Chile 2

Oliver wasn't sure what was it that caught his attention – he had been staring at his boots, listening intently for any movement from Laurel when something caught his eye. He looked up, and once he knew that he was looking for something – he quickly found the culprit. It was a tiny beam off a reflective lens. Someone else was keeping watch on Laurel.

He had grown cold during the night, but he only noticed it now, when his blood seemed to boil with rage burning a path from his heart to his limbs. Someone was tailing, harassing, pursuing Laurel. Finally, there was something that he could act on. He snarled like a forest animal in fury, and nimbly rose to his feet. As if he hadn't spent the entire night sitting in one position on iron stairs.

The street was too wide to shoot a wire and slide across, so he jumped – entire floors at a time until he hit the ground running. In the misty dawn, he was a shadow among shadows. He run across the street, found the building that he'd seen… someone on, but before he could climb it – he saw more movement. He ran between the buildings as someone ran over them.

Oliver passed three streets over till he lost the sight of his prey. He shot an arrow to the roof – and was lifted along to the top. He grasped the edge and heaved himself over it – rolling on the gravel. A shot rang over his head. He ducked, rolled and shot an arrow that was caught. His eyes widened. Not many people could catch an arrow in a flight. Not an arrow that he had fired. And even less people could run away from him. A cold feeling settled in his belly, as he rose and continued his pursuit.

He jumped across a five story drop. Landed, rolled and fired an arrow that caught his prey in the leg. A bullet caught Oliver in the shoulder. The Kevlar lining of his jacket groaning under the pressure. He spluttered as he rose – trying to shake off the hurt and the daze in his head. And yet his opponent was already on his feet. A bloody arrow lay on the ground. "What the…" He shot the gun out of his opponent's hand. It fell over the edge of the roof. It's clatter on the ground below – surprisingly loud.

Oliver hardly dared name the last time he had had to fight this quickly. With this much attention. He didn't recognize his opponent's face, but the movements… When Oliver punched with his right – it was blocked. His left grazed the other man's ribs. As he kicked, he was grabbed and thrown to the ground. But Oliver didn't stay down – he kept moving. Kicking out with his other leg. On his feet before his opponent even turned around. Triple hit at the kidneys and the other man didn't even react.

Punch, turn. Kick, jump. Oliver ended up on his back again, but he managed to land a vicious kick to the other guy's face as he fell. He was starting to feel winded. He got back up. As he always did. Punch. Right. Duck. Punch. Left. Left. Left. Take a hit. Punch. Right. And in the solar plexus. Left. Face. Oliver landed a hit that broke the other guy's nose. And yet his opponent paid no attention to the blood streaming down his face. Oliver linked his fingers and hit viciously at the soft side in his opponent's back as the guy tackled him – but it seemed that in this fight – only one of them felt pain.

He managed to grab an arrow as he was pushed to the ground, and slam it between the 4th and 5th ribs on the left side in his attacker. It ought to have killed the guy, but he roared and managed to lift and throw Oliver off the roof before collapsing.

Oliver landed painfully on the fire escape stairs. When the black spots disappeared from the front of his eyes – and he finally made his way back to the rooftop. It was empty.

IKYWT

Laurel woke sharply. With an intake of breath. If it was a nightmare that had shaken her out of her exhausted sleep, she did not remember it. She was still on the floor. Near the door. Her hand went to her throat as she pushed herself up in a sitting position. For a moment, she wished to stay in this state of peace.

She was afraid that if she tried to speak – her throat would kill her with pain. She had not spared it as she cried. Her brows furrowed as she saw pieces of glass around her. The stained-glass frame in the inner door arch was shattered. She tried to remember if she had smashed it in her hysteria. It was embarrassing enough to realize that apparently, she had passed out right there on the floor. She could not recall how long she had cried. At least no one had seen her fall apart so completely.

She swallowed testing if that would hurt. It didn't.

Then she took a deep breath and got up. Shaking as a newborn colt. She had promised Thea that she would be ready. One glance at the electronic clock in the living room told her that it was barely 6 AM.

She made it to the couch. Dropped down sitting on it. And buried her face in her hands. This couldn't continue. This shaking. These tears. Her face burned from the salt that had dried there. She knew she couldn't go on like this. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted to feel. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. In a moment of utter clarity – she could see how this was the moment, the feeling, the tragedy of how easy it would be to reach for her handbag, for her pills. How easy to...

And Laurel wanted to howl in protest and anger. She hadn't done it when she had the chance and now it felt like... a falsehood. Like something that she no longer deserved no matter the agony. Because nothing was better. Nothing was easier. Every little victory she had had between Slade's apartment and her own now crumbled underneath the weight of her anguish.

She stomped on every sensation she had with a vicious sense of detachment. She was a fighter. She got up. She went into her bedroom and found her suitcase in her closet. She resolutely packed only the most colorful of her things. Wiping tears from her cheeks, she gathered together every item that she had brought home from work and packed it together as well. She gathered all the things that weren't hers. Gifts, things that friends had left at her place. Some things from Tommy and put it in another box.

She showered and dressed without allowing a single word or spare thought to enter her mind to slow her down. When Thea rang at her door, Laurel was ready. Her apartment was a mess, though. What wasn't in her suitcase or in the boxes she had scrounged was dumped on the floor or on her bed. To have spare boxes, she had emptied them of their previous contents – dropping things carelessly as if she no longer cared. She didn't.

"Wow, are you... redecorating?" Thea paused by the living room doorframe.

"Moving, actually," Laurel replied.

"A… What?" it would be understatement to say that Thea was surprised.

"I'm selling the apartment. I'm done with it. And all of this," Laurel gestured to the mess. "Do you mind if we drop by the landlord and leave these with him? These actually have destinations. Other than landfill, that is."

"Are you…" sure. "That is, do you need help packing?" Thea rephrased. She knew how it felt to need to get rid of things. To move. To change.

"No, I called a moving company. They'll do everything while we're away. And a realtor as well," Laurel replied offhandedly as she took one last look around. She had done all that this morning. The information of who to call, what to ask at the back of her mind. She had looked up the information on a whim – when she'd been at Slade's penthouse. But apparently, just like in a play: if there is a gun prop on the stage then by the end of the play – it will fire.

"Laurel…"

"Let's go, Thea," one box under her arm, another wedged between her arm and hip, and a suitcase handle in her other palm. She was leaving.

Thea hesitated. Her eyes wide and worried as she took in the mess of Laurel's place. The implications. She fingered her smartphone in her pocket and for a moment considered calling her brother. But then thought better of it. She didn't need Ollie's blessing or guidance to be Laurel's friend. She turned on her heel and left. She made sure to close the door behind herself, but she had no key. And Laurel didn't seem to care. The door stayed unlocked.

Nearly an hour later as they stood in the airport and waited for the boarding of their flight - Thea took up her phone again. She stared at the unlit screen as she tried to come to a decision. Her mother knew where she was off to (so it wasn't like she was dropping off the face of the earth) – though she had sworn mom to secrecy in case Ollie came around asking. She didn't doubt that given the chance her brother would be on the next plane out. Whether he was angry or worried about Laurel – he'd turn up like a bad penny. After all – it was Oliver and Laurel. Always and forever.

And as much as Laurel's forever seemed to have come to an end – did Oliver deserve to be left out of the loop? Thea was torn between her loyalty to her brother and her friendship with Laurel. And then she pressed down on the power button and turned the device off entirely. Ollie didn't let her in. She could only hazard a guess at what he thought or wanted. His actions certainly didn't speak in his favor. And Laurel had called her. Her. Thea. She was not going to betray that trust.

IKYWT

A shuttle service from the fancy hotel Thea had booked picked them up at the Santiago airport. Thea watched as Laurel barely seemed to go through the motions – sit down, get up, walk to the plane, walk from the plane, go through customs, get to the car. Thea tried to keep up chatter to fill the silence even when Laurel didn't respond. And she took care of everything.

And that set the tone for the next week. Laurel seemed to drop in her hotel room and if Thea had left her alone – she wouldn't have moved from the bed. But Thea was not dissuaded. She didn't ask what was wrong – sensing that it was too soon. Instead she did everything else. She ordered room service when Laurel couldn't be persuaded (or dragged, like, physically dragged (Thea had ended up on her ass and Laurel had laughed for the first time in their whole trip)) from bed and made sure her friend ate.

Thea also managed to book every type of spa that the resort had. And she made sure Laurel got there with her. It didn't matter to her whether Laurel felt like getting up. Whether she felt like brushing her hair or showering. She got her to every massage appointment, to the mud baths and the aroma therapy sessions. And after nearly two weeks of constant pampering – something finally changed.

They were at the pool side. On a lounger, hidden from sun in the shade of a large parasol. And Laurel suddenly smelt salt in the air. From the ocean. It wasn't far, it's just that she hadn't noticed before. She felt like she was waking up. Nearly two weeks ago – she'd gotten to the airport and she'd… just shut down. She'd been too exhausted to keep feeling everything that she felt and too… hurt to keep hurting. If she'd been alone – she probably would've been stuck to the bed like a wet chewing gum to the underside of a school table.

But she wasn't. She felt fresh. She was fresh. Her skin supple and with a healthy glow. Her whole body languid from the professional ministrations of the resort masseuse. And finally, her mind was ready to catch up. "I tried to kill myself," the words just slipped out.

Thea nearly choked on a mouthful of a Sex On The Beach. "I figured that something bad happened."

"I can't… I can't explain why," Laurel finally looked at her. She could hardly explain it to herself. She could see all the reasons bubbling like a barrel full of boiling pitch somewhere at the core of her. And she did not want to touch that. She was afraid that if she did – she'd be like the birds they show on Discovery Channel. All caught up in the oil and blackness and stuck. Dying.

Thea nodded. "That's okay," she said. Mulling over whether Laurel was ready to say more. Whether she should say something more. A moment later she patted Laurel's hand. "How do you feel about surfing?"

A small, thankful smile blossomed on Laurel's face. "I take it you have plans?"

"Hell yeah," Thea grinned.