"Darlin' can't you see?

I'm a broken man with addictive tendencies

And I think I love you

But I don't ever think I can learn how to love just right"

MATT MAESON - 'Tribulation'

.                        .                       .

Isabel Rochev looked dangerous in red and she knew it.

The colour clung to her skin in a way that would never be unflattering, coaxing the illusion of warmth to those razor sharp features. Her narrow lips painted the colour of blood turned every crooned word into a caress that trailed its way into Oliver's ears. Her eyes, lined with kohl, were dark and bottomless and as threatening as the ocean he'd once drowned in.

She was alluring in a way he couldn't quite resist; the siren song of her cracking wit and dry humour, her refusal to admire him for who he wasn't, the way her legs looked when she wore heels. If he slipped and fell on her, he would cut himself on her edges.

It was exhilarating.

This was a woman who welcomed no emotion, no feeling outside of a cruel, cold satisfaction. She was everything that lurked under his hood poured into a woman and then presumptuously planted in his waking life. He wouldn't have to worry about hurting her, nor did he have to worry about protecting himself. They were just two wolves circling each other, teeth bared, waiting for the other to draw first blood.

She wasn't Cali, or Laurel, or Sara, but she didn't need to be. His heart belonged to others, but Isabel Rochev didn't need it from him. Didn't want it. Didn't care for it. Whatever attraction they shared, it was purely physical. Animalistic. Freeing and weightless in a way that he could never demand from Cali.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with a crooked grin as Felicity ushered him inside the mansion, the party already in full swing.

Isabel tilted her head. "This party is to attract investors for your failing company," she drawled, unimpressed. "Being fashionably late might do well for the club circuit but it does not inspire confidence on Wall Street." Her eyes snagged on his cheek, and her mouth tightened. "Is that blood on your face?"

Quick as lightning, his hand shot up, fingertips brushing over his stubble in an attempt to feel out the incriminating splash. He had been particularly rough with the young gangbangers tonight, despite letting them stay in one piece, and he hadn't been prepared for a party.

Oliver kept his eyes firmly on Isabel as Felicity rushed over, babbling on as she straightened his collar and cleaning away whatever specks he obviously hadn't managed to get rid of. For a second, he could've sworn that Isabel's pupils dilated at the single, damning drop of red on him.

Well. At least they matched.

All too soon, though, Felicity had grabbed him by the arm and led him away from Isabel and further into the party, dragging him over to where Cali lingered by the snacks tables, one hand holding an incriminating amount of tiny meat pies.

"Ollie!" she welcomed eagerly, letting out a low laugh as he swooped forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Hey, what kept you?"

"Was it our masked blond that carries that giant staff that beats the sauce out of attackers?" Felicity chimed in, stealing one of the pies from Cali and biting into it, offering her friend an innocent look when Cali whipped around to stare at her accusingly.

Eyes flickering between them for a moment, taken aback by their regained companionship and cataloguing every single twitch of their bodies, Oliver said, "This time it was guns."

"Guns?" Felicity echoed around her mouthful of pie.

"We were just talking about guns," a familiar voice hummed from the crowd, and Oliver only had a split second to recognise the way Cali's eyes shuttered before he turned to meet Sebastian Blood head on.

Incidentally, it was the same time that Laurel materialised out of thin air. "Hey," she said. "Oliver."

He offered her a pinched smile. "Hi."

"What's your interest in guns, Mister Queen?" Blood asked, a shade too intently. There was something to his pleasant expression that set Oliver's teeth on edge, and when Blood's gaze disappeared over Oliver's shoulder for one heartbeat too long, Oliver shifted just enough that his figure hid Cali from direct view.

"Never touched them myself," he said in response, reaching for the worn Oliver Queen mask he'd forgotten to don before walking in the door. It pulled and ached like an old bruise, but he refused to let the strain show in this room full of strangers.

Blood nodded, peering at him a little harder for a second, before accepting the answer at face value and moving on in the conversation. "The gun epidemic in the Glades has gotten out of control."

"Which is why the DA's office has committed to ending gun violence," Laurel added pointedly.

He hadn't seen that fire in her since Tommy.

The thought that it was Blood who'd drawn it back out of her made him feel both violently ill and incredibly relieved simultaneously.

"Well," Oliver said. "I'm sure the police are doing whatever they can to catch whoever's bringing the weapons into the city."

Blood's eyebrows raised in disbelief before he turned his face away and buried a soft, mocking laugh in his next exhale. Being laughed at never felt good, but Oliver raised his chin and let a little more of his teeth show in his smile as he challenged, "Did I say something funny?"

The slightest whisper of movement behind him as Felicity took a deliberate step closer to Cali's side.

"They know who's been arming the gangs, Oliver," Laurel said quietly, taking pity on him and his apparent ignorance. "The Mayor."

Bravado faltering, Oliver frowned at her in confusion. "I thought the Hood Copycats killed the mayor." He'd watched it on video. Unless it was some subplot installed by the government before the unusual execution, but that was getting into some REALLY thick subplot tangles that he hadn't anticipated.

Blood wiped the mirth off his face. "Well, not the actual mayor," he clarified, somehow managing to stay just this side of condescending. "A local gang lord calls himself the Mayor. He thinks he's the man to save our city."

"But that position's already been filled hasn't it," Laurel said to Blood, tone patronising.

Blood's huff of laughter was a little more genuine this time. "Now this mayor has only one goal: to create chaos so he can rule the Glades with the barrel of a gun."

Oliver pursed his lips slightly as he absorbed the information; he'd have to confer with Diggle later on to see if that lined up with the gangbangers he'd chased tonight. Maybe now that Felicity had a name, she could shake up some kind of tracking information that he could use to go hunting.

"I best leave you to your friends," Blood said mercifully, once the silence stretched on just a little too long. His smile was little more than a flash of a canine. "After all, the last time Calissa Merlyn and I were in a room together in such close quarters, we almost started a brawl. Say, I don't remember you being there, Oliver." A glimmer of wrathful amusement on that smug face. "Aren't we all so lucky that you're here to play guard dog this time?"

Oliver inhaled sharply through his nose, subconsciously tilting back to cover more of Cali's slender frame. "Lucky indeed," he said, voice forcibly light and playful. "I don't think my mother would appreciate coming home and finding her very expensive furniture in shambles."

"If I'm not wrong, she has to find a way out of Iron Heights first."

"I'm sure she will," Oliver responded sharply. "Given that Malcolm Merlyn was responsible for those five hundred and three deaths, and he's dead now."

Blood considered him thoughtfully, jaw clenching for a second before easing. "There are a lot of people who would argue with that, Mister Queen." Those eyes went searching for Cali again. "Then again, guilty or not, I hear there are other ways out of the prison. I'm sure Miss Merlyn would know all about it, hm?"

The slightest tang of sour grapes coated the back of his throat in between breaths; a physical taste of Cali's shame and guilt and pain.

Oliver straightened his shoulders and offered his hand. "A pleasure, as always."

With a wry little smirk, Blood accepted the handshake, squeezing tight enough that Oliver grit his teeth. "Mister Queen," he bid, and then with a meaningful glance at Laurel, melted back into the sea of people.

Very, very slowly, the tension leaked out of Oliver's body and he felt himself shrink back down to that non-threatening size he liked to keep himself whenever he played the prodigal son instead of the island monster. Making himself physically smaller tended to stop a lot of people looking at him too hard.

Laurel sighed and reached forward to squeeze his arm. "Sorry about him," she said prettily. "This is a good party."

And then she too was gone from view, threading through the crowd, on her way to what seemed like the drinks bar. Oliver watched her go, trained eyes taking in the slightest waver to her step and the tilt to her head as she flagged the bartender. Another problem he would have to deal with eventually, when she thinned those walls she'd built up to keep the pain of Tommy's death out.

He'd been hopeful, after Lance had pulled him to the side and whispered quietly about what she'd said after being kidnapped by Mathis. Hoped that once she could identify what was weighing her down, she could start to burn through. Start to teach herself how to be kind and gentle again. Teach herself how to love.

He'd hoped that she'd find Tommy again; the traces of him left behind. Tiny little reminders that might help her remember how to smile with her eyes again.

But she hadn't. She'd hidden herself away so well that she was blind to everything Tommy had ever wanted her to have.

"Do you speak to her often?" Cali asked softly, stepping away from Felicity and up to his side, her eyes following his to rest on Laurel. "I know Lance gives you updates every now and then, but does she tell you things?"

Oliver considered his friend for one more long moment before inhaling sharply and turning his gaze to consider Cali instead, bathed in the warm glow of the lights, her soft champagne-coloured dress swishing around her legs ever so gently as she subconsciously swayed side to side. Fondly, he noticed she was still cradling her small pies, though Felicity's animated hands seemed to be wandering closer and closer.

"Laurel and I talk," he answered, with more warmth than he was expecting to give away. "It's not...not the same. Not since Tommy."

He expected Cali's wince, but guilt stirs in his stomach anyway when he sees it. "She apologised to me the other week," Cali said, handing one of the small meat pies to Felicity without looking and taking a bite of the last one. Through the mouthful, she continued, "I didn't accept it. She couldn't even be bothered to say it to my face. I just had to read a random text, late at night, wanting me to forgive her for getting my brother killed."

"She didn't-"

"She did, and I'll thank you not to treat me like a moron." Cali's voice had gone cold and unfamiliar, so heartbreakingly similar to that time she'd used Malcolm's concoction to suppress her feelings. "All she had to do was get out of the building. That was all. But she didn't. She didn't, and then she got trapped, so Tommy had to go in and get her. She didn't even save any of her files; she just buried him under the rubble and left him for dead."

And Oliver might've argued in Laurel's defence, once, when he was fresh back in Starling City and seeing Laurel with Tommy had cut like a knife. He might've shaken his head and conjured up some useless platitudes and excuses for her choices, for why she was the victim, for why she could escape accountability for her choices.

But that version of Oliver had died alongside Tommy, and all he was left with was some blackened, battered husk that he donned every day when he looked in the mirror.

Who was he to judge Cali's pain? Who was he to comment on her grief, to invalidate it, to crumple it up in his fist and shove it back in her face? He knew the agony she was living with every day; it filled the air between them like heavy dew drops lingering in the air, sour and sad. It made sense that Cali would blame Laurel for Tommy - hell, even a part of Oliver resented her for the part she'd played.

So instead of doing something stupid, like picking Laurel's side, he instead nudged closer to Cali as she viciously consumed the last of her pie. "Dance with me," he murmured as she finished chewing, her face scrunched up in a frown.

She peered at him incredulously. "There's barely any music playing," she said. "And nobody else is dancing."

He gave her a boyish grin and offered his arm. "Then we can be the first. C'mon."

Cali gaped for a moment and glanced at Felicity helplessly. The blonde IT girl was far too interested in the cheese platter, though, and simply waved off Cali's silent pleas for help, leaving Cali with nothing to do but duck her head and link her elbow through Oliver's. He led her through the throngs of people to a corner with more space and eased her into position, one hand on her waist and one settling delicately against her palm.

"You're a very confusing man," Cali mused as he slowly swept them along to the quiet sting music teasing through the air. Her eyeliner had smeared just a tiny bit under her left eye, and Oliver felt a pang of tenderness so strong he stumbled over his next breath. "For someone who claims he doesn't have capacity for love, you sure give a lot of it away. It's giving me whiplash."

Oliver chewed on that for a while, thinking it over as he spun her slowly around their little area. A few others there had taken notice and some couples had also started to sway together, a slight hush befalling the group as people relaxed into a friendlier atmosphere. Somewhere, Isabel Rochev watched them; Oliver's skin tingled under the weight of her attention.

He eased Cali into a dip, waiting until he pulled her back up into his arms before he said, "I say and do these things to try and protect you - to stop you from getting hurt. But all I seem to do is cause more pain than I would've if I'd just stayed true to you and to myself."

Cali hummed knowingly, and for the first time since the quake, there was the shining gleam in her brown eyes. She looped her arms over Oliver's shoulders, and he dropped his now-free hand down to settle on her waist. "It's a good thing I know what a terrible liar you are," she said teasingly. "Else I might've believed you that morning, and then where would we be?"

"I wasn't lying-"

"Maybe not to me," Cali agreed easily, silencing his protest easily. "Maybe not intentionally. But I think you were lying to yourself a little bit."

It was a challenge, a chiding rebuke, but said with such affection that the bite of it faded almost immediately.

"I can't promise you anything," he warned as the music changed to something richer and lovelier and slower. "I don't- I can't figure out what I want yet. What I need. There's just...There's just too much going on right now for me to be able to-"

"Oliver," she breathed, cutting him off. "You silly boy. I thought we went over this a long time ago; I'm not asking you to make a choice yet. I'm not asking you to let me into all of those places you hide away inside yourself. I don't need to see every part of you, or measure up against everything that you do. All I want is for you to have just a little space for me. Just enough that I can exist alongside you and you know that I'm there. Everything else will work itself out."

...It was that simple.

Fuck.

It was that simple.

Before he could stop himself, Oliver had ceased their dancing, gathering Cali close to him and swooping in to claim her mouth in a fierce kiss. Cali melted into it without hesitation, one hand curling into the back of his neck and she opened up to him, deepening the kiss until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

It was like tasting pure sunlight - warm and supple and familiar, rejuvenating and lovely and perfect - and he sank into it, surrendering the control he'd been fighting so hard to maintain. He would go and find it again when this moment was over, but he could let it be for now. He could let himself be. Just for the moment. Just while he was here with Cali, just a boy and a girl at a fancy party.

It took a few moments, but eventually the need for air broke them apart, chests rising and falling sharply as they leaned against each other, wordless and quiet. They didn't say anything because nothing needed to be said, not yet. Not until this magical moment of champagne bubbles and pretty parties popped around them and they got dropped back into the cold iciness of their fragile relationship.

"You and Felicity seem to have worked out your differences," Oliver commented, after they pulled back from each other and settled back into an easy sway, catching a glimpse of the blonde IT girl out of the corner of his eye, chatting animatedly while John indulged her with a patient smile. "Who initiated that?"

Cali pursed her lips for a moment, her red-stained lip gloss making her mouth look tantalising. Oliver grappled with the urge to swoop in for another kiss. "I did," she confessed after a minute, sounding just a touch unsure. "I fucked it all up, so it was my responsibility to try to start building bridges, you know?"

Oliver did know about responsibility. He also knew that all his friends tended to die before he could make amends.

He was truly, genuinely happy for Cali that she'd gotten the chance to right her wrongs. And if it was jealousy that bubbled somewhere in the back of his mind, he didn't deign to recognise it.

"It just seemed so stupid," Cali continued, unaware of Oliver's sudden bittersweet wistfulness. Her attention was still slid past him, resting on Felicity's shoulders as the blonde offered a cracker with cheese piled on it to Diggle. "So stupid after Mathis. After that stupid serum wore off. I could just feel how much I was hurting her, and I didn't want to do that anymore. So I took the chance that I could make it stop."

And maybe Oliver thought something about Shado, something about his Dad, something about Slade or about Tommy or about Malcolm fucking Merlyn.

But he didn't say a word, just pressed another gentle kiss to Cali's lips and spun her around enough times she'd forgotten to notice the way his eyes had gone just slightly glassy.

.                         .                        .

It was the way he looked at people, Cali thought, that would always give Oliver away. He could preen and frown and tuck his freckles away under that green hood, but all someone had to do was just watch the way he watched whoever was around him and everything would start to make sense. He was...open that way. The only chink in the armour. Something he would never quite be able to stop.

So after they'd been swaying together for close to an hour, conversation light and quiet between them as they chatted about absolutely nothing of substance, Cali let herself be led to John and Felicity and deposited beside them, and then she watched as Oliver threaded through the crowds in search of Laurel.

It was his eyes, she thought as she watched the two of them collide, watched Laurel's face twist into something not-miserable at the sight of him, that would always, always give him away.

"Dig and I were talking about that lovely blonde in leather," Felicity said to her almost immediately, depositing her handful of cheese and crackers onto Cali's palm and wiping her hands down the front of her dress to get rid of the crumbs. "We have a theory. I have to tell Oliver." She scowled. "He didn't even say hi when he brought you over here, the meanie. Now I have to go to him instead of eating my snacks."

Cali shrugged and crunched on one of the crackers. "You know how he gets about Laurel."

Felicity sighed mournfully, eyes on the food Cali was polishing off. "Yeah, well, he should know how I get at parties."

"I wasn't aware you were acting any differently than normal," John chimed in, breaking his silence and trading grins with Cali.

"Yeah, yeah." Felicity waved him off, even as her own pretty pink lips curled into a small smile. "Whatever. You guys stay here and gang up on me if you want. I'm gonna go tell Oliver our new vigilante is actually following Laurel and not him."

And then she was off too, swallowed by the throngs of people, leaving Cali suddenly choking on her cheese and crackers.

John was polite enough to mask his laugh behind a cough as Cali finished coughing, picking up a discarded champagne flute from the table behind them and draining what was left in one go to clear her throat. The remainder of Felicity's leftover snacks was quickly deposited on the table, Cali brushing her hands together to dispose of the crumbs.

"You two shouldn't be left to your own devices," she directed at John, whose features were awash in amusement. Cali shook her head and cleared her throat, frowning at her now-empty champagne flute. "Your combined genius is terrifying, and Oliver would never be able to keep up with you, I hope you know that."

John took pity on her and offered her his full glass of chardonnay to sip at. "I'm only good for keeping her in check," he said. "Felicity's the one we've gotta worry about someday; she has all the makings of a supreme leader or something."

"Alright, we're gonna pretend you didn't just slander yourself - which we will circle back around to later, Johnny Boy - and agree that Felicity is a terrifying force of nature that we should be glad is contained only to us." Cali swallowed a large mouthful of wine and hummed in appreciation. "God, this is good."

"If there's one thing that the Queen family can do well, it's throw a party."

"You can say that again," Cali agreed, glancing out at the couples that had split off to follow her and Oliver's lead, dancing gently to the soft orchestral music. "You wouldn't want to dance with me, would you? Oliver's got me all caught up in it now, even if he did disappear on me."

John bumped her affectionately, the movement very, very gentle. "Sorry, I don't dance."

Cali bumped him back. "Liar. I've seen you at Verdant; a little bit of that shoulder action, tapping your foot in the corner." She laughed at the wide-eyed look he shot at her. "Don't worry, John, your secret is safe with me. But it'll cost you a spin around the room. Just one."

To his credit, John seemed to seriously consider the idea before his attention slid past her and his indulgent smile faded slightly. Cali knew who he must've caught sight of - Felicity would've spoken to Oliver by now and they'd be wanting to go and find their new blonde friend.

"Rain check?" John suggested kindly, and when she nodded, tugged her into a one-armed hug. With a quick press of his lips to the side of her head, he melted into the other party-goers and reappeared at Oliver's side, where they then slid subtly away into the shadows, bound for the lair under Verdant.

It wasn't bitterness, exactly, that dogged each sip of wine she took after they'd disappeared from view, but whatever it was sat heavy in her chest. She hadn't lied when she'd told Oliver she wasn't expecting him to make a choice between her and being the vigilante, but it didn't mean it felt nice to watch him walk away without sparing her a thought.

He'd done it before; left her alone at a gala with their enemies circling. Skin prickling, she realised that Blood was still here somewhere, inevitably waiting for a moment to strike. Isabel Rochev was also still making the rounds; Cali hadn't had the pleasure of meeting her face to face yet but Isabel Rochev was a woman whose reputation preceded her.

"And then there was one."

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Sebastian Blood materialised in front of her, lips pulled back from his teeth in a vicious mockery of a smile. He'd shredded the businessman mask he liked to wear for the masses, instead revealing the gnarled predator hiding underneath his crisply pressed suit.

Cali raised her chin. She was not the same cowed girl she had been last time. She'd buried that broken, obedient thing that Michael had turned her into and covered it with false bravado and hollow confidence. She just had to seem strong, just had to raise enough of a challenge, and he would leave her be.

"Unfortunately, Oliver was called away to attend to some things with his mother," Cali said smoothly, grip tightening on her almost-empty wine glass. "He sends his apologies for the impromptu departure."

Blood's eyes gleamed. "I'm sure," he drawled. "I wish him the best with this...emergency situation of his. It would sure be a shame if something were to happen to his mother while she was in Iron Heights."

Goosebumps prickled along the back of her neck and Cali inhaled sharply. "Is that a threat?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. It saddens me that you think so little of me, Miss Merlyn."

("Miss Merlyn, does it not seem suspicious to you that of all your family, you are the last one standing?"

"My brother just died. Don't you dare tell me you think I had something to do with it."

"We have intel stating you knew about the disaster before it happened. Why did you let him go into the Glades knowing that they were about to be destroyed?"

"I didn't let Tommy do anything-"

"Miss Merlyn-"

"It's Cali, please, please, please-"

"Miss Merlyn-")

Cali took a desperate sip of wine and ignored the way sweat was beading on her brow. "I see shadows everywhere these days," she said coolly, and dragged her gaze up to meet Blood's directly. "An unfortunate side effect of having someone close to you stab you in the back."

Blood considered her for a moment, his cruel smirk unshaken and sharp on his face. "It disappoints me that I can't tell if you're referring to your father or to your old boyfriend."

"Michael didn't stab me in the back-"

"No. He punched you in the face instead." Blood's brows furrowed in fake sympathy. "I apologise for my crassness, Miss Merlyn, but I believe in telling the truth. And the truth is that he beat you and you let him. You went willingly into his arms and when he drew blood, you felt satisfied. Because you knew that you needed to be punished for what you'd done." He dropped his voice lower, into something more like a silky whisper. "You still feel that need. You know that you haven't been punished enough, that you still have too much to atone for. That's why you let Oliver Queen throw you away again and again, and you never complain. Because you still feel all twisty, deep inside. You feel like a monster. And you want to punish yourself."

"That's not-" Cali managed, strangled.

Blood cut her off, unbothered. "Like calls to like, Calissa," he crooned, leaning in so close that his painfully minty breath washed over her. "I see what you're hiding underneath your skin. I see the pathetic, pitiful little girl you really are under all the fancy clothes and the makeup and the bravado. And I am not afraid of you."

Cali drew in a shaky breath as he pulled back, her trembling fingers turned white from her too-tight clutch on the wine glass stem. "I am not afraid of you either," she lied, the effect of which was undercut by the way her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence.

Blood smiled, thin and satisfied and ugly, and straightened his suit jacket. "I'm sure you aren't," he said. "Be seeing you, Miss Merlyn."

And then he was gone, in between one blink and the next, like he'd never been there at all.

Cali set the wine glass down harder than she meant to and winced at the sharp crack of glass hitting the wood of the table, but when it failed to break, she simply turned her attention to digging her phone out of her purse and pulling up a familiar contact. She was breathing too hard, and her ears were ringing, and the walls were closing in on her too rapidly, but she tapped numb fingers to the screen anyway.

The call rang for a few seconds before Parker answered, sounding mildly curious. "Yes, Miss Cali?"

"I need a ride," she said desperately. "Now. Please."

"I will be on my way now." Parker hesitated. "Are you not at the Queen's mansion already? Has something happened?"

Too kind. He was too kind to her and she didn't deserve it after the way she'd been acting lately, but she could feel Blood's eyes on her still and Oliver was gone and it was like Michael was laughing somewhere in the background and-

"I just have to get out," she begged. "Please, just get me out."

"I'm on my way," Parker promised. "Hang tight, Miss Cali, I'm coming."

.                         .                        .

In hindsight, trapping Laurel's new blonde shadow was far too easy. She was too clever to just blindly walk into the snare, even with the reliance on her sonic device. Because when Oliver revealed that it had no effect on him anymore thanks to Felicity's brilliance, she should've fought harder than she did to get away.

"Why are you following Laurel Lance?" He demanded, realising absolutely none of this in the moment.

The blonde cocked her head. "I could ask you the same thing. I guess some things never change." There was something so knowing in the way she said that, something a little too familiar. A thought began to form at the back of his mind. "You and her, always and forever."

"Who are you?"

"Once you know, your life will never be the same."

So familiar, so strange. Like half a memory from a different lifetime. "I could take it." Tell me, tell me, tell me.

The blonde shook her head. "Not this time-" a traitorous pause, and then, "-Ollie."

And it was like he'd blinked and he was back on the island again, small and weak and afraid, throwing away his friendship with Slade for a girl he only half loved, for a girl that reminded him of home, for a girl that had died before he could've saved her, for a girl that had reached inside him and tangled up everything he'd thought he'd known and ripped out some fundamental part of who he could've been.

Without even thinking about it, he's reaching for her mask, his hand steady against all odds. His gloves brush the fabric, and the icy blonde wig comes off as well, leaving a face with features he thought he would only see again in his most twisted dreams.

And then he was staggering back, ripping his own hood off for fear of feeling claustrophobic, his stomach churning with guilt and relief and hope and despair and horror all at once, because it was impossible.

Impossible.

"Sara?"

Because it was Sara staring back at him, so different and yet still the same, with her sloping nose and strong jaw and watery eyes. Sara, who should be dead. Sara, who was right here in front of him.

He was going to be sick. He was going to-to-

God, how was he going to tell Laurel? And-And John and Felicity? And, oh god, what would this mean for Cali?

"I'll give you some time to let it sink in," Sara said, and Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but sparks erupted out of nowhere and he was thrown backwards, landing heavily on his shoulder. By the time he'd gathered himself, by the time he'd sat back up, Sara was gone and he was alone on the roof.

She was alive, she was alive, she was alive-

For a second - just a fraction of a heartbeat - his mind flicked to Shado, to Slade, and he wondered just for that split moment if they were out there somewhere too. If he'd imagined their deaths. If, somehow, they were fighting their way back to him too. Would they be proud of him? Would he want them to see him, to know?

God, Sara was alive, and she was here, and she was so different. Like she'd known the very worst of the world and survived despite it.

His radio crackled to life. "Oliver?" Felicity's voice came through, concerned and confused. "Oliver, what happened? Who is she?"

Sara, Sara, Sara-

"I'm coming back," he rasped back to her. "I'll explain later, I just-" He exhaled sharply. "I'm coming back."

And then he shut off the radio entirely and ripped out his earpiece, rolling to the side just in time to throw up the meagre amounts he had in his stomach. And it was the retching that sent tears rolling down his cheeks, smearing in the grease paint there. It was the retching that stole his breath from him and left him gasping through the cries, not Sara. Not Sara.

She's alive, she's alive, she's alive-

.                         .                        .

It was early enough that Verdant had yet to reach capacity. People writhed on the dance floor and Thea was hard at work behind the bar, but there were enough gaps that Cali could slip through the venue without touching anyone or getting swept up into overzealous dance mobs. She didn't go out of her way to hide from Thea and the staff, but she made an effort to filter through unseen and unnoticed. Less questions, that way.

She punched in the code for the basement and crept down the stairs cautiously, not quite sure what was going to be waiting for her when she reached the bottom. Felicity's message had been frustratingly vague in its urgency, and every follow up question that Cali had sent had gone unanswered.

"-I'm sorry," Felicity was saying as Cali crept down to the last step, lingering at the base of the staircase for a moment to try and catch on to what was happening. "It's just- Isn't she-Isn't she dead? You told everyone that she died when the 'Gambit' went down, that she drowned."

They were talking about Sara, Cali realised with an uncomfortable jolt. For whatever reason, they were talking about Sara while Oliver looked like his whole world had just collapsed.

"You lied," John said accusingly when Oliver offered no answer.

Cali bit her lip as Oliver raised his head, features scrunched in an expression that was positively tortured. How the other two could look at him and still find it in themselves to be angry with him... She didn't know how they could live with themselves.

"When the 'Gambit' capsized," Oliver began haltingly, voice ragged and choked with pain, "uh...Sara was pulled under. It was so dark and cold. And I thought she drowned." He'd gone a bit distant during those stiled sentences, like he'd been pulled somewhere inside his own head. Protection, maybe, from the memories. "About a year later, I saw her."

"You saw her where?" John pressed, incredulous and all at one too rough. "On the island? She drifted to the island, too?"

Oliver turned his face towards his friend but kept his gaze lowered, red-rimmed eyes stark against his unusually pale skin. "Not exactly," he said.

"Why didn't you tell the Lances that she didn't die on that boat?" Felicity asked, and Cali jolted at the sudden buzz of righteous indignation pouring off the other woman. It felt so unnatural and raw in this moment, untempered by Felicity's usual sweetness. It was...harsh. Damning. Mean. "Laurel and Mister Lance, they blame you."

Oliver turned that dead look back towards the ground, staring vacantly at the concrete. "It was my fault. What happened was my fault."

And she almost went to him then - almost broke her vigil by the stairs - but John beat her to it. With a raised voice, with nothing but anger and judgement, he demanded, "Well, where has she been all these years, Oliver?"

"I don't know!" Oliver shot back, that eerie flatness giving way to a manic kind of desperation, betraying the emotions he was usually so clever at hiding. That spooked animal, back-against-the-wall type panic that she'd never seen so naked and obvious. "Diggle, I swear to God. I was sure she was dead."

Felicity blew out a breath and held her arms across her stomach. "Do you have any happy stories?"

"All right," John said, still too high-strung and frustrated to tread carefully. "So just to make sure I understand this correctly: after not drowning when the 'Gambit' went down, Sara didn't exactly make it to the island with you, where you would see her die, yet again." He shifted his weight, drew his shoulders back. "Feel free to fill in the blanks."

Oliver shook his head slightly, shoulders hunching up around his ears. "Not right now."

John scoffed. "You mean not ever, don't you, Oliver?"

"Don't you think her family had a right to know that she made it to the island, too?" Felicity chimed in, brows furrowed.

The hair on Cali's arms raised in the split second before Oliver snapped his head back up. "These were five years!" He shouted at them, eyes shadowed and haunted. For all his bravado and all his attempted loudness, his hands were shaking. He looked, for all intents and purposes, hunted. Cornered. Afraid. "Five years," he repeated. "Where nothing good happened. And they were better off not knowing."

And then Cali was moving, stepping away from the shadows she'd been hiding in, just as John said, "Do they deserve to know now?"

Oliver's anguish was a quiet thing, but strong; hot and sharp under her collarbone as she slipped past John's hulking figure without saying a word. It burned and throbbed and crackled the longer he stared at his friend, heartbreak and betrayal sizzling to the surface. She'd never seen him like this, so cracked open. Seeing Sara...well...

Sara had always been the one to coax all of that to the surface. Even when he was still with Laurel.

It wasn't until Cali was kneeling in front of Oliver that there was a murmur of her name, hushed and reprimanding. Like they'd forgotten they'd called for her. She ignored the both of them, disappointed in the behaviour, their blatant disregard for how fragile Oliver clearly was.

"Hey," she murmured lowly, trying to meet his gaze. "It's alright, Ollie."

Tired green eyes locked with hers, and Oliver's strenuous grip on that breakdown trembled. "I promise," he told her. "I promise. She was dead. She was gone."

Cali moved slowly - slow enough that he could stop her if he wanted - and reached out to cradle one of his scarred hands in hers. "I know, I believe you. It's okay."

"She was dead."

"Oliver."

"How am I supposed to look Laurel in the eyes?" He whispered to her. "I told her that I killed her sister."

Cali tightened her grip, tried to push some of that softness through him with that skin on skin contact. "Ollie, you don't have to think about that right now. You just need to breathe. It's going to be okay."

And for a heartbeat, she thought she might've succeeded in taking that hurt from him, in absorbing every bad thing he was hiding from them under the shelter of his skin. But his attention flicked over her shoulder, to where John had fallen silent, and just like that it was over. Just like that, he'd given up on swallowing it back. Because Cali was here, and Cali was holding his hand, and Sara was alive.

Oliver collapsed forward into her waiting arms, buried his face in her shoulder, and breathed.

Later, Cali would yell. She would scold. She would tell John and Felicity how out of line they were. She would tell them to apologise. She would do everything that she wished somebody had done for her when the world was giving out around her.

Later, Oliver would put that hood back on. They would finish his latest mission, take out his latest villain. She might tell him about Blood, might let him comfort her the way she was comforting him now. They might even land themselves in the middle of another fight.

But for now, she just held Oliver tight and let him hide his shameful weakness in the crook of her neck.