The foundry; a place where most his nights were spent, the source of Oliver’s self imposed isolation. No windows; no light that isn’t artificial. There was something cold about it; the kind that had nothing to do with temperature, it slipped inside of you, tendrils coiling around your soul, with an iciness that couldn’t be thawed. Or was that a reflection of how his life had been playing out? A fleeting moment of happiness; when the citizens of Starling City had begun to look at the ‘Arrow’ as a hero, a beacon for humanity, and the foolish thought had crept into his mind that maybe he could finally have it both ways. A perfect balance between life as Oliver Queen and how he spent his nights. The lesson had been swift and brutal; whenever his focus was taken off what needed to be done, when defenses dropped and the present was lived for, other people paid the price. As if some all knowing being was always waiting at every chance to serve up a bitter reminder that he didn’t belong to himself; not now, and maybe not ever. The things he wanted; the things that he cared about and loved, they were always going to have to be kept at a distant second place…never getting the attention they deserved, or the parts of him that he wanted to give. To be alone was the only way to reconcile his heart with such a concept. The pain he suffered could be bearable as long as it meant no one else was subjected to much the same. Some people would call that a noble pursuit; to Oliver, more often than not, it felt like living within a cage of fear. Being the architect of your own destruction. Wanting, and needing, those simple connections, and trying to deny them at every turn.
Everyone that his team consisted of had left hours ago; Diggle had a daughter to raise, a wife to come home to...and Roy, as much as he had struggled in the past, was really beginning to grow into the role that had been picked out for him. No longer just a kid; that was Oliver’s partner, someone that could be trusted to do what was right, to have his back. A level of trust that was exceedingly difficult to be given...after everything that had happened on the island, and all of the recent losses. And then there was Felicity. His teeth grit; hands clenched into fists, a spike of adrenaline and rage. No. Thoughts that could not and would not be entertained. A slow, forced breath, out through his nose. The source of his despair; or did it go further than that? Had how things played out with her simply been the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back? The love he felt had been built up over two years; and somehow influenced by Sara’s words...he needed to find someone that could harness the light that still resided within him. The simple answer had been the blonde IT specialist; who could disarm him with a smile and a series of fragmented sentences. If honesty was considered, and Oliver opened himself up to old wounds that had already scarred over, it had started long before then. A past littered with the beautiful faces of women that he had let down; in one way or another. Without realizing it, Oliver had already begun to pace, long strides, still clad in the green leather from earlier. Was this what was left for him? Would his body be laid out on the table the same way that Sara’s had? Drained of life; taken out by someone that finally got the better of him one night. He didn’t want to die; he didn’t want to live in cave...he just wanted to live.
Clack. Clack. Clack. A familiar sound; steady and almost rhythmic, the source of it didn’t register immediately. Hair pricked up on the back of his neck; even if his brain hadn’t come to a final conclusion, somehow his heart already knew. Boots. Each step deliberate, moving down that stairs that led into his underground base, something instinctively female to the movements. Oliver could feel his mouth becoming dry; throat tightening, all over the course of a second, though it felt as if time had found a different way to pass, stretching out, when the single beat of a heart could last a minute. His eyes had already found the entrance; waiting, a growing sense of anticipation, though he was completely glued to the spot. His mind could have sent screaming messages at his legs to move and there would have been no response. He swallowed thickly; fingers flexing...why? Why this reaction? Laurel and Felicity both knew his secret; they both knew where to find him, and yet...he somehow already came to the conclusion that it couldn’t be them. Clack. Clack. Her lower half had come into view; and as she descended further, her identity was revealed. Helena Bertinelli. Another surge of adrenaline; it made his body come alive, electricity dancing across his skin, a tidal wave crashing against everything he was, the intensity of it was something that he almost couldn’t stand. The image of tragic beauty; dark strands of hair framing her face, eyes that could express so much within a gaze...anger, hatred, love, desire, and a plethora of others. Someone that had been forced to endure; who learned the same callous lessons that he had. Revenge never brought redemption or relief. He had seen it in her; sitting across from Helena in the interrogation room, how the facade of the huntress had faded away, and the woman he had fallen in love with came back to the surface. How much she had ached; the revelation that the end of her father’s life did nothing to ease how broken her heart was. It hadn’t changed things; not the way she anticipated. She had been...utterly alone. And all he had wanted was to take it away from her. To assure her, that in spite of what had happened between them, he would never leave her.
Why was she here? Had she escaped in the pursuit of her vendetta? Maybe she was there to end both of them; a final act of vengeance, claiming the man who had started her on this path, to unite them forever in a way that neither of them had planned for. Or...maybe she knew that behind those prison walls, she could never make a difference. His restraint was wavering. Could he just come rushing up to her? No one was going to understand him the way that Helena did. She had the felt the same hatred burning inside; she knew what it was to tow that line, and she knew what it was to cross him. His pain was something that she could relate to in a sense that...no one else was going to understand. “Helena,” he could only manage to get her name out. Three syllables….three syllables that carried so much. How her name could mean a million different things when it came from his lips. What are you doing here?I missed youDon’t leave me. The sight of her overwhelmed him and struck him still. When she was gone, out of the picture, Oliver could bury all of it down in some secret place inside his heart. A compartment that didn’t need to be checked. But when she was in his stratosphere? He felt like it was all crumbling down. A burst of emotions. A love, touched by bitterness, that seized him. There was no defense against that.