Disclaimer: Not mine.

So I know some people have not been thrilled by how much screen time Sara has gotten in this fic. And I never intended for her to get as much as she did. But when she was the only POV that wasn't a vigilante, she ended up having to be who I switched to, POVwise, when I needed someone who had a different/outsider perspective to Laurel and Oliver. But I didn't realize that when I'd committed to the three POVs that I did. If I ever actually do get to the third fic in this series (sometime around 2030?) I will be expanding and adding a few POVs - Roy, Thea and probably a few others. But for now, we're still stuck with it.

That said, for the next while, after this chapter, Sara will drop into the background, or at least not be a POV character as much, for a while, for reasons that will be revealed over the course of this chapter.

Thanks to Okoriwadsworth for giving this chapter a onceover, and the support of the Lauriver Discord Server in general. This series might have petered out a while ago if not for you guys.

The Siege of Starling City

By Kylia

Chapter 17: Living With It

"The Black Canary didn't just have words to share about her relationship with her partner - in both senses of the word, it seems - the Arrow, or her work protecting the people of Starling City, but she also had a lot to say about the Starling City Police Department. Among other things, she cited their failures in protecting the poorest citizens of the city, especially in the Glades, before and after Malcolm Merlyn's terrorist attack, as the central focus that drives her work. And she came armed with specifics."

-Excerpt from the first of Perry White's Pulizter-winning articles on The Black Canary, drawn from his interview with the vigilante. Published February 4th, 2013, in the Daily Planet.

January 26th, 2013

Laurel and Oliver's Apartment

Laurel and Oliver had spent the previous night, and into the small hours of this morning, looking for Vanch, any sign of him. She'd tangled with a few of Brickwell's along the way, but they'd had nothing either, on Vanch's location. Not that she'd expected them to, but -

So far, there was still no indication that Vanch had released any evidence he had, and she was starting to suspect that his destroyed phone had had the only copy of that video.

There'd also been no word about madmen running around with a sword either, beyond the wild rumors spreading around the city since the attack. With Sara and the rest of the SCPD all hands trying to locate Vanch and solve the high-profile attack before the 'Starling City Slashers' (as the press were already starting to call the assumed group behind the attack), they'd also been a greater need to dodge the police during their search

The simple biological need to sleep had been enough to force both her and Oliver to return to their apartment to get some sleep, but it had been a restless four hours. And despite everything else, they had to at least pretend in their normal lives that there wasn't a crisis. So Oliver had had to head to Queen Consolidated for a last minute meeting Rochev was demanding, and Laurel had to deal with some paperwork and meet with some financial advisors regarding the Trust.

But none of that changed the fact that since she'd woken up, a bad feeling had pulled at her. Sara. She needed to call Sara. she'd convinced herself to hold off, knowing Sara was dealing with a million things at once on her end, but -

She snatched her phone up and pulled up Sara's phone from her contacts. This the secure phone she used for talking about the vigilante work, but -

It rang twice, and then the voice that answered on the other end wasn't Sara's.

"Laurel?" Her father's voice came through, loud and clear

"Dad? Why do you have Sara's phone?" She stiffened, throat feeling tight for a moment, before she controlled herself again. "Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"I have her phone because she crashed on my couch last night and is borrowing my shower right now." Her father explained. "She's not hurt... as for okay, no, your sister's not okay."

Laurel's mind raced - their father's apartment was closer to the station, so maybe Sara had been especially tired and just crashed there? Or - but she wasn't okay so-

"What - what happened? Dad, what happened to Sara? Why did she crash on your couch?"

"She's not okay because she killed that rat-faced scumbag Cyvus Vanch last night. He broke into her place, was waiting for her when she came home, there was some kind of confrontation, and she shot him."

He's dead. And - Sara wouldn't have killed him, no matter what, if she believed he actually had a working deadman's switch on that video.

But any prospect of feeling relief at that Damocles sword no longer looming overhead was ruined by the fact that Sara had killed someone. Her baby sister had killed someone. Her sister had killed before, that triad assassin who'd attacked her, along with China White. That one had gotten to her.

And this would too.

"What - what happened?"

"I don't know all the details. Laurel... your sister - I don't know what it is, but she's let this one get to her. It's just fucking Vanch, and the clearest case of self-defense in the world, from what the Captain told me when I called him, but killing him has her tied up in knots." Her father's tone was thick, worry evident. "She's half a zombie, Laurel. Showed up, still had blood splatter on her shirt, you should have - you should have heard her voice last night."

Why didn't I? Why hadn't Sara - was Sara afraid Laurel would... Sara had only killed two people, counting Vanch - Laurel would never be in a position to judge her baby sister over that, and she wouldn't try. Had she just ran to Dad like she'd done when they were kids? Automatic reaction? That made the most sense to Laurel, without more information, but -

"She's... a little better now, this morning, but she's still not - I can't get to her, Laurel, she won't explain why this one has her like this." Her father let out a long breath. "She's got to go into the station, make more statements - Captain Pike said there's not gonna be some prolonged review or suspension or anything like that, thank god, but -" He cut himself off for a moment, taking a breath. "I can't get her to talk. Maybe you can. God knows your mother will never be able to get through to her."

"I thought they were doing better?" Laurel had her argument with her mother about William, and things were never going to be like they'd been before the Gambit and Mom divorcing dad and moving to Central, but still, Laurel loved her mom and things between them were good.

Sara - Sara still seemed to resent their mother for divorcing Dad, for moving - and though they'd made movements towards reconciling, Laurel would hesitate to say either of them was 'good'.

"They might be, I've never asked, but - your mother has never liked Sara being a cop, and she'd only have variations on 'I told you so' to say to Sara." Laurel wasn't sure if the bitterness in her dad's voice was rooted in his actual belief in how her mother would talk to Sara, or in his own bitterness about the divorce.

Probably both. Laurel didn't think he was completely right, but given how Sara and her mother were doing, even optimistically, she might not help.

"What time is she going into the station?"

"She's gonna have to leave in about half an hour." Not enough time for Laurel to be there and talk to her, try to figure out what had her like this.

"I'll go to the station and meet her after she's done then," Laurel promised. Which meant she had enough time to at least deal with the paperwork, but she'd have to reschedule the meeting with the financial advisors. "Sara's tough. She can get through this."

"Yeah, she is," her father said softly. "I'll tell her you called. Was there- anything you wanted to pass on?"

A lot, but nothing you can hear, dad. "Just - tell her I love her, and I know she's a good person. I'll - I'll talk to you later, Dad." She hung up, licking her lips slowly.

Vanch was dead, and the threat of his blackmail, that video, was no longer hanging overhead. That was, unambiguously, a good thing. That Sara was the one to kill him was a lot less good, but - Sara was a good person. She was hardly a murderer. If Vanch had broken into her place, and was waiting there for her - Sara wouldn't have just shot him in cold blood, and Captain Pike wouldn't be calling it clear-cut self-defense if she had.

So the real problem was that she was tied up in knots about it.

In a way, it was good, that her sister was broken up over killing someone, even a guy like Vanch. In the League, Laurel had eventually reached a point where killing hadn't done that to her, and she had hated that, hated herself, for a long time after.

Of course, it wasn't good that Sara was 'half a zombie'. And Laurel would help her sister through that.

Finishing getting dressed, Laurel dialed her Administrative Aide at the Trust, "Hey, it's Laurel - something's come up. Family thing. I can still sign those papers and get everything set to file, but then we're going to have to reschedule the meeting with the financial advisors." She stepped into the hallway, phone between head and shoulder.

"No, I know it's important, but this is important too. Just - Okay. Tomorrow. Same time. I'll make tomorrow's meeting, I promise, barring the whole city catching fire or something." She paused, letting her overworked aide respond, then, "Okay, fine, even if the whole city is on fire, I'll be there for the meeting." She forced a small, but genuine-sounding laugh, "I'm not sure they'll be there if it is, but I'll be there. Promise."

She hung up, taking another breath, and pausing to knock lightly on the wood-paneled walls of the hallway leading to the elevator.

Just in case she'd nearly jinxed them all.

January 26th, 2013

Starling City Police Department

Sara had told her Dad that she could - and wanted to - make the drive from his place to the precinct, and she'd meant it when she'd said it, but then she'd slipped into autopilot and paid almost no attention to what she was doing, despite repeated attempts to break through the fog in her mind. As a result, Sara was almost stunned that she'd reached the station without an accident.

But she'd managed it.

Every few moments, shooting Vanch replayed in her mind. What he'd said. What she'd said. What she'd done. How she'd killed him. Just... shot him. Watched him lay there for nearly a minute before finding the presence of mind to call it in.

And even more, she played her own emotional state before, and after. How she'd felt, how she'd made the choice to kill him. The cold blooded choice that there really was no other choice.

And the fact that she didn't feel bad about that.

Much.

That fact - that she only felt a small twinge of guilt and regret at murdering a man - was the real problem. And what that meant about her. About her as a person, as a sister, as a daughter, as a cop.

What everything she'd done in the last year and a half meant about her as a cop.

She hadn't been able to come to any conclusions. Or stop that image from playing out, that memory of him dying looping through her mind.

I'll have plenty of time to get it worked out. She'd killed a man in the line of duty before, once. Genuine self-defense. She hadn't even been trying to kill him, there'd - there's just been too much going on and three Triad assassins and China White fighting with her sister - she'd killed the man.

She'd only had a few nightmares about that. It was too clear-cut for her to feel too much guilt. And that was before she'd run into all the other moral and ethical quandaries regarding the badge she carried, the uniform she wore.

That time, it had been a week of Administrative Leave, a review, and a psych eval. Sara didn't look forward to that last part, how much she'd have to lie about to the therapist. But there was no getting out of that part.

This time? It was a lot less clear-cut, and she couldn't imagine she'd have less time on leave. The review would be more rigorous too. The psych eval would still probably only be the one session, she knew how much therapy was derided by most of her fellow officers and detectives.

Don't say that like you didn't start to agree with them about it for a while there.

Now, of course, Sara would have killed to have a therapist she could actually trust to talk to.

She bit her lip as she took the elevator up into the precinct.

Really poor choice of words there.

The elevator dinged and Sara swallowed, taking one last deep breath as the doors opened, stepping out into the main body of the station. She could - she could do this. She just had to push past the knots in her stomach and -

For a moment, everything seemed normal, people at their desks, talking, taking calls, paperwork, walking to and from the coffee machines in the break room. She looked ahead, charting a clear path to Captain Pike's office and then a few people caught sight of her. Sara braced herself for -

Well, she wasn't sure what for, but it wasn't what she got.

An officer, one she recognized who lost his brother (also an officer) in the line of duty six years ago faced her, brought his hands apart, and then back together, repeating the gesture. Then a detective, one of the ones she'd worked on the original task force to take down Vanch the first time joined in. Within moments three, then four, then even more of the people in this part of the station were clapping, several who had been sitting stood for her.

Sara stood still, staring at everyone for a moment, biting her lower lip, trying very hard not to start hyperventilating. She closed her eyes, swallowing a moment, the knots in her stomach getting worse, a bit of bile rising -

No. No. Sara forced it down, concentrating, taking a breath.

"Congrats on finally getting that bastard for good," a detective said, coming up to her to shake her hand. Sara managed to return the gesture, mechanically, saying something - she wasn't even sure what, but it didn't seem to provoke any kind of negative reaction. A few others came up to her as well as the applause ended, all sharing similar sentiments, not expressing relief that Vanch was dead, which Sara could understand, but congratulating her, as if she could be proud of the fact that she killed an unarmed man in cold blood.

As if that was some great achievement.

Not everyone had been clapping, and Sara met eyes with one of them, the guy from IA who had obliquely warned her about the investigation her way regarding everything the vigilantes. She nodded at him, and he nodded back, before returning to his desk.

It's not - it's not that it's not good, on a certain level, that Vanch can't hurt anyone, and I hate that I'm thinking that, but - it is. But...

It wasn't something to cheer, or congratulate over. Was this - was this really the SCPD? It wasn't the entire department, not even close but -

Sara shut down her thoughts before she started down another spiral she'd never get out of. She - she'd have time to sort through it all. This was - this wasn't the be all and end all of the SCPD.

"I - I need to talk to Captain Pike," Sara said, using that as an excuse to step away from someone asking her about what happened.

"Right." the other police detective nodded. "Still. That slimy son of a bitch is dead. I owe you a drink sometime." He returned to his desk and Sara continued on to Captain Pike's office, opening the door.

Sara was surprised there was no one from IA or the Review Board in the Captain's office with him. It was just the Captain.

"Captain Pike," Sara said, trying not to stand stiffly.

"Detective Lance. Have a seat." Pike gestured to the chair, and Sara sat down. "You should be able to have your apartment back tonight, there's not really much need to keep it sealed up, since there's not a long investigation into the death that needs to happen."

"That's good to hear," Sara said, trying to sound less mechanical, but the words just sort of came out, stilted. "What am I looking at Captain?"

"Well, despite what some people would probably like, I can't exactly give you a medal for killing Vanch," Pike said. Sara felt the bile in her throat again, but the fact that Pike didn't seem disappointed by that fact - that was good. It wasn't as if he wanted to give her one. Pike was a straight shooter. Too straight, maybe, given his stance on the Arrow and especially the Black Canary, the desire to catch them more than some of the criminals they dealt with, but -

"But I mean, this is a pretty clear cut case of self-defense. This isn't you just getting in a shootout with some perp or suspect who refused to come quietly or a gangland shooting." Pike continued. "There's a few people in IA who want to give you major grief over this, but they're the same assholes that have been sniffing after you ever since your sister got kidnapped by Vanch the first time, so..." Pike shook his head.

"You always know there's a risk that a criminal you take down might come after you or your family, but this Vanch guy - a whole new level of that." Pike observed, letting out a sigh. "Haven't seen a lot of guys quite that obsessed in my time."

"I hurt Vanch's ego. Repeatedly." Sara said, truthfully. Even if there was more going on. "He has - had an inferiority complex, covered by all that narcissism." And he was clever. Simple, yes, but clever. "It's just - it's just good he never managed to do worse."

"Very. But that does figure into the calculations here. Vanch broke into your home, armed, and represented a clear and present danger to you and your family - not just then, but for the future."

"He wasn't armed. His gun was empty and he'd put down his knife. He - he wanted me to surrender so he could... lord it over me."

"That's what you said when you called it in, but he did have another pistol and several more knives on his person," Pike handed her a copy of the evidence report from her apartment. Sara looked it over, inhaling as she saw the list. No cell phone. Not even a burner. No indication of any digital files, nothing that could hold the view.

And yeah. Weapons. Another pistol. More knives. She supposed both of those things made sense for Vanch. He wouldn't want to give up control by going completely unarmed, no matter how sure he was of everything.

She should have thought of that.

She hadn't.

And either way he didn't have any weapons in his hands. And weapons aren't why I killed him.

"I didn't know that he did! I - self-defense doesn't cover deadly force unless I had no choice! I had a choice. I could have - I could have shot his arm or his leg or... anything!" Sara knew why she didn't. Why she hadn't been able to risk taking him in alive, and she couldn't say it, not without risking more than herself and -

"A man responsible for dozens of murders broke into your home to pursue a year-long vendetta and then came up to you." Pike insisted, "There's not a jury in the world that would convict a cop with your record of anything over this." He shook his head. "Even if there was anyone at the DA's office willing to commit the kind of career suicide it would be to prosecute."

It's not exactly good that prosecutors aren't willing to go after cops. Granted, Sara agreed that her case was different than the more flagrant instances of her fellow cops getting away with things, but -

"I - I'm not saying I think I deserve to go to jail for this- God no," Sara said with a certainty she didn't entirely feel. "But that's not what I was asking. I just wanted to know what sort of Administrative Leave I'd be put on, what sort of review process there'd be. Whatever weapons he did have on him, which again, I didn't know about, I still killed a man!"

"You killed Cyvus Vanch." Pike pointed out, as if that changed things enough to matter.

"There's a process, rules - Vanch wasn't armed when I killed him."

"He had the weapons on him, and a clear pattern of behavior. You were fully justified in the use of deadly force, Lance." Pike countered. "The Review board is meeting later today, but I can't imagine they're going to have any issues to discuss. It's cut and dry."

CUT AND DRY?! Sara grabbed onto the arms of the chair, trying to hold herself back from shouting, not out of anger, but confusion, bafflement, the insanity, the vertigo of what the captain was saying.

The board was meeting later today? IA had already made a clear decision? Things didn't move that fast! They never did!

"Why is the review- Okay," she shook her head, that - that didn't matter. "Okay. That - but what sort of Administrative Leave am I looking at?" Sara asked again.

How long would she have to sort through all this?

"None, obviously," Captain Pike shook his head. "Detective, the SCPD is short-staffed as it is, and for all your preference for certain... unorthodox choices, you're one of the best detectives we have. Your father has every right to be as proud as he is of your performance."

A year and a half ago, that would have been something she'd have loved to hear. Hell, something she had heard - her dad wasn't effusive in his praise all the time or anything, but he had told her he was proud of her when she became an officer, and when she became a detective, and after her first major case.

Today? It just drove in the knife. Drove in the knife that her dad - while hardly congratulating her for killing Vanch, at least - hadn't understood why she was like this. Because he couldn't understand. Sara couldn't say anything without revealing too much.

I didn't kill him out of self-defense. I killed him to -

She'd killed him because of what he knew. She'd murdered a man just to silence him. The danger he'd posed to her, unarmed as he'd seemed - had been a distinctly secondary factor in that final choice.

Sara blinked as she processed the first part of what Pike had said. "No - no leave? Sir - this is the second time I killed someone in the line of duty!" Sara laid her hands flat on his desk, fighting the urge to stand up and yell at him, shout some sense into the Captain. "I - last time I - I had a week's administrative leave, and it wasn't - it wasn't - it was a lot less ambiguous than this, since that person was actually shooting at me!"

"Context matters, and Cyvus Vanch is a hell of a lot of context, Detective. And given when that previous incident happened, the situation in the city was very different. The SCPD needs all hands on deck to deal with these vigilantes and their copycats and all the other insanity they've brought with them!"

The vigilantes have reduced violent crime in this city! And catching them was a waste of the SCPD's time. The other things, the copycats, like the gang with swords that had attacked Vanch, those were important but the SCPD was not so short-staffed that it couldn't afford to put her on administrative leave. They had to! There had to be -

"Captain - this - there's - you can't just do nothing after I killed a man!" Sara insisted, desperately trying to salvage the eroding, crumbling ice that was holding her up above the endless sea below her. "There's rules! Procedures!"

"Like I said, there's no jury in the world that would convict you for killing Vanch under these circumstances." Pike said. "You've always been a bit... careful about use of force, Detective, and I mostly approve of that-"

The way the captain had hesitated before saying the word 'careful', the qualification before 'approve' - Sara could guess what he meant. That she was 'squeamish' about use of force. The fact that she'd never had a use of force complaint against her - and how rare that was - was something others had noticed.

She'd never thought the Captain shared the sentiment she'd occasionally picked up from others.

Oh god. That's why those people were congratulating me, wasn't it? Because they think I've finally stopped being so - so 'squeamish'. Sara pressed the back of her hand to her lips, struggling to hold back the bile again - she managed, barely, but, she wasn't - she wasn't sure she could do it much longer. Her stomach was - There was no dressing it up, no description: she felt like she needed to throw up.

"That - Captain, that doesn't mean - my badge isn't a license to kill!"

"If you were a civilian, you'd be just as covered, Lance! The man broke into your home, armed, and threatened your life! Expressed a desire to torture you- repeatedly, from what you've said, and this is part of a pattern of violence! The law around self-defense and defense of your own home is pretty clear in these cases."

"And? Shouldn't I be held to a higher standard than just any civilian?" Sara stood now, palms still flat on the desk, leaning forward. "Vanch may have actually still had weapons on him, but I didn't know. I just - I just shot him. There - there has to be some kind of... I killed someone, Captain. Hazard of the job, I knew that when I signed up, and after the first time, but - it's not something to just take lightly!"

Pike shook his head, letting out a long breath. "I understand that this whole incident is affecting you, a lot. Can't say I quite understand why you're so determined to be put on suspension or punished, and like I said, we just don't have the manpower to put you on any sort of forced leave over something like this." Pike paused, giving her a pointed look before she could respond. "That said, you, like every detective in the department, have some unused leave time, so you can take the day, at least, and be back for the review board's decision tomorrow."

"Sir, if you could-"

"Detective, take the day. Get your head screwed on straight." Pike insisted, gesturing to the door to his office.

Sara took a shuddering, deep breath, then nodded. "Yes sir." She turned on her heel and managed to keep her head up, keep from doubling over as the nausea boiled up in her again - she barely paid attention to where she was walking. A few people gave her nods, but thankfully there were no more congratulations, there was no more applause. She barely registered, getting to the elevator and going back down to parking -

The Elevator dinged as it went down one floor, stopping at the public entrance. Sara braced herself, hand over her mouth, needing - she needed -

She hadn't had any breakfast this morning. Just coffee and water- but the nausea was too much. She couldn't hold back much longer -

She pulled back to the back corner of the elevator as the doors opened.

Laurel?

"Sara? I was just going to go up to see you. Are you - stupid question, you're obviously not alright-" Her sister rushed in, pulling her in for a tight hug as the doors closed again behind her. Sara didn't - couldn't return the gesture, pushing her back - she didn't want to vomit all over her sister. Laurel stepped back, "Sara, what's-?" She started, letting go of Sara, accepting the 'don't hug me' cues, but then getting a look at her face.

I wonder just how bad I'm looking, how obvious it is that I -

Sara held up her free hand as the elevator dinged on the parking level where she'd left her car, and she staggered out of the open door, finding the trashcan right where she could be. She doubled over, hands on the rim of the can as she emptied the contents of her stomach, the taste of bile on her tongue, filling her nose.

She wasn't sure how long she was there, reduced from emptying her stomach to just dry-heaving, her stomach still roiling, her body shaking - she felt a hand on her shoulder as she pulled back.

"Sara?" Laurel asked. "Are you - are you sick? Did the Captain- did they put you on some kind of suspension? Take your badge?"

She wasn't sure how, but Sara managed a dark, humorless laugh as she held onto the wall by the elevator to keep herself up. Took her badge? Was it wrong she'd almost rather that, than this?

"No. God, no, not even close," Sara managed to get out, swallowing, the taste of bile still on her tongue, burning at her throat.

January 26th, 2013

Starling City Police Department

"No. God, no, not even close." Sara said in a shaky, almost broken voice that sounded nothing like the girl Sara had known for most of her life.

Laurel wasn't sure what she'd expected when she got here, but her dad's comments about Sara being 'half a zombie' weren't even close to enough to prepare her for how shaky and pale and... hunched Sara was, the way she looked like she was being hemmed in from every direction... nor for her to be throwing up.

"Hold on, I've got some water in my car," Laurel quickly pulled away, returning to the visitor's parking just a short distance from the elevator and grabbing a bottle from her car, returning with it to Sara, who had turned to press her back against the stonework of the underground parking wall. It was her first good look at Sara's face now - the bags under her eyes, the hollowness in the eyes themselves - she looked the same in her face physically, but there was something in the way she looked, pale and with a cold sweat and -

She looked gaunt, almost.

Laurel had seen a similar look in the mirror, the first time - the first time she'd killed someone, shortly after joining the League. But this wasn't Sara's first time, and killing that triad shooter had affected her, but not like this.

She gave Sara the bottle, and watched her sister unscrew the cap, moving mechanically, taking a deep sip, swishing the water around, and then spitting it in the trash can, before taking another sip.

"Dad said that the Captain told him there wouldn't be any sort of suspension or anything, but - what happened when you went in to talk to Captain Pike?" Laurel asked softly. "Sara, what's wrong?"

"So much. So much is wrong." Sara blinked, swallowing. "But - we shouldn't - we shouldn't talk about it here." She added, voice still much the same.

"Okay. Your place?" Maybe not, given that Sara had killed Vanch there, but, Laurel wasn't sure if Sara -

"No - no - I don't..." Sara started, and then she closed her eyes and tried again. "Actually I - that - that... I guess that works."

Laurel stared at her, confused by the change. "Okay." She took Sara's hand and pulled her sister over towards her car.

"I can drive. I took my car here. I can't leave it." Sara resisted as Laurel opened the door for her.

"Sara, please. Take a breath, get in the car. I don't - I don't think you're really in any state to drive." Her sister's movements - granted, she'd been dragging her, but - it was a shuffle, an automatic step. She was not okay. In so many ways.

What happened last night, Sara?

January 26th, 2013

Sara Lance's Apartment, Starling City

Laurel wanted to bombard her sister with questions on the way back to her apartment, but this wasn't the time, or the place and she needed more time to gather her thoughts, now that she'd seen her sister, seen what she was like.

The state of her.

Sara had said nothing, volunteered nothing, but the way she hugged herself, hunched her shoulders, stared blankly ahead... the way she'd thrown up.

Sara wasn't a killer, which was good, and it was understandable that killing someone would leave her feeling like this. But this much seemed... out of place, when compared to that previous time. Throwing up after killing someone, yes. Throwing up the next day?

Something had happened inside the station to make her nauseous. But it had to stem from the same thing.

Guilt.

Laurel couldn't imagine that Sara felt guilty about killing Vanch of all people more than that Triad assassin, so there had to be something about the specific context. Which meant that whatever her Dad had said and presumably whatever Captain Pike had said, it wasn't 'clear cut self-defense'.

Laurel didn't think it was really murder. Her sister wasn't - wasn't capable of that. Not as she was, not with what she'd experienced. Even normal, once well-adjusted people could become killers. Laurel was textbook proof of that. But it wasn't something that happened overnight. It had taken a lot for Ollie and her to get there, taken the sorts of circumstances and experiences that Laurel would never let happen to her sister.

Never.

But Sara wouldn't be this broken up if she'd just killed the guy when he came at her armed. Or at least, that didn't make sense.

When they finally got inside Sara's apartment, there were still bloodstains on the kitchen tile. Sara stopped to stare at them for a long moment.

"I just stood here after I killed him," Sara said quietly. "A minute... just watching him, bleeding. I - I just... I just stared." She looked at her hand, the one she'd have shot with. "Then I called... I called it in..." She swallowed, looking back at Laurel.

"You were in shock." Laurel said, hand on her sister's shoulder again. "Let's get you onto the couch, okay. There's cleaning services that specialize in this sort of thing, or you and I can take care of this later." Tile wasn't as bad as carpet or wood.

Sara didn't resist as Laurel steered her out of the kitchen and onto the couch. "You don't have any herbal tea, do you?" Sara shook her head. "Didn't think so." Her sister needed something warm, but coffee was a bad idea. "Decaf coffee?" Sara looked blankly at her. "Right. Dumb question." Laurel held back a sigh, "Do you have anything non-caffeinated in your house that isn't water or beer?"

"The closest would be hot cocoa... I think - I think I have some in the cupboard over the dishwasher -" Sara started to stand, and Laurel pushed her back down, hands on her shoulders. "Stay there. Sit. Sara, please."

"Laurel - I - I'm not - I'm not an invalid." Sara insisted back, and Laurel shook her head, though at least there was something over than the dead, broken tone in her voice this time. That was good.

"Please, Sara." Laurel repeated, gently pushing Sara back onto the couch when she tried to get up again. This time Sara nodded, slowly, and Laurel went back into the kitchen. Sara did indeed have a couple of packets of instant hot cocoa in the back of the cupboard, and Laurel grabbed that, heating two mugs of water in the microwave while she did so.

A few minutes later, she returned and handed a cup to Sara, who held the mug in her hands, letting it warm her hands. Laurel took a sip of her own, looking at Sara, waiting for her to start., Or at least, giving her the chance.

"They congratulated me." Sara said quietly, staring past Laurel, at the wall.

"Who?"

"The - a lot of the other cops and detectives. When I came in. They clapped. They applauded me for killing someone." Sara shook her head. "They didn't applaud when I caught him the first time. Or the second. I did get congratulated, the first time." She added, tilting her head to the side, as if conceding something. "And this time. 'Congrats on finally getting that bastard for good.'"

Shit. Laurel could see how that could -

Sara was already feeling guilty, and her coworkers drove the knife in further.

"Did I ever tell you... after the first time I killed someone, in the League?" Laurel murmured.

Sara looked at her, eyes wide, "No. You never talk with me about the League."

Laurel blinked, about to protest and then... she realized she really didn't. She talked to Oliver - there was nothing during those five years Oliver didn't know about, and vice-versa. But she'd never shared many details with Sara.

"Nyssa congratulated me. Not so much for killing him, but for... how well I did it. How efficiently. We had something I'd almost call a party." Laurel said. There was a tradition in the League - not followed by everyone, but - for a sort of... ceremony, after a new recruits first mission, if it truly was a success. Laurel really wasn't sure you could call it a party. In a way it was, but... there was too much ritual to it to really count.

And of course, Laurel hadn't been in a festive mood.

She'd discovered another part of the tradition - that is, sex - when Nyssa had tried to kiss her, propositioned her. Thankfully, the other woman had taken 'I'm not into girls' and 'I still love my dead boyfriend' as answers. They were true, but Nyssa probably would have been less happy to accept 'I don't think murder is a cause for celebration'. Either way, Nyssa had moved past any disappointment quickly.

"She at least has the excuse of having been raised in a murder cult." Sara remarked, bitterly. "They don't have that excuse." She took a breath and reached out for Laurel's hand with one hand, taking it and squeezing it for a moment. "But... thank you. For telling me." Sara murmured.

Sara's grip on her mug slackened a little, and Laurel caught it before it slipped and fell to the ground, setting it aside on the coffee table next to her own.

"I... I can't promise total transparency about the League..." Laurel admitted. "But I -"

"I've never pressed because I know you don't want to talk about it." Sara interrupted. "Don't... don't feel like you have to talk about it just to make me feel better." She squeezed Laurel's hand again. "I... It's - you understand, how it feels to have someone praising you for murder, then."

"Murder?"

"Close enough," Sara closed her eyes. "He - he was here, when I came home. Went on and on about... god knows what. Wasting time. Hearing himself talk." She barked a hollow, cutting laugh, all sharp-edges and darkness. "Probably to bamboozle me, or just mess with me. He didn't have the video anymore." She shook her head. "But he still knew. And he could tell anyone. Promised he would. He'd tell cops, and fellow prisoners and... he promised it would be worse than just you dying."

Laurel swallowed. She'd wondered - she'd wondered if that had played a role in the killing of Vanch. Sara I never - I never wanted you to do anything like that for me.

But Laurel... Laurel would have done the same, if their positions were reversed. Had done the same, ot as close as she could, anyway, when the Count had talked about how he thought Vanch was going to torture and kill Sara.

But I'm the killer. Sara isn't. Her baby sister was the cop. She wasn't supposed to be... she wasn't supposed to become a killer herself.

And she's not. Vanch still broke in. He was still a threat.

And even if -

Well. It was Sara. Her sister.

"He told me the only choice I had to prevent that was to..." she took a breath. "Let him have his fun with me, before he split town." The flatness of her tone made it clear what she meant, and the spike of rage that threatened to consume Laurel - gone as it was in moments - made Laurel...

Well. She couldn't kill Vanch twice.

"You obviously weren't going to do that."

"No. But I-" Sara shook her head. "He was unarmed. He'd put down his gun. His knife. He had more, turns out, but I didn't know. I thought he was unarmed."

Oh god. That was -

That was why Sara was so - she'd killed a man she thought was unarmed.

"Sara." Laurel reached for her sister, but Sara recoiled back.

"No! Don't - I don't -" She screwed up her eyes tight, tears appearing in them. "I killed him! I just - he closed the distance! He was so sure he had all the cards! He was unarmed and he was so smug and so sure that I'd have no choice but to - to let him win, either by letting him rape and torture and kill me," Sara's words choked out, tears now escaping her face as she tried to keep talking, her whole body shaking. "Or arrest him and he - there'd be no end to it. No end to him. To him trying to kill you, kill Oliver, just to hurt me! I had - I had to stop him!"

Sara sobbed, "I had to stop him!" She said again, nearly shouting. "He was so sure - he was so sure I'd never shoot an unarmed man!" Her hands were balled into fists at her waist. "He kept going on and on about how I had no choice, because I wouldn't kill him while he was unarmed and I knew - I knew he was right, if he left the apartment alive he could - I couldn't let him - I shot him, Laurel! He walked up to me, I pressed my gun to his chest - he was -"

"He was so sure! And-" Sara stood, "He was wrong!" She spread her arms wide, "He was wrong, Sara! I was willing to shoot him in cold blood! An unarmed man! Dead. And I killed him! Because there would have been -" She dropped back to the couch, but it was more her falling backwards rather than sitting. "Because there would have been no end to him. I told myself - it had to be done. He was a monster. And he was, Laurel. My god, he was -"

Sara cut herself off, still sobbing, "But I don't - I can't just - but I did! And I'd do it again! I'd kill him again Sara! And what - what does that say about me!? What does that say about Sara Lance, Detective? God - what does that say about Sara Lance, Human being!?" Her words were coming out in a horrified whisper.

Laurel's chest and throat were tight, watching her sister break down in front of her. She reached for Sara again, her sister recoiled again, but Sara refused to let her, pulling her in for a hug, chin on her shoulder, not letting Sara pull away, letting Sara sob into her shoulder.

"I killed him! I shot him and they congratulated me for it and I - a badge isn't just a license to kill and I - I knew I could get away with it and I killed him and I'd - I'd always do it again!" She repeated variations on this several times as she kept crying, and Laurel didn't let her go.

Her sister was so sure she was a murderer, but Laurel knew it wasn't that simple. Her sister wasn't a monster. Her grief and guilt proved that in spades. Sara killed an unarmed man. But even if Laurel was in a position to judge, she wouldn't.

Vanch's death wasn't something to celebrate, or congratulate. Sara was right about that. But it wasn't something to mourn. And Laurel would have done the same, and more, if their positions were reversed.

She swallowed, hating how true she knew that fact was, the simple reality that anyone threatening her sister had a vastly shortened lifespan. It scared her, to know it was true.

And Sara was probably scared of herself, scared of what this meant about her. That this meant she was someone who used her badge to get away with murder. That she was a monster.

As her sister finally started to seem to run out of tears, Laurel spoke, still holding and hugging her.

"I forgive you, Sara." Laurel said quietly, knowing her sister needed to hear it. "You're not a monster. And whatever else, you're my sister and I will always love you."

Sara sniffled, inhaling, trying to take a deep breath, but failing repeatedly. She pulled back a little. "I-" She cut herself off, swallowing, trying to take a deep breath and succeeding this time, shuddering and shaky though the breath was as she inhaled, exhaled.

She sniffled again, pulling back a little from Laurel's shoulder, wiping at her eyes.

"You shouldn't. It's - it's not the same as what - you didn't have a choice, in the League." Sara insisted, desperate.

"I always had a choice, Sara. That the choices were death, or be a killer doesn't change that they existed." Laurel pointed out. "I wanted to survive. I hated myself for it most days, but I did." She shook her head. "I can't tell you how to feel about what you did. But I can tell you you're not a monster. You're not even really a murderer. Not... not in any way that I would consider it."

Laurel pulled back and looked Sara in the eyes, hands on her sister's upper arms. "You didn't just find Vanch on the streets, and shoot him. You didn't kill him for 'resisting arrest'. You didn't do it out of revenge or rage or hate or -" she shook her head. "You did it because you weren't ready to die, and you wanted to protect me."

"Murder is murder, whatever the motive," Sara said, weakly, sounding like she was desperately clinging to straws in the face of Laurel's words.

Laurel didn't think she was going to just... out logic Sara's guilt and self-loathing over what she'd done with words alone, tonight. But as long as she could crack that shell...

Most days now, Laurel didn't hate herself anymore. And she'd done so much worse than Sara ever could.

This would stick with her sister. Probably forever. But one day, she'd wake up and...

The guilt wouldn't constantly be there, waiting for her when she did.

"Killing is killing, whatever the motive," Laurel corrected. "Murder..." she shook her head. "Those people who congratulated you for killing Vanch were wrong. And... killing Vanch was wrong. But you don't need me to tell you either of those things. What you do need me to tell you is that I know you. I know that whatever else, you are, and always have been, a good person. You became a police officer so you could do the right thing, so you could help people." Laurel paused, squeezing Sara's arm.

Laurel let out a long breath of her own.

"You killed a man. Motives don't change that fact, or that you'll have to live with that fact. But motives do change what that fact means. Context changes what that means. You killed a man as awful as Vanch, and you worry about what that says about you, you feel guilty over the fact you'd still do it again. You aren't trying to hide behind your badge, or even using the fact that killing a known murderer who breaks into your home with the intent to torture means that a lot of people would say you were justified."

Laurel shook her head, letting go of Sara's left arm and holding up her hand to keep her from interrupting.

"Most people would tell you to stop beating yourself up over this. And I know you're smart enough to run through all the reasons why they'd have a point." Sara nodded slowly. "But point or not, you're still beating yourself up. I think, Sara," Laurel pulled her sister in for another, much faster hug, "That tells us everything you need to know, about whether you're a good person, or a killer, in your heart of hearts. One act doesn't define you. It's what you do after that act, that does."

January 27th, 2013

Laurel and Oliver's Apartment

Staring out the window was Laurel's most common reaction to not being able to sleep. Oliver wasn't sure what it was, because Laurel wasn't sure herself.

Oliver thought that looking over the city they were both dedicated to protecting helped center Laurel, remind her why they did this, but... hard to say for certain.

He padded up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her close. "Worried about Sara?" Laurel had filled him in on all the details, about Vanch, what Sara had said, what she'd done. Oliver was no more inclined to fault Sara than Laurel, in this case. Less, possibly.

Just because I've stopped killing as much, tried to stop as much as possible, doesn't mean I don't remember why I did it. Anger and rage and kill or be killed was part of it, but he had believed - did believe - that the world was better without certain people in it.

He was just less willing to be the one to do that, now, knowing what it would continue to cost him if he did. And had narrowed his view of who would be better dead significantly.

"I am, but that's not what's keeping me up." Laurel admitted quietly. She said nothing for a silent stretch, and Oliver let her gather her thoughts. Finally: "It's the SCPD."

"That they clapped for Sara?" Oliver didn't like what that said about the police department either - though their priorities in trying to catch the Arrow and the Black Canary hadn't done much to endear him to the Department as a whole.

"Not all of them, but yes. And not just that." Laurel sighed. "Whatever we do, unless we want to start setting up our own private prison, we have to rely on the police at some point in the process, implicitly. But if they're going to just... applaud and congratulate her over Vanch, give Sara a complete pass, just because it's inconvenient to put her on some kind of temporary suspension... and they want to catch us as much or more than deal with all the other problems they have to deal with?"

Laurel let out a long, slow breath. "What does that say about the police? About this city, letting it happen?"

"Charitably?" Oliver offered, "It means they're so used to an old, siege and bunker mentality they don't know how to do anything else? They have a hammer, and they're going to use it on anything that looks like a nail." He grinned a little as Laurel tilted her head up a bit to look at him.

"I seem to remember saying something like that to you, when I was in college." Laurel murmured.

Oliver chuckled, "What can I say? A very smart woman told me something, and I remembered it." He sighed. "Uncharitably, it says that the police are part of the problem, or at least a lot of them are."

But you couldn't just... get rid of them. Oliver and Laurel couldn't single-handedly stop all crime. He didn't think any number of vigilantes could, really. There were crimes that vigilantes could never directly address - someone kills their spouse in a mad fit of jealousy, or someone killed their neighbor in a spat that went too far.

There were a lot of crimes that couldn't be resolved by beating people up or turning them into pincushions. And as she said - were they just supposed to set up a private prison?

Oliver really didn't like that idea.

"Probably a bit of both," Laurel let out a breath. "But you can't exactly uncouple the two. And we can't exactly fix the SCPD ourselves."

"Not really, no. But we could keep our ear to the ground more about dirty cops, or ones that have... bad habits around force." Oliver considered. "And we could go on the offensive."

Laurel turned around in his arms, looking up at him, eyebrow raised. "Okay, so I know you're not suggesting we go into the SCPD and start hitting people with arrows and tonfa."

Oliver chuckled, "No, no. I just - you were thinking about taking Perry White up on that interview with you he clearly wants. Go on the offensive in the press. Call out the SCPD for not doing enough."

He watched a small smile form on Laurel's face. "One interview wouldn't do it, but... it would be a start." She considered, then her smile turned into a smirk. "What do you think about giving Susan Williams the scoop of a lifetime?"

Oliver started for a moment. Williams was one of the better local reporters, always willing to hold people to task. So he could see why Laurel would suggest her. "You mean-"

"Perry White may get the first interview with the Black Canary - it's only fair, since he's the first one who really went looking - but maybe Williams should get the first interview with the Arrow?"

January 27th, 2013

Starling City Police Department

Sara slept better this time. Not great. But better. If only cleaning the blood from her floor had been the hardest part, but...

The guilt still gnawed at her, but what was taking up her mind as she'd tried to sleep, as she'd gotten up, and as she walked into the elevator at the station, was the question of the SCPD.

The applause and congratulations. Pike's blithe dismissal of the fact that she should be put on some kind of suspension, or Administrative Leave, or something. The patronizing way he'd told her to 'get your head screwed on straight'.

The fact that Pike didn't entirely approve of how careful she was about not using too much force. The fact that Pike was on the moderate end of that spectrum.

And the running tallies of just how many laws she'd broken. That she knew of.

Vanch's death might not have counted as murder, maybe, but she'd still broken laws, misrepresenting what had happened, just a little. But that was part and parcel of the whole list. And then there was the stealing of heroin. She was just lucky he'd never asked for a lot of 'favors' before losing his hand - metaphorically and literally.

Did her badge really mean anything, after all that? And did she want it to mean something, if those were the people she had to call her compatriots?

Sara had wondered. She knew how bad the police could get. But she'd - she'd always rationalized it away. The worst were... small parts of it. And there was so much good the SCPD, all police, did. And yet.

And yet.

And this... the way it had pulled the veneer back. The way she'd been left with little to do but think.

Please let the review board at least put some kind of reprimand in my file. There had to be rules. There had to be something done to her.

And she'd have to make sure no one else thought her 'squeamishness' about force was gone, like they must have last night. She'd have to prove to those cops she wasn't like them.

"Detective, thank you for coming," the head of the review board said. It was a mix of civilians and detectives, there to handle questions involving potential police misconduct, office-involved deaths, complaints... They were like IA, but more bureaucrats.

"I'm surprised you had your meeting so soon after... after the incident." Sara said. Pike wasn't in the room, there were rules about that...

The Board would take this more seriously. They had to.

"Usually these things do take time to arrange and resolve, but in this case, it seemed prudent to move quickly," the man said. "We've gone over the facts of the case, and as will probably be no surprise to you, we aren't going to force you onto any sort of Administrative Leave or suspension over this."

Sara swallowed, but nodded slowly. "I was given to believe that was likely, yes."

"And quite frankly, given the circumstances and context of the shooting, including the fact that Vanch broke into your home, We didn't think there's really much need for any sort of prolonged review. It's quite cut and dry."

"The facts of the incident are pretty straightforward, yes." Sara tensed. They aren't - they can't just - please! Remember the rules!

"We will need to obviously include this incident in your file, but as far as officer-involved shootings go, this is... as callous as it may be to say, not that bad." The others on the review board all nodded in agreement. "You're a successful Detective with a string of closed high-profile cases behind you, your father was an excellent detective during his tenure as one, and we really see no reason why this... unpleasant incident has to color your career going forward."

"So. Not even an official reprimand? For killing an unarmed man?!" Sara didn't let herself raise her voice.

"Hardly unarmed." The head of the board produced a folder, and passed it across the long table to her. She opened it, looking at the final report from the board, summarizing everything. "Vanch was armed when he broke in, and had multiple remaining weapons on his person."

And I didn't know about them! I didn't kill him because of them! Sara's eyes flicked over the report - it was... accurate, but it kept the descriptions too clinical, too flat, too-

Her eyes went back up a paragraph. No. That's not.

She read it a third time.

"This report is a lie." Sara said, dropping it onto the table. "Vanch did not have a knife in his hand when he approached me."

"He had four more knives on his person, and his own record makes it clear he's quite skilled and fast with them. You had every legitimate-" one of the members of the board spoke up, but Sara cut them off.

"But he didn't have a knife in his hand." Sara repeated. "I am not signing a lie."

"It's not a lie," the head protested. "It's-"

"It's not true. Therefore, it's a lie."

"If the Mayoral election goes the way it's likely to, this department will be under a microscope, Detective," the head explained. "This is true in all the relevant and important details."

Sara almost expected the nausea to return as she looked at the board, their nods of agreement, none of them protesting the lie, all agreeing it didn't matter.

"In other words, you want me to lie to help cover the SCPD's ass. Because it's not like this is the only officer-involved shooting, or a case where an officer or detective hurt someone unarmed!" Sara's control snapped as she spoke, and by the end she was nearly snarling the words.

"Even if he hadn't had a knife in his hand, he came up to you, and he could have attacked you in any number of ways!"

"Then say that!" Sara countered. "At least it would be truer than this!" Sara stood, so fast her chair fell over behind her. She leaned forward, hands on the table. "Is this really what the SCPD is? Willing to lie just to polish this a little bit? I killed an armed man in my apartment a year and a half ago. This same board, all seven of you, grilled me about why I killed him, why I didn't aim for a less lethal shot."

"And this same board ruled you were fine."

"But this time, there's no grilling? No Administrative Leave? You're not even formally reprimanding me or mandating me a psych eval!" Sara shook her head.

"I don't see any reason why a detective of your caliber should be benched over this. The SCPD needs every capable officer and detective it has."

"And the incapable ones you can't go after because the union covers their ass!" Sara snapped. "The ones you shunt off to meter-reading and traffic stops! And what exactly is the SCPD doing with all its manpower? We're not patrolling the Glades, are we!? We're not going after the people who prey on the poorest people in the city! Those medicine robberies by the Triad?! Last I checked, the department was more concerned about the vigilantes!"

"The vigilantes are a bigger concern than-" One of the detectives on the board cut in, but Sara didn't let him finish.

"Then what? Then protecting and serving? Or is it just that they're embarrassing us?! And how exactly did we end up needing them to stop Malcolm Merlyn? We know Captain Stein was on his payroll. Nudocerdo was more corrupt than Nixon! Were any of you?!" Sara demanded, ignoring the offended looks from every member of the board. "How did the SCPD let the city get so bad in the first place that we needed vigilantes!?"

"This board hardly sets policy for the entire-" the head tried, but Sara couldn't stop herself. Words came to her lips unbidden, a year of secrets and lies and frustrations with herself and her own sins against the law, her entire career of knowing the police were imperfect but believing there was still enough else...

And there wasn't. Just people who want to cheer the death of a criminal, people who think excessive force is A-Ok, and a review board that wants to lie about something minor just to polish a turd in case we get a reformist Mayor.

"No, but it sure as hell could at least show a bit of integrity! Vanch was unarmed! I shot him right through the fucking heart! I didn't have to! I didn't have to resort to deadly force, and I did! That should earn me a fucking reprimand and a psych eval at a minimum!"

"I'm confused, Detective, you want to be punished?!"

Yes.

But she clenched her teeth, shaking her head, "That's not the point. There are rules! Policies! Laws! The badge should mean something, including being held to a higher standard! And yet, here you are, not doing that, because it's not expedient. Is this really what the SCPD has been reduced to?! Is the turd really that bad? Do we need to polish it with this?!" She picked up the folder again and threw it at the members of the board, papers flying out and hitting a few of them in the face.

"Detective Lance, if you're so eager to face some kind of reprimand or suspension, you're well on your way to-" The head of the board snapped, standing up himself, hands closed into fists resting on the table. "Cyvus Vanch was a criminal and a murderer, the scum of the Earth, and the city is immeasurably improved by his death!"

"That doesn't give any of us a free license to kill him! Maybe I was legally justified, but not to the extent you seem to want to claim! And not morally! But you don't care about that! You're covering up the facts! How many claims of excessive force have been leveled against the members of this department? One is too many and it's a hell of a lot more than that! And yet it's the Arrow and the Black Canary that are the problem?! IA spends its time going after me instead of the 'bad apples!'" She added air quotes to that. "Except this time. Because you need to keep the turd polished. I'm your token good cop, right? Can't let my image be tarnished even a little when it comes to use of force, so you can hold me up as proof of the SCPD getting it right, right?!"

Sara didn't even know where this was coming from, or if she was talking out of her ass - it felt true, it rang true to her, but at this point, she didn't even care.

My dad took the fall for me right before the Undertaking because the SCPD cared more about the fact that a cop worked with the vigilantes than the fact that it involved revealing a terrorist attack against this city! They gladly worked with the DA's office to single out Moira Queen, as if there weren't other members of Tempest! And god knows how many of them were complicit, bribed or not, in one or more of Malcolm's schemes!?

This is the SCPD she dedicated her life to? Maybe it had been good, maybe she'd just never realized it was this bad. Maybe she was losing her mind. Everything felt insane, impossible. Had she really missed it?

She broke laws. Too many. Hundreds. But they were to solve the problems the SCPD itself refused to solve. She'd become an officer to help people, and maybe she had, but if this was what the SCPD wanted to be now, how much good could she do for anyone?

"Detective Lance, your wish for a suspension is granted!" The head of the board shouted. "You'll be lucky if you're thrown into traffic tickets after this!"

"The hell I will be!" Sara countered, shouting back, all caution, all sanity to the wind now. "If this really is the SCPD now, if the SCPD really cares this much about stopping vigilantes and protecting its image over actually enforcing the law and protecting people, then I want no part of it!" She waved her hand, left to right in a cutting motion. "Effective immediately, I resign!" She ripped her badge off her belt, flinging it at the desk. "I was the one the vigilantes contacted about the Undertaking. Not my father. Not that it should have mattered - it was disgraceful you busted him down to officer for doing the right thing to protect the people of the Glades!" There were reactions from the members of the review board, but she ignored their attempts to blather, to say something that didn't matter. Not anymore.

She ripped her holster off her belt, slamming it and the gun inside onto the table as well.

"To hell with you! To hell with the entire SCPD!" Her hand flew up to her shoulder, to the patch marking her as a member of the SCPD, and she ripped it off - had she been less furious, she might have been surprised how easily it came off, but sense and reason weren't really her companions right now.

She threw that onto the table as well.

"To hell with all of you!" Sara said one last time, her voice level now, cold and flat, heart in her chest. "I quit."

She ignored anything else they said as she turned on her heel, leaving the meeting room, the door slamming behind her.

There was only one thing at her desk she cared to grab as she left - a picture of her, and Laurel and dad, on Laurel's 14th birthday. One of her happiest memories with her sister, brought here when she got the desk, when she thought Laurel was dead. She'd kept it to remind her why she'd become a cop.

So much for that. I sure picked a shitty way to honor Laurel's commitment to justice and helping people, didn't I? As she passed her desk, she snatched the framed photo and continued walking, no one noticing that this would be the last time she would be in the station as a member of it.

January 27th, 2013

The Foundry, Starling City

Laurel was gearing up to go hunting again - though this time, not for criminals, or at least, not just criminals. She was about to put on her mask when the door from the outside opened up, and Sara was standing there, a large, heavy-looking box in hand. She seemed to be swaying a bit, unwieldy. It covered her face, but the position of the upper landing to the door and where she stood meant she could see her sister in profile. Hard to mistake her hair, if nothing else.

"Sara?"

"Would you and Oliver mind if I store this here for a few weeks?" Sara asked, very carefully going down the stairs.

"I - I doubt it." Oliver might grump about it, but he wouldn't begrudge the single box for Sara. "What - what's in -" she rushed over to grab the edge of the box, helping Sara get it down the rest of the way. It was more bulky than it was heavy - though not light, by any means. They stuck it under the stairs, Sara pushing it in place.

"What - what's with the box? Why do you need to store it?"

"Well, given that I told my landlord I'm breaking my lease, it's not really an option to keep my stuff there. This is what I can't stick in my car that I actually care about keeping." Sara said quietly.

"You - you broke your lease?" Laurel stared at her sister, feeling like she was missing something.

"Given that I'm not going to be drawing a salary anymore, I can't exactly afford to pay rent on that place. Especially since the landlord gives discounts to cops, and... well, can't be a cop when you quit the force." She laughed softly. "Would be nice if the world didn't work like that, but-"

"You-" Her sister sounded... almost cheerful? There was a lightness to her voice that Laurel hadn't heard much lately. She stood tall, expression open, in a way Laurel realized now that Sara hadn't in a while.

"You love being a detective. I don't - I don't understand?"

"I loved being able to help people, being able to help bring killers to justice. Being a cop was just the way I could do that." Sara shook her head. "But the SCPD isn't the one I joined. Maybe it never was, but it sure isn't now."

"Because of the applause and -" This was her sister, it sounded like her sister, but - Sara had taken pride in her work as a detective. She'd always heard that, every time she talked about it.

But it... it was about what she could do as one... The cases she'd closed, the criminals she'd helped put behind bars...

"No. I mean... that wasn't the final straw," Sara shook her head. "I went in for the review. I didn't - I didn't expect much. I was hoping for... something. Some sign they cared about the rules, that... they weren't going to just blithely endorse what happened."

She shook her head. "Instead, they shattered the illusions I had left." She swallowed. "At the end of a review like this, they give you a report, summarizing the conclusions. You're supposed to sign it, approve it, agree with it. And they lied."

"About what?" Laurel took a step closer to her sister.

"They wanted me to agree that Vanch had a knife in his hand when I shot him." She snorted. "They said it was close enough. That it didn't matter. That they needed to make sure the SCPD looked as good as possible in case Blood becomes Mayor, since he's so gung-ho about police reform."

Laurel stared. They wanted to lie about that? Why would they even - Vanch was still a murderer, and he was dangerous even unarmed and he'd really had more weapons on him. Why would they bother?

And if they were willing to lie about that...

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," Sara chuckled darkly. "What else are they willing to lie about? How many other times has the review board fudged the facts?" Sara shook her head. "I have no idea. But... I don't really get it, how that made me - how it made me see everything in a new light, but..." she let out a long breath.

"I can't be part of a department willing to lie like that. That has so many people that cheer on death. That - that is more concerned with chasing you and Oliver than it does about stopping the Triad from stealing medicine. Or literally anything else, it feels like, half the time. That cares more about covering their ass and making themselves look good."

Sara turned away from Laurel, looking at the rest of the Foundry as she kept talking. "I thought the badge meant something. Now? I don't know what it means, but I can't be part of it. Besides... I told them that as a cop I should be held to a higher standard. They might not agree, but I still do. I've broken a lot of laws in the last year, and if I could do it all over again, I would break most of them again."

"Helping Oliver and me." Laurel said quietly, throat tight.

"Helping Oliver and you, yeah." Sara nodded. "But I chose to. I didn't have to. I didn't do it just because you're my sister - I mean, that's a huge part of it. But I believe in what you're doing. Damn me to hell, but you've done more to help the people in this city than I did since the moment I joined the SCPD."

I never wanted you to quit... Laurel opened her mouth to say as much, to apologize for putting Sara into this position, but Sara shook her head, holding up a hand.

"Don't apologize, Laurel. This isn't your fault. It never was. You would never have asked me or wanted me to pick between being a cop and you" She smiled. "I didn't make this choice for you. I made it for myself."

Laurel couldn't deny that Sara's words were a relief, but... wasn't it still her fault, in a way? That she'd put Sara in this place?

Then she scoffed, as the absurdity hit her.

"What's so funny?"

"You just told me this wasn't my fault, and then I started blaming myself anyway." She shook her head, "I - I won't ask if you're sure this is what you want."

"I think the only thing I've been this sure about was joining the SCPD in the first place." Sara said quietly. "I - the only thing I do regret is that I won't be able to help you and Oliver anymore. At least not the way I did."

"Sara, you'll always be able to help us. You're part of this team, for as long as you want to be." She pulled her sister in for a tight hug, which Sara returned for a long moment, before they both pulled back. "Oliver will think the same way."

They stood in silence for a moment, and then Laurel spoke again.

"So... what - what are you going to do?" Her sister didn't have a job, didn't have a place to live... Laurel would volunteer the guest room, but Sara wouldn't want to impose like that, not for long anyway. She wouldn't just let her sister be homeless though.

"Well, first I'm going to Central City for a few weeks. Visit Mom. Try to start over with her, a little."

"Aren't you worried she's going to-"

"Say I told you so?" Sara laughed. "I told her if she said anything even close to that, I'd leave and never visit again. I love her, I really do, but..." she shook her head. "God, she can be..."

"She can be a lot," Laurel agreed. It was... strange, really, it being like this. Growing up, Sara had always been their mother's favorite. She'd always have denied it of course, but it was true. It had never gone too far, but it had been a fact Laurel had reconciled with. And now? Now Laurel was closer to their mother, and Sara sometimes seemed like she could barely be in the same room as her.

But... hopefully that was going to change.

"Just a few weeks. Maybe less. But I need to get out of the city before Dad - before Dad finds me. I've been dodging his calls for the last few hours."

"Do you want me to-" Laurel offered, but Sara shook her head.

"I'll talk to him. Just... once there's some distance. He won't get it, but if he knows I'm staying at Mom's house, he might decide to rein himself in, so he doesn't push me more towards her, or something."

"What happens when you come back?"

"I find a cheaper place. Find a job. I don't know what yet. I have savings, so I can manage in the short term, at least." Sara shook her head. "You know, it's odd. I feel... I feel good. Not completely, but I feel like... I have choices again. I didn't even realize I didn't, but... I sort of didn't, before."

"Sara, there's very little you can't do, if you set your mind to it." Laurel told her sister. She hugged her again, and then, as Sara started back up the stairs, she added: "Good luck. If you need any help-"

"I just have to call. And the same for you. Whatever I can do for you, I'm there. I love you."

"Love you too, Sara." Laurel watched her sister leave, the door closing behind her feeling like the close of a major chapter in her sister's life, the final punctuation.

Which, it was. Only Sara would know what the next chapter of her life was going to be.

Whatever it is, I'll be there for her.