14 hours later

Laurel woke with a sharp intake of a breath. As if she was startled awake. And for a few blissful moments – she had no idea who she was, where she was and what had happened. Everything was calm and quiet. And then reality settled in like a smog over a metropolis.

She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead as she shuffled around in bed until she managed to sit up. Her head felt heavy. Not exactly hurting, but fuzzy like she had slept for too long. But a quick glance told her it was still dark outside. It couldn't have been more than half hour.

She pulled her knees up to her chest. The down filled blanket was soft and thin and melded itself around her with every intent to keep her warm. Memories came flooding in. She knew where she was. She knew why she was here. She couldn't even look at the door, dreading the moment when she'd have to go out and face Slade.

She'd been too exhausted to care before, but now... She found that she felt shame. It was a bottomless pit in the middle of her chest and even as she tried to reason herself out of it – she realized she was sick and tired of trying to convince herself to feel anything but what she was feeling. She took a deep breath. And she admitted to herself that she felt shame. But as Laurel tentatively examined her feelings – it wasn't shame about what she did. She didn't know how to feel about that.

No, what she felt wasn't general – it was very specific and aimed at Slade. He had seen her at a very private moment, and... He had saved her, but... whatever he might expect from her now – she knew that she could only be a disappointment. She was neither as sassy as she had been when he brought her here, nor was she in need of constant maintenance and hand holding. She... Laurel realized that the more attention she paid to every minute detail the smaller shrunk that bottomless pit. It was a sad reflection that – maybe if she had done that before things would never have spiraled so far out of control.

Because – if there was one thing she knew for sure – it was that she couldn't go back. Not to Sara – she couldn't face her sister at all. She wanted to love her, but all she felt was anger and hate, as shameful as that admission felt even when she only made it to herself. She couldn't face Oliver – he... He had been a driving force in her life for... forever. And Laurel no longer felt inclined to let him drive her off the road whether intentionally or, worse, unintentionally. Her mother was also out - Laurel knew she meant well, but for Dinah there had always been a favorite daughter, and it wasn't Laurel. And Laurel realized that whatever happens from now on – she would put herself first, whether that meant living another day, or taking a leap. Which also left her father out in the cold. Laurel shuddered imagining the lectures he'd give her – about Sara, about her attitude and... Heaven forbid, if he were to find out about the previous night.

And all that reasoning – it left her alone. And she found that the thought didn't scare her. She had been running on fumes for years, and now she was all out. Laurel realized that she needed time, and more than time – she needed space. And with that her train of thought came back to station – Slade. As accommodating as he had been – she could hardly stay in his hotel room any longer.

Determined, she got out of bed, pulled on the dress that seemed way too clean for her having walked all across Starling city the previous night before reaching the bridge, and taking a deep breath she ventured out into the apartment.

It was dark and quiet. Lights came on automatically as she walked, but nothing else. There were no sounds of someone else. In the kitchen area she came upon a note – "Help yourself to anything you want. If there's something you need and it's not there – call the reception. I'll be back around dinnertime. -SW"

"Dinnertime?" she muttered and a quick glance at a microwave clock told her that it was nearly 7 PM. She had slept the whole day away. "Oh, my..." she ran back to her room and rummaged through her bag for her phone. If she had been away for a whole day without giving anyone any notice…

She grazed her skin on her keys until she found her phone. She pressed the 'on' button. Again and again. The battery was dead. The screen was dark. Laurel laughed, involuntary, in dismay – she remembered how she had worried about her job – yesterday, was it? – how she had thought about what she would say, what she would do. How ridiculous. Only now she remembered that she had no job. She'd been fired. Faced a disciplinary hearing. Her career was very nearly done and dead. "More like tethering on the edge like me," how ironic.

But that still left her family. As much as she didn't want to face anyone of them, she was sure that they were worried. It was an uncomfortable feeling all along her spine. She didn't want them to worry. She just didn't want to see them.

She had no charger with her and that again presented her with a dilemma. She could leave… She'd likely never see Slade again, and it would save her the awkwardness of seeing him now. But it seemed too… Laurel struggled for the right word for the feeling. Impolite. She didn't feel indebted to him for what he'd done, but it seemed poor thanks for the understanding and a place to sleep to just leave without a word and… Leave him wondering if I… If I went to try again. I can't do that. She wanted to part on good terms.

She called the reception and asked for a charger. And a pizza. It was either the massive exploration of her mental state or the massive amount of time that had passed since she last ate – but Laurel was starving. Idly she wondered when it was last that she had desired food so much. She did not order alcohol.

She nervously tapped the counter as she waited for the phone to recognize it was plugged in to a power source and load up at least 1% so she could turn it on. She dreaded what she'd find there. Coffee machine whirred softly in the background (she hadn't found a kettle for tea) and she nearly dropped the phone as she grabbed it when it finally showed a sign of life.

Three unanswered calls. And two text messages. She played the messages that the callers had left first. There was her dad – telling her off for walking out, for ruining the dinner, asking her to get help. Laurel sighed. She forgot about the coffee and slowly slid down to the floor, her back to the kitchen cabinets. She replayed the message. Her father meant well. But she wasn't her father's daughter. She wasn't an alcoholic. Laurel realized that that's what probably most alcoholics tell themselves, but it wasn't that she craved drink. She craved oblivion. She was sure there was a fine line of distinction between one condition and the other. Placing the wine bottle out of her sight didn't correlate with a desire to live in her mind.

The other was a message from her friend telling her that unfortunately there were no job offers she could help with until the situation with the BAR committee is cleared up. She wished Laurel luck. Laurel nearly laughed. Then she read a text from her mother saying that she was headed back to Central city for a little while. The other text was a discount advertisement for a shoe store.

Laurel wondered whether she even wanted to listen to the last message. She'd been gone for a day and nobody seemed to have noticed. Whether people were finally giving her the space she had asked for… Or they simply didn't care. What was it that Oliver had said to her? That she wasn't the only one with problems? Her father had said something similar. Well…

Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world, Tommy's words came to her. "I'm sorry," she couldn't even please her family, much less the world. And she was done. It felt cowardly and ungrateful – wasn't she supposed to be perfect? Wasn't that what Oliver used to always croon in her ear? That she was perfect? Perfect people forgave unfailingly and completely. Perfect people could save the world. Laurel Lance at best had a chance to save herself now, and survival required selfishness. She could no longer just give – her heart, her time, her strength. She had nearly nothing left.

Laurel turned off her phone without listening to the last message. She was done.

IKYWT

He wasn't surprised when he saw Sara. He had known she was alive. Hell, he had known what she is, but seeing her still threw him for a moment. Seeing her was once again seeing a living, breathing confirmation that Shado was dead. Shado was dead and this useless, heartless, treacherous thing was alive, because Oliver Queen had been given power over life and death, and he had chosen the craven little puppet instead of Shado.

What enraged him most of all was that… Shado had loved Oliver. Slade may have loved Shado – so much that her death would now forever haunt him. But Shado had loved Oliver and Oliver not only turned her down, but he chose her death. Slade couldn't imagine a more backstabbing, disgusting lowlife than Oliver Queen, and he'd had a buddy who turned coat and tortured him on the island. Oh, his blood boiled at the sight of the pair of them. It burned on the tip of his tongue – a throwaway comment about Laurel that would leave them distressed and scrambling at bits and pieces. But he swallowed it.

He wasn't even sure why – why he chose to keep Laurel a secret. He reasoned with himself that it was better to have an ace in a pocket, but the thought didn't ring true.

Just to see Oliver squirm he was extra gentle and charming saying his goodbyes to Moira. The thought of making himself a friend of the family and a constant public nuisance to Oliver was almost amusing. He might even try to seduce Moira. It was not nearly enough what Oliver Queen and Sara Lance deserved, but it was entertaining nonetheless.

He knew there was a gun aimed at his head. Just as he knew that it wouldn't fire. Slade always took care to control his surroundings, and as much as he had tried to beat that into Oliver's head when he trained him on the island – the kid hadn't grasped the thought in its entirety. As Slade saw it – Oliver could barely see beyond his own nose – always missing something, always at a crucial moment. And it seemed that Queen had done his best to teach his own flaws to his team of incompetents. It was almost too easy.

He climbed into his car, and reminded Oliver of his promise.

IKYWT

When Slade was gone, Oliver went to look for Diggle. He found him passed out, and called for Sara and Roy to help take him back to Verdant. He would have done it himself… He owed to Diggle to do it himself, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his family just yet. He had seen that they were alright, but he had to check again. He needed a few moments with his mother and sister.

And that was when – a while later as everything calmed down, Thea pulled him aside and said that she was worried about Laurel.

"What?" his sister's words reverberated in his skull, but the full meaning didn't sink in yet.

"I said, I'm worried. I called her and left her a message, and she hasn't answered," Thea repeated, pursing her lips in annoyance. "It's been a while, and…," didn't Oliver get it? "Laurel always answers." To Thea at least. She and Laurel had always had an amicable relationship, but – Laurel was always more Oliver's, however since Thea's trial and work at the CNRI, they had become much closer. So close that Thea knew that Laurel would always answer her calls. So close that when worried – Thea turned to the person she trusted most for help, her brother.

Oliver hardly heard his sister. His ears were painfully ringing with another voice.

"You cannot die until you have suffered as I have suffered. Until you have known complete despair. And you will. I promise."