29. A year gone

"Felicity, we had some unexpected company at the courthouse. I want you to see if you can identify them," Oliver came in the Arrow Cave like a thunderstorm.

"Got it," she replied, turning swiftly towards her monitors. Then paused. "Anything else besides 'unexpected', because SWAT was also there, and we did not expect them to charge in with the hostages there."

"It was two women. Vigilante women," Sara elaborated, skipping down the stairs after Oliver. "One of them kicked his ass."

Felicity pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. "Is it a phone number you're looking for, Oliver?" she couldn't resist.

Oliver set his bow down with a loud clang that echoed through the room. "It is not funny, Felicity," he said, his tone low and frustrated. "And they are not vigilantes, Sara. They both would not have gotten out of there if you hadn't distracted SWAT. They are a danger to themselves and everyone around them."

Sara smirked as she took a wide circle around Oliver. "Must have been the reason you jumped out of the building after one of them," she shrugged perching on the edge of Felicity's table.

"He jumped out of a building?!" now Felicity couldn't even pretend to be looking at her monitors, she turned to see Sara's amused expression. It made her realize that whatever tension had been between Sara and Oliver had been gone for a very long time now.

And judging by the fact that Oliver was burning to find the newest masked female, it was, in fact, Sara who had changed. There was only gentle teasing in her, not a hint of jealousy or possession. Not like it had been the night Laurel went missing. And the bemused exasperation that settled in her own chest made Felicity realize that her crush had also evaporated.

"He did," Sara confirmed, her smirk growing into a grin as she leaned closer and continued, conspiratorially. "And then they rolled around on the grass, and I guess he wasn't a perfect gentleman, because she threw him a few good feet and ran away."

"She threw him?!" now that sounded unbelievable, because she doubted even Sara with her ninja skills could physically throw Oliver. The man was built like a mountain. Or at least a very decent hill.

"She had some sort of sonic thing. Like my thing," Sara twirled her sonic bomb, fetching it from her belt. "But for her it came out as a scream. And it was powerful," there was wonder and respect in her expression.

"Whatever it was, Helena still threw her off the balcony. If those two walk around trying to save people, someone is going to end up hurt," Oliver was immovable in his opinion. In fact, he passionately agreed with the new DA. Whether he was concerned about the safety of the vigilantes or public, however, was a tossup. He certainly thought they didn't belong on the streets. But he couldn't shake off the memory of Laurel's eyes.

"Don't know," Sara replied, doubtfully. "They seem to have a pretty strong ace up their sleeve."

Oliver dropped his arrows on the weapons table next to the bow and whirled towards her, "Do you know something?"

Sara almost startled. She did not enjoy it. "What do you mean?" she frowned. It seemed like through all the years Oliver still hadn't learned to play nice with other teammates. Sara had had to learn that very quickly in the League.

"She is imitating your look. Even the name. Black Canary. Do you know anything?" he reiterated. "I'd suspect the League, but those two are very far from League's standard of fighting."

Sara pursed her lips, "Nope, no idea." She leaned back towards Felicity, "Though I have to say it's kinda flattering."

Felicity tried to hide her smile but failed miserably. She ended up hiding it behind her hands.

Oliver was not impressed. "Find them, Felicity," he repeated his order, but before he could say more, Felicity interrupted him, laughter brimming in her voice.

"By the way your mother has scheduled a lunch with you and Thea tomorrow, and you're to 'better be there'."

Sara chuckled.

Oliver looked at the ceiling, sighing. His temper barely constrained. This was not his day.

IKYWT

It had been two days and he was still angry. Intermittently. When he was with Laurel all he felt was concern. And a hint of fear. He liked to think that he had always had a rather healthy level of self-awareness, but it was still hard to accept the level of impact Laurel Lance had on his life.

He certainly had not expected it when he'd rushed to stop her from disrupting his plans by dying too early.

Now the thought of her in pain made rage simmer in him. Like now. He was on a mission, but all he needed was the memory of her wince when she'd tried to sit down on the couch, and he felt like obliterating something. Someone.

She had assured him it was an accident. She'd been training at the gym with Thea, and… She's a terrible liar. He had enough eyes and ears in this city to quickly find out that there'd been a vigilante collision during the Bertinelli hostage crisis. It hadn't taken much of a leap of logic to realize it had been Laurel who'd fallen out of the building. He'd talked her into seeing a doctor and she'd ended up being prescribed with rest and medicine.

He took a calming breath but felt that the muscles in his face still hadn't relaxed from the murderous expression he'd adopted. I promised Shado, he reminded himself. Laurel's existence in his life made him adjust his plans, but he was not going to abandon them. He had promised Shado to make Oliver pay. Laurel was not going to be part of that price anymore, but Oliver and this city would still bleed for their sins.

Slade barely had his temper under reigns as he picked up Thea Queen outside of Verdant. He made an effort to slip into character as he calmed his rage and rolled down his window to address Thea. "Good evening."

"Mr. Wilson?" Thea frowned as she leaned and peered inside the car.

"Call me Slade," he offered her generously. "Come inside."

It was laughably easy. Thea trusted him as one of her mother's campaign sponsors. He hadn't even had to reveal himself as Laurel's friend. She droned on about her useless boyfriend – well, with the mirakuru he might be not so useless – and he made a few comforting phrases where they might be expected and passed her a handkerchief. And he thought about what he had in plan for Thea.

He needed her as a distraction while he recruited his army. And he didn't mind burning his identity. It was time. He'd been delaying for weeks. As a side bonus – he was sure she'd be curious for what he had to say even if he ended up scaring her.

The plan he had made months ago was faultless – he'd have his distraction and he'd drive a wedge between Thea and her family. More importantly – he'd make Oliver suffer.

It was perfect.

Except as they took the turn towards the alley where he was supposed to release her, he kept imagining Laurel's face. She'd never trust him again if he hurt Thea. Even if he just scared the girl. Not yet. They weren't close enough yet. And he shouldn't care about that, but he did.

Besides there were so many other things he could do. And get to keep Laurel a little bit longer in the bargain. And avoid that look of devastation on her face that he knew well enough.

And even though he wanted, needed Oliver to suffer – the plain fact was that he hadn't even thought of gloating to Arrow that he had her. And while he told to Shado and to himself that it was because he was keeping Laurel as an ace up his sleeve… Well… It was just that - She seems happier every day. And why would Slade ever want to ruin that and put her back in Oliver Queen's path?

"You took the wrong turn," he said to the driver just as the car started slowing down. "Take us to the Queen manor."

He'll call and tell Blood that the plans have changed later. In fact, as I'm still in need of a distraction… A mayoral candidate wasn't the worst meat for kidnapping.

"I used to get so lost in the Glades when I first started coming here," Thea said comfortingly.

Slade forced a smile in response. They crossed one intersection, then another, swiftly moving out of the Glades and his chest constricted with every crossroads the car crossed. Instead of taking Thea to her kidnapper, he was taking her home. Because of Laurel.

His great kidnapping plan was going down the drain. And yet. What was harder to reconcile was that he could still imagine how Laurel would look if she'd hear that Thea's missing – her beautiful face twisted with anxiety and worry. And with betrayal, later, when Thea would name him as the kidnapper. He was ready for the derision of the world – he cared nothing for it. But from Laurel... The ghost of such a future had a hold on him that he could not shake. Not yet.

In the end - he released Thea by the front door of her mother's manor. She thanked him and the door swung shut with leaving him with a sense of failure.

"You promised," Shado hissed at him from the front seat. The driver did not see her.

"One pass, Shado. She gets one pass," he hissed at the shadow of his dead love. Her accusation hurt, just like the thought of disappointing Laurel had. She saved Laurel. She gets one pass.

"Will you still take Moira Queen out of the picture? Will you do what needs to be done?" Shado now appeared in the seat next to him. Her questions were pointed, dripping doubt and derision.

"Of course, I will," he replied gruffly. Everything he had done; he had done for Shado. For the betrayal Oliver had served them. He hadn't been able to protect Shado in life, he would avenge her in death.

"You will let everything we planned go down the drain," she spoke as if she hadn't heard him, turning away from him. "For that woman," Shado said, her words full of hatred. "You're also going to choose someone else above me," she accused.

"No…," he sighed. "No," he pleaded. "I would never do that," he promised. "I will make Oliver pay. I will make him choose again." Just not with Laurel.

"You're no better than him," Shado spat and died from a headshot wound next to him.

Slade slammed his fist down on the empty seat next to him. A cracking sound. Fucking seat heater.

IKYWT

It was one of better spring days. Cold, but bright. A breeze here and there. First leaves sprouting on trees. Her short-heeled boots sank in the lush grass of the cemetery.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday," Laurel said as she laid down a bouquet of flowers next to another exquisite set of flowers. Moira, she thought as she recognized the style. Every year on the day the Gambit sank there had been an arrangement of flowers in a similar style on Sara's grave.

"I was a little bit preoccupied with trying not to reach mine," she said, and a sad laugh came out with it. It felt freeing to admit to the dark place she'd been inhabiting. It felt like healing.

"But I'm here, Tommy," unbidden tears filled her eyes. "I'm here and I won't waste the gift you gave me. And I will always be sorry that…" Laurel swallowed past the lump in her throat and took a calming breath as she just choked with a sudden surge of just… missing him. "I will always be sorry that you're not here."

"That I didn't get to save you like you saved me," the tears that had gathered now rolled down her cheeks. The floodgates for everything that had been choking her for the past year opened and words just came out. "And I love you, and I'm sorry that you loved me more."

She pressed her mouth in a thin line to stop a sob. A few watery breaths. "All the things I said, I did… I never wanted to admit to myself; the thing I think you saw too clearly. I loved you, but never as much as you deserved. I loved you for the comfort of knowing you. I loved you," it sounded like an excuse. She felt bitter disappointment with herself at it. "... for the wonderful man you were. For being the friend that never left my side. I loved you so selfishly," and it felt like a confession. Except there was no one left to grant absolution. "That all I did was end up hurting you and I'm so sorry, Tommy. I wish I could have been better to you."

Her face was wet, and the eastern wind was biting. She wiped her nose and cheeks on her coat sleeve. Chuckled, just to draw more air in her lungs. "But you were no saint, were you? I was so angry with you for lying to me. For leaving me." In hindsight the day he'd walked out on her telling her that he'd changed his mind… It seemed so clear now what he'd done. The sacrifice he'd made. "You made that choice for me, and it makes me so furious. But you knew, didn't you? You knew that for all those years, I never really let him go. So, you made that choice and I want to hate you," her voice trembled with grief that she fought and failed to turn into any kind of anger. "Because maybe that would hurt less."

"Because I miss you so much. And it hurts, Tommy," fresh tears rolled past her cheeks. "It hurts and you can't spare me this and …," why not this. Spare me this and I'll endure anything else. The sleeves of her coat were wet. "And I want you to know, that if we'd had more time… I would have tried to be better. I would have tried to deserve to have you as my friend," her voice trembled, her words changing in sharpness as she fought to speak.

And then her vision went gray, saltwater muddled her world. The plain fact that she'd give anything to have her friend right next to her cut straight through her. There was no power in the world that could grant it even if she had anything that such a being might desire.

She missed his smile. She plain missed seeing him across the street, just living his life. She missed him so much it knocked the air out of her lungs and her knees folded under her. The sheer unchangeable permanence of how things were now, the powerlessness in face of harsh reality… It had been a year and it felt worse now than it had the night he'd died, because when she'd tried to rush back into the building, she'd had hope. She'd hoped against all hope that somehow it would be okay.

But it wasn't. A year had passed, and Tommy was in his grave six feet under, and she had lost a friend and no amount of tears, no amount of pleading - nothing would get him back. She'd known him for majority of her life. He'd been the one who never let her down since primary school. Until he died.

It was an absolutely awful feeling that ached across her entire chest. Tears flowed and her nose blocked up as she slid sideways, sitting on the wet grass and just crying. Sobbing.

But as horrid as it was, as inconsolable the thought that no amount of wishing or waiting would change the headstone in front of her into the man that he had been… It felt right to let it all out. There is no right way to grieve, but to her it finally felt like she was grieving. The first weeks, months after the Undertaking she'd spent in a stunned state before moving on to vengeance and… Like all the things she'd bottled up over the years, so she'd also put Tommy there. But now – on this cold ground that still hadn't released winter's chill, it finally felt cleansing to talk to him, shout, apologize and just… be.

As her tears dried up, she was left with a headache, a heartache and a distantly setting sun. Laurel stared at the tombstone and felt closer to Tommy than she had when they'd been lovers. I'm so sorry.

"It's getting cold, love."

Her shoulders pulled up defensively at the address. She couldn't help but feel interrupted even though she hadn't uttered a sound in a while. She breathed in. Keeping a moment of stillness frozen inside her and then exhaled, releasing tension. Awareness of the cold that had seeped into her body as well as stiffness that had settled into her joints came to her. She had precious little strength left for the day. "How did you find me?"

"I was looking for you," Slade replied simply, walking up to her even as she didn't turn to look at him.

She nodded, her eyes tracing Tommy's name on the tombstone like a final hug goodbye. "Why?"

"I know what day it is today," he said, standing right behind her. It had been all across the newspapers. The anniversary of the tragedy in the Glades. He took off his coat and settled it over Laurel's shoulders. She looked like a pile of misery. "It wasn't hard to put the rest together."

Laurel closed her eyes, pressing her lips together as fresh, uncalled for tears gathered. One would have thought that she'd already went over whatever limit she had today, but no. Few fresh drops found their way across her face.

"The man who saved your life," Slade said softly. And as he stepped into Laurel's field of vision he moved forward and put a funeral wreath on Tommy's grave. "That's something I'll always be grateful for."

Laurel looked at Slade with wet, questioning eyes.

"I've never met the man," he answered the unasked question, "But he did me a favor I will never be able to repay." Because she had become important to him. Hadn't they been dancing around this for a while? He chose his words carefully, but that did not make them any less true.

"Slade…"

"You don't have to say anything," he assured her as he stepped up next to her. "Will you let me take you home?" Slade extended his hand, offering to help her up. The word 'home' made him pause. It had slipped out without paying attention. It had been forever since he'd had a home, but somehow the word had still wormed its way in his subconscious. Somehow that word meant the penthouse he shared with Laurel.

She took a moment to search within herself and found that her pain was spent for the day. Her grief finally muted. Her coat and dress wet where she'd collapsed on the ground. Laurel reached a tremulous hand and grasped Slade's palm. He pulled her up, but as she rose, she swayed – how long did I… The sun was setting, but spring days were short.

"I've got you, love," Slade pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, bundling her in his coat. "Let's go home," he reached down and picked her up.

"Slade…," there was more of an intention to protest than actual protest in her voice. In all honesty she finally felt some warmth surround her again and she just wanted to close her eyes and let the world pass by for a little while.

"Let me take care of you," he asked as he pressed her closer, unconsciously. "Please," his tone was as close to begging as she had ever heard it.

Laurel laid her head on his shoulder, acquiescing. "Let's go home," she agreed, taking a last look at the tombstone as Slade carried her away. Thank you.