"Oh, you're back inside my dreams

Broken bones and empty screams

Sleepless night in burning sheets

Lightning strikes inside my eyes

Tell me is this love alive?"

JAYMES YOUNG - 'Come Back For Me'

.                                        .                                      .

Tommy didn't remember the short period of time in his life before Cali.

How could he? He was barely able to stand up and walk around, never mind remember the monumental shift of accommodating a sibling in his little life. All he knew is that the first memory he had of them was at Christmas, when they were both really too little to understand the grey reality behind the magic.

Cali had gotten a stuffed frog toy - some second-thought gift from a distant relative who probably had a secretary write the card - and the only thing he knew for sure about it is that it was so fluffy that he would simply die if he didn't also have one.

Alas, he was given a toy truck, complete with little firemen.

And for a long time - or whatever stretch of time was comparatively 'long' to a very young child - he pined for that soft frog toy, whom Cali had very aptly dubbed 'Mister Froggy' because children had imagination for everything but toy names. Tommy whined and whined and whined to his mother, who patiently endured, until one night in mid July when Tommy was the last one awake.

And Cali was in the next room. And Mister Froggy would be easy pickings.

So Tommy, young and greedy and selfish, clambered out of his overly large bed and crept across to Cali's room, where she slept peacefully, the frog toy clasped loosely in her arms. Her flyaway hair was in complete disarray, and she had red marks on her face from being smushed into the pillows. All in all, she appeared to be the picture of complete and utter contentment.

Tommy's thieving hands had only just brushed Mister Froggy's soft fluff when Cali shifted in her sleep suddenly with a sharp noise of upset. Tommy yanked his hand back as though burned. He waited for the damning moment that she opened her eyes and caught him in her room, but it never came.

Instead, unfathomably, tears slipped down her cheeks.

Vaguely, Tommy remembered his dad talking to some lady in silly, fancy clothes about Cali having nightmares. Of course, he didn't know what those were, really, but his dad had sounded worried, and despite everything, Tommy adored his little sister and didn't want bad things to happen to her.

Unsure and still worried she would wake up, he very gently reached forward and put his hand on her forehead, trying to see if he needed to get his dad or someone.

Under his touch, Cali stilled, expression settling back into one of comfort.

Mystified, Tommy didn't dare to lift his hand, and instead stood beside the bed all night, keeping watch over Cali and Mister Froggy.

Many years later, to his great regret, he'd destroyed that frog in a fit of rage about something inevitably inconsequential and Cali hadn't spoken to him for a month. He'd been grounded for weeks. When asked about it, he didn't know how to tell his dad that Tommy had tired to wash it for Cali and he'd ruined the stuffing so he'd tried to replace it with tissues except they didn't work either, and by that point, Cali had already assumed that he was destroying her stuff for fun.

But even in that month that Cali didn't speak to him, Tommy spent most of his nights crouched by her bedside, her hand clutched ever so gently in his, so that the nightmares would stay away for a little while longer.

.                                         .                                       .

Cali didn't go back to the safehouse.

Maybe it was weak, or stupid, or embarrassing, but she didn't know if her momentary flare of confidence would last her long enough to keep her alive if she was forced into a stand-off against Michael. Especially if he was expecting some broken thing to come crawling through that door to him instead of what she'd moulded herself into.

He'd want her demure, weeping: something for him to gather close and coo over while he dug those talons deeper and deeper into her, binding her to him as tightly as he could.

And she had been that type of disaster when she'd called him. She'd fractured apart at the party, just like he'd said she would, and it had seemed so easy to just let him be right, to roll over and play dead.

And then Blood. And then Oliver.

And then Cali had decided that she didn't much want to play the tame house pet anymore.

So instead, she'd told Parker to take her to the Queen mansion, trying desperately to ignore the warmth in her chest as she spied the glimmer of approval tucked away in his eyes. Instead, she fiddled with her phone in the backseat, tracking down Casidy's number and hitting 'call'.

As always, he answered before the third ring. "Yes, Miss Cali?"

Without evening meaning to, Cali softened into a smile. "Hey Cass," she greeted warmly. "Listen, I'm bailing on the safe house. Parker's taking me to Queen mansion instead, and I want to stay there for a little while, or at least until Moira's trial is over." A pause, and then Cali said, "For Thea, of course."

For Thea. Not for Oliver. Not after the things she'd said to him in his office.

Professional as ever, Cassidy didn't acknowledge the obvious lie, though amusement did colour his voice when he asked, "Is the house guest to be informed of the new arrangements?"

"No," Cali answered, almost immediately, heartbeat ticking just slightly faster.

If Cassidy heard the way the word trembled - with uncertainty or fear, Cali wasn't sure which it was - he was kind enough not to comment on it. "And is it likely that I'll face...resistance, when retrieving your belongings?"

Cali hesitated, guilt and trepidation stirring to life in her left palm, sending pins and needles skittering up along her forearm. God, sending Cassidy into that place, into that overwhelming and suffocating quiet, to face Michael... It was a stupid idea. Dangerous. She knew firsthand how vicious Michael could get during his episodes. Cassidy was strong, yes, but if he wasn't prepared, she dreaded to think about who might come out on top.

"It's probable," she said finally, letting out a heavy breath. "He won't be happy that I've left him. He was expecting me home tonight. He might be waiting for me."

She had no idea how long he might wait for her to come home. Had no idea if it had just been another mind trick when he'd said he'd be there.

Well, she thought with a jagged flash of contempt, if he was expecting some bedraggled kitten to come through that door, he'd get a right shock at the sight of fix-foot-two Cassidy Stokes.

"I'll try to be discreet," Cassidy promised, and whatever movement he did on the other end of the call scuffed his clothes enough for Cali to hear it through the phone. "You'll have everything tomorrow."

She didn't deserve these people, and every day she woke up grateful that Malcolm hadn't deemed fit to take them away.

"Thanks Cassidy," she said, only slightly choked up.

As though he'd heard her every thought, Cassidy's voice was soft. "Until next time, Miss Cali," he bid, and clicked off the call.

In the driver's seat, Parker was evidently trying very hard not to grin. Pride was sprawled, bright and obvious, across his expression, and there was something almost familial about the way look at her through the mirror. His lips twitched mischievously.

"Something you wanted to add, Parker?" Cali said dryly, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Parker didn't baulk at the challenge "Nothing, Miss Cali," he said, tone of voice just on the other side of tender. "I'm just watching good things grow."

Cali scoffed, cheeks going hot and pink rather rapidly, and resolved herself to watch out the window for the rest of the drive instead of answering. Parker huffed a small laugh, but he didn't call her out on the avoidance.

The rest of the trip was spent in comfortable silence, only broken by murmured farewells as they rolled to a careful stop in front of the familiar house and Cali clambered out of the car. Parker waited in the driveway until she'd knocked on the front door and been ushered inside by an over-excited Thea before driving away. If Cali wasn't so busy trying to keep up with Thea's overwhelming babble, she might have done something foolish, like call Parker back to give him a hug.

"You aren't listening to a word I'm saying!" Thea accused, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring up at Cali without any real heat.

Cali laughed, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry," she said teasingly. "I didn't realise that the absolute nonsensical stream of syllables was words."

Thea pouted, though the fake outrage melted away swiftly. "Sue me for being excited," she muttered under her breath, even as she locked a hand around Cali's wrist and started dragging upstairs. "Besides, you haven't been around for ages!" Before Cali could even begin to feel bad about it, Thea was hurriedly continuing. "For a good reason, obviously! Not like when you got weird that one time and Janet dumped you."

"Thea," Cali said, tightly.

Thea flushed, looking appropriately ashamed. "Sorry."

Whatever the tattered smile Cali fixed to her mouth looked like, it made Thea's jaw clench before she briskly changed the subject, chatting instead about Verdant and how much she hated her suppliers.

Cali kept silent throughout it all, trying desperately to stop roaring in her ears.

It felt like, no matter how much time passed, it would never not hurt to hear her name.

"I heard about what you said to Blood at the benefit," Thea said carefully, once the two of them were settled on her bed. Cali picked at the cushion in her lap. "Are you sure that was wise? I mean, what were you even doing there? I thought you were still haunting the safe house being mad at Ollie?"

With a start, Cali realised that Thea didn't know about Michael. The few times Cali had let her visit the safe house, he hadn't been around to reveal himself, and then Cali had made Felicity promise not to say anything to anyone about him.

Thea must have just thought that Cali had been laying low, ignoring them for the sake of grieving alone. God knew that she'd certainly snapped at them enough during those initial months after Tommy's death for that to be a plausible reason. But before they'd moved Cali to the safe house, Thea had been the one who would check in on her the most. Thea would be the one who forced her to eat and drink and shower - gently bullying her into staying alive, the same way that Tommy used to.

Cali had thanked her for sticking around by metaphorically - and literally, really - slamming the door in her face.

Whatever Thea had thought of the cold shoulder, she clearly hadn't let it affect their friendship.

Knowing her temper, Cali considered it a damn miracle.

"Blood won't touch me," she answered Thea, trying to sound confident but failing pathetically. Thea's face twisted with a strange kind of pity at the sound of it. "He wouldn't dare. Not with Oliver at my side."

"Ollie didn't go to the benefit, though," Thea pointed out, confused. "And Blood has proved that he has no issues waging war against my brother, so I'm still not sure it's safe to antagonise him when he's already been vocal about hating you."

The fact that she was right was actually more than a little infuriating, and Cali focused very intently on the cushion she was methodically and casually pulling to pieces in an attempt to smother the defensive anger that had survived to the surface in response to Thea's very reasonable argument.

If even his sister knew he couldn't really protect her in a way that mattered, Cali wondered why Oliver even bothered to try at all.

"Cali." Thea was watching her a bit more intently now, abruptly serious and solemn. "Why did you pick now to come out of hiding? We're still not sure if the threat to your safety is entirely gone, and if I have to watch something happen to you-" She broke off, shaking her head.

Desperate to soothe and reassure, Cali cast around for the right words that would cut this line of questioning short. "I was so sick of that house," she managed. "Oliver offered me a way out. Once I left, I decided that I didn't want to go back."

It wasn't until Thea's expression clouded over threateningly that Cali realised her misstep.

"Oliver invited you to the benefit?" She asked, voice dangerous. "And you went? He wasn't even there! Why would you risk your safety like that? God, I could just throttle the both of you!"

Appropriately scolded, Cali lowered her head and just let Thea rant. Eye contact or questions or protests would be useless - she wasn't ever supposed to challenge people. It wasn't her place. Better to just let Thea run out of steam, to just accept whatever punishment she deemed necessary. Knowing the young Queen girl, it likely wouldn't be anything too severe, but Cali could never be too sure. Complacency made everything hurt so much more in the long run.

Unexpectedly, though, Thea cut herself off, eyes wide with worried frustration. "It wasn't some kind of self-destructive fantasy, was it?" She asked, horrified and seemingly close to tears. "You promised me - you swore on Tommy's grave that you weren't going to hurt yourself anymore!"

Unbidden, her attention flicked to Cali's biceps, where they both knew little puckered scars lay hidden under the cloth of her sleeve.

Cali scowled, uncomfortable, and threw the cushion at her friend to get her to stop staring. "Oh my God, calm down! I didn't go because I wanted Blood to harass me. Oliver promised he would be there to keep Blood away from me. I swear - Oliver just wanted me to go to a party where I could feel safe."

"And then he couldn't even be bothered to show up," Thea said derisively, looking thoroughly unimpressed. In fact, she looked so much like Moira, Cali's chest hurt. Thea sighed. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to start reintegrating," she admitted begrudgingly. "With everyone's attention on Mom's upcoming trial."

Ah. Right.

Moira was in Iron Heights for having a part in 503 deaths. Two of those were Tommy and Janet.

Cali had, for a short, blissful moment, forgotten all about that.

"How are you handling that?" Cali asked Thea quietly, jumping at the topic change. "Have you been to see her yet?"

The short, sharp inhale that seemed to catch even Thea off guard was answer enough.

"Everyone seems to think that I need to go and see her," Thea mumbled defensively, sounding all of a sudden very, very young. "Nobody seems to get that I just don't want to."

"And I'm not saying you have to," Cali assured her, trying to keep her tone friendly. "There's no requirement for you to see her. I just thought I'd ask." There were still shadows clinging to Thea's face, so Cali huffed and changed tactics. "I haven't seen you in ages," she said teasingly. "I'm just trying to catch up on the gossip. Like whether you're getting serious with that Roy kid yet?"

Thea's smile betrayed her gratitude for the topic change, even as she kicked Cali weakly. "He's passed my latest test," she said dreamily. "And he's great at sex. I think I love him."

Satisfied that the harder topics were buried for a little while, Cali settled in to listen to Thea's wild stories about her life. In a few weeks, the last of the bruising would fade, and Cali could restart her life.

Nobody had to know.

.                                         .                                       .

The minute Detective Lance's name lit up her screen, Cali knew something was horrifically wrong.

He'd been one of her biggest supporters after Oliver had disappeared, taking her under his wing and giving her the same amount of care and devotion he gave to Laurel. In fact, it had been Quentin who'd called in favours to get her into the safe house, even though he'd been dropped back down to a beat cop.

Cali had shut him out too, though, once Michael had settled in. Just like she had with Thea.

Tentatively, she answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, missy," Lance said, sounding almost fatherly. There was an undercurrent of concern in his voice, though, that made Cali sit up a bit straighter, and Thea shot her a look out the corner of her eye, pausing the movie they were watching. "Hey, listen. We're getting reports of a disturbance at your place. Some people have called in noise complaints - something about glass shattering and shouting? What's going on? Are you safe?"

Fuck.

Michael must have come back to find Cassidy moving her stuff. She'd hoped they were in the clear - Cassidy had texted her to let her know that the house had been empty when he'd arrived and that he'd gotten straight into gathering her things.

"It's nothing," she said hurriedly, ignoring Thea's curious noise and pushing off the sofa, scurrying across to another room for privacy. "It's nothing, don't worry. I'm sorry. There's no need to check it out or anything. I-I dropped a glass and startled myself, that's all."

Lance was quiet for a moment. Cali's heart was going to beat out her chest at any moment. "Let's not pretend that I don't know you're lying, hm? You've always been terrible at it. Who's at the house?"

If he found out about Michael, he'd never trust her to be on her own again. It had killed him last time to see what had been done to her. The trial had driven him to a level of drinking that rivalled those months after Sara died. Knowing that she'd let Michael back into her life might actually kill him.

Or cause him to kill her. He'd be furious.

"It doesn't matter if you don't tell me," Lance said thinly when the silence stretched on a bit too long without an answer. "I'm almost at your place anyways. Gotta investigate it, see, cause I'm an officer of the law."

The bitterness that choked his words was sharp and sour. Cali's nose twitched at the sound of it.

He couldn't go to the house. He couldn't see Michael. She'd put in so much work during the past few months to keep her secret. It wasn't going to blow up in her face now that she was finally starting to get out.

"I'm not there," she confessed in a rush. "I'm at the Queen mansion, with Thea. I'm staying here for a while to support her and Oliver during Moira's court case. Maybe someone broke into the house while I was gone to steal some things."

Another pause. Cali worried at her bottom lip with her teeth until the skin was raw and irritated. "I thought you said you broke a glass?" Lance pushed, a bit more heated now.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Quentin was too intelligent for her schoolyard lies, for her twisty tricks. "I did," she protested mutedly, but even she knew the gig was up now. Lance had called her bluff. Anything else she said would just raise his suspicion.

"I'm almost there," Lance said finally. "I'll check it out and let you know what's going on, okay?"

"Please don't." Cali begged, one last ditch attempt to prevent the inevitable. "Please just leave it, Quentin. Please. Just leave it alone."

"If you're in danger-"

"I'm not!" Cali's voice had gone shrill with panic. "I'm not, I swear! I'm with Thea!"

"I'm sorry, Cali, but my duty as an officer is to protect the people of this city." Lance had softened, guilt and determination colouring his words. Chills raked across Cali's shoulders, and her next breath shook traitorously. "I'm not doing it to hurt you, kid."

"Well you are hurting me," she told him, wounded and afraid and resigned all at once.

And maybe it was childish of her, but she hung up before he could say another word.

Calling Cassidy would achieve nothing, not if he was being confronted by Michael, but Cali itched to do it anyway. If she could warn him that Lance was coming, he could get out of the house before he got dragged into any kind of investigation. He could tell Michael to get out too. Lance would show up to an empty house with signs of a struggle, his supposed victim kept safe and warm in the mansion.

Deep down, though, Cali knew that even if Cassidy picked up the phone, there would be no convincing him to flee. That simply wasn't the type of man that he was. No, if Cali warned him, Cassidy would know to keep Michael there, would make sure that Lance knew every shameful detail about the past few months.

Cassidy would make sure Michael was put away again, even at the expense of Cali's trust.

Always one to make the noble sacrifice for the good of the people he cared about. It was what made him such a good father to his five-year-old daughter., Maisie.

Cali only knew about her through Felicity, when Cali had very tiredly asked after Cassidy and Parker a month after the quake, to see if they'd survived unscathed.

Parker hadn't had any family left to lose. Cassidy had mourned the absence of his mother, who'd been helping to raise Maisie after Cassidy's then-wife had abruptly confessed to cheating and moved away with little warning. Now it was just the two of them. Cali had asked Felicity to anonymously arrange for Maisie to be accepted into the community-run daycare at no charge, to spare Cassidy the stress of finding someone to watch her during his time on-shift.

Cassidy hadn't said anything, but he got a look in his eye sometimes when he was glancing her way that told her he knew.

"Hey."

Thea had probably intended to be as unobtrusive as possible by whispering her greeting, but Cali still jolted at the unexpected voice, turning on her heel and tucking her phone in her jeans pocket like she was a child getting caught with chocolate she wasn't supposed to have.

"Hi," Cali said back breathlessly, pretending not to notice the open curiosity scrawled on Thea's face. "Um. Sorry for leaving so abruptly. Just Detective Lance checking in, you know."

Thea nodded slowly, looking entirely unconvinced. "Officer Lance," she corrected.

Cali waved a hand and walked towards her friend. "He'll always be a detective in my heart," she said loftily, biting back her wince at the twisty feeling in her stomach. "Oh, and I've been meaning to ask, do you work day shifts on Wednesdays?"

Thea accepted the arm that Cali offered her, hooking their elbows together so they could slip back to the lounge room together. "I can clear my schedule for this week if you want me to."

"I need to buy some things if I'm staying here for a while, that's all," Cali explained. "Figure the next step in becoming a normal person again meant a shopping trip."

Thea hummed, and didn't respond until they were settled on the couch again. "Did the government freeze all of Malcolm's assets while they investigated him? Where are you getting the money?"

"I've been tucking money away in secret accounts my whole life," Cali said dismissively. "I never trusted Malcolm not to meddle with my income, so I hid it from him. I have more than enough to keep me afloat for a while."

"Don't let Oliver know that," Thea said with a grin, jostling Cali slightly as she dug around for the remote. "He might come begging for a loan."

Immediately, Cali's mood soured slightly, but she fought to keep the playful banter going. "He can beg all he likes," she responded with more gravity than she expected. "I'm growing tired of cleaning up his messes for him."

Thea's jaw tightened, like she was biting back what she wanted to say, and they sat in silence as Cali pressed play and the movie kicked back into action.

.                                         .                                       .

'The Inevitable Heat Death of Mister Froggy' is what Tommy called his painting in Grade Eight art class. His teacher didn't understand, but when he took it home and asked Lyle to hang it on the wall, Cali laughed herself to tears at the sight of the fiery background and green smears and white stuffing glued to the canvas.

It held pride of place for many, many years, until the two of them moved out of home and left the story of Mister Froggy far behind them, lingering with the ghosts of the kids they never quite were.

.                                         .                                       .

Oliver knocked faintly on Cali's bedroom door before pushing it open, taking care to keep quiet as he poked his head through the gap. His contrite expression, so carefully pre-arranged, melted off his face when he realised that Cali was still asleep, face lax and breathing even. Small snores rumbled out of her mouth, and despite himself, Oliver felt his lips turn up.

The morning sun's rays touched gentle fingers to Cali's cheeks and threaded through her hair like ribbons, and for the first time since he'd gotten back, Oliver didn't feel a stab of guilt at the mere sight of her. Her sharp edges - the ones that had sliced him so viciously in his office - were dulled in the hazy glow of a new day, and for this one shining moment, she looked every inch the angel that he thought her to be.

Slowly, he eased into the room, caught up in the hushed magic of it all, and crept to her bedside. He tugged the blanket up from where it was scrunched at the end of he bed, tucking her in with battle-scarred hands.

Cali stirred under his careful ministrations, but he hummed low in his throat and she settled again almost immediately. Oliver kept humming - it was some nameless tune he'd heard a long time ago - and brushed the back of his hand along her jaw faintly.

Thea had briefed him on the tenuous grip Cali'd had on herself when she'd first arrived here - that manic glint in her pupils that had spoken volumes about where she was mentally. Thea had told him about the almost fevered way Cali had thrown herself into normality, about how she changed the topic whenever it strayed too close to her whereabouts for the past few months, about how she could never quite look Thea in the eyes.

"There's a bruise on her left shoulder," Thea warned him softly, tugging on her shoes. She'd had to go to work, but she'd managed to catch him before she'd headed out. "She's started scratching again,, but I don't think she's realised it. She's taking phone calls in the other room. She startles easy." It had hurt him in ways that he hadn't imagined to see his baby sister so distraught. "You don't think that she's...?"

Oliver had drawn her into a brief hug and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "It'll be okay," he promised. "He's in prison, you know that. He can't hurt you or Cali anymore."

Thea had disappeared out the front door after one last worried glance up the stairs, leaving Oliver in the foyer of the stifling, silent house. Without Raisa - who had been let go after the earthquake due to the seizing of Moira's funds and Queen Consolidated's freefall - the mansion seemed far larger and far lonelier than ever.

Until he'd come in here, to the light and the warmth and the peace and Cali.

Almost on cue, like someone was waiting for him to relax, his phone vibrated in his pocket with an incoming call. Oliver craned his neck to stare at the room in exasperation, debating whether or not to bother answering it. He'd spent the night out in the city as the Hood, so the likelihood that it was Felicity or Diggle calling was notably low, and he didn't know if he really wanted to talk to anybody else, or whether he just wanted to go to sleep.

Then again, it could be Isabel Rochev, he supposed, drawing his phone out of his pocket, and glancing at the screen in bland disinterest.

It was Lance's name, not Isabel's, that flashed in front of him, and any sense of calm that he'd cultivated in the quiet of Cali's room evaporated almost instantly. Lance never contacted him by phone unless Oliver was a suspect in something, and Oliver didn't much feel inclined to submit to a police investigation right now.

Still...

Oliver sighed and clicked 'answer'.

"Detective Lance," he greeted with false cheer, backing out of Cali's room as silently as he'd entered it, the door clicking closed behind him. "What can I do for you?"

"Officer Lance, kid, and you gotta listen to me. Is Cali Merlyn in your house right now?"

Oliver stiffened at the urgency to the question, something ice-cold and predatory flushing through his body. This was the tone of voice someone used when there was danger, when you needed to think fast or die. He looked over his shoulder at Cali's closed bedroom door, and fought to keep his own voice even when he said, "Yeah, detective, she's here. She's asleep."

Lance blew out a relieved breath, and Oliver, if possible, got tenser. "Good," Lance muttered to himself. "Yeah, good. Listen, you gotta keep her there for a few hours. Don't let her leave, don't let her talk to anyone, but don't let her know that I know."

"That you know what?" Oliver demanded, agitated now, the fingers of his free hand tapping on his thigh. "What's going on?"

"You just gotta trust me, Queen. I'm not doing this for fun. I can explain it all later, but right now you gotta take me at my word and make sure she doesn't go anywhere and she doesn't talk to anyone."

'You're scaring me,' Oliver wanted to say, but it was too childish a thought to give voice to, so instead he swallowed it back down and forced himself to stay rational. "Are we in any danger?" He asked quickly, putting the call on speaker and pulling up the message thread between him and Diggle. His friend might be asleep by now, but if Oliver needed security...

"No," Lance said, sounding distracted now. A new voice had entered the background, yelling incomprehensibly. "No, we've got him here at the station. I gotta go, Queen. Don't screw this up. If I had any other options, I'd take 'em, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I'll contact you soon to explain."

And then he hung up, and Oliver was left standing in the doorway, half man and half monster, feeling altogether very confused and more than a little bit dangerous.

His senses had sharpened to an almost painful degree, ears pricking almost like a dog's as he listened for any sounds that might indicate danger. Lance had said they'd be safe, they'd be fine, but Oliver was suddenly aware of just how big the house was, and how few people were actually in it.

So he dialled Diggle, only feeling slightly bad about disturbing his friend.

Diggle answered on the fifth ring, speech slurred with the remnants of sleep. "Oliver, I swear that if this isn't the end of the world-"

"Get here," Oliver cut him off briskly, uncaring of how jarring it might be. "To the mansion. Pick Felicity up on the way. You're both staying here tonight."

"It's Monday, man," Diggle complained, but he sounded far more alert now, and Oliver could hear the tell-tale sounds of John getting out of bed. "Mondays are supposed to be our weekends - Felicity made you swear on it."

And if Oliver were a little more in control of himself, he might've appreciated the attempts of levity, might have answered John's unasked question. But Lance had flustered him, had somehow yanked on the thread that summoned the thing that Oliver had become on the island. His first priority was Cali. His second was Diggle and Felicity, when they got here. The third was Thea. Somewhere after that was himself.

"This isn't a vigilante thing," he said, backtracking towards Cali's bedroom. "Get Felicity and get here. Be careful. I'll tell you what I know when you get here."

When Diggle spoke again, it was with the strength and obedience of a soldier. "Be there in twenty."

Oliver ended the call abruptly, satisfied with Diggle's efficiency, and he slipped back into the softness of Cali's room. She hadn't moved since he'd been here last, even though she'd clearly rolled onto her side in his absence, but where serenity had once blessed her features there now lay upset. Her eyes were squeezed closed, and tears beaded on her lashes. Her nose scrunched, mouth twisted.

A nightmare, Oliver thought, dropping into a crouch beside her bed and digging deep for that hummed song from earlier. It was slightly rougher than last time, edged with the panic-induced rage that always seemed to be the manifestation of his worry. The coarseness of his voice didn't seem to diminish the effect on Cali though, even as more tears escaped over the bridge of her nose.

He wouldn't be able to wake her, Oliver knew that. Whatever horrors had induced the nightmare, they would grip her tightly until she burned through the darkness and woke up on her own.

It was instinct, really, that had him turning his phone back up and going into his photos app. He kept his humming mild and subtle as he found the video he was looking for, making sure the volume was up before he pressed play.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done," Tommy says to the camera, the video quality distorting his voice only slightly. "But I've always wanted to win a medal for knowing Shakespeare. So here's a monologue from 'The Merchant of Venice' because Ms Brown made us memorise it in Grade Eleven."

A very small part of Oliver thawed enough to quietly whisper along to the words.

"The quality of mercy is not strained," Tommy began steadily, eyes bright and happy as he stared at Oliver. "It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven; Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes; The throned monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power."

The cadence of his voice shifted the longer he talked, going dreamlike and silky. He'd always done exceptionally well in his English classes, and might have even earned a degree if he hadn't followed Oliver into the depth of parties and pissed it all away.

Oliver hadn't even realised he'd still had the video - it had been recorded five years ago, roughly two weeks before Oliver had sailed with his father on the 'Queen's Gambit' and only one of them had come home. Felicity had found it during a scan of one of his personal hard drives, and had downloaded it onto his phone without a word.

Oliver hadn't known how to thank her for that. She'd never asked him to.

Cali shifted on the bed, face instinctively tilting to follow the sound of her brother's voice, and Oliver's heart cracked at the tenderness that played at her lips, the relaxation that spread throughout her entire body as Tommy's voice chased the nightmares away. She'd wake up soon enough, now that there was nothing keeping her asleep, and yet Oliver was hesitant to stop the video, to have her open her eyes.

The innocence in her expression was painful to look at. Only when asleep could she shed the burdens of her life. Could she shed the layers of grief and pain and loss, and just be the girl she should've been allowed to be.

Starling City had stripped her of more than it deserved to. Oliver wanted to let her take it back for as long as she could.

So he sat there for twenty minutes, replaying the video over and over again, until Diggle messaged to announce his arrival, and then Oliver got up off the floor and ghosted his lips over Cali's cheek, and disappeared downstairs with all of his wet anger bundled tightly away in a dark place where he didn't have to face it.

.                                         .                                       .

Malcolm had her bound in spiderwebs-

A fist struck her face and barely missed her nose and she cried out again and again but she deserved it-

Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabr-

Oliver's hand around her throat, lifting her off and off and off the ground until Starling City was a dark smudge below them and then he dropped her and she fell-

Quiet-

"But mercy is above this sceptred sway," Tommy told her after taking a drink from his coffee. They were at Miko's. The sun was shiny. There was life and noise and people. "It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's."

"I love you," she said back desperately. "Please don't go."

Tommy grabbed her hand. "When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew; Through justice be thy please, consider this; That, in the course of justice, none of us; Should see salvation: we do not pray for mercy."

She didn't understand - if he let go, or if she let go, he would disappear and it was so warm now that he was with her.

"And that same prayer doth teach us all to render; The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much; To mitigate the justice of thy plea; Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice; Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there."

She blinked and he was gone, and the colours were gone, and the quiet was back-

Cali opened her eyes into the golden sunlight, and nobody was by her bedside, and nobody was reading Shakespeare. And so she closed her eyes and waited for a long while until the pain stopped long enough for her to take a breath.