"You'll be the saddest part of me

A part of me that will never be mine

It's obvious

Tonight is gonna be the loneliest"

MANESKIN - 'The Loneliest'

.                                              .                                        .

"Your four o'clock is here," Felicity announced quietly, stalking up to his desk and looking quite pretty in her purple frilly dress. "Although I'm not sure why you invited him up to your office."

Oliver's attention slid over her shoulder, to where he could just make out the figure looming on the other side of the glass. His top lip curled very slightly, even as he rose from his chair and straightened his jacket. "Because I need to fix this situation," he said to Felicity, "and there are no cameras or people to throw things at me in here."

She favoured him with a wry smile, still tinged with the last dredges of anger she held towards him, but Oliver had no time to pick that tangled knot of upset apart, so he just gently stepped past her and made for the door.

"Alderman!" He greeted loudly, and tried not to let the sudden white-hoot flare of rage leak across his CEO-mask as Sebastian Blood turned to face him. "Thank you for coming."

Blood stepped past Oliver's outstretched hand with a curt, "Mister Queen," and instead strode to the window, shoving his hands in his pockets and peering out at the city. "This is some view. How small the rest of us must all look from up here."

'Don't punch him,' Cali's voice whispered in his head, so Oliver ground his teeth together and forced that salivating, bloodthirsty monster back into its godforsaken cave in his chest and pasted on a mindless smile.

"Ms. Smoak," he called over his shoulder, already imagining the glower that would be affixed to her face.

"Yes?" So carefully polite - her ferocity was as amusing as it was slightly irritating.

But he had to poke the sleeping bear. "Would you get my guest and I some coffee?" He asked, turning from Blood and locking eyes with her.

"You know, I would, Mister Queen," she simpered mockingly, "but it seems that someone's broken our coffee maker." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Violently". And then before he could laugh, she'd slipped out the door and returned to her computers.

He'd have to buy her some expensive wine to make up for his transgressions - she had an ungodly power to make his life miserable if she wanted to.

"I was surprised that you wanted to meet," Blood said, finally tearing his attention away from the window and facing Oliver with his arms folded across his chest.

Oliver took a breath and sat down on one of the lounge chairs, purposefully keeping his voice light and airy as he challenged, "As surprised as I was when you turned a frenzied mob on me?"

Memories of the writhing crowd, the smashed window, John's cursing. The video of Blood dragging Cali's name through the dirt. Piles of small betrayals that had culminated in Blood's presence in his office, today, in front of him.

God, how much Oliver wanted to put an arrow through him.

"Oh, that shouldn't have been too surprising," Blood said, taking the opposite seat to Oliver and sprawling out with an arrogance that made Oliver's fingers spasm. "My constituents have a lot of anger towards your family."

"They have a right to." This was something that Oliver couldn't fight about, something that he had no right to argue against. People had a right to be upset with his family, with Malcolm. As long as their righteous anger stayed directed at Moira and Malcolm. "My mother was involved with something...unspeakable," Oliver continued. "So was Malcolm Merlyn. But I'm my own man, and Cali is her own woman, and we are not your enemy."

A mean kind of smile crept onto Blood's mouth and he nodded, looking down at his hands for a moment. "You say the video." It wasn't a question. "You are not a friend, Mister Queen. To me, or the people of the Glades. Calissa Merlyn is not our friend. And I might have been harsh in my words, but I was only saying what the people of this city are thinking. Was it my proudest moment? No. But it doesn't change the fact that nobody is looking at your families with anything but hate."

Oliver's hand crept to his pocket, to both reach for his cheque book and to hide the shakes that had seemingly sprung from nowhere. He was in control of this situation, not Sebastian Blood. This was Oliver's office.

"I'm hoping to prove otherwise," Oliver said, settling the cheque book against his knee.

For some reason, the sheer disappointment on Blood's face chafed. "Mister Queen," he said slowly, like he was talking to a child, sitting forward, "not every problem can be solved by money. Real change will never happen until your elitist friends realise that it is morally unacceptable to allow thousands of its fellow citizens to live right down the street but in a third world."

'Elitist friends'.

Oliver didn't kill a man for the first time on Lian Yu to have elitist friends. He didn't get his hands bloody again and again and again, didn't lose Shado and Slade and himself to have elitist friends. He didn't turn himself into a weapon to be placed into greedy hands to have elitist friends.

God, he still had dreams about the body underneath him, the slippery rock in his hands, the frozen feeling of splitting apart at the seams. His arms hurt, sometimes, in some phantom memory of smashing the rock down again and again and again until that man's skull was nothing but a soup on the ground.

He could remember Slade's soft words to Shado - "I've seen men in war with that look in their eyes. The one that says he's split into someone else. If someone doesn't talk to him, it'll tear him up."

Shado's tender hands on his skin, washing him clean in the river like some kind of new baptism.

He hadn't lost them both just to have elitist friends.

"Let's show them," he said to Blood, straightening up in his seat. His ears were ringing slightly, like he'd just been in close proximity to something loud and disastrous. "I'll host a benefit. I'll invite some of my elitist friends, and then you and I can help them see what needs to be done."

Even now he was sacrificing some part of himself for someone he loved. The sooner he could get Blood on his side, the sooner the media frenzy targeting him and Thea and Cali would stop. He could protect them, could get Cali out of wherever she'd tucked herself away and back into his life.

Blood sat back again, draping one arm along the lounge seat. "People seeing you," he mused. "Seeing you stand up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated, taking responsibility and being this cause's public face." A moment passed, and then another, while Blood considered him carefully. A slow look of approval rose to his face. "That would make a difference," he agreed.

Oliver pushed out of the seat, and for the second time that morning, offered out his hand. "Then let's make a difference," he said.

Blood also rose, and his grip was firm as he shook Oliver's hand. "Listen," he said, dropping his arms back to his sides. "I am truly sorry for what happened outside that hospital. Sometimes my emotions get the better of me."

"And Cali?" Oliver asked. "Are you sorry for what you said about her too?"

Blood sighed. "The problem is, Mister Queen, your family is still here to share the blame. Calissa Merlyn is the sole survivor of her father's plot. She's the only one left for people to be mad at."

"Are you sorry for what you said?" Oliver repeated coolly, holding his ground. "I don't want to hear about the people. I want to hear it from you. That video - was that your emotions getting the better of you?"

Blood pursed his lips and tilted his head, searching from something in Oliver's expression. Whatever he found, it must've been what he was looking for because he seemed to deflate. "Yes," he admitted. "I regret the way I handled things, and I'm sorry. Genuinely."

"Thank you," Oliver said softly, and when Blood pushed past him, Oliver didn't try to stop him from leaving.

.                                               .                                         .

Michael's warm hands stopped their movements as the phone rang.

Not his phone, she realised as he sat up and peered at the side table, but hers, buzzing happily away on the nightstand, Oliver's name flashing across the screen. Because of course it was Oliver. And of course he was ringing right now.

"Ignore it," Cali murmured, reaching up to press her palm against Michael's cheek. He'd gone still, almost unnervingly, and whatever enjoyment she'd been trying to wring from this entire situation was quickly being swept aside from buzzing panic. "Hey, baby, come back to bed. Let's just keep going."

The phone stopped ringing.

Silence stretched between them, thin and tenuous.

"Why is he calling you?" Michael asked, voice flat, tone barren. "I thought the deal was he didn't know where you were, didn't have your number, and he left you alone. I compromised with Thea and Felicity, and those two bodyguards that you seem so intent on keeping around, but I never agreed to Oliver Queen."

"You don't have to agree," Cali retorted, stung. The heat behind the words surprised them both.

Very, very slowly, Michael turned his attention back to her. "What did you say?"

Shit, shit, shit.

"Nothing," she squeaked. "I'm sorry."

"I'm here because I care about you," he said, voice rough, hands going back to touch her again but he wasn't warm anymore and whatever gentleness they'd cultivated for tonight had evaporated. "I'm here because I want to protect you. I worked my ass off in prison just to come back here to you. You let me in - you asked for this, and now you go and spit in my face?"

She should've known that it was too good to last. It was just... His kisses had been so sweet and so familiar, and it'd been so hard after the fight with Felicity. And Michael had strayed so close to the man who'd bought her milkshakes and chocolate and flowers when they first started dating, had held her with such reverence and touched her with devotion.

She'd forgotten how quickly his moods changed. Forgotten how the smallest thing could set him off.

"Please don't," she begged in a whisper, tears already beading in her eyes. "Please, Michael. Please, I just want a good night. I'm sorry he called. I don't know what he wants."

Michael scoffed and rolled off her, casting about for his pants and tugging them on. "He wants you. I don't know why he'd want to burden himself with such a mess, I mean look at you, but if you're just going to keep spitting in my face and running off with him anyways, he can have you. All of you. I'm done."

"Michael-"

"He wants to parade you around a city full of people who hate you, like some hopeless charity case so he can feel better about himself. And if you want to reduce yourself to some used-up, second rate whore who'll never stand up for herself, you do that. Do whatever you want."

"Michael, please-"

"Good luck finding someone else who can look past the fact that you got Tommy killed." And with that, he stood and walked out, leaving her naked and shivering on top of the sheets, cheeks sticky with tears.

It took nearly twenty minutes for Cali to gather herself, tugging the top sheet up and over her body, dragging it with her as she sat up and leaned her back against the wall. Shame sat hot and sour in her throat, poisoning her. It felt like dirt had gotten into her bloodstream - she was filthy, inside and out.

On the bedside table, her phone buzzed again, Oliver's name showing up on the screen.

"He can have you," Michael had said.

Oliver could have her.

She could leave.

Michael was going to let her leave.

Cali answered the phone.

"Hey," Oliver said, voice tight with worry. "You didn't answer my first call. Are you okay? I know things are weird between us right now, and I know you and Felicity had some kind of fight but-"

"Oliver," Cali interrupted. "I'm fine. I was just distracted and missed your call, I'm sorry."

Oliver's sharp inhale was laced with frustration - so strong that Cali could feel the vibrations of it in her eardrums. "You need to stop apologising for things that you-" He broke off, some kind of wordless, silent exclamation disturbing the connection. "Now's not the time for that. I'm sorry. I just want to ask something of you, and I don't think you're going to like it."

Memories of facing him in the cemetery, of him begging her to come with him. To let him save her, in a way that he couldn't save Tommy. To assuage his conscience that he did everything he could for the two siblings who would've given him the world if he'd let them.

She didn't want to hear whatever he was going to say next, that much was certain.

But Michael had offered her liberation, and she could still feel dream-Oliver's tender touch on her skin, and she missed him.

And if she had to be entirely honest with herself, there was nothing he could ask of her that she wouldn't give. He owned her, heart and soul, inside and out, and he had no idea.

"What is it?" She asked, muted.

There was a long silence before Oliver blurted in a rush, "I'm hosting a benefit tomorrow night to show Sebastian Blood that I'm not an enemy of Starling City and I want you to be there."

The words tangled up in her head.

Sebastian Blood. Oliver was hosting a benefit. He wanted her out of the house and among the very people who had chased her into hiding.

He wanted her to be in the same place as Sebastian Blood.

"Why should she escape the death penalty when the rest of us were ushered straight into death's arms?"

The death penalty.

Oliver wanted her in the same room as Sebastian Blood, her would-be murderer.

"He wants to kill me," she croaked into the phone, and she couldn't help but sound wounded and scared because she was. These people wanted her dead, wanted her on trial right beside Moira Queen for the sins of her father. "Ollie, you can't- I can't- He wants to murder me."

"I know. Cali, believe me, I know."

"I say that we should be allowed to even the score!"

Cali gripped the phone with both trembling hands, ignoring the way sweat made the screen slick against her cheek. "You can't ask me to do this," she breathed. "Not this."

Because she would.

No matter how terrified it made her, no matter how much it shredded whatever feeble scraps remained of her soft underbelly.... If Oliver needed her there, she would go. She would sacrifice that for him. No matter what she'd sworn to herself in the weeks after he'd abandoned her, no matter what promises she'd made on Tommy's grave.

"Cali," Oliver said with infinite compassion and love. "I know I'm asking too much. I know that. But I need you there. I need you at my side. Blood won't touch you - I promise that I'll keep him away. You know what I can do if I have to. I just- I need you. Tomorrow night. QC. Just... Cali. Please."

For the first time since the ground shook apart, that little sliver of something that tied them together, glowed very faintly.

Oliver listened silently as she cried, because they both knew what her answer would be.

.                                          .                                         .

The benefit was...quaint.

Something about it seemed wrong, almost. Hollow. As though nobody here was actually present, just vacant bodies made to fill space, made to mill around and wait for someone to pour life into them. It was like a greedy vacuum of everything good and warm, and Cali kept pressed close to the walls in an attempt to not get caught in the vortex.

She'd been waiting for any sign of Oliver for nearly twenty minutes now, kept her phone glued to her hands, kept a full glass of wine just so the waiters would stay away. Only a few people had noticed her - their glazed eyes had slid right over her form with a sneer, or a sympathetic smile, or a bland, blank stare.

She hadn't seen Sebastian Blood yet, either. It was a bit like searching for the boogeyman. She was waiting for him to launch out of the shadows, to rake talons down her arms, to tear her apart right here where Oliver was supposed to be protecting her.

Because she needed him - wanted him - to protect her. From Michael. From Blood. From the big, scary world that hated everything that she stood for.

Her fingers twitched on the stem of the wine glass as a mass materialised beside her.

"Calissa Merlyn," Sebastian Blood purred, leaning one shoulder on the wall as he peered intently at the side of her face, mouth fixed into a snarling grin. "Finally out of hiding. Queen didn't drag you out, did he? That's low, even for him."

Cali managed a tiny, fortifying sip of chardonnay. "I don't think you know him as well as you think you do," she said bravely, ignoring the waver in her voice as she kept her body scrunched into something small and unthreatening. "A man like you would never understand a man like Oliver."

Something sparked in Blood's eyes - interest, and maybe a little envy, maybe a little appreciation. "Aren't you a loyal little lapdog?" A quick glance at her neck, down to her wrist, back up to her face. "Dutifully protecting the master that leaves such obvious bruises." Cali's free hand flew to her neck, and she blanched. Blood chuckled darkly. "Oh dear. Does Queen know how much you struggle to cover them? Does it hurt when he hits you? Do you think that you deserve it?"

"The last person who made fun of an abuse survivor got beat up on the street and then crucified by the media." Cali blinked once, twice. "I'd be careful if I were you, alderman."

Blood's smile was all teeth, and he leaned in close enough that Cali choked on his overly-expensive cologne. "Ah, see, I know that it wasn't Queen that left those marks. No, you have another master. And he's declawed you, and filed down your fangs, and left you some meek little kitten that's a threat to absolutely nobody. You hide behind Oliver Queen because you think he can protect you. Does he know who beats you? Does he care?"

The wine glass was shaking - the chardonnay was going to spill out and ruin her dress. Michael would know she was here.

"Stop," she begged in a breathless whisper. "Leave me alone."

"I bet he does know," Blood continued, taunting and cruel. "I bet he enjoys it. Tommy was his friend, and your father got him killed. You inherited that red in your ledger. I think that Queen enjoys the fact that your penance is shedding some of your own blood to balance the scales."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Blood was so close that his breath fanned her cheek. Cali couldn't move away - paralysis had seized her muscles, left her defenceless. "I know your safehouse," he sighs. "I know who lives in it. I know what he does to you. I know that you deserve so much worse. Just like I know that Queen isn't coming tonight to rescue you. He's throwing you to the wolves, and you don't have what it takes to survive anymore." A brush of his finger against her jaw and Cali flinched, chardonnay splashing on the floor. "Oliver Queen seems to think that I'm a reasonable man. That's his mistake. But we'll let him figure that out, hmm? No use spoiling the fun early."

And then, as suddenly as he'd appeared, he melted away into the crowds, leaving Cali shuddering against the wall, head spinning. Nausea sequestered itself away in her chest, and she fought not to openly gag, lest she attract any more attention from her adversaries tonight.

She shouldn't have come tonight. She'd known it would be a terrible idea, but Oliver had promised her over and over again on that phone call that he wouldn't leave her alone, that he would be by her side, that Sebastian Blood wouldn't be able to get near her.

He'd promised.

With shaking fingers, she unlocked her phone and tapped on John's contact, given that her other hurried messages to Oliver had gone unanswered.

'Where are you?' She typed out, sending the message before she could second guess herself. She followed it up with, 'Is everyone safe?' If it was a matter of life and death, she could probably forgive the betrayal.

When no response came from John, Cali made a phone call.

"You were right," she breathed tearfully into the device as soon as the call connected. "You were so right, and I'm sorry. Oliver doesn't care. He just wants to feel less guilty." She bit back a haphazard sob. "Please. Please. I'm so sorry."

There was an overly long pause, and then Michael said, voice tight with satisfaction and just a slight tinge of victory, "I'll see you when you get home, sweetheart."

The shame that welled up in her throat after hanging up tasted sour and poisonous.

She'd sold her soul to Michael. Or maybe Malcolm had, when he'd made that serum. When he'd turned her into some freak, who was ruled by her attachments to people. She'd imprinted on Michael like a little baby duck, and now she would never be able to leave him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sebastian Blood said into the lectern microphones, flashing his million-dollar smile at the crowds as they applauded his appearance. Cali's entire body went cold. "Thank you. But you should hold your applause for Oliver Queen. This evening's charity was his brain child. As such-" He stepped away from the lectern, instead stepping down to address everyone from their level, "-you could be forgiven for wondering why Mister Queen isn't with us tonight. And the answer, I'm afraid, is painfully apparent."

What a train wreck.

Somewhere through the throngs of people, Cali locked eyes with a distraught Laurel Lance.

"He doesn't care," Blood said viciously, revelling in the attention, in the whispers and side eyes and stirrings of some kind of revolution. "I told Mister Queen that this city's problems cannot be solved with his money - that he needs to stand up and be counted as someone who cares. So where is he now?"

Laurel's face was twisted with horror, with resentment, with absolutely earth-shattering misery as she took one step backwards - almost as though she hoped to outrun the weight of Cali's attention.

They hadn't spoken since Tommy's funeral.

Some vicious, blood-marred part of her hoped that Laurel was suffering, hoped that the guilt of being the reason Tommy was dead was eating her alive. Not for the first time, Cali wished the roles had been reversed.

Laurel shook her head slightly, almost as though she could read those thoughts in Cali's face, backed away until she was obscured by people and Cali lost her amongst the crowd.

Sebastian Blood was still talking. "I don't know where Oliver Queen is. All I know is that he isn't here. This city is dying. And it needs someone to stand up and breathe new hope into it." His white teeth glimmered in the low light; a wolf baring its fangs. "And tonight it is painfully obvious that that person is not Oliver Queen."

And maybe it was because of that look on his face - the same pinched expression of smugness and success and oily manipulation that Malcolm could never shake - or because of some long-dormant loyalty to Oliver, or because she hated that he had enough power to make her so afraid, but Cali took a step away from the wall and raised her chin.

"I suppose," she said coolly, projecting her voice for everyone to hear, "that you're going to try to convince us that you are a better candidate."

It wasn't a question.

And going by the sudden tension lining Blood's shoulders, he'd scented the challenge like a shark scenting blood in the water. "I think you'll find, Miss Merlyn, that the people of Starling City don't need convincing. They're more than capable of making up their own minds."

"Slandering Oliver Queen for being born fortunate enough to throw charity parties like this doesn't make you the better person." Cali's heart was beating way too fast. She was painting an unnecessarily large target on her back for no real reason other than some blind faith in a man who'd left her here to survive on her own. "It just makes you a jealous, spiteful man, who wants to find any reason he can to throw someone he deems 'too good for us' under the bus for his own gain."

Some mumbles from the people surrounding the both of them, and Blood was looking dangerous now.

But Cali was in too deep to back out now, so she took a deep breath and drew on what Oliver had told her over the phone. "After all, for someone who referred to these nice people as Oliver's 'elitist friends', you seem quite happy to schmooze up to them. Anything to rally support, right?"

The final nail in the coffin.

Murmurs turned into sharp protests as the weight of Cali's words settled on everyone, the insult that Blood had dealt them spawning claws where there had once been honeysuckle kisses.

Clearly, Blood could sense the rising upset, because he retreated to the lectern and leaned in close to the microphones, attention fixed firmly on Cali as he made sure every single syllable of his next sentence could be heard. "And I'm sure that you, Miss Calissa Merlyn, daughter of the largest mass-murderer in the country, is far more equipped to lead us?"

Even now, so many weeks later, it still wounded some very fragile part of her to hear those words. "My father's actions are his own," she retorted, even as her voice wavered. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that we haven't all lost something in the quake."

Blood's face was haunting - the shadows that dappled his cheeks seemed to writhe and twitch. "From where I'm standing, Miss Merlyn, neither you nor your coward boytoy seem to have lost much at all."

.                                               .                                         .

If asked, Cali had no possible way to explain how she got out of the building.

Everything after Blood's final attack had passed by in flashes; an overwhelming bout of rage, Blood's face underneath her nails, hot tears tumbling for freedom, Laurel right by her side and pulling her away, Cali screaming and screaming Tommy's name until it choked her into silence, the very rich and impressive people growing louder in their discontent, Sebastian Blood laughing and laughing and calling her a wild thing-

Finally, that hardened mass of bottled emotions cracking open; cracking and cracking and cracking and flooding her with everything she hadn't dared to feel, with every fucking speck of anger and agony and maudlin amusement and despair. Everything she'd decided not to feel the second they'd put her brother on the ground. 

And that all-encompassing sense of quiet had just...shattered into tiny little pieces.

And then ending up here, on the side of the road, watching Parker pull up to the curb to take her back to that stifling little safe house where Michael was waiting for her.

Everything would go quiet again if she went back there. Like a blanket over her senses - dulling her back down into some mute little defenceless kitten, just like Blood had accused her of being. Somehow, that house had grown into her tomb. She'd let it consume her. Had let Michael consume her. Had let that grey haze that had set in since Tommy's death consume her.

She'd let it turn her into that sad excuse of a person she'd been all those years ago, curled up in Tommy's apartment, stripped of any motivation or intention to do anything.

She'd waited for someone to save her then, too. Had waited until Tommy had scraped her back together, stuck her together a little haphazardly and filled in any of the gaps with love. Because he'd known, somehow, that she couldn't do it herself.

She'd let him convince her that he was always going to be there, always going to save her.

Just like Oliver had promised. Just like Michael had. Just like Malcolm had.

And here she was, lonely and alone, having chased away the only friend left to love her and still stuck waiting for someone who might never come.

Because Oliver wasn't built for long-term love. He never had been. He'd been born a runner, and he'd survived as a runner, and he would be a runner until one day he ran too far and death didn't let him come back again.

When he needed to sleep, he slept. When he needed to eat, he ate. When he needed her, he would call and she would go to him.

But he would never stop.

Not even for her.

"Miss Cali," Parker prompted in a tone of voice that suggested this wasn't the first time he'd called her name. He was standing by her side, having apparently gotten out of the car when she'd refused to move from her spot on the side of the street. "Are you alright? Is there someone I should call?"

Always waiting. She was tired of always waiting. "Find me Oliver Queen," she instructed firmly, and some of that fogginess that had settled in her bones faded, just slightly. "I don't care how you do it or where he is, but I want to see him tonight."

Oliver was born a runner, but Cali had grown up chasing the people that she loved.

She'd forgotten that somewhere along the way, because Tommy had slowed to a stop for her, and she'd stopped with him, and then he'd died and she had to start chasing again.

Parker ushered her into the car, already dialling some numbers, and Cali leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, rocking with the motion of the car as they disappeared into the city lights.

.                                               .                                         .

Hearing that the vigilante was publicly associated with the saving of the hospital was validating in a way that Oliver hadn't been prepared for. He'd expected some kind of animosity, or even just a good neutral, but hearing them tie his involvement to the good aspects of the mission soothed the hurt feelings that said he should've attended the charity event instead tonight.

"I was just about to make my move on her," Diggle said from over his shoulder, but he said it quietly, and with open warmth. "I didn't need one of your trick arrows getting in the way."

Oliver leaned back, lips twitching into a grin as he glanced up at his friend. "Couldn't risk it," he responded playfully. "Where would I be without my black driver?" Diggle favoured him with a full smile, and Oliver huffed a laugh, high on his success. He almost forgot that he wanted to say more until John was nearly out the door.

"Diggle!" Oliver called, letting some of his sincerity drop the atmosphere into something more genuine and serious. "I'm sorry about you and Carly."

Diggle's expression closed off just slightly, just enough for Oliver to question if it was the right move to bring it up at all. "Yeah, well," Diggle said ruefully. "Couples break up." His smile turned wry. "Not everything that happens in Starling City is your responsibility."

Ah, clearly thinking of Felicity's rant then. Oliver nodded, accepting his friend's gentle rebuke. "I'm learning that," he hummed, leaning forward again. "What I meant was: I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, because I should have been." It was probably one of the sharpest regrets he faced lately - missing out on so much because he'd been too scared to face his grief. "I got wrapped up in my own suffering and I...forgot that some other people might be suffering too."

They co-existed quietly for a moment, some of that strange affection showing on Diggle's face again. Finally, though, Diggle shifted, saying, "You know, we're getting dangerously close to hug territory, so I'm gonna fall back." Oliver breathed another laugh, glad that the underlying tension that had existed between them for so long had vanished now. "You need a ride?" Diggle asked.

He could go home, Oliver supposed. Could catch a ride with Dig and share the post-mission euphoria with light conversation and easy companionship. Go home and sleep and have breakfast with Thea, and leave his responsibilities for tomorrow.

And yet, he felt tethered to his life in a way he hadn't for a long time. And Isobel Rochev would be pleasantly surprised if she arrived tomorrow and he'd actually done some work.

"It turns out that being CEO, I actually have some work to do," he said to Diggle sheepishly. "I'll find my own way."

John's smile softened into something almost unrecognisably gentle. "You always do," he murmured, and disappeared out the door without another sound.

Like a soundtrack marking Diggle's departure, the news changed to a segment on the failed charity event he was supposed to have been at tonight, Sebastian Blood appearing on screen. The alderman's face was red, like the after-effect of some kind of impact, and his jaw was clenched, but his voice was forcefully easy-going as he spewed some terrible things about Oliver's character.

"Oliver Queen's failure to show up to his own benefit shouldn't surprise anyone," Blood said, and there was something strange to his voice, like he was saying this just to go through the motions, like his focus was shifted and he was trying not to show it. "He's no different than the rest of the Starling City elite who have failed to show up when it comes to ending the suffering of those left devastated in the Glades. Oliver Queen is not a friend to the people of this city."

How could he ever give enough? People had shunned him as Oliver Queen, and so he'd leaned into being the vigilante, only for people to condemn his absence once he'd gone. It was a futile quest to sate the forever insatiable urge of the public, and he would never be able to make anyone happy when Sebastian Blood kept dragging his name through the mud.

A cup of coffee appeared on the desk in front of him, and he blinked up at Felicity, who regarded him with critical but friendly eyes. Clearly, her feelings towards him had also thawed alongside Diggle's, and he couldn't help the beaming look he gave her when she mouthed, "One."

"Thank you," he told her tiredly.

She shook her head. "Don't thank me yet. Parker called me, wanting to know where you are. Cali's on her way here right now, and he can't tell me what kind of state she's in. I'm sparing you the headache now."

He'd known it was coming - had known from the minute that he'd chosen to put that hood on rather than walk into the benefit that she would find him, wrath incarnate. He'd lured her there, to the party, with the promise of staying by her side and then he'd left her there on her own with Blood.

He would take on her pain, her accusations, her misery-fuelled anger. He'd earned it this time.

But if he had to make that choice again, he would change nothing. Not even Blood's approval of his Oliver Queen persona could convince him to give up the victory he'd secured against the Triad. Glades Memorial Hospital could continue to give care, and that was something that meant more than making an appearance at a charity event nobody really cared about.

It took less than five minutes for the elevator to ding, and for Felicity to dip her chin ever so faintly to let him know who it was.

Nothing could have prepared him for the look on Cali's face as she entered his office.

Because instead of anger, instead of disappointment, instead of justified disappointment, there was a glacier of ice-cold dismissal. Of detachment. Of determination. Like she'd woken up from the dream-like state he'd found her in. This was not the woman who'd cried to him on the phone, or the woman who'd faced him in the cemetery.

This was the Calissa Merlyn who'd survived her father, who'd survived Michael. This is the woman he'd expected to find upon his return to Starling City - the girl who'd adapted to the cold-shoulder mentality of the people she lived amongst. This is what he'd expected, instead of that broken little shadow of a girl she'd been - the fragile little bird that he'd been scared to touch, lest she break apart in his fingers.

"Successful night?" She asked lowly, sounding muted and dangerous. Whatever edge he had her own, it would cut everyone if he wasn't careful. "I read the news report about your...escapades. So glad that the hospital will be okay."

Oliver stood from his seat. "I can help Starling City in ways that Sebastian Blood can only ever dream of when I put on that hood," he told her, unyielding. "And I'm sorry - I am so, so sorry - that I left you there unattended, but look at you. You've discovered the strength you thought you'd lost."

Cali's laugh was a deadened, rotting thing, and Oliver recoiled at the sound of it. "No," she said, the word a soft whisper of pain against the inside of Oliver's cheek. "No, you don't get to frame your abandoning me as some kind of empowerment move, because the truth is you begged me to come back to you. You begged me to let you back in, to trust you, to let you help me. You were told the danger I was in, you saw the video where Blood admitted to wanting me dead, and you still left me there at that godforsaken benefit on my own."

Finally, a sliver of emotion as her voice broke. "You left me there. And Blood knew - he knew everything that I've kept to myself. He taunted me, because I was stupid enough to think I could rely on you to protect me from him."

"I will protect you from him, Cali-"

"Then where were you tonight?!" She demanded, stepping forward until only the desk separated them. "I know that you are living two lives, Oliver, and I know that it's hard. But you gave me no warning. I called you, texted you. I texted John and Felicity too. And none of you have the decency to tell me that you'd bailed. Nobody thought to warn me that I could leave, instead of waiting around for someone who was never going to show up."

And Oliver could offer her nothing, no defence or protest or argument, because she was right.

He'd abandoned her, not even a day after vowing he'd be right by her side every second.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoping she could understand how genuine the apology was. "Cali, I never-I never wanted to let you down the way I did tonight. Tommy made me promise to protect you-"

"Don't you dare bring Tommy into this." Pain, age-old and overwhelming, saturated Cali's caramel eyes. It seeped down her arms like syrup. "He would be disgusted by you. Always sacrificing your friends to make yourself feel better. Your relationships are performative - it's like going back to that island has made you forget how to genuinely be yourself." Her lip curled, and Oliver had never felt smaller than he did right now. "You're a fraud, and one day, everyone you care about is going to realise that."

"Guppy-"

Abruptly, she pulled back, taking several steps towards the door, where Felicity was pretending not to be listening. "You wanna know the worst part?" Cali asked, that ice thawing, voice starting to tremble. "The worst part is that I still love you. And I will always come when you call." Her voice dropped to a shattered whisper. "Always."

And then she was gone, and Oliver could only look at where she'd once been standing and think about Slade teaching him how to always ruin delicate things.