Serenity

It didn't occur to Laurel that there probably weren't many coffee places open at this time of night until she was already at the back of her savior's limousine watching the streetlights pass by. She swallowed for what felt like the first time in forever to ease the dryness in her throat. It was not her problem to find a place to drink coffee. She almost laughed. Her breath clouded the toned window. The glass was cool against the heated skin of her face. It was not her problem to find a coffee place. It was ridiculous how freeing the stupid thought was. She had no care in the world, because she wanted nothing of it anymore.

It was still dark. The morning hadn't come yet and every passing streetlight seemed like a wasted minute of her life. Laughter bubbled in her throat. They'd have to drive a lot longer to account for all the wasted time in her life. There were years of it. She wondered if there were enough streetlights in the world for every minute.

The city streets passed her by like strangers. She was sure she knew them – she had lived in Starling city all her life after all, but tonight – she recognized none of it. And she paid no attention to road markers. She couldn't care less where Slade was taking her or what he would do once they were there. Laurel had made her decision; she had taken her step off the ledge. It hadn't ended the way she'd imagined, but she'd still done it. What could possibly come after that could compare?

If Slade spoke to her – she didn't hear it, and she offered no conversation of her own. She felt.. strangely empty. And different. Everything in her that could burn was in ashes, and even she didn't know what it was that was left. She'd been in pain for so long, it was strange to feel.. nothing. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad. It was nothing.

"We're here," Slade interrupted her wondering, and predictably the car drew to a stop.

"Here's a hotel," Laurel replied, frowning a little as she stared at the shiny Marriott letter signs above the grand door.

"Well, it's slim pickings for coffee at this hour of night, love. You'll have to endure my skills with teapot."

Laurel snorted with laughter. Instinctively, involuntarily. It surprised her more than it surprised Slade. She had forgotten she could laugh without thinking about it – without faking it, without choosing the appropriate moment in a conversation where she should react lest someone ask if she was okay.

"This isn't exactly what we agreed upon," she remarked, but her hand was already on the door handle. She knew she would go with him. Did he?

"We agreed on coffee, love. This is it. And you don't seem the kind to back out on a deal, are you?" smile made his lips curl up. Amusement made him look more handsome, she thought.

"You just met me tonight," she replied. "As far as you've seen my track record isn't impressive," she was still here, wasn't she?

"Oh, I think that in your defense we can say that there were some unforeseen external forces at work," he replied. She had let go. He had caught her.

The door opened and Laurel jumped slightly, in surprise. The doorman had opened it for her, but it didn't take away her choice. She had already made it, after all. Laurel climbed out of the limousine, her ankle twisting, unstable and tired in her high heels. She caught herself on the door frame before either the doorman or Slade could try and reach for her. "I've got this," she flashed a convincing smile at the doorman as she righted herself and stepped on the red carpet that was rolled from the parking space to the entrance. "Thank you."

It was amazing how the words weren't hard to say. Most days talking with people took energy she didn't have. Sometimes she dreaded interaction with another human being so much, she hid in the bathroom until her hands stopped shaking. And lies always were so heavy and tasteless in her mouth – like wet cardboard. But now? She said she had herself in hand. And the words flowed easily as if she could breathe like a normal person. She smiled and it didn't feel like she was cutting it into her flesh with something sharp. She felt lightheaded with relief.

"Is there anything you'd like?" he asked her as they walked across the lobby.

"Hmm?" she queried – the hotel was beautiful. She couldn't remember if she'd been here before. Some of the décor she recognized – but at one point all the beautiful things started to blend together, and she had seen a lot of them in her life.

"Food? Snacks?" Slade explained as he led her towards the elevators. "I don't have a minibar, I rent an apartment here and my fridge is empty, but I do know for a fact that they have a restaurant."

"It's night. The restaurant will be closed!" she protested lightly as she stepped in the elevator.

"Any restaurant worth its salt starts with the food preparation early in the morning. And they have breakfast to serve in about..," he checked his watch, "two hours. There's definitely someone there."

"And you just assume that you could make them do what you want?" where was this teasing tone coming from? She wondered as she watched Slade push the penthouse level button. Laurel couldn't remember the last lighthearted conversation that she had had. She spoke as if she had a sense of humor, as if words came easy, as if being social and communicable wasn't an effort, but like... breathing. She hadn't even had an easy time of breathing lately.

"I can be pretty persuasive," he flashed her a self-satisfied grin, but she didn't read conceit in it, only good natured humor. She didn't even notice how a mirror smile rose in her face.

"I'm sure," she replied. And then before she even registered in her mind the words that she wanted to say, she said, "Otherwise I don't see how you could have thought that eyepatch with that tie is a good match."

Her jaw dropped and she started apologizing before she even noticed that he was laughing. "I'm so sorry. That was so insensitive. I'm so sorry."

He waved it off. "Don't worry about it," he gestured to his eye, "but that insult to my sense of style, however, can't go unanswered. We'll.." the elevator interrupted him with a small ding and opening of doors.

"Have to study color charts to teach you color coordination?" she shot back at him as she walked into the penthouse. A part of her was horrified at her comments, but it was a small, miserable part buried under ten feet of ice and an ocean of torment. She embraced the emptiness. How easy it was to smile.

"Oh, I'm wounded," Slade grasped his heart theatrically and slumped against the elevator door. Laurel laughed.

Her gaze wandered around the surroundings – it was a beautiful apartment. It seemed to follow an open-floor plan mostly, she guessed that the few walls separated bedroom and bathroom areas deeper into the penthouse. "So do you often pick up girls in the middle of the night and take them home?"

It was Slade's turn to laugh. "Well, you have taken the spot of my regular date."

"Oh, my," Laurel exaggerated appropriately. "I hope she can forgive me."

"You'll have to watch your back," he replied, laughter still in his voice. As Slade moved into kitchen area, Laurel moved towards the windows. They were floor-to-ceiling and Starling city was at her feet. It was serene. More than anything she wished she could grasp that feeling of serenity and blanket herself in it. Never feel anything else ever again.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Slade asked from his spot by the coffee maker. The little machine whirred and chirred as it ground up the beans, boiled the water and mixed the coffee.

"Mhm," Laurel shrugged non-committally. Darkness was lifting – pink rays of sunrise were coating the horizon. It felt strange watching it. Like seeing full sunrise would commit her to something that she wasn't ready for yet. She wanted to stay a creature of the night for a while longer.

As she sat on the bar stool by the counter, Slade already had a cup of coffee to slide her way. It spun as it slid on the counter and spilled a few drops. "Dammit," he cursed and started looking through the cabinets for a paper towel.

Laurel just smiled and picked the drops up with her finger while Slade's back was turned. It was messy and childish, and completely unprofessional. She laughed as she licked her finger, and picked up the small cup to nurse it close. The warmth from it felt as impactful as the heat of a new sun.

Slade wiped the already dry desk. Took another look at it, as if confused, and then decided to forget about it. As he took his cup of coffee and leaned on the counter opposite to her.. A silence settled. She watched him as she slowly sipped her coffee and he watched the rising sun, completely ignoring her for the moment.

Laurel took her cue from him. She might have discovered a reactionary side to herself that no longer seemed to exhaust her to the bone to use, but she definitely didn't want to start a conversation that seemed long overdue by now. There was no chance that Slade had forgotten how they met if even for a little while Laurel had allowed herself to forget. There was only one thing they had left to discuss as much as Laurel would prefer to start a random topic about Renaissance art. There was only one reason why they were here.

It might have been a minute, or it might have been more than half hour. It was definitely much lighter outside and Laurel's cup was halfway empty. "You're not going to say anything?" she was a lawyer; she couldn't leave something well enough alone. And the waiting in the silence seemed like a physical thing that had started to wear on her. Laurel wanted to avoid dead weight on her shoulders like a plague. She had had too much of that.

He finally looked at her.

"I know you want to ask me something," she continued bracing herself for the question that she knew she wasn't ready for – will you try again? She had no idea. She wanted to make no promises. She was lost and for the moment – that was the best thing that had happened to her in a while.

Slade stared at her as if he was trying to see into her soul. She was sure her face bore all the marks of her anxiety, her misdeeds, her sins. But his gaze was kind. "What will you do now?"

And the ground dropped beneath her feet. Was she going to go to work? And pretend nothing happened? Would she go home? Could she bear to? A million questions rose in her mind, each more agitating than the last, but effortlessly she brushed them all aside, quieting worry with the calm of just not knowing. "Sleep," she was exhausted, and the only thing she knew for sure was that she was in no position to make any kind of decision now. She needed rest and may the rest of the chips fall where they may.

"I have a guest room," Slade replied. He didn't offer to take her home again. He didn't try to talk her into anything or out of anything. He just... was there when she needed it, providing what she needed without any demands of his own.

Laurel wondered whether she trusted him or was it just that she didn't care what happens. "Thank you."