EDITED: June 12th, 2022.
To hadrianlopez1 and missauroracruz—thank you very much for favoriting and following, I hope you enjoy this story! And a huge, huge thank you to Notary Sojac for reviewing—and so sorry to answer back so late!
Notary Sojac: OH MY GOSH, THIS GOTTA BE ONE OF THE LARGEST REVIEWS THIS STORY HAS GOTTEN! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Ahem— I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. I wanted Karen to be very different from my HP OC—like yes, this girl has it all to become a superhero, but she's reacting like any common person... in utter panic. She's my disaster girl: a little brave, a little witty, a lot scared. As you pointed out, some of her responses to certain situations are curious because she is unaware of the proper social cues, all due to her alluded memory loss, but she tries her best. Which is why she doesn't feel like she'll ever be as good as Clark Kent was.
I hope you all like this chapter. Not a lot happens and it's short, but—it leads to the Flarrow crossover. Stay safe—and comments are always welcome!
11- Listening Half
Karen was a terrible person when cornered. Cranky and skittish like an animal, truly. But with David nearby and the Wests within her vicinity, she forced her body to stay still and her eyes to not blink as the doctor flashed his penlight over her face.
If her fingers writhed on her lap, well. She had to let out her anxiety somehow.
And if Barry was going to eat his nails gone, why couldn't she take his cue?
It was a good thing David had barely glanced at him. Barry was a terrible secret keeper. Never mind that he was playing superhero—it was his lack of social life that saved him from revealing his extracurricular activities! That, and the fact David cared less about him. No, her foster father's attention was entirely on her, his eyes so squinted he looked angry. But that was his usual expression (his resting bitch face, PJ had called it), so to her, it was inscrutable as always.
What was he thinking about today's events? Were his thoughts in her favor or against her? Had Joe West spoken to him beforehand? Was that why he was pulling the one face that made criminals cave?
She missed the days when he couldn't get a squat out of her. Her younger, amnesiac self hadn't understood shit about facial cues, and thus wasn't cowed by him. How the years had changed that!
A kick to the door brought everyone's attention towards Barry. Embarrassed, he uncrossed his arms and tucked his hands in his jeans' pockets, shuffling one foot behind him. His face, she noticed, was still as red from minutes ago.
Reminded of the moment, she felt her own cheeks heat. Her stomach somersaulted as she recalled Iris West's reaction when finding them in that compromising position.
It had not helped that Barry had worsened the moment. With a panicked yelp, he clutched Karen closer and accidentally pushed her down to the floor, falling with her when his leg entangled with hers.
"Oh my God!" Iris had exclaimed, spinning—Karen saw her wide eyes and gaping mouth—and slammed the door closed.
Karen took stock of her ripped clothes, Barry's hand still glued to the bullet hole in her abdomen in an uncanny imitation of intimacy, his closeness, and reached the same conclusion as West.
"This cannot be happening to me," she complained.
After scrambling to his feet, Barry rushed out of the hospital room and back, a generic white t-shirt in his hand, the green tag visible between his fingers before he speed tore it.
"What is this?"
"Change your clothes, we can say you have an aversion to blood and panicked." Barry waved his hand persistently. "They can't see the holes or the blood."
"The blood's not mine." But she accepted the garment. A glance at it had her scrunching up her nose. "I'm not wearing this."
"Karen, I can't afford Dolce Gabbana, put on the shirt!"
"Forever 21 would've sufficed," she grumbled, reaching to unbutton her blouse.
"Next time, okay?" He whirled, giving her privacy, purposefully facing the wall instead of the window that caught her reflection. A gentleman through and through. "This is bad, this is bad. What's Iris' gonna think?"
Karen burst into giggles. She was shot by a lunatic, had almost killed said lunatic, and Mattie's theory of becoming bulletproof was a reality now. That Barry had resorted to worrying about his forever crush's thoughts on them—like usual—was the tip of the iceberg.
Barry turned, an indignant look on his face—then remembered she was about to change clothes and spun again.
"This cannot be happening to me," she repeated, a hysteric note entering her voice.
Minutes later, they were facing the father-daughter duo, Joe West's brow doing all the questioning while Iris still gaped at them. Karen ignored the steadfast glare on her new t-shirt. The cloth was obviously a man's and long that it reached her knees, but it was a little tight over her chest.
"Right," said Joe. "I don't wanna know what's going on between you three. C'mon, Starr, let's get you checked."
"No!" Karen and Barry shouted, the latter throwing an arm in front of her instinctively.
A sudden hush fell over the hallway, patients and staff alike looking in their direction.
Karen dropped her head on his arm and closed her eyes.
Joe's questioning looks deepened. "What do you mean 'no'? He knocked you down with his gun and dragged you by the throat. You gotta check that old wound didn't worsen. And I can see the scrapes on your knees. Better treat them before they become infected. Tomorrow you'll be dealing with a lot worse."
As he went to get a nurse, Barry leaned down to whisper, "He hit you?" Anger was starting to show on his face.
"He pulled her hair too," said Iris, and Karen wished a black hole would swallow her right now. She couldn't stand the attention.
Barry's hand flew to her head, then stopped mid-air. It flew back to his neck, rubbing it awkwardly.
Karen threw her head back and sighed.
Now she was in a doctor's office, a doctor that was not Mattie checking for signs of a concussion. He wouldn't find one, obviously. Karen was severely tempted into faking an aneurysm when David joined their little group at last, eyes bloodshot and his scruff so dark it made him look like a drunk. A mad drunk.
How did one fake a concussion anyway?
The penlight switched off. Black spots danced before her.
"Lucky for you, Ms. Starr, you don't appear to have a concussion. But we do request you spend the night over, just in case."
"Okay," she said, and he beamed at that, commenting he was going to the nurses' station to draw up her papers.
And then he left the room.
Karen refused to look in David's direction. Her gaze wandered over the place, lingering at the worn sides of Barry's shoes (his super speed was probably making a big dent in his wallet, she thought) and on Iris's very nice leather jacket.
"Uhm, I think we should leave you two alone," said Iris. She approached Karen and hugged her. "Thank you so much for what you did at the station. That's twice you've saved me."
"You're the one who shot him."
But Iris was already leaving, and Joe was there to clasp her shoulder.
"She's right. You drew his attention back to you when she tried to reach Eddie." She shook her head, but Joe squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I won't forget that." He jerked his head at Barry. "C'mon, Barr. Gotta check on my partner."
Head twitching between David and her, he followed his foster dad out... and at last, it was just the two.
David wasn't an aggressive man. Sure, his temper was bad but years in the force had taught him to be soft towards victims. Karen remembered the treatment firsthand. Logically, she knew she was safe, but... her body couldn't forget. And this whole thing for Tockman had opened old wounds.
Her flinch when he sat next to her told him a lot of things.
"I'm not mad. I'm relieved, but I'm still too wired," he told her. Tell me about it. "What happened back there?"
Karen launched into the story, leaving almost no detail out until the bit with Tockman and the gun came up.
"He was going to shoot me. And I pushed him." Her jaw ticked.
David didn't look at her the whole time. She'd peered at him sideways during her tirade, expecting his disbelief, but his face was smooth of emotion. Another skill acquired from the force. She did wait for the comment regarding her strength—regardless of Karen's height, there was no way she could've done what she did—but David didn't bring it up. Maybe he thought she'd already dealt with enough. Maybe he thought she was feeling guilty about Tockman.
If she was honest? She didn't. Not much. Tockman deserved what he got—he hadn't been a good man. He'd killed a child and waved it off as nothing. Today he'd shot Eddie and ignored the sprinkles of blood littering his face. Then he'd made Iris cry and took Karen as his hostage... shooting her when she rebelled...
The bullets may not have penetrated her skin, but they still hurt like a bitch.
(You are not the judge, the jury, or the executioner.)
"I wanna go home."
Never mind she'd told the doctor she would stay. She wanted to leave now. And David, in his infinite kindness, said, "Okay," and offered his hand.
000•000
Iris waited a day after his return to the C.C.P.D. to accost Barry at his lab, bringing three bags of Big Belly Burger as offerings and leading Barry to believe her visit was innocent.
He was in mid bite when she said, "Are you and Karen back together, or is this an exes-with-benefits thing?"
He inhaled sharply, and the food go stuck in his throat. Eyes watering, he reached for the soda and drank it almost all until the pressure was gone.
Iris didn't look remorseful. She seemed annoyed.
"Well?"
"No," he said hoarsely, coughing. "No, we aren't. Listen—"
"Then what was yesterday? You looked awfully comfy with the girl who broke up with you at work, in front of the entire station. The entire station, Barry—my dad was there!"
"I remember," Barry snapped, slamming a hand on the desk.
Both drew in a breath.
Barry never got angry with Iris. For many years, she was his sun, the light at the end of the tunnel. When he was feeling down, she was there to pick him up, and when she was sad, he searched high and low for the thing that would return her smile. They were each other's backups, best friends until the end. She was Barry's first love, and still his crush.
And then he saw Karen. And then he knew Karen. And for some reason, Iris wasn't comfortable with their relationship. The breakup worsened her opinion of Karen. "There's something off with her," she would say, but Barry had heard the same thing about Becky Cooper and Fiona Shaw—there was always something wrong with his girlfriends. Never mind they hadn't lasted because of her, because he was so in love with her. Becky and he had broken off things amicably, but Fiona had known the first time she met Iris, three months after becoming girlfriend and boyfriend, and not a week later she'd dropped him.
It had hurt. He'd loved them, not as much as Iris, but he had. And Karen—
Sometimes, he thought Iris had seen how serious they were. He was stupidly in love with Iris, yeah, but Karen had tested that love. She made him feel things he hadn't before, given him dreams that suddenly seemed attainable.
The Gimlin case ruined everything. Ralph ruined everything. Then twenty-three months later, while still finding their footing, the Particle Accelerator exploded. For the first time, Barry felt their friendship could be salvaged. And with Karen's reveal of her powers, he had the in he'd been looking for since waking from the coma.
Barry licked his lips. "Iris, you're my best friend." Nothing would change that. "And I know you're looking out for me. But please—please don't stick your nose into this. This thing with Karen, whatever it is, it's mine to solve."
"So you want to get back together." The words were damning.
He shook his head. "I don't know. I genuinely don't. But she was my friend first, Iris. I want that back."
Iris gave him a look that made him want to crawl somewhere dark, but he reminded himself she didn't understand. When he'd started out at the C.C.P.D., she'd been away in a school exchange, back when she'd had no idea what to major in. Iris hadn't witnessed the birth of his friendship with Karen and its slow progress into the romantic field: the long nights at the station together, looking through cases over Chinese food; the good-natured arguments about just everything from fiction to non-fiction, from what food place was good to which Star Wars movie was the best; his absent-minded response to Karen's first I like you and the consequent freak-out when he realized he liked her the same way; their hangouts becoming dates, their normal teasing turning into flirting.
Iris had only seen the worst. She returned at the most crucial moment—the so called Gimlin case. And because she was always a priority to him, he put her above everything else, never explaining to Karen what she meant to him truly. What had Karen said? I broke us up because I didn't trust you. Hadn't he allowed it because it was the same for him?
"I don't want you to get hurt," said Iris.
Barry smiled at her. "And I love you for that. But I want to do this the right way."
"If you need any help—"
"I'll call you," he lied.
But days passed and there wasn't a single hint of Karen. He was too afraid of Singh to ask him, so he recurred to Karen's mousy companion whose name he never remembered. To make up for that slight, he brought her coffee from Jitters, and the ginger swallowed the whole drink before saying, "She took two weeks off." Another swallow. "Claimed trauma. Can you believe she offered to take most of my turns in exchange? I'll still get paid!"
He was pretty sure they didn't allow that, but he didn't say anything.
Worried, he looked up Karen's address—until remembering her saying something along the lines of I'm moving out, here's my new place, and he bowed in defeat.
Then he remembered they lived in the era of technology and mentally prepared his speech.
000•000
"What are you doing?"
Oliver's first instinct was to throw the nearest object at the intruder, which happened to be the broken piece of metal in his hands. If he angled it exactly right, it would penetrate the target's skin, a spot close to his heart where it would paralyze him but not kill him.
His second, however, was to close his eyes and remember where he was: the basement in Verdant. And he stood between the glass case holding his' and Arsenal's equipment and the table where he was prodded at by Alicia or Felicity whenever he returned with an injury. The man who spoke was an ally, his friend.
His brother, really, but it wasn't the right moment to reveal that vulnerability. He could hear the tension in John's voice, feel it despite the physical distance between them. Something was going on with his friend and there could only be two reasons: either it had something to do with Layla, his ex-wife, or Andy, his deceased brother.
Oliver chose to say the truth this time.
"I'm thinking about calling Starr."
He didn't look at Diggle. He knew by heart how the man looked when surprised—raised eyebrows, the crossing of arms and widened stand. As if bracing himself for a possible emotional shock.
"So, you made up your mind." They'd talked, truly talked and not argued, about making Karen Starr a consultant. Her skills didn't match Felicity's but with the IT girl busy at her new work position, Starr's aid would be beneficiary to their cause. They'd also considered her list of connections when working up to the decision.
Oliver did not mention her file in the ARGUS archives or the nickname they'd bestowed on her. The killer with the angelical face.
"Does Felicity know?"
Oliver shook his head. "It was one of Starr's conditions."
"You're being very lenient for a stranger you just met."
He heard the censure in Dig's voice. The old Oliver would've threatened and cajoled until he got what he wanted. But that had been the Hood and the Hood was dead. He was the Arrow now, and Arrow tried to do the city right.
Threatening a former victim would've been barbaric.
"She's... a special case."
Diggle hummed. "What are you bringing her on?"
"The boomerang assassin."
"That's ARGUS' jurisdiction."
A smile tugged at Oliver's lips. "Layla didn't tell you anything, did she?"
"Her lips are locked tighter than a Swedish bank."
The men reached the monitors, Oliver opening the app that would call her phone.
"Starr will have our answers in seconds."
As the generic ringing began, Diggle asked, "Why not wait for Felicity, man?"
"She's with Palmer," said Oliver roughly—just as the call connected.
"I read about your little Cupid problem," were her first words. "How did that go?"
"Have you got any relevant information on the Canary case?"
Diggle shot him a bewildered look. Oliver schemed how to explain his initial deal with Karen without angering his partner.
"Regarding Lance's autopsy, no. I can't tell you any more than your girl did. The League, on the other hand...
"Don't believe me much because I haven't confirmed it myself, but there's a rumor about a civil war happening within. Ra's Al Ghul's heirs are fighting for control of the league and the eldest is winning by a landslide. But dearest daddy didn't like that. He's teamed up with his youngest to, and I quote, 'show their subjects the path of enlightenment'. Not only that, he's recruited a former student of the Lady Shiva."
"You're kidding me," said Diggle.
Oliver was surprised too. Lady Shiva was a former member of the League of Assassins. The public knew little about her, but she was nothing short of a legend or a warning for the League of Assassins. Shiva had successfully started a rebellion against Ra's a decade ago, taking a good chunk of his followers. With their support, she created the League of Shadows, a group with a humbler aim: to stem humanity's course of destruction. It was similar to Al Ghul's philosophy, but Shiva's agents only interfered whenever an individual threatened to start some sort of crisis. Where Ra's made a spectacle of it, the League of Shadows silently cut the problem from the root.
Anyone who tried to follow her was dealt swiftly.
"Uhm, you're not alone?"
"Diggle's aware of our arrangement."
"Hello, Ms. Starr."
"Hey," she stretched out. "So, back to Shiva's student. There's no record of him, but they call him 'the Avenger'." She chuckled. "So uncreative."
"How sure are you it's a 'he'?"
"I'm sending you a rogue sketch of him, courtesy of the Himalayan authorities. Apparently, his eyes are the bluest you'll see, 'just like the sky'."
"Uh-huh."
"Their words, not mine." Karen cleared her throat. "I've got a... personal question for you."
"No."
"It's not about your life. I just want your opinion." She tackled on before he could decline again, or before Diggle's presence cowered her. "Barry found out something about me that he thinks it's wrong to hide. Like, potentially dangerous. Which is not. And it isn't his business and it's something that I've got handled, but he keeps pestering me to do something about it. And I want him to stop before he gets too involved."
Silence.
"... who's Barry?"
From her home, she rolled her eyes. "You're the reason he went to Starling City before he fell into a coma, Oliver. You know who he is."
He sighed. "Does it have anything to do with his scarlet alter-ego?"
"Kind of. But no."
"Then it isn't his business." A slight crackling noise. "Don't involve him, whatever it is. He's not like us."
Karen felt... resigned. Yeah, that was the right word. She didn't doubt Oliver had something on her about the past, so him throwing them together was probably right. But it hurt to be acknowledgedas such.
She was Karen Starr. But before that, she'd been a person who didn't care who got hurt in the process of getting what she wanted. That person still trickled through the cracks of her fake identity—the mere fact that she still divided the world in enemies, allies, and civilians, for example.
Diggle spoke up.
"Karen, we would like your assistance on another case."
"My assistance?" Color her surprised again. She hadn't expected Queen to say anything about their little partnership to anyone, let alone allow Diggle to take charge.
"We're working on a new case regarding a hired assassin with a penchant for boomerangs."
"And our first clue leads us to Central," said Oliver suddenly.
Back at the foundry, Oliver pointed at the screen to their left for Diggle to see. A digital copy of the most recent Central City Picture News featured the title 'CLOCK KING'S DAYS COUNTED'. Oliver tapped at the bottom where the subtitle 'CCPD Secretary Enacts Justice' was.
Karen's response was slow. Wary.
"So, what? You want me to do footwork?"
"No," Oliver answered smoothly. "We're gonna pick up your research in person. I don't trust anyone to not hack our servers."
"Right. Then I suppose I'll see you."
Diggle smiled at the obvious reluctance in her voice.
"I'll message you the time and meeting-point." Oliver hung up. His gaze focused on the article, eyes scanning from side to side as he read.
"You think Karen has anything to do with that?" Dig asked.
"I know she does."
"The real question is... what's that got to do with you, Oliver?"
It was the Arrow who answered. "Call it professional interest."