, Oliver was powerless to follow them.

This was it. He had finally crossed the one line he couldn't walk back from. And for that, never had Oliver hated himself more in his entire life.

One more chapter of Oliver's POV after this. So yeah, this was a little hard to write. It's finally sinking into Oliver how badly he screwed up, but at this point there's nothing he can do to make up for it. Nothing except take Sara's place, which was actually the original premise of this story — Laurel commits suicide, Sara tries to trade herself to the League to bring her back, Oliver knocks out Sara and takes her place. A conflicted Laurel nonetheless can't bring herself to leave him there and trains to rescue him from the League. As interesting as that premise was, I found this one easier to write, which is why I went with it.

Anyway, moving on — it's obvious here how much Oliver is genuinely sorry for his actions. How much he regrets it, how much he hates himself for hurting Laurel, and how much he wants another chance. But the reality is, he's already had plenty of chances before the Gambit to change his ways and he didn't. And after, he had more chances, chances that truthfully he had no right to have no matter what he went through those five years, and he blew every single one — the last one, in the absolute worst way possible. He doesn't have the right to ask for another one, no matter how repentant he is. Laurel can't trust him anymore to be sincere in his desire to change, when he's just proven that he's "selfish as he's ever been" even after five years of traumatic experiences that supposedly improved his character and humbled him.

The sad part is, if it had just been (accidentally) driving Laurel to suicide, I could see Laurel finding it in herself to give him another chance. Probably not be with him romantically again, but she would give him a chance to make things up to her, like he wants. But the reality is, it wasn't just that. He drove her dad back into the bottle. And worse than that, he caused her sister to rejoin the murder cult she was trying to escape only weeks ago, a literal fate worse than death. When he was, in part, the reason why Sara was even forced to join that cult in the first place.

Laurel might be able to forgive him for hurting her, but she won't forgive him for hurting her family. Not again, not when he took the first time she forgave him for that for granted. Once that happened, that was it, and Oliver knew it, but that didn't stop him from hoping anyway. Because the other option was being forced to accept his screw-up, and how there was no hopes of making up for it. And in the end, that was what he was forced to do, and really, for a man who so desperately wants to redeem himself, there's no worse punishment than that.

Next Chapter: The last chapter of Oliver's POV.