NOTE: My deepest apologies for the extended delay between updates. It is likely the extended time delay between chapters will continue as there are rapid changes happening in my life right now. I apologise for the inconvenience.

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"Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight"

THE BEATLES - 'Looking Right Through You'

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The days stopped being so important.

Time passed by in events, not in days. Cali kept a note of them - Walter being abducted, Oliver's alter ego disappearing off the streets only to reappear weeks later when trucks were stolen, a fire on the outskirts of the Glade at a function of some kind. It all slipped past her, barely brushing her awareness as she dug herself into work. She hadn't seen Thea or Oliver since the party. John stopped by once, but whatever he'd seen on her face had caused him to never return.

Tommy used to visit her all the time, during work. Their lunch dates were the only signal of the days changing, of time continuing, of life going on. But then Cali missed one lunch, and Tommy missed the next one, and then both of them just stopped showing up.

Things just...stopped happening.

Janet had remained the longest, cooing and cajoling Cali into showers, into eating, into being just a little bit alive. She brushed Cali's hair in the mornings that she didn't have to be a waitress, before Cali went to the library. Whenever Janet didn't have a dinner shift, she was waiting when Cali got home, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hands.

The fog in Cali's head made it impossible for her to say thank you, to kiss Janet like she used to. She wanted to - oh how she wanted things - but every time, the action would falter before it even began and Cali would be a useless limpet, and Janet would go without gratitude for another day.

Until one day, Cali came home from work, and Janet wasn't there. She wasn't working tonight - had worked an early morning opening shift. But the silence was thick and empty, uninterrupted by movement or another person. Cali had walked into her own apartment and for the first time in weeks, Janet wasn't there to meet her.

There was an envelope on the counter, her name written in Janet's loopy handwriting.

Cali could only stare at it numbly, before shuffling into her room and shimmying out of her clothes. She hated the pencil skirt she'd chosen to wear today, hated the stupid cream blouse that had stupid puffy shoulders and didn't sit right on her body. Her shoes were the only thing she liked, and even those were flung off her feet and into the wardrobe so she wouldn't have to see them.

Janet had left. Left. Not just a physical absence, but an emotional absence too. Her patience had run out. Her love had dried up. Cali was going to spend her days alone, with nobody, and it was her own damn fault.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes for a moment and just breathing. She was so, so tired tonight.

She was going to be tired for the rest of time.

She pulled on a clean pair of pyjama pants and a reasonably clean jumper - surely they were because of Janet: Cali didn't have the energy to do the laundry - and wandered back out to the living room. She wanted to go to bed, felt herself swaying as the weight on her shoulders dragged her down, but the envelope was still just lying there.

She couldn't leave it just lying there. She had to-

Janet had left it there for her, and Cali had let her down for so long that she couldn't bring herself to make this one last mistake. Even if Janet wasn't there to see it. Even if- Even if Janet wasn't ever going to come back again.

The walk back to her bedroom was immeasurable long, the envelope heavy in her hands. Her carpet, once plush and well-looked after, felt flat and dirty beneath her bare feet. She barely spared it a thought for longer than a second, her apathy swallowing up the small stroke of vanity.

She used to care about how she looked, what her apartment looked like, what people thought of her. She used to fucking care.

She blinked once to herself, that hazy grey settling down into her bones, and curled up in bed, tugging worn covers over herself. The envelope was in her hands still, stuck there with some invisible glue that Cali didn't feel like fighting.

She had to read it. She just had to.

She turned the envelope over, noting that it wasn't stuck shut. She didn't need to waste the energy opening it, then. The paper Janet had written on was simple A4 printer paper, and Cali's nose wrinkled as she pulled the letter out. It felt weird on her hands, felt wrong and scratchy and like - if she touched it too long, she might actually just die.

Janet's handwriting had always been so beautiful, and now this was all that Cali had left of it.

'CC,

My dear, I love you so much more than you're ever going to believe.

Leaving you like this is the hardest decision I've made in my life, but I can't stay. I can't watch you give up on living. I can't watch you fade away. I know that makes me weak and a coward, but I can't do it.

I'm not strong enough.

I don't know what you went through, what caused this, but I've reached out to Tommy, and I think he's talking to Oliver. You have people, Cali, they just have to be people that aren't me.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm abandoning you like this, but CC, my angel, there's so much more to my life than you.

No.

Well, you know what I mean. I hope you do.

CC, my life wasn't amazing until I met you. You built me into something wonderful and I can never repay you for that. But I have to go.

I thought I could do it, could bring you back to yourself, but it's been two months now and I can't keep treading water with you. I need you to need me back, and you don't. Not in the way I want you to.

Please, don't take this on your shoulders. There's so much there already.

I love you so, so much and I am so, so sorry.

Janet'

Cali allowed the letter to slip from her grasp and flutter down to the floor, the envelope tumbling off the bed after it.

She knew it was coming - had known that Janet wouldn't stick around forever. And there was absolutely no blame she could dredge up for anybody but herself. Janet deserved a better life, where she wasn't trapped by Cali's muted despondency. That wasn't the life that a bright soul like hers needed.

She'd stayed because she'd loved Cali. She'd left for the same reason.

Cali buried her cheek into her pillow and yanked the covers over her head, so that nobody but her could hear her crying.

.                      .                     .

Her routine was simple: she lay in bed all night and never slept, got up for work and never said a word, never ate, came home again, and went to bed. On her days off, she stayed under the covers until her phone beeped to tell her that she had to go back to the library.

Again and again and again. Stuck in the same spot, spinning her wheels. She wasn't going anywhere. She didn't need to. Where would she go? What would she do? She was the daughter of a murderer, and a ghost. She'd stolen away Tommy's attention, kept it on herself for years. She was the best friend to two Queen siblings, except she was the weapon they used to hurt each other.

Cali was nothing special, after all. Michael had been right. He'd always been right. She'd hated him, learned from Thea to hate what he'd done to her, what he'd crippled her into. She'd thought him a demon, a monster.

Turned out she was the same damn thing.

Her phone alarm echoed in the quiet of her apartment. It must be Monday then.

There was a knock on her front door, loud enough to break through the cloud of dissociation that plagued her. It was odd, to hear a knock, because nobody ever visited her anymore. They were all too busy with their own problems, with their own demons, with their own selves.

Cali wasn't on anybody's radar anymore, and there might be something sad about the way that she didn't much care.

The knock came about again, louder this time, and more persistent. Whoever was waiting for her wasn't going to go away. She'd have to get up, unlock the door. Talk to people. Go to work. It was only a Monday, and her energy had already vanished.

One of these days, she was finally going to fall asleep and then she wasn't ever going to wake up. It would be so much easier if she didn't have to wake up, didn't have to bear the memory of threatening to kill her own father, or spending nights alone in the dark while haunted by the knowledge of a gun in her kitchen drawer.

Her heartbeat thundered away in her ears. Her breathing was too shallow.

There was a gun in the kitchen.

The knock came again, only this time it was unrelenting against her door. "Cali!" Someone shouted through the wood. "Open the door, or I'm kicking it down."

She pulled the cover up to her chin and sighed. She wouldn't go into work today. She was too tired. "It's unlocked!" She shouted back, voice cracking and splintering. Immediately, she was coughing, gagging on the sharp prickle in her throat. She hadn't talked properly in so long-

The front door smacked open and heavy footsteps hurried towards her room. She closed her eyes, ashamed to see whoever was hovering over her as she hacked and wheezed and shook. Fingers brushed her hair out of her face, and knuckles smoothed down her cheek.

"Oh, bub," Tommy murmured sadly, gently easing the covers away and nudging her up as she slowly calmed down. "I didn't know-" He broke off with a sigh and withdrew his hands, disappearing out the door and into the kitchen.

Cali listened distractedly as her fridge door opened and closed, opened and closed. Her chest hurt, and her throat hurt, and her heart hurt, and she was so tired. Why'd Tommy have to come? Why was he here, when he should be building his nightclub with Oliver?

Oliver. John had already texted about Oliver. Something about a fire. Later, about an old army mentor. Finally, something about Malcolm Merlyn and Thea. Cali didn't really read any of them, and once she'd seen Malcolm's name, she'd blocked John's number all together.

She'd done the same to Thea herself, after the girl had texted an entire essay about how Moira and Malcolm were having an affair.

Tommy eased himself back into the room, holding two glasses of ice-water. He wasn't smiling, but nor was he actively frowning. He seemed oddly calm and blank, setting one glass on Cali's bedside table before sitting beside her on the bed and gently pressing the other glass into her shaking hands.

"Drink it slowly," he told her quietly as she lifted the full glass to her lips. "Don't make yourself sick."

She didn't look at him as she drank, the cold water instantly soothing her throat. "Thank you," she croaked, almost silently, and then kept drinking before she could say anything else. It was more than she'd said to Janet.

(If she'd just said fucking thank you then Janet might have fucking stayed.)

They sat like that for a while, Cali carefully drinking her water and Tommy just watching her and waiting. When she finished the first glass, he wordlessly took it from her and handed her the second glass. He was gentle in his actions, like Janet had been, but insistent.

Of course, he'd done this before. After Michael. After...After everything.

Finally, her eyes flickered over to his face, taking in the worry lines around his eyes, the downturn to his lips. He wasn't happy with her, but he wasn't angry. If she wasn't careful, he might leave again, might walk out the front door like Janet had and never come back, and leave her to rot away in this bed, in this apartment.

She shuddered, and the half-empty glass of water tipped dangerously. Tommy's steady hands took it away from her and set it down next to the empty glass on the bedside table. "Alright," he said easily, and stood up. "Okay."

He left the room again before she could say anything, and emotion slammed through the stony wall of passivity she'd built around herself. Even without his words, she could feel his disappointment in a way that she hadn't with Janet. Because Janet had plastered a smile on, had voiced her love, had coddled Cali through it.

Tommy wouldn't. He wouldn't, because he knew it wouldn't work. He'd already tried it before, after Michael. Cali would only respond to harder actions, to less affection and more persistent efforts.

Michael had conditioned her to respond to harder actions.

Another shudder worked it's way down her spine and she slipped back down into bed, pulling the covers over her head again. It was too bright, too lively, too much. Tommy would be back soon, after he scoped the place out. He was predictable like that.

She still had to call in sick from work.

Or she could quit. She had a capable team, had a capable second in Brenden. They wouldn't miss her too much. They could replace her with someone more reliable, someone better. But her phone was so far away, and calling would take so much effort, so she stayed where she was.

Let everybody else figure things out. She was done.

The covers were ripped off her.

She squeaked, curling up into herself as the warmth she'd hoarded dissipated into the air. Tommy stood at the end of the bed, looking unimpressed, her duvet in his hands. "Get up," he said flatly. "Have a shower. We're going out."

"Where?" Cali asked, even as she made no move to get up. Tommy would make her, he always did, but she wanted to stall for a little bit. Just lay here for another moment longer.

He was already over at her wardrobe, digging through her clothes. "Thea's birthday is today," he said, voice tight with an unidentifiable emotion. "She's having a party tonight that she wants help getting ready for. And you're going to get your ass out of bed and be a decent fucking friend, because she misses you."

Cali couldn't think of anything to say to that. She hadn't given Thea a thought, really, too caught up in her own lethargy and grief. "Oh."

Tommy scoffed at himself, but it wasn't an angry sound. It was choked and upset and everything that Cali hadn't expected from him right now. He didn't say anything to her, didn't even look away from her clothes.

He'd done this for her after Michael too - picked out her clothes, bullied her out of bed, taken her out into the real world. He hadn't been quite as good at it in the beginning, but he'd figured it out. He probably hadn't expected to need those skills again, had probably assumed that Cali was stronger than that, was better than that, wasn't someone who needed constant baby-sitting and monitoring and support.

Finally, Tommy picked out a black skirt and paired it with a royal blue top, throwing the clothes on the bed just beside Cali's legs. "I'll leave you to go through the draws for what you need," he told her, and then nodded to her ensuite, crossing his arms. "Shower. Now. I'm making breakfast."

"Okay," she breathed, and still didn't move.

Tommy made an impatient sound and shuffled around her room some more, doing a general clean that was likely more to keep his hands busy than to help her. "I've already called in for you," he said. "Naomi says she'll get in Brenden for the next few days, and that Martha is training for management, just in case."

Martha would be a good manager, Cali agreed silently. She was devoted to her job, quick to pick up new things, good at what she already did. If Cali had to pick someone to replace her as Branch Manager - or Head of the Library as they called the position unofficially - she would pick Martha.

"Naomi's always been a gossip," she managed, and pushed herself to the edge of the bed, throwing one leg over the side before going limp again. This wasn't going to work. She should just go back to sleep. "Tommy, I can't."

"Get out of bed and get in the shower. Looking sad might have gotten Janet to bend to your wants, but she'd gone and you're stuck with me instead. You know how this goes, Cali. In the shower, and then you can have some food, and then you're going to apologise for ghosting everyone."

Janet's letter was still on the bed beside her, the paper crinkled and the writing slightly smudged with tears, but there nonetheless.

Cali rolled her head to look at it and reach out with a finger, gently brushing her fingers against the written farewell.

"She's gone, Tommy," she whispered, and the words grew roots in her throat, clinging to her skin and choking her. "She left."

And there were so many things that Tommy could've said to her about it, so many things he could've told her. So many mean things, true things, heart-breaking things. Cali deserved all of those things - deserved worse, maybe.

But Tommy just reached over and picked up the letter with careful hands, folding it gently and tucking it away inside his suit jacket. "Have a shower," he repeated, softer this time. "I just want you to have a shower. Wash your hair. It'll make you feel better."

Cali swung her other leg off the bed and sat up. She felt...dirty. Tired. Achy. Inhumane. Tommy was right, her hair was a greasy mess. She was a greasy mess. No wonder Janet hadn't stuck around.

"I'm sorry," she said to Tommy, but he was already halfway out of her room.

Heaving in a deep breath, Cali pushed herself to her feet, wincing as her soles prickled unhappily at the weight. Her ensuite bathroom was only a few steps from her bed, but time seemed to drag on longer than it should have. She left the clothes on the bed. She'd come back for them later. If she took them into the bathroom with her, she might just change into them without bothering to take a shower, and then nothing will have changed at all.

The tiles were a cool contrast to the carpet, and she shivered slightly as she closed the bathroom door behind her. It took her ten minutes to take off her old clothes.

It took her nearly an hour to have a shower.

When she came back out, dressed in the clothes Tommy had picked out for her, hair wet but clean, red eyes rimmed with remnants of the tears she'd shed, Tommy swept her into a crushing hug. Cali couldn't bring herself to hug him back, but her hesitation didn't seem to ruffle her brother at all.

"There you are," he whispered into her hair as she fought back another wave of sobs. "I found you."

.                      .                     .

Thea's party was a classic Queen occasion. Music thumped loudly enough to be heard a mile away, and people were crammed into every inch of the house, chattering amongst themselves. Cali faltered by the door, feeling so remarkably small in front of a gathering of so many people.

She wished that Tommy was here, wished that she could tuck herself into his side and hide from the rest of the world until she found Thea. But alas, he'd seen her to her car and once he was sure Parker had her, he'd taken off. Something about a dinner date with Laurel. He'd sounded tense, though.

Cali hoped they weren't having relationship troubles. Tommy would be unbearable if Laurel were to break up with him. Plus, if they weren't together, Laurel would crawl back to Oliver, and the thought of that happening made Cali's stomach twist.

Not that she owned Oliver, or anything like that. He was her friend, that was all. He was perfectly alright to choose who he had a relationship with.

Whatever. Cali needed to find Thea.

A hand on her arm stopped her from venturing past the threshold of the front door. "Hey," Oliver says softly as she startles. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He doesn't let go of her, but the grip is comforting, not restraining. "I didn't think I'd see you here. Tommy said something about Janet leaving you?"

Cali winced. "Yes," she answered abruptly. "I went into a depressive episode, she couldn't watch me go through it, and so she broke up with me."

"Are you okay?"

Cali sighed. She couldn't really get angry at Oliver for this. He was just trying to support her, just trying to be friendly. "Watching someone you love slowly kill themselves is hard." She swallowed thickly at the pity and understanding that was slowly melting into Oliver's eyes. "I can't blame her for it, Ollie. I don't wanna drag her down with me."

He nodded once, and squeezed her arm lightly. "Are you okay?" He repeated, and oh, he wanted to know about her.

"I'm fine," she said blithely, pulling a blatantly fake smile across her face. Oliver's lips pursed at the lie, but he let it be.

She had never loved him more than she did right then.

Before their conversation progressed any further, Thea burst through the crowd, looking for all the world like someone had run over her pet cat. Devastation and anger warred on her face, and the minutes her eyes landed on Cali, she made a beeline through the crowd.

"You!" She exclaimed, tackling her into a tight hug. Cali could feel Thea's arms shaking. "I've been trying to talk to you for ages! Why didn't you respond to any of my messages?"

'I needed you,' is what she didn't say.

Cali nodded to Oliver as he excused himself, and then smiled at Thea. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've been going through some things. Needed a little time to myself. If it's better, I sort of shut out everyone, so it wasn't just you."

Thea considered her for a moment. "That doesn't make me feel better, no." It wasn't as biting as it should have been, but Cali lowered her head in shame anyway. Thea shook herself. "Anyways, great to see you, we should catch up soon, I'm going now."

"Woah, Thea!" Cali cried as her friend tried to barge past her. Her hand caught Thea's arm, and she tugged slightly, to stop her from leaving. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Because there was definitely something wrong - something that was slowly crushing Thea's soul. Cali could see it in her friend's eyes, hidden away behind the fake hospitality and the polite but disinterested friendliness. Thea's mouth was small and pursed, unhappiness evident in every part of her face.

Cali got it, she really did. "What's wrong?" She repeated, gentler.

Thea studied Cali's hand, still wrapped around her arm, and pursed her lips. "Not here," she said decisively, not making a move to shake off Cali's grip, but giving her a pinched look that implied her touch was entirely welcome. "If we're gonna talk, I'm gonna be driving, okay?"

"You got a car?"

Thea's expression spasmed. "Shut up, Cali, or stay here."

Right. Blocking her text messages and being absent from her life.

Rationalising the scalding wave of hurt didn't make it any easier to bear, and Cali let her hand fall back to her side as Thea forged a path out the front door. Shutting everyone out had been a stupid move - she was willing to admit it - but Thea's behaviour was making her wonder if it wasn't going to be easier to just...do it again.

People can't hurt you if you don't let them back into your life.

Cali didn't understand how Oliver could do it with such ease.

Thea's car was dark and sleek and sporty, the roof non-existent and the stereo very obviously state-of-the-art. It was, for lack of a better word, perfect for Thea, and the younger Queen sibling was obviously aware of that as she slid into the driver's seat.

Cali slid into the passenger side and said absolutely nothing when she saw Thea slip a small green pill into her mouth and swallow.

Neither of them risked conversation until they were out on open road, Thea's stereo playing low-level music with steadily thumping bass. Cali could feel the beat against her leg where it was pressed to the door.

"My mom is cheating on Walter with Malcolm Merlyn, and nobody believes it but me," hea announced suddenly, in the exact second she took a 90-degree corner without touching the brakes.

Cali bit back her curse as she gripped onto the dash, wincing as the tires skidded slightly as Thea regained shaky control over her driving. "It's a little out of the blue, critter, you gotta admit," she managed.

Thea snorted and threw the car around another, milder, corner. Cali was pretty sure she'd seen a give-way sign, but Thea was driving too quick for her to be sure. "That's how affairs usually work, Cali. I bet she was cheating on Dad too. I bet she never stopped even after he died."

There was nothing that Cali could say or do that would ever convince Thea that she was wrong, even if she thought it was the most ridiculous and unlikely theory she'd heard. Malcolm was a lot of things, but a cheater was not one of them. He was too obsessed with the memory of Cali's mom to ever even consider sleeping with-

Yeah okay, no, Thea probably had a great point.

"It makes sense, Thea," Cali agreed mildly, even as shockwaves rippled through her body at the painful reminder of the man she'd almost murdered in cold blood. "Malcolm has a track record for being the scum of the Earth."

Thea blew past a stop sign and Cali grimaced to herself. "Ollie thinks I'm insane," Thea said angrily, waving one hand in the air. The car swerved into the other lane for a moment before she righted it.

"Maybe this isn't a conversation we should have while driving," Cali suggested, white-knuckling her skirt. "Especially not while you've got drugs in your system."

Thea pushed her tongue against the inside other cheek for a long moment, looking distinctly unimpressed. "Figures you'd fucking shame me," she muttered and then reached over and turned the stereo up to max volume before Cali had the chance to protest.

And for a few seconds, Cali really thought that was all it would be. Sitting in a car next to a girl who was high off her face, listening to loud music and driving recklessly.

Thea was jerking the wheel with a shrill scream before Cali even saw the other car, and then they were speeding into a tree and the airbags were deploying and Cali felt the seat belt tighten around her throat.

Something cracked and then her head snapped into the dash and then nothing.

.                      .                     .

Two people walked into Thea's hospital room and she immediately wished that car crash had killed her.

Moira whispered something sadly, but Thea was much more focused on Oliver, whom she loved a lot more than her mother right then. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently.

She almost-smiled, but pain flickered in her head and she closed her eyes briefly. "Yeah," she assured him, blinking them back open. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...headachy, really." Her throat seized up. "The car, is it-"

"The car isn't important right now," Oliver told her, but there was something to the downturn of his lips...

Horror slammed through her all at once as she abruptly remembered- "Cali?" She asked desperately. "Oh my god, is she okay? Where is she?"

"Thea," Moira interrupted, raising a hand to touch her but deciding otherwise as Thea shot her a glare. "It's-"

Oliver shifted forward and cut his mother off. "Cali's gonna be fine," he said calmly, but not exactly pleasantly, and Thea had never felt smaller in his presence until right then. "Something went wrong with her airbag - which we're investigating, don't worry - so she hit her head a lot harder than you did. But she's gonna be fine."

A moment of silence in which Thea tried valiantly not the violently throw up whatever she had left in her stomach. Vertigo, while an excellent high, had a really fucking terrible crash. Thea's headache probably had more to do with coming down than it dead with the accident,

Eventually, Moira tentatively spoke up. "Do you remember what happened, sweetheart?"

Betrayal and disgust, hot and thick and sickening, brewed in Thea's chest and she turned her head away, scoffing. "Just go away." She didn't wanna talk to her, didn't even want to acknowledge her presence.

"Thea, please."

"I said I'm fine," Thea hissed, and all she could think about was telling Moira that she should've died on that boat instead of Robert. All she could think about was how horrible the words tasted on her tongue, but how true they'd felt once she'd said them.

She didn't want her mother. Not if her mother was going to keep cheating, and lying, and acting like she was the victim.

Thea hated her.

Oliver tilted his head slightly, giving her a strange look, but Thea didn't respond to him. She didn't have the energy. Not even as Moira turned around, head bowed, and fled the room without another word.

Oliver sat down in the empty chair by her bed and didn't mention their mother again. "Tommy's on his way here with Laurel to keep Cali company," he said instead, leaning forward to meet Thea's eyes. "I've got nowhere else to be."

Thea might've actually loved him, in that moment, even with all his secrets, and his favouritism, and his blatant mistrust with his family.

Because he might not tell them what kept him away at night, or why he couldn't eat chicken without his emotions shutting down - but he would sit here, by her bedside, with no judgement, and he would wait for her to be ready to talk.

And she couldn't ever want more from him then that.

.                      .                     .

A few rooms down the hall, Malcolm Merlyn sat by his daughter's bed and watched the monitors track the unconscious patterns of her brain as the machines did their best to wake her up.