Oliver hated funerals. The earliest one he remembered attending was his parents', and after that he did everything he possibly he could to avoid going to one. Some of course, were unavoidable, but he'd probably gone to fewer in his life than most people his age.
The last funeral he'd attended had been Jimmy Olsen's. His chest tightened painfully at the name, even when it was just a thought in his own mind. That was one he still felt guilt over. Probably always would.
But this one was worse than Jimmy's. Because if there was one person he knew that deserved to live to a ripe old age and die peacefully in her sleep, it was Chloe Sullivan. And that had been ripped away. It figured, really. Considering the lives they led, he probably should have assumed she would die young. That they all would.
He just wished it had been him instead. He deserved it a lot more than she did. Rubbing a hand over his face, he reluctantly left the elevator that had taken him to the hospital basement. To the morgue. He felt his stomach turn even as he followed the signs. He didn't want to be there. He wanted to be anywhere besides there. But the funeral director was supposed to meet him there so he could sign off on the paperwork. So they could take her body and prepare it for its final resting place.
Resting place. Like she was only sleeping.
He stopped just outside the morgue door, rubbing his hands over his face. He could do this. He had to do this.