PROLOGUE

I opened my mouth, afraid to let go of the words. If I did, would I ever be able to get them back? I don't think so. But in this case it's worth the risk.
"I love you," I lost the words.
They were thrown into the scrabble of the city and were pulled along with the cars, the pedestrians, the life. They were torn away from me and dragged down with the filth of humanity. I bit down on my lip and pretended I could see the words go, in my eyes they were a white block, heavy and pointless.
I watched them dissipate, caught on the wheel of a cab. My eyes found the back of a head, the one that was moving away quickly. I mouthed the words to that head, but with no power behind them, they died on my lips.
I forced my feet to move and they carried me away from this street corner, I let out a rough breath and looked up at the sky. I wished I could have had the courage to bring those words to life, to be able to let them fly on their own, without me carrying them.
But they weren't ready, I decided.
No, not yet.
My unspoken thought: I love you, Laurel Lance.

CHAPTER ONE

Picture a dark city in near ruins, the sky a black canvas with speckles of silver for stars and a stretch of pale blue right where the sun had abandoned its post. It was quite the sight to behold and always reminded Laurel of a moving painting, because there was no life during the night. There was movement, cars flying by, but no people out. There was no life behind anyone any more, people hid away in their houses and were too terrified to come out. She shook her head, it sickened her what was happening.

She stood frozen at her window for several minutes, watching the condensation dripping from the glass, leaking down like tears. She placed a hand against the window, it was warm from the hot air outside. The rain that battered against the window vibrated it, she could feel it rattling in the frame.

Withdrawing her hand, Laurel shifted away from the window. She sighed softly and rubbed at her stomach, it still hurt after her last encounter with Slade. Shortly after Slade Wilson had unleashed his masked demons on the city, after Sebastian Blood had been found dead, Oliver Queen had disappeared, much like he did after his mother died, but Laurel suspected that something had happened to him and he didn't just abandon them.

Slade had called off his dogs, had them retreat back into the undergrounds, but everyone knew that they were lurking. With the mayor dead, the city belonged to Slade. Everyone was too afraid to refuse, so instead they bowed in compliance. ARGUS had shown up, but they were no match for Slade Wilson, he'd blown their helicopter out of the sky and killed their officers with ease.

That reminded Laurel, she hadn't heard from Diggle or Felicity in 72 hours, in the past few months her and Felicity Smoak had become good friends. She pulled out her mobile phone and sent a text saying:

How is it down there?

Laurel, Felicity and Diggle had all grown close, they were Team Arrow and had learned how to take care of each other, learned to dote on each other. She set her phone aside and dropped onto her couch, staring at the wall. Where are you Ollie? She thought as she watched the pendulum on her mantel clock swung, ticking and tocking and causing a ruckus.

Closing her eyes and laying her head back she wracked her brain for anything leading to where Oliver might be, it was about the eighteenth time she'd done it since he'd disappeared, but she tried again anyways. She refused to lose hope, she couldn't lose hope. If she lost hope, she'd lose everything.

Sleep nibbled at her ear, whispering the reminder that she hadn't slept well in over a week in the back of her brain. She wanted to shove it away, scream at it to leave her alone, but it persisted. A low sigh slipped out of her mouth and she grabbed her mobile once more. She dialed her father's number, he didn't pick up. She assumed he was busy and put it into her pocket.

Her father and Sara had been fighting to keep the police station independent, but it wasn't worth the fight, the more they resisted, the more officers were slaughtered by Wilson's men. So Sara had moved in with her father and took care of him. He was a detective now and had enough say-so at the precinct that he could at least keep them steady. They told Slade that they'd enforce the law, with the occasional bending, depending on Slade's wishes, provided he didn't harm anymore innocents.

He had been surprisingly compliant. He seemed to be more willing to keep the people alive now that Oliver was gone, in fact if Laurel had been feeling optimistic she'd even go so far as to say that maybe, just maybe, he'd finished his onslaught. But she knew better than that, she knew that he wouldn't stop until Oliver's head rested on a spike in his office.

A shiver crept down her back and she got up. She was tired of thinking about Slade Wilson. She was tired of worrying. She was just tired. Her feet dragged her across her apartment to her bedroom where she threw herself down, with high hopes of being able to get some real sleep, she closed her eyes.

Sleep, it haunted her brain, calling to her, it's icy finger wrapping themselves around her throat. Come with me and you can sleep.

But Laurel knew that that wasn't a good night's sleep calling, that was all of the nightmares and bad memories that attacked her every night. She knew that if she let her guard down now, she would never be able to sleep. So she dragged herself into an upright position, pulling her legs close to her chest.

The city had turned into a kind of hell, somewhere that no one wanted to be and no one could leave. The weight of the past two weeks came crashing down on her in one big sob. And it didn't stop, she sobbed till her throat hurt, till her chest begged for release from the pain. She sobbed until her cheeks were raw and her eyes were empty. She had no tears left for that night, she'd save them for the next.

Leaning back on her headrest, unable to cry, unable to be sleep, she sat there. Staring out the window into the night, the black night that was heavy with sorrow. The heat in her room was overbearing, but she didn't dare open her window. If she opened it then the smell would come in, the smell of fire and death. There was always a street that was constantly burning and the bodies were always there, looming over them like a weight.

Oliver, come back. Come back to us, come back for Thea, for Diggle, for Felicity. She silently begged, but not for herself. Never would she beg for Oliver Queen to come for her, not anymore, she was too angry and too distraught. She felt like she could never love again, like she would never know joy again.

She laid down eventually, but didn't close her eyes. She rolled over and looked at the picture on her nightstand. It was of a young couple, such happiness brimming in their eyes. The girl in the picture was her, with bright eyes and a smile. She didn't even know that girl anymore. The man in the picture had dark hair and a winning grin that still made her want to cry. He was gone now.
Reaching out she brushed a finger down the frame and whispered to the man, praying that he would hear her.

"Goodnight, Tommy."

Well, what'd you think? I know that was short, but I wanted to sum up what has happened so far in the city. I'm kind of taking my own turn with this, so hopefully it turns out good. All reviews are welcome, but please limit the criticism to the constructive kind only.

Thanks!

~N.