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Chapter Text

Then

Oliver Queen wasn’t easily fazed, but the past few days had tested his limits. First, Barry had sped into his life once again, this time to drag him, John, and Thea into a battle against fucking aliens. If that weren’t strange enough, Barry had crossed into another universe and returned with someone who redefined the term "powerhouse."

Kara Danvers.

The name alone sounded ordinary, but the person behind it was anything but. Kara, better known as Supergirl, was invulnerable to bullets, arrows, and near damn everything either of them could throw at her. Standing in her presence was both awe-inspiring and humbling; she could obliterate the entire team without breaking a sweat. Oliver had kept her at arm’s length. After what the Dominators put them through, he had every reason to remain guarded. But then she had saved his life without hesitation, even though he was an asshole.

It was later that evening, amidst the post-victory camaraderie, that Kara caught up to him and Barry. He heard the distinct click of her heels against the floor and the cheer in her voice before she even reached them.

“Hey, guys!” Kara greeted, her grin as radiant as the sun.

“Hey,” Barry replied, smiling wide, mirroring her energy.

“Either of you ever save the world before?” Kara’s eyes sparkled as she glanced between them, her enthusiasm infectious.

Barry nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“Last year,” Oliver added, his tone subdued in contrast.

Kara sighed contentedly, a soft smile lighting up her face. “It doesn’t get old, does it?”

“Nope,” Barry admitted, shaking his head. “Beats screwing up the world.”

Kara frowned playfully and tapped his arm. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Oliver snorted, unable to resist chiming in. “That’s what people usually tell me.”

Kara turned her gaze to him, her expression softening. “And for good reason, I’m sure,” she said warmly before adjusting her glasses. “Back on my Earth, it’s just me and my cousin. Between the two of us, we’re-”

“-stronger than everyone in this room combined,” Barry finished with a knowing smirk.

Kara laughed and gave him a light nudge. “No, that’s not the point. You’ve shown me something incredible here. Powers or no powers, you’re heroes. You're-you're amazing!”

Her sincerity struck a chord in Oliver, though he avoided her gaze, focusing on his champagne instead. Barry beamed at her, their camaraderie palpable.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Um… Kara?”

She turned toward him, tilting her head expectantly.

He exhaled, bracing himself. “I owe you an apology. Keeping you at arm’s length was the wrong call. The truth is, this Earth could probably use a Supergirl.”

Kara blinked in surprise, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “That’s funny,” she said softly, her gaze steady. “Because I was just thinking my Earth could use an Oliver Queen.”

Her words drew a small, genuine smile from him—something rare and fleeting.

She grinned wider. “I know you said you don’t get unnerved, but…” Oliver sighed, and Kara leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet firm. “Even if you did, it’s okay. Hardship makes us stronger. That’s why everyone here looks to you as their rock.”

Her words hung in the air, weighty and honest. Oliver nodded, acknowledging the compliment with a quiet sincerity.

Barry grinned suddenly. “Group hug?”

“No,” Oliver replied reflexively.

“Come on!” Kara laughed, extending her arms.

“All right,” Oliver relented, chuckling as he joined Barry and Kara in an unexpected embrace. For someone who claimed to dislike hugs, he found Kara’s warmth oddly comforting—she was, undeniably, something else.

Then Cisco caught her attention. “Kara!” he called with a grin.

She turned, and her eyes widened when she saw the box he was holding. “Cisco! What’s this?”

“Well,” Cisco began with a twinkle in his eye, “I made you something.” He handed her the small box, and Kara eagerly opened it.

Her jaw dropped as she saw the sleek silver device inside. “What is it?” she asked, furrowing her brow in curiosity.

“It’s an interdimensional extrapolator,” Cisco explained, his voice tinged with pride. “It creates small breaches, so you can cross over to our universe anytime you need. Thought you’d like the extra convenience.”

Kara blinked, looking genuinely impressed. “Oh, my God,” Her face lit up. “That’s so cool!”

Cisco grinned. “It also has communication functionality. If you ever need any help, you can always contact us directly.”

“That’s…” Kara trailed off, still in awe, “That’s incredible. Thank you so much.” She hugged him, unable to hide her joy.

Cisco’s grin was wide as he shrugged modestly. “Anything for Supergirl.”

At that moment, Mick wandered by. “Hey, Skirt!” he said, giving her a wink. “Call me.”

Kara stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly agape, before giving Cisco a confused glance. The sight made Oliver hide his smirk into his glass.

As the party began winding down, most of the team had already said their goodbyes to Kara. Left in the room were Oliver, Barry, Sara, and John—along with Kara, who was about to step through the breach to her Earth.

“You ready to see if Cisco’s gadget works?” Barry asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Ready,” Kara nodded, her excitement still evident in her voice. She looked back over her shoulder. “And remember, if you guys ever need me, I’m just a call away.”

Oliver nodded in return. “Same here.”

With a final smile, Kara pressed the button on the extrapolator. The breach shimmered to life, glowing brightly before swallowing her whole. She took a deep breath, smiled back one last time, and stepped through.

Once she vanished, the breach snapped shut with a soft, almost imperceptible hum.

Later, as Oliver and Barry sat together, beers in hand, Oliver couldn’t help but smile as he thought about their unexpected interaction with Kara.

“I’m just saying,” Oliver said, taking a swig of his beer. “Next time, I’m gonna get you.”

Barry raised an eyebrow. “I'm just saying, I beat you twice.”

Oliver paused, considering. “The first time was a tie.”

“And the second time?” Barry teased.

Oliver took another drink and then smirked. “There were no witnesses the second time.”

Barry snickered, shaking his head. “Superspeed arrow duels. Our lives are so weird.”

Oliver nodded in agreement. “I told Kara I wanted to reclaim some normal, but now… I’m not so sure.”

“I know what you mean,” Barry replied thoughtfully. “We got a glimpse of what 'normal' could’ve been.”

“It would've been happy.” Oliver's gaze softened, as he recalled his time before becoming a vigilante. Before the Gambit. Before Lian Yu. Life had been simpler, happier, lighter. 

Barry’s voice brought him back. “But not full.”

Oliver met his eyes. “No. Nowhere close.”

They clinked their bottles together.

“To life being full,” Oliver added quietly.

Barry nodded in agreement.

As the sound of clinking glass echoed in the quiet room, Oliver couldn’t help but wonder what might bring Kara back to their universe. It seemed more likely that Barry, with his constant travel through dimensions, or even the Legends, would cross paths with her again.

No, Oliver mused, nothing in Star City would ever bring Supergirl here.

Chapter Text

Now

For the first time in his life, Oliver had no plan. No clear course of action. How could he, when everyone he cared about were hanging by a thread?

All of Team Arrow had vanished one by one. And just hours ago, the final nail to the coffin: a video message showing his son, William, held captive.

Because of Adrian fucking Chase.

Oliver was running on fumes, fuelled by desperation and anger and revenge and fear. The weight of the situation pressed down on him like a vice. But what he couldn’t bear—the last straw—was the fact that Chase had gone too far. This was no longer about keeping his city safe. This was personal. And whatever happened, whatever it took, whoever he had to dig up and call, he was going to get his family back. 

Even if it meant working with Malcolm Merlyn, of all people. Though, to his credit, Malcolm was quickly on board—anything to help his daughter.

“Chase’s helicopter flew to an abandoned airfield in Dawn Valley, Utah,” Oliver said, his eyes glued to the monitor running the data. “Then, five minutes later, this aircraft took off from the same field at a vector of 2-7-0, due west.”

“That would take him back to Star City,” Malcolm frowned. “Chase seems smarter than that.”

“I’m tracking it,” Oliver grunted, frustration lacing his words. “But it’s harder without Felicity.”

“The night before the Undertaking, some of my associates, especially those on the wrong end of your bow, thought the Hood had computer skills,” Malcolm pointed out with a smirk.

“I had good hardware and a specific purpose,” Oliver shook his head. “Chase turned off the transponder on the plane. Luckily, Felicity has access to a keyhole satellite that can track the heat signature of any aircraft in the world.”

“Impressive,” Malcolm admitted.

“Just have to get lucky,” Oliver muttered, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk.

The sudden beeping of another computer caught Oliver’s attention. Malcolm glanced at the monitor, then looked back at Oliver. “Expecting someone?”

Oliver didn’t answer right away. His eyes were glued to the screen. Then, his tone darkened. “Chase has backup. Black Siren, Evelyn Sharp, Talia al Ghul… and whatever army she’s managed to rally.”

“So you called in reinforcements,” Malcolm chuckled. “If I wasn’t such so confident, my ego might be bruised.”

Oliver’s tone turned serious. “Malcolm, your ego is what I need you to keep in check.”

The smug smirk quickly vanished from Malcolm’s face. “Why?” he demanded, now wary. “Who did you reach out to?”

Before Oliver could answer, the elevator doors slid open, and the answer stepped out.

"Husband," Nyssa’s voice was as smooth as ever, but there was a sharp edge to it. She stepped into the room with the grace and confidence that only she possessed, her quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder, her sword resting at her hip, and her bow ready in hand.

Oliver gave a small nod in acknowledgment. Nyssa’s dark gaze swept across the room, landing on the figure of the Dark Archer. “Mr. Merlyn,” she sneered. “I assume you still have no title?”

“No,” Malcolm told Oliver bluntly, ignoring her jab. "No way in hell."

“Malcolm,” Oliver sighed, turning to him.

“I will not work with her,” Malcolm shook his head vehemently.

“I told you,” Nyssa said pointedly to Oliver.

“I’d sooner slice her throat,” Malcolm muttered.

“Try to, you mean,” Nyssa’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, her gaze as cold as ice.

“Malcolm, you said you'd do whatever it takes to get Thea back,” Oliver reminded him angrily. “So here we are! Deal with it.”

“Fine,” Malcolm spat, his patience running thin. “But does she know?”

Oliver paused, then turned back toward Nyssa. “Know what, Mr. Merlyn?” Nyssa’s voice held an edge as she walked closer.

Malcolm turned to face her, his lips curling into a mocking smile. “One of the people we are up against is your sister.”

Nyssa’s expression remained unreadable for a long moment, then she sighed, exasperated. Her eyes flicked to Oliver, a mix of disbelief and anger swirling in her gaze.

“Nyssa, I wanted to explain it to you in person,” Oliver started, but was interrupted by the beeping of his monitor.

“We’ve got the C-130,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, rapidly analyzing the data. “It flew out over the coast, then banked twelve degrees south. That means…”

“Means what?” Nyssa pressed, her gaze sharpening.

Malcolm turned to look at Oliver, his frown deepening as he saw the hesitation on Oliver’s face. Oliver swallowed hard.

“I know where he’s taking them,” he said hoarsely.

A familiar whooshing sound filled the air behind them, and both Malcolm and Nyssa reached for their weapons, but Oliver quickly held up a hand. “No, wait!” he called out.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cisco appeared, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated manner, pulling off his goggles as he approached them. “It’s me! No shooting!”

“Cisco?” Oliver’s frown deepened. He stepped forward, confused. “I called for Barry.”

“Er, yeah,” Cisco shifted awkwardly, looking slightly out of place. “Uh, Barry’s unavailable.”

“Unavailable?” Oliver repeated skeptically. “Cisco, what the fuck does that mean?”

Cisco hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Well, you see, there was this speedster Barry was fighting. He called himself the god of speed. He did something incredibly clever and trapped the Flash from a different universe in the Speed Force. To fight the guy, we let him out, but in the process, the Speed Force became unstable and started raging on Central City—”

“Cisco, get to the point,” Oliver snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“And Barry went into the Speed Force to end it!” Cisco blurted out, swallowing hard. “Barry’s gone, Oliver. He’s stuck in the Speed Force, and we don't know how to get him out.”

Oliver faltered, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Barry's gone?” he repeated. He suddenly felt like he had a lump stuck in his throat. Barry was gone? Grief and confusion flared up inside him, but he couldn’t process it right now—not with everything else on his plate. "What?"

“Yes,” Cisco confirmed miserably. “I’m sorry, Oliver, but I wanted you to hear it from me instead of over a phone call or a text.”

Oliver exhaled sharply, clutching his hair in frustration. Malcolm frowned at him, but Oliver’s gaze stayed locked on Cisco.

“And the Legends?” Oliver asked, his voice heavy, desperate, forcing the words out. "What about them?

“No,” Cisco shook his head. “I tried. They never showed. I don’t know why, but either they didn’t get the message, or they just couldn’t help.”

Oliver turned back to the monitor, taking a deep breath. Barry had been the first person he thought to call, his saving grace. Barry had always helped him in the past, but now he was gone, trapped in the Speed Force - whatever the hell that meant. The weight of that reality settled heavily on Oliver’s shoulders. If Barry couldn’t help, and if Sara and the Legends couldn’t be reached…

His mind started to process a new possibility, and his eyes widened. Cisco had said there was no one else who could help. He looked at Cisco.

“Not on this Earth,” Oliver muttered.

“What?” Nyssa asked, confused. Cisco looked bewildered.

“Cisco, you said no one else could help,” Oliver turned to him again, his voice taking on a new urgency. "Not on this Earth, but what about-"

Malcolm and Nyssa exchanged puzzled looks, but then Cisco’s jaw dropped as realization hit him. “Oh, my God,” he breathed.

“Cisco, I need a breach,” Oliver nodded decisively, his expression hardening. “Take me to Kara.”

The breach dropped them into a quiet sidewalk, and the few people near by barely noticed them.

“Well, without Barry, this is the best I can do,” Cisco rubbed his hands together, taking off his glasses and leading Oliver forward. “Lucky for us, Kara told us where to find her if we ever needed her.”

“The sooner we find her, the better,” Oliver agreed reluctantly, following Cisco as they made their way to more a crowded street.

They emerged into what appeared to be the aftermath of an epic battle and the sight before them made Oliver stop dead in his tracks.

“Holy shit,” Cisco muttered in awe, and even Oliver took a moment to take it all in as he surveyed the destruction around them. Rubble littered the streets, and various buildings appeared to be heavily damaged.

“What the hell happened here?” Oliver asked, his voice edged with disbelief.

“Wait, wait,” Cisco rushed over to a nearby newsstand, glancing through the papers. “CatCo!”

“What?” Oliver asked, walking over.

“Kara works there,” Cisco explained, pulling a magazine from the stand. “Hey, look!”

Oliver peered down at the cover, his eyes widening when he saw the image. There was Kara in full Supergirl attire, her face stern and serious. On the opposite side of the page, however, was a dark-haired woman, her cruel demeanor unmistakable, a circlet on her head, and a blue dress adorning her frame.

“Supergirl Victorious - Alien Attack Averted,” he read the headline, eyes wide with surprise.

“What did the fuck did Kara face?” Cisco murmured, looking around in shock. 

“We're about to find out,” Oliver said, lifting his gaze with determination. “Let's go.”

Chapter Text

Kara slammed her laptop shut, the final keystroke of her article still vibrating through her fingertips. The office was too quiet. Too still. The distant hum of the city outside grated against her nerves, a reminder that the world kept moving forward, no matter what she lost.

Her jaw tightened. She knew she should be grateful—National City was safe, the Daxamites were gone. But safety had come at a cost.

Her cost.

Her nails dug into the desk as the memories crashed in. Mon-El, gasping for breath. The way his eyes had widened when he realized what she had done. The way her heart had shattered when she’d sent him away.

Her own damn hands had sealed his fate.

Kara exhaled sharply, forcing the pain down, pressing it into the pit of her stomach where it belonged. She didn’t have time for this. She wasn’t allowed to have time for this. She was Supergirl. She had a job to do.

She reached for her coffee, only to realize her fingers were trembling.

With a frustrated huff, she pushed back from her desk and stood, bracing her hands against the surface. She needed to do something. Hit something. Break something. The tight coil of emotion inside her was screaming for release, but there was nowhere to put it.

And Rao help her, she was so fucking tired of losing.

Her phone rang, slicing through the tension. Kara blinked, exhaling shakily before grabbing it.

“Kara Danvers,” she answered, her voice clipped.

“Miss Danvers, there are two gentlemen here to see you. A Mr. Queen and a Mr. Ramon,” the receptionist said, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Kara frowned. Oliver and Cisco? Now? How? Why?

“I’ll be right down.”

She ended the call, shoving her laptop into her bag before heading for the elevator. Her mind raced, but she couldn’t piece together why they’d be here unannounced. Whatever it was, it had to be important.

The elevator doors slid open, and she strode out, only to stop short when a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Kiera. You look like you’re about to punch someone.”

Kara turned, finding Cat Grant leaning against her office doorway, arms crossed, brow arched in that knowing way only she could pull off.

Kara swallowed down her irritation. Cat had always been able to read her too well.

“Sorry, Miss Grant,” Kara said, clearing her throat. “I just-I have to go. Something came up.”

Cat hummed, eyes narrowing slightly. “Something or someone?”

Kara stiffened, but before she could respond, Cat waved a dismissive hand.

“Never mind. Whatever it is, it’s clearly important enough to make you look like you’re about to set fire to my office with your laser vision. Go.”

Kara hesitated. “I don’t-”

“I always know when you’re about to bolt, Kiera. Just make sure you come back in one piece.”

Something in her chest eased—just a little.

“Thanks, Miss Grant.”

“Don’t thank me. Just go save the day or whatever it is you do in your ‘personal time.’”

Kara huffed out something almost like a laugh before turning on her heel and making a beeline for the lobby.

Whatever Oliver and Cisco wanted, she had a feeling it was about to change everything.

The elevator doors slid open, and Kara stepped out, her gaze immediately sweeping the bustling lobby. She spotted them in an instant—Oliver Queen, standing rigid as ever, his expression shadowed by something heavy. Cisco Ramon, beside him, offered a quick grin when he caught sight of her.

“Oliver, Cisco!” Kara called, striding toward them.

Cisco barely had time to react before she pulled him into a hug. “Hey, Kara!” he laughed, squeezing her back. “Man, I forgot how strong you are.”

Kara huffed out a quiet chuckle but then narrowed her eyes playfully. “No more musical dimensions, right?”

Cisco raised a hand in mock solemnity. “Scout’s honor. We’re staying in reality this time.” His grin faltered slightly. “But I’m actually not the one who needed to talk to you.”

Kara glanced at Oliver. He had barely moved since she arrived, watching her with that careful, calculating look he seemed to wear when something was wrong. She tried to lighten the mood.

“No hug?” she teased.

For a split second, Oliver’s lips twitched—then the expression was gone. “I might need one,” he admitted, voice low. “But that’s not why I’m here. I-I need your help, Kara.”

Kara hesitated. His tone was… different. And the fact that The Oliver Queen said he needed a hug? That alone made her pause. And then, almost absently, she noted the way his eyes flickered over her, assessing.

Something about her was different too. She knew that and it looked like he was seeing it too.

But she ignored it and pulled him into a quick, firm embrace anyway. He tensed, his whole body coiled tight as a wire, but he didn’t pull away. When she stepped back, she tilted her head at him, searching his face.

“Oliver Queen asking for help,” she mused. “That’s not a good sign.”

Oliver huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “No. It’s not.” He met her gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious.”

Kara’s expression sobered. “Alright,” she said, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

She gestured for them to step outside, the three of them falling into stride along the sidewalk. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over National City, but the usual warmth it brought didn’t quite reach Kara’s bones.

Oliver hesitated, clearly choosing his words. “For the past year, my team and I have been dealing with someone who calls himself Prometheus. Turns out he was the Star City DA - Adrian Chase."

Kara blinked. “What does your DA have against you?”

Oliver sighed. “I killed his father a long time ago.”

Her breath hitched slightly at the blunt confession, but she kept her expression neutral. He wasn’t looking for judgment and she was hardly one to offer it. She was the one who practically pulled the trigger on her own boyfriend-

“And now he’s after you,” she said, keeping her voice even.

Oliver exhaled slowly. “He doesn’t just want to kill me-he wants to break me. He’s been playing this game for months, tearing my team apart piece by piece. Now, he’s taken them. My friends. My family.” He hesitated, his voice tightening. “My son.”

The world narrowed in an instant. Kara stopped walking, her hands balling into fists before she even realized it.

“He took your son?” she asked, her voice quieter, sharper.

Oliver turned to face her, and for the first time, he let some of the weight show. “Yeah.”

Kara sucked in a slow breath, forcing herself to stay still. She had never met the boy, let alone known he existed, but the thought of a child—an innocent child—being used as a pawn sent a pulse of pure rage through her veins.

Oliver had expected sympathy, maybe even worry. But the way Kara’s expression darkened, the way her entire posture shifted—there was something else there. Anger. A deep, simmering fury.

And for a brief second, something flashed in her eyes. Something raw, something like pain. But just as quickly as he saw it, she smothered it, shoving the emotion away like it had never been there.

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, when she finally spoke, her voice was steady. Firm.

“I was ready to say yes the moment you started talking,” she said. But there was an edge to it, something Oliver didn’t quite expect. “He took your son. A child who has nothing to do with any of this. That’s more than enough reason for me to help.”

Oliver studied her for a beat, taking in the way her shoulders squared, the way she held herself just a little too rigidly, as if she were barely keeping something in check. He vaguely wondered what had changed.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Kara nodded. "Let's go."

And just like that, she had something to focus on. Something to fight. Something to burn through the grief still clawing at her insides.

Malcolm and Nyssa turned as the breach opened again, clearly mid-argument. When Oliver and Cisco stepped through, they weren’t alone. The woman with them was tall, blonde, and clad in a red cape, blue top, and red skirt—at first glance, she could have passed for a cheerleader. But the quiet confidence in her stance, the way she carried herself like someone who knew exactly what she was capable of, said otherwise.

Oliver gestured toward the two waiting figures. “Kara, meet Malcolm Merlyn and Nyssa al Ghul. Malcolm, Nyssa, this is Kara Danvers-Supergirl on her Earth.”

Malcolm arched an eyebrow, arms crossing. “Super, huh? And what exactly makes her so-”

Before he could finish, Kara’s gaze landed on a heavy metal chair tucked against the wall. Without a word, she stepped forward, gripped the chair’s armrest with one hand, and squeezed. The reinforced steel groaned before crumpling like tin foil in her palm. 

Malcolm’s smirk faltered. Nyssa, ever composed, eyed Kara with newfound interest and surprise.

Oliver smirked. “And that’s only part of it.”

He turned to Cisco, giving him a grateful nod. “Thanks for your help.”

Cisco grinned and clapped Oliver on the shoulder. “Good luck getting everyone back, man.” With a final wave, he stepped into another breach and vanished.

Oliver exhaled, then turned to Kara. She met his gaze, steady and determined. “Where are they?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

As the plane descended, Kara gazed out the window, watching the ocean stretch endlessly before breaking into jagged cliffs and dense greenery. Oliver’s voice cut through the hum of the engines, giving her a brief rundown of what they were walking into.

“Why would your adversary bring them here?” Nyssa asked from the copilot’s seat, her tone level but sharp with intent.

“For that matter, how did he even know about this place?” Malcolm added, arms crossed.

Oliver’s jaw tightened. “Talia.”

Kara didn’t miss the flicker of something unreadable in Nyssa’s expression—the way her lips parted slightly, a quiet breath escaping before she pressed them into a thin line. She didn’t need to ask if Nyssa knew Talia. The answer was already written in the way her posture stiffened.

“She researched me,” Oliver continued. “Probably told Chase everything.”

Nyssa let out a breath that was almost a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Ironic,” she murmured, her gaze fixed out the window. A beat passed before she added, “When I was a child, my father told me to come here. It’s where I found Sara.”

Kara glanced down at the island below—the sharp, unyielding terrain, the endless stretch of trees. It looked inhospitable, brutal.

This was where Oliver had survived for five years.

Lian Yu.

And now, they were going back.

The island air was thick with salt and damp earth, but all Felicity could focus on was the pounding in her head. She gasped as rough hands yanked the bag from her face, and the sudden burst of daylight seared into her vision. Before she could even catch her breath, she was shoved forward, her knees scraping against the rocky ground. Cold metal clamped around her wrists, and she winced, forcing herself to take quick, shallow breaths to stay calm.

Nearby, she heard muffled groans and the shuffle of movement.

“Dig?” Her voice came out hoarse, strained.

“Felicity?” A familiar voice answered, rough but steady. Her eyes adjusted just enough to make out John’s silhouette, followed by Thea, Quentin, and Curtis—all bound together. Relief flooded through her chest, but it didn’t ease the knot of worry tightening in her stomach.

“We’re okay,” she nodded quickly, searching John’s face. “You?”

“We’re fine,” Quentin answered before John could. His voice was even, but the hard set of his jaw said enough. “A little north of pissed off, though.”

Felicity almost smiled at that, but the relief was short-lived.

“Rene, Dinah… where are they?” John asked, scanning the jagged terrain around them.

“They’re not with us,” Thea said, her voice quieter, worry threading through her words.

Felicity’s fingers curled instinctively, nails biting into her palms as she processed. If they weren’t here, that meant Chase had them somewhere else—or worse. She swallowed, forcing herself to stay logical. Panicking wouldn’t help.

A slow clap broke the tense silence.

“Relax!” The smug voice made Felicity’s stomach turn. They all looked up to see Chase approaching, a blade slung across his back, with Evelyn and Black Siren flanking him like a pair of executioners.

“Enjoy the weather,” he said, eyes locking onto Felicity with a smirk that made her skin crawl.

Curtis, never one to shut up when he needed to, scoffed. “Anybody ever tell you how much you suck at life?”

The taunt barely left his lips before one of the black-clad assassins stepped forward, pressing a blade to his throat. Curtis stiffened but held his ground, though Felicity could see the tension in his shoulders.

Chase tilted his head, amused. “No,” he mused, the smirk deepening. “Care to be the first?”

Felicity clenched her fists tighter, biting back the urge to snap at him. That’s what he wanted—for them to give him the reaction he was looking for. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Why are we here?” Thea cut in, voice sharp, forcing Chase’s attention away from Curtis.

His smirk didn’t waver. “So you recognize this place. That’s good.”

Felicity’s pulse hammered as she finally looked around, really seeing where they were. The rough, unforgiving terrain, the endless trees. She didn’t need Chase to tell her—she knew.

Lian Yu.

Her stomach dropped.

“Oliver’s gonna come for us,” Thea said, defiant.

Chase chuckled, already turning away. “Yeah, I’m counting on it, sis.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed as he and his enforcers disappeared into the trees, leaving only the steady rhythm of waves crashing against the shore.

For a moment, none of them spoke. 

“Fuck,” John muttered, glancing at their restraints. “Chase is using us as bait. He wants to draw Oliver out.”

Felicity exhaled slowly, staring at the ground. Her heart felt like it was beating too fast, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart. Oliver was out there, and he was going to come for them. He always did. But this wasn’t Star City. This was the place that made him. The place that nearly broke him.

“The numbers aren’t exactly in his favour,” Quentin said, ever the realist.

Felicity lifted her head, forcing conviction into her voice. “Oliver’s faced worse odds before.”

“Yeah,” Curtis said, quieter now. “With the help of you and John and the rest of us.”

John nodded, his expression grim. “Curtis is right. Oliver can’t do this alone.”

Felicity swallowed hard, blinking against the sharp sting behind her eyes. No, Oliver couldn’t do this alone. But that was exactly what Chase was counting on.

And that scared her more than anything.

The ARGUS black site was silent except for the steady hum of the overhead lights. The air was stale, thick with the weight of time and isolation. Oliver stalked through the dim corridor.

When he reached the solitary cell, he stopped. The duffel bag slung over his shoulder slipped from his grip, hitting the floor with a muted thud. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides.

This was the last thing he wanted to do.

His pulse drummed in his ears as he stared at the reinforced door, knowing exactly who was behind it. The man he once called a brother. The man who had betrayed him, hurt him. The man Oliver had put here himself.

His throat tightened, but there was no time for hesitation.

Drawing in a slow breath, he let it out through his nose and spoke, his voice low but firm.

“I need your help.”

A beat of silence. Then, a low chuckle echoed from the shadows inside the cell.

Oliver tensed. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his lungs ached. The sound was familiar, but not in the way it used to be.

Then movement. A figure stepping forward, the dim light catching on the sharp angles of his face.

Slade Wilson.

He tilted his head slightly, studying Oliver with something unreadable in his gaze. A flicker of something—curiosity, maybe even the smallest trace of surprise—before it was buried beneath that ever-present steel.

“Hey, kid,” Slade said at last, his voice rough than it was before due to time and disuse. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Oliver swallowed, meeting his stare without flinching.

Neither of them spoke.

Because for all the years, all the blood and betrayal, this—standing face to face again—was the most impossible thing of all.

And it was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Slade pushed himself to his feet, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked onto Oliver as he stepped forward. The space between them felt charged, weighed down by the years of blood and betrayal neither had ever fully reckoned with.

“What brought you back to the island, kid?” Slade’s voice was rough, carrying the weight of too many ghosts.

Oliver held his gaze, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “Like I said,” he murmured, unlocking the cell with a metallic click that echoed through the small, stale room. “I need your help.”

Slade barely had time to process that before a sharp voice cut through the air.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Oliver turned to see the ARGUS guard, posture tense, eyes locked warily on Slade as if just breathing the same air as him was an offense.

“We have a problem,” Oliver said flatly, his tone firm but calm. “I need you to get off the island.”

The guard, glaring at Slade as if the mere sight of him was an insult, shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere and neither is he."

Oliver’s jaw tightened. He really didn't have time for this. “I’m taking him,” he said, jerking his chin toward Slade. “And I’m taking Digger Harkness.” His voice remained even, controlled. “There’s an ARGUS supply boat docked on the eastern shore. You take it, and you go.”

The guard shook his head. “I’m not abandoning my post!”

Oliver didn’t waste another breath. In one swift motion, his fist connected with the guard’s jaw, and the man crumpled to the ground in a heap.

A beat of silence.

Then, from behind him, the faint click of a door unlocking.

Oliver turned just in time to see Slade stepping out of the cell, rolling his shoulders like a man shaking off years of confinement. He cast a glance at the unconscious guard before shifting his gaze back to Oliver, expression unreadable. “Would you like to explain what the fuck’s going on?” His voice was low, edged with something close to curiosity.

Oliver didn’t answer right away. He was too busy watching Slade, cataloging every detail—how his movements were precise but not tense, how his eyes were sharp, clear.

“I have to ask,” Oliver hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "You seem-"

“What, in possession of all my marbles?” Slade’s mouth twitched in something almost resembling amusement. “The mirakuru’s been gone for a while, kid. I mean, I remember everything that happened. It just feels like some bad dream.” A pause, something unspoken lingering in the air between them. “Now, regardless of my sanity... why do you want my help after everything I’ve done?”

Oliver’s expression darkened, his voice dropping lower. “There’s a man named Adrian Chase,” he said, his words measured. “He has my friends. My family.” A beat. “Thea..."

Oliver hesitated for just a second. "My son.”

A brief flicker of surprise crossed Slade's face.

“Since when you do have a son?” Slade asked, arching an eyebrow.

Oliver exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Slade, are you going to help me or not?”

Slade’s eyes darkened with something resembling regret. His jaw tightened, his voice quieter when he finally spoke. “I killed your mother, kid. That alone should’ve been enough for you to put me in the ground.”

Oliver didn’t flinch. His gaze held steady, but something in his posture softened. “Maybe this is why I didn’t.” He reached into the duffel bag at his feet, pulling out a small flash drive and holding it out to Slade. Slade didn’t take it right away. His eyes flicked from Oliver’s face to the drive, suspicion creasing his brow.

“This is all the intel that I’ve been able to gather on Joe,” Oliver said. “including his present whereabouts.”

Slade’s fingers curled around the drive, but his grip was hesitant, almost disbelieving. His throat bobbed in a hard swallow, his voice lower when he spoke. “Are you offering to help me find my son?”

Oliver didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the bag again and pulled out something else—a worn, familiar mask, orange and black.

“I want us to find both of our sons,” Oliver said.

Slade stared at the mask for a long moment. Then, slowly, he took it, his fingers running over the smooth surface like he was feeling something distant, something he wasn’t sure was still real.

When his gaze met Oliver’s again, the slight smirk typical of Slade Wilson was back, but there was something else behind it now—something raw. “You and me, kid,” Slade said, slipping the mask into his belt. “Like old times.”

Kara stood beside Malcolm, helping unload the supplies Oliver had packed for the island. Her hands moved efficiently, but her eyes kept scanning their surroundings, her senses tuned for any sign of trouble. She was mid-motion, pulling a crate from the stack, when a voice cut through the humid air.

“If we’re going to fight side by side, you're going to have to at least acknowledge my presence,” Nyssa said, her tone even but edged with challenge.

Malcolm snorted, barely looking at her. “I know,” he said flatly, throwing a pack onto the sand. “It’s awful.”

Kara blinked, glancing between them.

"Pity." Nyssa scoffed, arms crossing over her chest. “By now, I thought you’d realize that by disbanding the League of Assassins, I freed us both.”

Malcolm snorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Would you like a standing ovation?” He lifted his prosthetic hand, flexing the metal fingers deliberately. “Though I must say clapping’s a bit trickier these days.”

Curiosity tugged at Kara before she could stop herself. “What happened?”

Malcolm’s tone was casual, dismissive, as though he was talking about fruit and vegetables rather than his hand. “Oliver cut it off.”

Kara’s brows shot up.

“Because," Nysaa interjected, her voice cool but pointed, "Mr Merlyn took a place in the League of Assassins that wasn’t his to begin with. Oliver fought in my stead to reclaim my right. Once it was over, I dismantled the League for good.”

Kara frowned, piecing together the tangled history. “So you both hate each other because of a title that no longer exists in an organization that no longer exists?”

Malcolm and Nyssa exchanged a brief, sharp look.

Kara sighed. “Wonderful.”

“Kara, have you offloaded the supplies?” Oliver asked, his focus shifting to her.

“Most of them,” she nodded. “Weapons and ammo are still on the plane.”

“By the way-why exactly, pray tell, do you need an RPG?” Malcolm asked, glancing at their supplies, a flicker of amusement in his tone, like he found the whole situation adorably funny.

Oliver barely spared him a glance. “Because Chase has Talia al Ghul, an army of her students, Evelyn Sharp, and a metahuman. I have no interest in this being a fair fight.”

Kara frowned. “A meta?”

Oliver grimaced. “Black Siren. She screams.”

"Ugh." Kara groaned, rubbing her temples. God, she hated the screamers. Dealing with Siobhan Smythe once had been enough for a lifetime.

Nyssa’s gaze flickered to the two men Oliver had brought along. “Is that why you released the animals from their cages?” she sneered, her eyes narrowing.

The man in the trench coat grinned, sleezy. “Oh, come on, luv, that’s no way to start a new friendship.”

Nyssa stepped toward him, voice lowering to a razor-sharp warning. “Look at me like that again, and I will feed you your eyes.”

Malcolm leaned in slightly, scoffing dryly. “You’re not her type anyway.”

Oliver sighed, running a hand down his face. “All right, that’s enough.” His patience was wearing thin. “Let’s offload the rest of the gear-”

Kara’s senses went on high alert. “Oliver!” she warned, muscles tensing. “Incoming!”

"I don't see any-" Nyssa frowned.

“What the hell is she-” Malcolm started, but Oliver held up a hand, already scanning the skies.

A split second later, the unmistakable whistle of a rocket filled the air.

Kara barely had time to react before it struck the plane. She launched sideways, avoiding the blast as a fireball erupted into the sky, heat and debris showering the ground.

"Oops." The man in the trench coat let out a low whistle. “So much for our gear.”

“There goes our ride home, kid,” the masked man muttered, his voice laced with dry resignation.

Oliver, standing amidst the wreckage, exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Hear anything else?” he muttered to Kara, voice steeped in frustration.

Kara climbed onto a higher rock, scanning the treeline with sharp eyes. “Nothing,” she confirmed after a long moment. “No follow up.” She stepped down, brushing soot off her jacket. “They just wanted us stuck here.”

“Fuck,” Oliver muttered, jaw tightening. He reached for his gear, snapping the case shut with more force than necessary. “I’m suiting up. In the meantime, make sure none of them”—he gestured vaguely at the group—“shoot, stab, or strangle each other.”

Malcolm folded his arms, casting a sideways glance at Nyssa, who was still glaring at the man in the coat. “A little trust, Oliver?” he murmured.

Kara exhaled slowly, glancing between the volatile mix of personalities. She’d only just arrived, and already, this felt like a powder keg ready to ignite.

Oliver caught her eye, offering a brief, trusting nod before disappearing into the trees.

A few moments passed in tense silence before Malcolm spoke up again, his gaze flickering over Kara with barely concealed scrutiny. “I know the Flash," he said, tilting his head. “I know Sara Lance and the Legends. But you-I've never seen you before in my life... And you don't exactly fit into Oliver's usual list of allies.”

"Why, is it cause of the skirt?" Kara arched her brow, grinning a little. “I am from another universe, anyway.”

Nyssa hummed, arms crossed. “He trusts you,” she noted, voice carrying a touch of curiosity. “More than I expected, given how little history you two share.”

Kara hesitated, glancing toward the dense trees. “I wasn’t expecting him to call, either,” she admitted. “But when he mentioned his son...” Her jaw tightened slightly. “Family shouldn’t have to suffer for our battles. They're not-they can't become collateral damage.”

Malcolm’s expression flickered—just for a second—before settling into something unreadable. Slade, standing silent, shifted slightly, his masked gaze lingering on Kara.

Then, with morbid finality, she added, “But they do anyway.”

The weight in her voice stilled the air. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “My entire blood family is gone. The only one I have left is my cousin.”

Slade didn’t look away. His stance remained firm, but something in his gaze shifted. Understanding. "They're all dead?"

Malcolm exhaled through his nose, looking away for the briefest moment before refocusing. He didn’t push further.

Kara nodded stiffly, then rolled her shoulders, exhaling sharply. “Oliver wouldn’t have called me unless it was serious. And considering he’s working with you-” she shot a pointed look at Malcolm, “-it clearly is.” Her gaze flicked to the two unfamiliar men. “And I'm guessing these guys are hardly Oliver's usual allies either.”

Malcolm recovered quickly, motioning to Slade first. “That's Slade Wilson. Former soldier, enhanced by mirakuru, and responsible for a rather bloody rage-fueled siege on Starling City. He killed Oliver’s mother.”

Kara’s breath hitched slightly in surprise as she whipped around to Slade. “What?”

“The mirakuru is gone,” Slade said evenly, holding her gaze.

Kara didn’t look convinced, but she pressed her lips together, exhaling sharply through her nose before turning to the second man.

Harkness grinned. “Captain Boomerang, at your service,” he said, giving her an exaggerated bow. “Bit of mischief with the Flash and the Arrow landed me here. Don’t worry, luv-I’m mostly harmless.”

Kara blinked. Then, without missing a beat, she muttered, “And now I mostly understand why Nyssa wanted to rip out your eyes.”

Nyssa smirked, while Malcolm looked vaguely amused.

Before Harkness could reply, Oliver re-emerged in his suit, his expression set in stone. Kara was glad to have a reprieve from further conversing with Harkness.

Kara straightened immediately.

“We need to move.” Oliver ordered.

Chapter Text

The dense underbrush rustled around them as they made their way through the rocky terrain, each step purposeful, yet every footfall heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. Oliver’s gaze was sharp, scanning the shadows that stretched between the towering trees.

“The RPG hit from over there,” he gestured toward the left, his voice tight with urgency. His brow furrowed as he scanned the tree line. “And William's last call came from somewhere west of here.”

Behind him, Harkness shifted, the rifle slung across his back creaking slightly as he adjusted his grip. “Hostages could be in either place,” he drawled, his voice grating as ever, his eyes flicking between the surroundings, calculating.

“Or neither,” Slade muttered under his breath. "Could be anywhere in this damn jungle for all we know." There was too much ground to cover and not enough intel.

“I’ll check the RPG site,” Kara volunteered, her boots crunching against the stones beneath her feet.

“Malcolm, go with her,” Oliver instructed, nodding toward Malcolm, who responded with a curt nod.

Nyssa’s eyes were calculating as she met Oliver’s gaze. “I’ll accompany them,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

Malcolm shot her a look, an eyebrow arching in mock surprise. “I’m starting to feel like I’ve got a personal babysitter. I'm flattered.”

Kara vaguely wondered if there was anything Malcolm could do without at least slightly annoying everyone.

“Don't be,” Nyssa replied cooly, her lips twitching into the smallest smile. “I just don't trust you.”

“Stay on comms,” Oliver cut in, turning to Kara. “And try to keep them from killing each other.”

Kara nodded sharply. She turned to lead the way, Malcolm and Nyssa following in her wake. As they disappeared into the trees, Oliver’s gaze lingered on them for just a moment longer, the apprehension gnawing at him.

Slade fell into step beside him, his movements predatory, like a man who had grown too comfortable in the silence of danger. 

“Why does he get a gun and I don’t?” Harkness muttered, his eyes flicking toward Slade’s weapon like a petulant child.

“I trust him more than you.” Oliver replied shortly.

It wasn’t just an answer. It was a testament to the bond forged in blood and betrayal. Slade had been a brother once. Harkness had been nothing.

“Didn’t he kill your mother?” Harkness’s voice oozed with mockery, his gaze never leaving Slade.

The words hit harder than they should’ve. Oliver’s jaw clenched, his body stiffening as the old wounds flared up. He whipped around to face Harkness, furious. “You listen to me,” Oliver’s voice dropped into a dangerous whisper, stepping so close that his breath mingled with Harkness’s. “You help me take down Chase, and you walk away. You screw with me in any way, and I’ll put you right back in that hole.”

"Just a gun." Harkness raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression gratingly filled with feigned innocence. “That's all I'm saying.”

But before the tension could escalate, Slade’s voice cut through it, sharp: a warning. “Kid. I see movement.” 

Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Stay sharp.”

Oliver’s voice was low, firm, leaving no room for hesitation. Slade and Harkness moved in behind him as he picked up speed, his boots scrapping against the dirt. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his mind racing through every possible scenario. This could be a trap. This was probably a trap. But he couldn’t think about that now.

His gaze locked onto the cages ahead, and for a moment, all that existed was the frantic, desperate need to see who was inside. Then—familiar voices. Relief crashed through him like a wave.

“Oliver!”

Felicity’s voice hit him first, sharp with disbelief and relief. She dropped to her knees in front of the metal bars, fingers gripping them tight, as if reassuring herself that he was real. He saw the tension in her shoulders ease—just slightly—before her eyes flicked past him. The relief froze over in an instant, and her lips parted in something between shock and barely restrained anger.

Slade fucking Wilson.

Her breath hitched, and though she didn’t say a word, Oliver saw it—the way her hands tightened around the bars, the way her body tensed, the way her expression twisted into something uncertain and wary.

Oh, Felicity understood. She knew Oliver wouldn’t have turned to Slade unless he was desperate. But that didn’t make the sight of him any easier to stomach.

“Keep your voice down,” Slade warned, his hand already on his rifle, sharp gaze sweeping their surroundings.

Oliver was already moving, stepping past Felicity, Curtis, and Thea, his eyes fixed on the farthest cage. His breath caught the second he saw her—Samantha, gripping the bars so tightly her fingers had gone white. Her face was pale, her expression taut with exhaustion, but when she saw him, the relief was unmistakable.

His stomach twisted. “Where’s William?” The desperation bled into his voice, rough and raw. 

Samantha’s face crumpled, and dread slammed into him like a fist to the gut.

“I don’t know!” she said, shaking her head, her voice thick with helplessness. “We were separated. Oliver, what's going on?!”

His hands curled into fists, frustration burning in his chest. This was bad. This was worse than bad. William was out there, alone, with god knows who.

“Why are they unguarded?” Slade asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

Oliver turned, his instincts flaring. Slade was right—this wasn’t adding up. Chase wouldn’t just leave them alone unless-

“Seems pretty obvious to me, mate,” Harkness spoke up, his voice infuriatingly casual.

Oliver shot him a glare, frustration mounting. He was about to snap at him to get to the damn point when the bushes rustled, and his instincts screamed at him to move.

Two figures emerged from the shadows with smooth, practiced silence.

His body tensed as his hand flew toward his bow, but he stopped himself just in time. His stomach twisted in recognition.

Talia. Evelyn.

Talia’s bow was already raised, drawn back with effortless precision, the arrow aimed directly at his chest. Evelyn stood beside her, her gun steady in her hands, aimed squarely at his face.

“It’s a trap,” Harkness said, amusement dripping from every syllable.

No shit.

Talia’s expression didn’t change, her voice cool and unwavering. “Don’t even think about it, Oliver. Or your son loses his mother.”

Oliver's mind raced. Every instinct screamed at him to act, to do something, but he forced himself still. He couldn’t risk Samantha’s life, not with Talia al Ghul's arrow aimed at her heart.

Harkness, the smug bastard, smirked. “Oh, and don’t worry about that gun, mate,” he gestured to the firearm at his hip. “Mr. Chase gave me this nice new one… along with a better offer.”

Evelyn’s gaze flickered toward Slade. “Adrian said it would be pointless to reach out to you.”

Talia, still impossibly composed, tilted her head. “Although, given this turn of events, perhaps you’ve changed your mind?”

Oliver’s breathing was slow, controlled, but his mind was going a mile a minute. Chase had played them. Harkness had flipped, and now Slade was a variable he couldn’t afford to gamble on. If he lost both of them-

“What’s it gonna be, Slade?” Harkness asked, his voice sickeningly smug. “Care to side with the winners?”

Oliver’s eyes locked onto Slade’s, searching. There was no time for second-guessing. Slade had to decide now.

Slade turned, slowly, and pointed at Oliver.

“Put a gun to his head.”

Oliver scowled, a sharp, quick pang of disappointment stabbing through him before it was immediately buried beneath years of understanding exactly how Slade Wilson operated.

He forced himself not to react, not to give anything away as he stared at Slade.

“Sorry, kid,” Slade said evenly. "But there’s no giving up to these guys."

Evelyn took a step forward, the gun still raised, the anticipation thick in the air.

But Oliver knew those words and relief coursed through him. 

His lips twitched, just barely, as he bent down and set his bow on the ground. Talia’s grip on hers didn't loosen, but there was a glimmer of smug satisfaction on her face. She thought she’d won.

“I assumed you’d want to be on the winning side,” Harkness gloated.

Slade let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. His eyes flickered toward Oliver for half a second. Then he smirked.

“Assumption,” he said, voice like gravel, “is the mother of all failures.”

Harkness barely had time to react before Slade’s fist crashed into his jaw. The impact sent him staggering, and before Evelyn could even process what had happened, Oliver lunged toward her, seizing her wrist and twisting it in one sharp motion. She barely had time to let out a breath before he drove her to the ground, her back slamming against the dirt with a thud.

Talia moved fast, her bow snapping up, an arrow loosed-

But Oliver was faster. His hand shot out, a dart flying from his fingers. It clipped the arrow mid-air, sending it off course.

Slade struck Harkness again, this time sending him to the ground. Oliver snatched up his bow, already reaching for an arrow as Talia did the same.

They faced each other, weapons drawn, muscles tensed, breathing harsh.

A single second stretched into eternity.

Two weapons. Two predators waiting for the other to make the first move.

Then-

A voice cut through the night.

Chapter Text

Kara shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she walked, eyes flicking over to Slade as he silently observed the group. He met her eyes for a moment, steady and unblinking.

Kara broke the silence first, her voice light but pointed. “So, what's the deal with you and Oliver?” Her words were probing, direct, meant to throw him off.

Slade’s eyebrow quirked, amusement briefly flashing in his eyes. “Straight to the point, huh?”

Kara smirked, matching his tone with a casual shrug. "Figured you'd appreciate that more than me tiptoeing around it."

Slade chuckled, low and quiet, the sound carrying an edge of approval. He nodded slowly. “Your assumption is correct.”

Kara hummed in response, her steps light, but before she could take another, her boot nudged against something buried beneath the dirt—a jagged edge of metal, barely visible. Her eyes darted downward.

“Land mines,” Slade murmured.

Kara’s brow furrowed as she surveyed the ground. Yeah, that made sense—there were a lot of them. "Freaking land mines," she muttered under her breath. "Of course."

Slade’s eyes narrowed as he followed her gaze. “Be careful, little one,” he added, his voice now a touch lighter, but it was more a warning than a joke. “I’d watch my step.”

Kara quirked an amused eyebrow at the nickname. "A nickname already?" She flashed him a playful grin. "You're getting fond of me very quickly."

His lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smile, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he glanced toward the others, his gaze assessing them with that same intensity Kara had come to expect. His silence spoke volumes—Kara’s attempt at disarming him seemed to have little effect on him. 

Before Kara could speak again, Felicity’s voice cut in.

“Don’t let him fool you,” she said, her voice light but laced with a hint of steel.

Kara glanced back at her. Felicity had posed it as a joke, but Kara caught the warning in her eyes. Felicity was glaring at Slade, distrust pouring off of her in waves. Kara could hardly blame her. After all, Slade was as dangerous as they came.

With a brief, reassuring smile to Felicity, Kara turned her attention back to Slade, only to find him watching her with a frown.

Slade motioned for her to step aside, away from the others. As she followed, Slade’s voice dropped lower, more contemplative. “From what I’ve heard, Oliver barely knows you. Yet, he turned to you for help-and you actually came.”

Kara shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. “I was his last resort,” she said, feigning indifference. “And I was bored. Thought some fighting might be a nice distraction.” Her tone was light, trying to keep him guessing.

But Slade didn't buy into it or play along. He studied her with an unsettling calmness, as though everything she said, every attempt to deflect, only made her more intriguing. “He trusts you,” he said, his voice suddenly serious.

Kara paused, arms crossing as she stared him down, feeling the shift in the air. If he was serious, she’d meet him there. “Well, I trust him too,” she replied. After a pause, she continued, her voice sharpening, “You didn’t answer my question, though. You and Oliver have a lot of history, I could gather that much. But what happened that made him trust you over Harkness-even after you killed his mother?”

Slade’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, something flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t just anger or frustration—it was deeper. There was a weight to the way he stiffened, like the question had struck something raw. His expression shifted for a brief moment, something close to regret flashing before he masked it again.

“Trust is complicated,” he murmured, eyes darkening as he let the words sink in. “We were stranded here together for years. We swore we'd get out. Together. As brothers.”

Kara frowned. Brothers. It hardly seemed like it now, but it explained a lot. Her gaze flicked back to the others, noting Felicity frowning as she muttered something to Curtis. 

“What changed?” Kara asked, her voice quiet.

Slade's jaw tightened and he didn’t immediately respond. When finally he did, his voice carried the weight of the years that had passed, the regrets that had festered. “A woman we both cared about died. I blamed him for her death. We nearly killed each other over it.”

Slade looked away, as if lost in the memories. "It didn't help that I had mirakuru in my system. It fueled my rage, and it was like I had tunnel vision. All I could think about, all I could see, was that my brother in all but blood had killed the woman I loved to save someone else. I wanted to burn Star City to the ground and Oliver with it."

Kara didn’t break eye contact. “And then you killed his mother.”

"And then I killed his mother," Slade said quietly, his voice thick. His expression hardened. 

And now Kara could see it, clear as day—etched deep into the hard lines of his face, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled just slightly, as if resisting the urge to clench.

Regret. Grief. Anger, at himself, at what he did. 

Kara hesitated, considering her next words carefully before she took a deep breath. He had the grace to give her honesty. She could return the favor. "Fighting family... It's the hardest thing in the world."

Slade scoffed slightly, still stinging from the flood of memories and regret that this conversation was dredging up. "Speaking from experience, little one?"

Kara’s gaze hardened. “My first real adversary was my aunt, Astra.” Her voice carried a bitter edge, the weight of old wounds pressing against each word. “She was imprisoned long ago-by my mother and her twin sister.”

Slade raised his eyebrows.

“The prison she was held in crashed to Earth, along with all its prisoners. Astra saw this planet as one that needed saving, but her methods-” Kara exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “They were dangerous. Costly. I had no choice but to stand in her way. She hurt me, threatened my family, my friends-the entire world. And yet…” Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly. “When I needed help, she came. No hesitation.”

The words felt heavier than she expected, lodging deep in her chest. She looked away for a moment, collecting herself.

Slade listened intently, his expression unreadable.

Kara’s fingers curled slightly at her sides as she continued. “Hours later, my adoptive sister, Alex, drove a sword through her chest.”

Slade’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “What did you do?”

Kara closed her eyes, fighting back the flashes of Astra's dead body, of the funeral, and of the hurricane of mixed feelings and 'what ifs' that came along with it. "I did what I had to do. I buried her, I moved on... I told Alex that I forgave her." A soft sigh slipped out. “But Rao… sometimes, I don’t know if I really did. Not completely.”

The admission tasted sour on her tongue, and guilt curled in her chest almost instantly. Alex had been justified—Astra was dangerous, unpredictable. Kara knew her sister had acted out of fear, out of love. But Astra had been her last tie to Krypton, to the family and culture she lost. And Alex had taken that away.

She hated herself for resenting her, even a little. Hated that some part of her still wished things had gone differently. But grief, love, and loss were never simple—and some wounds never fully healed.

Slade studied her, his lone eye searching her face. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with quiet understanding, he murmured, “Family’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” Kara agreed, her voice low. “Sometimes, the people you care about most are the ones who hurt you the most.”

They stood there for a moment, the shared weight of their pasts connecting them in a way neither had expected. Then, Kara cleared her throat, pulling herself back into the present.

“Look,” she said, her voice hardening again, “I don’t trust you, Slade. And neither does everyone else here."

Slade nodded, unsurprised.

“But you're here now,” she continued. “And I hope I'm right in believing you want to make up for it.”

Slade studied her for a moment before answering, his gaze flickering with something like regret. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Killed people I shouldn’t have. Done things that...” He trailed off, as if he could never truly put all of it into words. “But you don’t get redemption by avoiding the hard stuff, or pretending the past didn’t happen. I’m here because Oliver needs my help. I owe him that, at the very least.”

Kara’s expression remained scrutinizing, but her eyes softened with a trace of understanding. “It isn't easy-having to try and make things right,” she said quietly. “But it’s a hell of a lot harder when you’re trying to make up for things that can’t be undone."

She paused, her eyes narrowing as the tension in the air thickened. The birds’ distant calls faded, and the rustling leaves became nothing but a distant hum. Kara’s gaze turned cold, deliberate, as she stepped closer to Slade, her voice like steel wrapped in calm.

"Oliver, Felicity and the others… They’re my priority. I don’t care about your past-what I care about is that you prove to him, and to me, that the person standing here is someone who can be trusted. Because if you betray Oliver? If you hurt him again?"

Slade’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t speak.

Kara’s words sliced through the air like a blade, each syllable slow and calculated. "You won’t get another chance." Her voice was steady, but there was a chilling finality in it that made even the forest seem to hold its breath.

She leaned in, a touch closer, her eyes never leaving his. "You prove yourself," she said, almost as if testing his resolve. "And I’ll trust you. But if you even think about crossing Oliver again-"

Slade’s lip curled, his eyes never leaving her face.

Kara’s smile was colder than the breeze that swept through the trees. "I’ll be the first one to take you down."

There was an icy calm in her voice now, a biting confidence that took the sharp edge of her threat and turned it into something far more lethal. “And believe me-” She leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with an unsettling certainty, “-I won’t need to lift a finger to break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure you regret it."

Slade blinked once, the faintest flash of something in his eyes—respect, or maybe amusement. His voice was almost a whisper, laced with dark humor. “A dire threat,” he murmured, as if testing the weight of her words. “Understood.”

His eyes held hers for a long moment—long enough for her to see the rawness in them, the regret, the ghosts of a man who had lost everything and was trying to piece himself back together. 

Then, for the first time in the entirety of their long chat, Kara smiled freely, and genuinely. "Good."

Slade smiled back.

“Oliver, what the fuck are you doing?”

Thea’s voice cut through the tense night air, sharp as steel. The moment they were alone, her fury ignited, burning away any pretense of restraint. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she glared at her brother.

Oliver turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Slade Wilson and Malcolm Merlyn?” she snapped, throwing her arms wide in frustration, her breath coming fast and uneven. “Are you serious?”

Oliver sighed, already bracing himself. “Thea-”

“No!” She jabbed a finger toward the direction they had just come from, her chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. “We are orphans because of those two! Do you get that? Mom is dead because of Slade. Dad-our entire lives-were destroyed because of Malcolm. And now you want their help?”

"Because they've helped plenty already." Her voice cracked, but she refused to let it falter. Anger was safer than fear. Anger kept her upright when the weight of it all threatened to crush her.

Oliver ran a hand down his face, exhaustion creeping into his features. “You know what I’m up against here.”

“So why are you sending Curtis and I away?” she shot back, her eyes burning. 

Oliver exhaled, his voice quieter but no less firm. “Because I need the two of you to keep Felicity and Samantha safe. We need to get them off the island.”

Thea’s jaw locked, her arms crossing so tightly over her chest it almost hurt. She wasn’t stupid—she could hear the worry in his voice, the fear buried beneath his calm exterior. He was trying to protect them. Again.

“Okay, but Curtis can handle it,” she argued. “Or send Kara with them. They wouldn’t be safer with anyone else.”

“I’ll be sending Kara with Malcolm anyway,” Oliver admitted.

Thea recoiled slightly, a fresh wave of disgust tightening her throat.

“The less Chase knows about her, the bigger the trick up our sleeve,” he explained quickly. He softened, his voice dipping into something more careful. “Look, Thea, I can understand if you don’t want to go with Malcolm-”

“Damn right, I don’t!” she snapped, her voice rising, raw with emotion.

Oliver nodded, his eyes steady on hers, understanding her rage, her fear, all of it. “I do not want to rely on Slade Wilson,” he admitted, the bitterness in his tone mirroring her own. “None of this is ideal. But when I called for help and Barry and Sara couldn’t come, I had to turn to Kara. With her, we have a chance. But if this isn’t played right, Thea…”

He let the words hang, the unspoken danger lingering between them.

Thea swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her hands still shook, but the rage in her chest had dulled to something heavier, something closer to reluctant acceptance.

She hated this. Hated that Oliver was right. Hated that the only way to survive meant working alongside the very people who had shattered their lives.

Oliver stepped closer, his voice gentler now. “I need your help, Speedy,” he said. “And this is how you help me.”

The fight in her wasn’t gone, but it was quieter now. Thea let out a slow, shuddering breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of it all.

“…Okay,” she muttered, frustration still lacing her voice, but the resistance fading.

"Okay." Oliver gave a small nod, knowing the battle she just fought within herself. Without another word, he turned, and Thea followed, understanding that, for better or for worse, they needed all hands on deck.

Chapter Text

Nyssa stood in the clearing, sharp eyes sweeping the ground. “My sister and Harkness fled into the forest,” she reported, her tone clipped. "But I can track them."

Chapter Text

“Don’t move.”

Malcolm’s voice was steady, but his eyes were locked on the rusted metal beneath Thea’s trembling foot. He crouched down, studying the landmine with the focus of a man who had survived too many close calls. Above them, the dense canopy cast fractured beams of light over the group, doing nothing to cut through the suffocating tension.

Thea stood rigid, her breath shallow, her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Malcolm traced the corroded metal edges with his gaze, lips pressing into a thin line. “The trigger’s rusted over.”

Her head snapped down. “That... that’s good, right?” Hope flickered in her wide eyes, desperate and fragile. “That’s a good sign?”

Malcolm straightened. “Thea, on the count of three, take your foot off the mine.” His tone was even, leaving no room for argument.

“No.” Felicity’s head whipped toward him, eyes wide. “That will blow us all up.”

“I’m going to take her place.” Malcolm’s voice was final.

“That’s crazy!” Samantha gasped, staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Yeah, you’re not the first one to call him that,” Felicity muttered, her dry tone laced with a sharp edge of concern.

Curtis had already started scanning the forest. “I’ll find a boulder or something-”

“No, we don’t have that kind of time!” Malcolm snapped. The frustration barely masked the urgency curling around his words. He turned to Thea, his voice softening. “Thea.”

“No.” She shook her head, planting herself even more firmly. Fear burned away, leaving only defiance. “Okay, no one is doing this, okay?”

Kara stepped forward cautiously. “Thea-”

“Okay, okay, it’s all right.” Malcolm exhaled, raising his hands in mock surrender. A wry smile tugged at his lips. “I forgot how stubborn you could be.”

The moment lasted less than a second.

Then the smile vanished.

He lunged.

Thea barely had time to gasp before the world tilted. A blur of movement—Kara moved, faster than thought, catching Thea just as Malcolm’s weight shifted onto the mine.

Thea’s breath slammed back into her lungs, her heart hammering against her ribs as reality crashed down. No. No. No.

“Oh my God!” Felicity’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a whip.

Malcolm steadied himself, his balance perfect, his face unreadable. Then, he looked at Thea, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. “Thank you for reminding me,” he said softly.

“What the hell are you doing?” Thea’s voice wavered, panic making her limbs tremble.

“I’m going to take care of this.” His tone was almost casual. “I’ll disarm the mine, and I’ll catch up with you.”

“Yeah, and how are you gonna do that with one foot planted on the-?” Felicity started, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Because he’s not going to,” Kara interrupted, her voice low, edged with finality.

Silence.

Felicity stared at Malcolm, her expression caught between horror and something like reluctant admiration.

Thea took a step forward, her voice cracking. “No. Okay, if you think that you need to prove something to me, you don’t, okay? You proved it!”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Malcolm murmured. Uncharacteristically gentle. “From the moment you were born, all I ever wanted was to protect you.”

“You don’t have to.” Thea’s breath hitched, anger and fear bleeding together. “I didn’t ask for you to!”

His gaze didn’t waver. “A child doesn’t have to ask.”

Her stomach twisted. “Don’t do this, okay?”

God, she hated him—she hated him—but not like this. Not like this.

Malcolm’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, the ruthless strategist disappeared, leaving something raw and real behind. “You may not think of me as your father, Thea, but you’ll always be my daughter.”

Then—

Kara’s head snapped up. “Watch out!”

Malcolm ducked just as a metallic whizz sliced through the air.

A boomerang embedded itself into the tree behind Samantha, vibrating from the force of the impact.

“All right, go!” Malcolm barked. “Quick, get out of here. All of you, go!”

“This is insane!” Thea’s voice cracked, as Kara and Curtis yanked her away.

“Go!” Malcolm roared.

His voice was final. Because he knew—they all knew—what was coming.

At the crest of the hill, Harkness and a squad of Talia’s students stepped into view.

Kara ran just behind the others, her boots striking the uneven forest floor with precise force. Her head snapped back every few strides, scanning for movement, listening for Harkness and the others.

The others were almost safe. That was good.

Because now?

Now she could do her job.

She skidded to a stop. “Keep going,” she ordered, her voice firm, unyielding.

Thea spun, confusion mingling with the panic in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“We need to leave!” Curtis panted, a hand pressing against a stitch at his side.

Kara stepped backward, toward the fight, her resolve solid as steel. “Oliver told me to keep you safe. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“No, Kara!” Samantha’s voice was hoarse, pleading. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

A grin tugged at Kara’s lips. Steady. Warm. Unshaken. “Trust me, I won’t.”

Then, with a blur of blue and red, she was gone.

Samantha turned to Felicity in horror, but Felicity—

Felicity was grinning.

“Felicity-what-?” Samantha sputtered.

Felicity smirked, a flicker of something almost like relief breaking through the anxiety that had been thrumming beneath her skin since she set foot on this godforsaken island. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, crossing her arms as that small, desperate hope took root.

“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice steadier now. “Kara’s got this.”

Malcolm halted mid-step, eyes narrowing as Kara appeared, sprinting toward him. His grip tightened on his weapon. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he barked, his voice sharp with disbelief.

“Saving your ass,” Kara replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. There was the barest hint of a smirk on her lips.

Malcolm exhaled sharply, jaw clenching. “This isn’t your fight.”

Kara met his glare without hesitation. “You won’t survive this without me,” she said, tone firm but not unkind. “Oliver trusts me, and like it or not, you’re going to have to do the same.” She stepped closer, voice lowering. “Do what you need to do. I’ll handle the rest.”

Malcolm’s lips pressed into a thin line. A beat passed, then another. Finally, he gave a stiff nod.

A crunch of boots on dirt snapped his attention away. Harkness emerged from the darkness, his approach slow and measured, like a predator closing in. His eyes flicked between Malcolm and Kara, an amused sneer curling on his lips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Malcolm warned, his voice deceptively casual.

Harkness chuckled, tilting his head. “Bold words from someone standing on a mine. And hey, now you’ve got company.” His gaze slid to Kara, amusement deepening. “What kind of ass-backwards strategy is this?”

Kara shifted her stance slightly, weight balanced, muscles coiled—ready. Malcolm caught the movement from the corner of his eye. "Malcolm, now!"

His throat worked as he swallowed. Fuck it.

Then, in one fluid motion, Malcolm stepped off the mine.

The blast ripped through the night, a thunderous roar shaking the earth beneath them. Flames shot into the sky, swallowing the darkness in a fiery glow.

Samantha stumbled a little, nearly collapsing before Curtis grabbed her arm and yanked her upright. “We have to keep moving!” he urged.

Thea was frozen, eyes locked on the fireball blooming in the distance, her breath coming too fast, too shallow. The shock settled in like ice in her veins—because for all of Malcolm’s ruthlessness, for all of his manipulation and the tangled mess of what they were, he had just to—

Curtis’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Kara!”

Thea followed his gaze skyward. Through the rising smoke, a streak of blue and black shot through the night, moving fast—too fast. A shape emerged, descending toward them.

Kara landed elegantly, her cape rippling behind her, setting Malcolm down on solid ground. He staggered slightly, breath ragged but otherwise intact.

“Holy shit,” Felicity whispered, her eyes wide with something between disbelief and relief.

“What just happened?” Samantha breathed out, still breathless and still confused as hell.

Malcolm barely had time to answer before Thea stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her entire body vibrating with emotion. “Are you kidding me?”

Before Malcolm could react, she shoved him—hard. Not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to make a point.

Her chest heaved, her breath coming sharp and uneven. The fury in her eyes was undeniable, but beneath it—woven into every flicker of movement, every sharp breath—was something knotted and raw. Confusion. Frustration. Something dangerously close to gratitude, and God, she hated that. Hated that this meant she owed him in some way. Hated that after everything, after all the destruction, all the pain—he still had the audacity to do something like this. To almost die for her.

“You absolute, fucking-” The words caught in her throat, tangled in the mess of emotion she couldn’t quite name. And then—before she could stop herself—she grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce, almost desperate hug. "Idiot!"

Malcolm stiffened, startled, but the tension in his body wasn’t from the impact. It was from relief.

He’d stepped on that landmine expecting to die. He’d been ready. Ready to breathe his last breath, ready to give up his life for hers—it was the least he could do. But instead, he was standing here. Alive. With her. His mind struggled to catch up to that reality—to the fact that he had another shot. Another chance. He knew Thea was furious, knew what he’d done was unfair, knew exactly how complicated he had just made things for her.

But right now? He was just too damn relieved to care.

Thea didn’t linger long. She pulled back as abruptly as she had embraced him, her hands shaking at her sides, like even touching him too long might make this moment real.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, voice rough. “You-you don’t get to play the self-sacrificing hero. Not-not after everything that you-”

Malcolm exhaled sharply, watching her, but whatever he wanted to say, he left unsaid.

Instead, he simply murmured, “I did my duty, as a father.”

Thea let out a breath—half a scoff, half a sound too close to a laugh. "I can't believe-" She shook her head, something dark flashing across her expression. "God-don't you ever do that again.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Malcolm’s face. “No more landmines,” he agreed.

Kara dusted off her hands, glancing down at her pristine suit. “You know, Malcolm? Before you pulled that stunt, I was just gonna take Thea's place.” She ran a hand over a stray lock, lips quirking. “And as you can see-blast did nothing to me.”

Felicity let out something between a laugh and a relieved exhale. “And just like that, the big secret’s out.” She gestured vaguely at Kara. 

Samantha eyed her, frowning. “You’re... not from around here, then?”

Kara hesitated for half a second before giving a small nod. “No. No, I'm not.”

Samantha took a slow breath, absorbing that. A few days ago, hell, even a few hours ago, she might’ve balked—might’ve struggled to wrap her head around one more impossible thing. But after everything—the abduction, the island, the madman who had stolen her son—her threshold for crazy had been obliterated.

And now here was Kara, standing in front of her, completely unscathed by a land mine.

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly, not in disbelief, but in something closer to reluctant acceptance.

Well. Of course she wasn’t from around here.

But there was something else. A flicker of understanding, of something almost like hope. She thought back to the way Felicity had grinned when Kara took off—how sure she had been.

And now, looking at Kara—untouched, impossible—Samantha got it.

After a moment, she raised her eyebrows. “Well, that explains a lot.” She gestured at the still-smoking remnants of the explosion. “No human walks away from that looking like they just left a salon.”

Kara grinned. “Perks of the job.”

Nyssa halted at the crest of the hill, her keen eyes scanning the rugged terrain below. Her breath was steady, her posture rigid with purpose. Without looking back, she lifted a hand and pointed ahead. “The trail continues this way.”

Oliver reached her side a moment later, his steps faltering as his gaze landed on the twisted wreckage of an aircraft. Its charred remains were half-swallowed by the jungle, skeletal and broken, yet still heavy with memory.

His throat tightened.

Slade, bringing up the rear, stopped beside him. His eyes flicked over the wreckage, his expression unreadable. “This place brings back memories,” he said, the words edged with something broken, something hollow.

Oliver exhaled softly. “Feels like a lifetime ago.” His voice was quiet, subdued—memories clawing at the back of his mind, unrelenting.

Slade turned his head, his gaze softening for just a moment, as if acknowledging a shared grief. “For Shado, it was.”

The name hit Oliver like a punch to the gut, even though Slade’s tone was more solemn than accusatory. The guilt surged to the surface anyway, tightening around Oliver’s chest. His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He forced himself to breathe, to push it down—deep enough that it wouldn't shatter him right here, right now.

Nyssa’s voice cut through the moment, a saving grace. “No time for nostalgia.” Brisk. Unyielding. She pulled a pair of binoculars from her belt and thrust them into Oliver’s hands. “I know where they’re going.”

Oliver took them without a word, pressing them to his eyes. Through the dense canopy of trees, he saw it—a monastery, its spires clawing at the sky like ominous fingers.

Shadows stretched long and jagged along the ancient stone walls, the flickering glow of torches casting restless patterns in the dim corridors. The air was thick with silence, the kind that pressed against the skin, that whispered of unseen eyes and hidden threats.

Nyssa barely spared a glance back as she spoke, her quiet voice all business. “Do either of you know anything about this place that could give us a tactical advantage?”

Oliver shook his head. “I’ve only seen it once. And that was from a distance.”

From behind them, Slade crossed his arms. “Well, maybe we should split up.”

Nyssa turned her head, leveling him with a quick, sharp, assessing look. She didn’t trust him. Not for a second.

She turned to Oliver instead. “Should we?”

Oliver hesitated, the question hanging heavy between them. Then he nodded. “Yeah, go on, Nyssa. We’ll be fine.”

She studied him for a beat, then gave a curt nod. Trusting him to know what he was doing, she disappeared down the corridor, her movements swift and soundless.

The moment she was gone, Slade chuckled. Low. Amused.

“She doesn’t trust me.”

Oliver turned around and shot him a dry look. “Can you blame her?”

Slade’s grin widened, his expression unreadable—but something lurked behind his eyes, something dark, something inevitable. “No,” he said, too casual, too laid back.

And then he moved.

The punch came without warning. A sharp, brutal right hook.

Oliver barely registered it before pain exploded across his skull. The force sent him crumpling to the ground, the world tilting as darkness swallowed him whole.

Slade exhaled, flexing his fingers as he straightened.

The sound of fast approaching footsteps echoed down the hall. He turned just as Black Siren emerged from the shadows, her sharp gaze raking over him. She slowed down as she spotted Oliver’s unconscious form. She arched a brow, intrigue flickering across her face as several of Talia’s students flanked her.

Slade smirked, wiping his knuckles against his sleeve. His voice was smooth, certain. “Tell Mr. Chase I have a gift for him.”

Black Siren’s lips curved into a grin. Her eyes gleamed as she looked down at Oliver.

John stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides, the flickering torchlight casting harsh shadows over his face. The disbelief in his eyes was palpable as Oliver was shoved roughly into the room by Talia’s students. “Oliver!” John’s voice cracked with relief, though his eyes were burning with anger and a fierce undercurrent of worry. He wanted to rush forward, to pull his friend into an embrace, but the tension in the air kept him frozen.

Black Siren strolled in after them, her movements languid, her smirk smug, as if the whole scene amused her. “Don’t blame me,” she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Mr. Wilson’s the one who gets credit for this trophy.”

John’s fury boiled over. “Slade, you son of a bitch,” he growled, the words barely contained by the rage that gnawed at him.

Oliver's glare was icy as he locked eyes with Slade, his jaw tight. “I never should have trusted you,” he bit out.

Slade, ever the picture of indifference, gave a nonchalant nod, unfazed by the accusation, before following Black Siren out of the room. 

Quentin’s gaze lingered on Black Siren as she exited, the flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression. He quickly turned back to Oliver, the concern that had been building in his eyes softening his voice. “Are you all right?” he asked, his hand almost twitching toward Oliver as though he wanted to offer some comfort, but unsure how to approach.

Oliver barely acknowledged him, his focus razor-sharp, as if the only thing that mattered was the next question on his mind. “Where’s my son?”

John’s face paled at the question. “William?” he hissed. “Chase took him, too?”

John’s stomach churned at the thought. Chase was pushing Oliver past the breaking point, and John didn’t know how his friend was still standing. His entire world was being torn apart, and yet Oliver held it together, all tense lines and clenched teeth, a man on the edge but not giving in.

Dinah stepped closer, shaking her head sharply, frustration and helplessness flashing across her face. “We didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Quentin frowned, his eyes narrowing. Then, his voice turned cautious, as if he didn’t want to give any hope where there was none. “What makes you think he’s here?”

Oliver’s voice was tight with urgency, every word clipped and hard. “He took Samantha. Showed me a video of William.”

John’s eyes flickered shut for a brief moment as the revelation hit. Chase wasn’t playing games anymore—he was carving deep into Oliver’s soul. And John felt the fury on his behalf, the sharp burn of helplessness. This wasn’t just a fight—it was psychological warfare. It was deliberate. It was cruel.

Oliver’s voice raised, the frustration creeping into his tone. “He is on this island somewhere,” he continued, the urgency in his words intensifying. “And we need to find him!”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Oliver stood rigid, his entire body coiled with fury. His glare burned into Chase, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. The only thing stopping him from launching forward and tearing the bastard apart was the single thought anchoring him—William.

Black Siren and Dinah clashed in the narrow hallway, fists and kicks landing in a brutal rhythm. Every strike echoed, their battle a vicious dance of raw power and precision. Dinah, breath ragged but unyielding, caught an opening—she drove Black Siren to the floor with a forceful throw. The impact rattled the walls as she unleashed a piercing scream, sonic waves rippling through the air.

Chapter Text

Kara had never been more grateful for her x-ray vision. As she shot out of the monastery, the cool island air rushing past her, her sharp gaze locked onto Adrian Chase, sprinting through the dense foliage. He was heading exactly where Black Siren had said. A grim, determined frown tugged at her lips—she had her lead.

Adjusting her trajectory, Kara soared above him, her cape snapping in the wind. She kept high enough to avoid detection, watching as he weaved through the trees. Then, the moment she cleared the trees, she pushed herself faster, the world blurring beneath her.

The boat came into view against the dark water, bobbing gently at the dock. Kara didn’t hesitate. She descended in a swift, controlled dive, landing on the deck with barely a sound. Immediately, she scanned the vessel.

There.

Below deck, curled up against the wall, was a boy. William. His knees were drawn to his chest, his fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. He was breathing fast—too fast. His whole body was tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. But he looked unharmed. No bruises, no blood.

Relief flooded Kara, but it was chased by something sharper, hotter—rage, fury. 

He was just a kid. Rao, he was just a kid. How dare Chase, how fucking dare he—

Kara swallowed it down. Later. She’d deal with Chase, later. Right now, she had to get William out.

She moved quickly, finding the door near the wheel and slipping inside. The cabin was dim, the faint hum of the boat the only sound. She stepped forward cautiously, keeping her voice low and steady.

“William?”

He flinched, his head snapping up. Wide, scared eyes locked onto her, his whole body going rigid.

Kara immediately raised her hands, palms out, staying where she was. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said gently. “I’m not here to hurt you. I'm unarmed.”

William didn’t relax. His breath was still shallow, his fingers white-knuckled where they gripped the edge of the bench. His eyes darted past her, toward the door, like he was already bracing to run.

Kara’s heart clenched. He wasn’t just scared—he was terrified. His mind was probably spinning, trying to figure out if this was real, if he could trust her, if she was just another person who’d grab him and use him as leverage.

“I’m here to get you out of here, honey,” she said, her voice calm but unwavering. “To get you back to your mom.”

His breath hitched.

“She’s okay?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, like he was afraid saying it too loud would make it untrue.

“She’s safe,” Kara confirmed. “And your f—” She hesitated for the briefest second before correcting herself. “—Oliver's on his way too.”

William’s eyes flickered with something—uncertainty, confusion. He still didn’t know Oliver was his father. But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was getting him out of here.

He was still staring at her, his chest rising and falling too fast. He wanted to believe her. She could see it. But he was caught in that awful place between fear and hope, unsure which one would win.

Kara took a slow step closer. “I know this is a lot,” she said gently. “I promise, I’m not with Adrian Chase. I'll get you out of here. But I need you to trust me.”

William swallowed hard, searching her face. His whole body was trembling—not from cold, but from adrenaline and sheer exhaustion. He looked like he was barely keeping it together.

“But who are you?” he asked, his voice rough.

A small smile touched Kara’s lips. “Someone Chase is really gonna regret messing with,” she said, the slightest steel under her words.

William exhaled shakily. He still looked uncertain, but there was something else there now—a flicker of belief.

Kara reached out her hand. Not too fast, not pushing. Just offering.

For a second, he hesitated. Then, his fingers twitched, and he slowly reached for her.

Before he could take it, the boat lurched, the sudden movement sending both of them off balance. William yelped, stumbling back, and Kara barely caught herself against the wall.

She heard it then—footsteps pounding toward the dock. Chase. And Oliver wasn’t far behind.

Kara moved fast, shutting the cabin door before Chase could spot her.

William was breathing hard again, his arms wrapped around himself, his whole body tense. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were glassy, his face pale. He was holding it in, pushing everything down, but Kara could see it—how close he was to breaking.

Without thinking, she crouched slightly, opening her arms. “Come here,” she said, low and steady.

William hesitated—just for a second. Then, before Kara could say anything else, he moved, stepping into her space with a sharp, shaky breath.

Kara wrapped her arms around him, careful, so careful, like she was holding something fragile. And maybe she was. William wasn’t made of glass, but after everything he’d been through, it felt it.

She felt him tense at first, his whole body stiff—like he didn’t know if he should accept it. But then, slowly, he melted into the embrace, his fingers gripping onto her suit like he needed something solid to hold onto.

Kara swallowed hard.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

William didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go either. Suddenly, they heard voices from outside. Oliver shouting. Chase laughing. William stiffened.

She gently pulled back, keeping her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. “Honey, it's okay. We have to be quiet for now,” she told him softly. “Then we’ll get out of here. I promise.”

William nodded. His breath was still uneven, his eyes still too wide, but there was trust there now.

And Kara would not break that trust, she refused to let him down.

Chapter Text

The gunshot shattered the uneasy quiet.

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat as she jerked to a stop. “Was that—was that a gunshot?”

John’s face was grim, his fingers twitching toward his gun out of instinct. “It couldn't have been anything else.”

Nyssa’s gaze swept the horizon, sharp and calculating. “Oliver didn’t have a firearm.”

Thea’s stomach twisted. “Kara wouldn’t need one,” she muttered.

Quentin exhaled shakily. “Chase.”

“Wait—then why aren’t we blowing up?” Felicity demanded, her voice rising in panic. She spun on her heel, scanning the jungle around them like the trees might suddenly explode. “Not that I want to blow up, but—”

Slade tilted his head slightly, listening. The jungle had fallen into a thick, unnatural silence, like even the wildlife was waiting. He narrowed his eyes toward the distant shoreline. “If Chase triggered the explosives, we’d know,” he murmured.

Malcolm started to respond, but Slade’s hand shot up in a silent command for silence. The group tensed.

Then—a blur of movement.

A strangled cry ripped through the air as something dark and fast tore past Black Siren. She gasped, stumbling back, her hands snapping up defensively. “What the fuck was that?”

Nyssa's hand immediately went to the hilt of her sword.

Kara landed with a force that sent a tremor through the ground. Her cape billowed behind her like a war banner, her eyes dark with fury. Her hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

Adrian Chase hit the dirt at her feet, his body limp but still breathing. He groaned weakly, curling inward, only for Kara to deliver a kick to his ribs. The impact sent him skidding across the clearing, a ragged gasp wrenched from his throat.

“Get up.” Her voice was low, but the fury in it sent chills crawling down Thea’s spine.

Chase let out a shaky laugh, spitting blood into the dirt. “Wow,” he wheezed, his words slurred with pain. “Didn’t—think you had it in you.”

Kara didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes burned red, and a narrow blast of heat vision seared into his uninjured leg. His scream cut through the night like a blade.

“That,” she said coldly, “was for Oliver.”

Samantha flinched violently. Felicity swallowed hard, watching in stunned silence. Quentin swore under his breath. Even Slade seemed momentarily still, observing with a rare hint of wariness.

Kara took another step forward, towering over Chase’s trembling form. Her hands flexed at her sides, barely restrained.

Every muscle in her body screamed to finish this.

She could end him. Right here. Right now. A single punch with just a fraction more force would break him in ways he wouldn’t recover from. Another blast of heat vision, just a little hotter, and he’d be nothing but ashes and a memory.

Her jaw clenched. She dropped into a crouch beside him, her fingers curling around his non-broken wrist. He let out a pained noise as she tightened her grip—not enough to snap the bones, but enough. Enough for him to feel it.

“You took his friends,” she said quietly. Her voice didn’t rise, didn’t crack, but it vibrated with barely contained rage. “You kidnapped his son.”

Her fingers pressed down harder. Chase let out a choked, strangled sound. His entire body trembled.

“I should kill you right now.”

The words came so easily, and Rao, did she mean them.

For a split second, she imagined it—letting go, just this once.

But that wasn’t who she was.

With a sharp inhale, she released him, standing to her full height. Then, without a word, she drove a final, controlled punch into Chase’s jaw. He collapsed, unconscious.

Silence.

Kara exhaled shakily, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Calm the fuck down. You didn’t kill him. You didn’t kill him.

When she opened them again, the rage was still there—smoldering, but contained.

“Oliver’s bringing the boat,” she said, her voice steadier. “William’s with him.”

Slade nodded, assessing her carefully. “You alright, little one?”

Kara flexed her fingers, still trembling from the restraint it had taken to hold back. She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to loosen them. “Fine,” she said, though her gaze flickered to Chase’s unconscious form.

She let out a small, humorless huff. “Can’t say the same about him.”

Quentin swallowed, his throat dry. “What the hell happened back there?”

Chapter Text

Lyla arrived with the ARGUS agents a couple of hours later, bringing fresh supplies for the group. Though she maintained her usual professional demeanor, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. Her sharp gaze swept over the group, narrowing when she spotted Chase and Talia in custody. But when her eyes landed on Slade—noticeably not in a cell—and Black Siren standing freely among them, her entire body tensed, her protective instincts flaring.

She turned to John, her voice sharp as a blade. “You let him out? And her?” She gestured at Black Siren with an incredulous glare. “Are you fucking joking?”

John sighed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “Lyla, I promise, they’re both fine. Slade and Black Siren played crucial roles in getting Oliver’s family and friends to safety. Just hear them out. Please.”

Lyla’s expression hardened, her gaze flicking between John, Oliver, and Kara, searching for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she let out a slow breath, barely biting back a curse. “Fine,” she muttered. “Lance, she’s your responsibility.” She jabbed a finger toward Black Siren. “If she so much as breathes wrong, you handle it.”

Quentin gave a stiff nod. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Lyla turned her glare on Slade next. “And as for you, if you move an inch out of line, you’ll be back on Lian Yu before you can blink.”

Slade’s lips curled into a dry smirk. “You’d be surprised how many people have threatened me with that today.” He gave a casual nod toward Kara. “She’s got dibs, though.”

Kara just ducked her head to hide a smile.

Thea, however, wasn’t about to let that slide. She glanced between Slade and Kara. “You threatened Slade Wilson and lived to tell the tale?” She let out a low whistle, before turning to Oliver with an impish grin. “Marry her.”

Kara’s head snapped up, her eyebrows raised. “Shut up, Thea,” she groaned.

Oliver hastily cleared his throat. “Okay, moving on.” His tone was firm—too firm—and it only made Malcolm and Slade snicker.

Thea wiggled her brows at Kara, who pointedly ignored her.

Oliver exhaled, shaking his head. “Let’s just get back to Star City before some other psychopath decides to cause a problem.”

“I’ll just head back to my Earth then,” Kara said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“No,” Oliver said immediately, cutting her off before she could even think about flying off.

Kara blinked at him in surprise. “Pardon?”

Oliver looked at her, his expression softening. “I owe you,” he said simply. “If it weren’t for you, almost everyone here would be dead.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, “The least I can do is buy you a drink.”

She sighed, glancing down at her suit. “Fine,” she muttered. “One drink. Even though I can’t get drunk.”

There was a beat of silence before nearly the entire team erupted into overlapping voices of shock.

“The hell do you mean you can’t get drunk?”

“That is like the saddest thing I've ever heard.”

“How do you live like that?”

Kara groaned, running a hand down her face. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Rene shook his head in disappointment. “Goldilocks, that might actually be your biggest weakness.”

Kara threw up her hands. “Forget it. I’m going home.”

Oliver smirked. “Nope. A deal’s a deal.”

Kara huffed, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

With that, they all made their way toward the departing ARGUS transport, heading back to Star City—finally, finally leaving Lian Yu behind.

“Hey, Felicity.” Kara’s voice cut through the hum of the bustling ship as everyone boarded for the journey back to Star City.

Felicity turned, her face lighting up as she spotted Kara weaving through the crowd. “Kara!” She flashed a wide grin. “Man, kicking Chase's ass must have been satisfying. Wish I had super strength.”

Kara smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Hell yeah, it was.” But then, as quickly as the fire had sparked, it faded. Something weighed on her, dimming the brightness in her expression. She bit her lip, shifting her weight uneasily.

Felicity’s smile faltered. “What is it?”

Kara glanced around the deck, making sure no one else could hear. She motioned for Felicity to follow her and led her toward a quieter corner, away from the others. She hesitated for a beat before exhaling sharply, her shoulders tensing.

“I—I wanted to apologize,” she said, her voice quieter now. “For what I said earlier, back there with Samantha. About you and Oliver…”

Felicity blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. There was a moment of silence before realization dawned in her eyes. She tilted her head, studying Kara’s face, before a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “Oh.”

Kara winced. “I didn’t mean to overstep. It—it wasn’t my place.”

Felicity let out a small laugh, though there was no malice in it. “You don't have to apologize. It’s okay, Kara.”

“Really?” Kara still looked uncertain.

“Really.” Felicity’s hand landed gently on Kara’s shoulder. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn't exactly overjoyed at the time.” Kara huffed out a sheepish laugh. “But you weren’t wrong, were you?” Felicity’s voice softened. “And actually… you might’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Kara’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”

Felicity glanced past her shoulder, toward where Oliver was talking to Slade and Lyla. Her expression shifted, something far-off and unreadable settling in her eyes. She exhaled, the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders.

Kara noticed the change immediately. “What… what happened with you guys?”

Felicity let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “What didn’t?” She rubbed at the back of her neck, letting out a slow breath. “The whole illegal vigilante thing, then the mayor thing, then the secret son thing—and then me getting paralyzed and—”

Kara’s breath hitched. “What?”

Felicity met her gaze, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Yeah. That happened.”

“Oh God.” Kara’s eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching out like she wanted to do something—fix something—but she hesitated, fingers curling into a fist before she pulled them back. “I—I had no idea.”

Felicity shrugged, but the motion felt heavier than it should have. “Not exactly a fun fact I go around sharing.”

“I’m so sorry.” Kara’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Felicity nodded, offering a small, rueful smile. “It’s okay.” Then, after a pause, she sighed. “Well, it’s not, but… I’ve had time to deal with it. It’s just—” she broke off, struggling to find the words. “It’s been a lot, you know?”

Kara nodded.

“I don’t think either of us were ready to handle all of that,” Felicity admitted. “Not really. And now… now I’m worried it’s too late. Too much has happened. Too many secrets.”

Kara was quiet for a long moment before she finally asked, “Do you love him?”

Felicity let out a breath, her fingers tightening slightly around the railing. “Yes,” she admitted without hesitation. “I love him. I think I always will.” Her voice softened, almost wistful. “But love isn’t the question, is it? It’s never been the question.” She shook her head, a humorless chuckle escaping. “The question is—what does that even mean now? Is it even enough?”

She glanced at Kara, her expression open but conflicted. “Because if love was all it took, we wouldn’t be here, you know.”

Kara held her gaze, the weight of Felicity’s words settling between them. Then, after a moment, she admitted, “I know what you mean.”

Felicity studied her, curiosity flickering across her face. “Yeah?”

Kara’s lips pressed together briefly before she exhaled. “Yeah,” she said, her tone quieter, more introspective. “I had this friend back on my Earth. He was one of the most important people in my life. He was like my best friend, and for a while, we were more. I thought… maybe this was it. Maybe this was what it was supposed to feel like.” She hesitated, then continued, “But the thing is, we never figured out how to be us and also be together. We kept trying, but something was always… off. And eventually, we had to face the truth.”

Felicity’s gaze softened. “That you weren’t meant to be?”

Kara gave a small, sad smile. “That we were meant to love each other but just… not like that. Not together.” She sighed, the memory clearly still lingering. “It was mutual. No big falling out, no big betrayal. Just… two people who loved each other in a way that wasn’t enough to keep them together. And you know what? That’s okay. We had our time, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I’m also glad we figured out the truth before we ruined what we had at first.”

Felicity tilted her head, taking that in.

Kara hesitated before adding, “But that’s my story... Yours and Oliver’s—you won’t know what could happen until you see it through.” She gave Felicity a small but encouraging smile. “You need to talk to him. Really talk. No walls, no avoidance, no pretending things don’t hurt when they do. He deserves that much. You do too.”

Felicity swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. Because deep down, she knew Kara was right. She had spent so long holding pieces of herself back—out of fear, out of self-preservation, out of doubt. But she couldn’t keep running from it. From him. From them.

A slow smile spread across her lips, tinged with something lighter, something real. “You know what, Kara Danvers?” Felicity said, her voice warm and teasing. “You’re pretty fucking Super.”

Kara grinned, her laughter bubbling up between them. “So are you, Felicity Smoak, so are you.”

Verdant, Star City - Later That Night

The low hum of conversation filled the dimly lit bar, a quiet rhythm of clinking glasses, muted laughter, and distant music. It was the kind of place where the world outside faded for a little while—where you could pretend, just for a few hours, that you weren’t carrying the weight of impossible choices.

Kara sat across from Oliver, fingers curled around a glass of club soda while he nursed a beer. The dim overhead light caught the golden hues in her hair, reflecting off the condensation on her glass. 

Oliver raised his bottle slightly. “Cheers.” His fingers drummed idly against the glass. It was the kind of movement that belonged to a man who had spent his life in battle, who didn’t know how to be still. His voice was gruff, almost hesitant, as if the word itself felt foreign on his tongue.

Kara clinked her drink against his, offering a small, knowing smile. “Cheers.”

After a moment, Oliver exhaled, shaking his head with something like disbelief. “You were the last person I thought to call,” he admitted. He swirled the beer in his hand, watching the liquid catch the dim light. “And now that it’s over, I can’t figure out why it took me so long.”

Kara tilted her head, fingers absently tracing the condensation on her glass. “You’ve known Barry and Sara way longer,” she pointed out with an easy shrug. “It makes sense.”

Oliver huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Not just that.” He leaned back slightly, studying her. “You’re just… intimidating.”

Kara let out an amused breath. “Says the guy who once took down an entire Russian mob with just a bow and arrow.”

Oliver held up a finger, feigning offence. “I had help.”

Kara arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Fine,” he relented, rolling his eyes before taking another sip of beer. “But I’m not the one who can fly, throw people across city blocks, survive explosions, and literally shoot fire from my eyes.” He gestured vaguely at her, as if trying to list all her abilities would somehow make them less absurd. “I’d say that’s pretty damn intimidating.”

“You forgot freeze breath,” Kara teased. “But hey, I try.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows, shaking his head before his expression turned more serious. “When we first met, I told you not to hold back. And when you didn’t… I got—unnerved.”

Kara raised an eyebrow. “So, you finally admit it? Wow, that almost sounds like—what’s the word—” She tapped a finger against her chin. “Fear?”

Oliver scoffed. “Fear is a strong word.”

“Terror?” she teased.

Oliver scowled. “...No.”

“Panic?”

“No.” he said sharply.

“Alarm? Dread? Ooh, fright—?”

He rolled his eyes. “Mild… apprehension.”

Kara burst out laughing, and to his surprise, Oliver found himself chuckling along with her. It was strange—he hadn’t realized just how much he needed this.

Then, after a pause, his gaze grew distant again. “I needed someone Chase wouldn’t expect,” he admitted, his voice lower now. “Someone I knew wouldn’t turn on me, no matter what. I knew I could trust Nyssa, but we still had a... less-than-pleasant history. And Malcolm and Slade weren't the most reliable teammates either.” He exhaled, tapping his fingers against the bottle. “After everything… I think you were the right choice all along.”

Kara studied him, the weight of his words settling between them. There was something unspoken in the air—something heavier than just gratitude.

Kara exhaled slowly, watching him carefully. “Our worlds… they’re not the same. I fight aliens and metas, and people call me a hero. You take on crime lords and killers, and they call you a vigilante.” She tapped her fingers lightly against the table, thoughtful. “But today, you had every reason to kill Chase. And you didn’t.”

She met his gaze then, steady and certain. “That choice? That kind of strength? That takes more than just a vigilante, Oliver. That takes a hero.”

Oliver’s jaw tensed, like he wanted to argue, but for once, he didn’t. Instead, he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Kara ducked her head, the ghost of a blush touching her cheeks. 

There was something Oliver noticed the moment she arrived in Star City. She wasn’t the same as the last time he’d seen her—there was something quieter about her, something that lingered in the spaces between her usual smiles and chuckles. He hadn’t found the right moment to ask, not with everything else happening, but now, with the night stretched out before them, there were no more distractions.

He leaned forward slightly, studying her. “I’ve been meaning to ask… what happened in National City before you came here?”

Her fingers tensed around her glass, just for a second. Subtle, but Oliver caught it.

“Alien invasion,” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Same old, same old.”

Oliver didn’t look away. “Kara.”

She sighed, setting her drink down. “The city—and the planet—were under attack and I… I had to make a choice. And I lost someone I loved because of it.” Her voice was tight, controlled, but the pain behind it was unmistakable. 

Oliver exhaled quietly. He knew that feeling too well—the ache of uncertainty, the agony of a choice that never stops haunting you.

“His name was Mon-El,” she continued, voice softer now. “He was a Daxamite—from Krypton’s sister planet.” She hesitated, then let out a quiet huff, a half-hearted attempt at amusement. “At first, I couldn’t stand the guy. He was arrogant, entitled—a spoiled prince who had no idea how the real world worked. But then, slowly… Honestly, I don’t even know how it happened. I just—I fell in love with him.”

Oliver didn’t speak. He just listened.

“Turns out, Daxam had survived, and his people had tracked him to Earth. When he refused to go back, they were furious. His mother—Rhea—blamed me. Said I’d corrupted him, stolen him away. So she did what any warmongering, vengeful queen would do.” Kara swallowed. “She tried to take Earth away from me.”

She stared down at her drink, tracing patterns in the condensation.

“I had a choice,” she murmured. “Let them conquer Earth… or activate a device that would poison the atmosphere for all Daxamites.” She forced herself to say it. “A genocide.”

Oliver exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his beer. “And Mon-El?”

Kara’s lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. Then, in a whisper—

“He told me to do it.”

Oliver closed his eyes for half a second. Oh God.

“So I did,” Kara continued, her voice raw. “I made that call. Hell, I pressed the button myself.” A bitter laugh slipped out. “How’s that for heroic?”

He heard it then, the weight she carried—the thing she couldn’t say out loud.

And I still wonder if I made the right choice.

“I sent him away before the atmosphere changed,” she went on, her voice thinner now, fragile in a way he’d never heard from her before. “But I don’t know if he made it out alive. I don’t know if he’s out there, or if—” She shook her head. “If he's dead because of me, because of the choice I made.”

She blinked rapidly, like she could will the sting from her eyes away. 

Oliver watched her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Last year,” he said quietly, “I lost someone too.”

Kara looked up, and he saw it in her expression—that quiet understanding, that shared grief that needed no explanation.

“Laurel Lance,” he said, his voice steady but hollow. When Kara's eye widened in realization, he nodded. “Black Siren’s doppelganger. She was one of the best people I’ve ever known. And Damien Darhk—” His jaw tightened. “He killed her. With my own arrow. Right in front of me.”

Kara inhaled sharply, but she didn’t interrupt.

“Just before she died, she told me she loved me,” Oliver admitted. His voice cracked. “And I never got to say it back.”

Kara reached across the table, resting her hand on his without hesitation. It was warm, steady. Strangely, Oliver didn't feel the need to pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It doesn’t feel fair, does it?”

“No.” Oliver let out a breath, something like a hollow laugh. “But I’m glad we had the time we did.”

Kara nodded, because she understood. They sat in silence for a long moment, both staring at their drinks, lost in the weight of everything.

Then, finally, Kara exhaled sharply, pushing her glass away. “Rao, sometimes this whole superhero shtick really, really fucking sucks.”

Oliver let out a surprised laugh, exhausted and amused all at once.

“What are you talking about?” he said dryly. “It’s the dream job. Constantly getting the shit beaten out of you, making impossible decisions, losing people you love—”

Kara let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “And the benefits are terrible. No paid time off, no health insurance—”

“Technically, you don’t get paid.”

“Oh my God.” She groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “I’ve been doing this for free? What kind of idiot am I?”

Oliver smirked, lifting his beer. “Welcome to the club.”

"Hey, you don't get to talk. Aren't you a billionaire?"

Oliver said nothing, hiding a grin with a sip of his drink.

Kara shook her head in mock despair. “I should’ve gone corporate. Used my powers for evil—maybe taken over a Fortune 500 company, embezzled a few billion, retired to some nice alien beach planet.”

Oliver hummed in thought. “You could still pivot. Better late than never.”

She scoffed. “Please. I’d be the worst villain. I’d feel guilty about everything. My evil monologues would just be apologies.”

Oliver raised his eyebrow, interest piqued.

Kara dramatically lowered her voice, mimicking the classic villain drawl. "You’ve fallen right into my trap, but listen, I am so, so sorry about this. It’s really not personal. I promise I’ll let you go if you pinky swear not to tell anyone."

Oliver couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Kara leaned back, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Yeah. That’s why I stick to the whole ‘hero’ thing. It’s marginally less embarrassing.”

Oliver just shook his head, still chuckling, when Kara suddenly narrowed her eyes in mock consideration.

“You know…” she mused, tilting her head. “You’d actually make a decent supervillain.”

Oliver’s amusement faltered. “Excuse me?”

Kara grinned. “I mean, think about it. Broody demeanor? Check. Gruff, intimidating voice? Check.” She started counting on her fingers. “Master archer, tactician, loner with a tragic backstory—”

Oliver huffed. “I think that's a little unfair.”

Kara smirked. “But am I wrong?”

Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it, exhaling through his nose.

“And you’ve got the whole ‘appear out of nowhere and scare the living shit out of people’ move down. Very sinister.” Kara continued, watching in satisfaction as he scowled.

“That’s a practical strategy.”

“Tomato, Tomahto.” Kara tilted her head. 

Oliver shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping. “I hate that I can’t tell if I should be flattered or deeply insulted right now.”

“Why not both?” she offered. 

He gave her a dark look, but the lifted corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

And just like that, the conversation drifted into silence—not the awkward kind, but the kind that settled between people who understood each other in ways they hadn’t expected. The kind of quiet that didn’t need filling.

Chapter Text

Kara had barely stepped inside the Bunker when she froze. The room was packed—familiar faces, allies, friends. It was overwhelming, unexpected. She hadn’t anticipated a send-off, let alone one this big.

She nearly dropped her bag. “Oh,” she breathed, blinking at the sight.

Oliver, standing beside her, barely suppressed a smirk. "Surprise.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was something else there—something grateful.

Kara exhaled, shaking her head. “I wasn’t expecting—” She glanced at the crowd, then back at him. “All of this.”

John was the first to step forward, shaking his head with an affectionate chuckle. “You saved our lives, Kara. We weren’t about to let you leave without saying something.”

Kara felt warmth spread through her chest as she stepped into his open arms, squeezing him tight. “You don’t have to thank me, John.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Yeah, we do.” His voice was steady, firm. “You didn’t just save Oliver—you saved all of us.”

Kara swallowed, nodding slightly before stepping back.

Then John exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a bemused smirk. “You know, I think this might actually take the top spot for the craziest few days of my life.”

Kara huffed a laugh. “Worse than the Dominators?”

John visibly shuddered, dead serious. “Don’t remind me.”

Kara grinned, shaking her head as she turned—only to find Thea already sidling up beside her, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.

“You know, for all that Chase loved to gloat about being ten steps ahead, you kicked that smugness out of him.”

Kara snorted. “I didn't do much.”

Thea waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, but you got the style points. Plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone toss a psychopath around like a ragdoll with that much grace.”

Kara chuckled, but she caught the way Thea’s gaze flickered, just for a second, toward Malcolm. It was quick—almost imperceptible—but it was there. When Thea looked back at her, the smirk hadn’t faded, but something in her eyes had shifted.

After a beat, Thea huffed. “I better let you go then. You stick around any longer, and Ollie might actually start smiling. Can’t have that.”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t want to ruin his brand.”

Thea smirked. “Exactly.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at that.

Kara turned to Felicity next, who was waiting with a knowing smile and arms crossed, looking like she was still processing the last few days.

“Hey,” Kara greeted warmly.

Felicity let out a breath, shaking her head as she stepped closer. “Hey! So, not to be dramatic or anything, but I think I aged about ten years in the past forty-eight hours.”

Kara chuckled. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Oh, I bet you do.” Felicity gave her an exaggerated once-over. “You just don't look like it. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I have a permanent stress wrinkle from this whole experience.”

Kara tilted her head. “I don’t see anything.”

Felicity sighed. “Bless you and your super vision, Kara.” Then, after a beat, she softened. “Look, I meant what I said earlier. If we had to go through all that insanity, I’m really glad we had you with us.”

Kara’s smile turned warm. “That goes both ways.”

Felicity exhaled, nodding. “And—y’know, thanks for the talk. And the saving-our-lives thing. Definitely appreciated. I’d say I owe you one, but, uh… kind of hard to return a favor when you can literally juggle missiles.”

Kara smirked. “You could always offer emotional support.”

Felicity grinned. “Oh, absolutely. You ever need to vent, rant, or just scream into the void? I’m your girl. Well, preferably over Wi-Fi, because I don’t think I’m cut out for another inter-dimensional crisis anytime soon.”

Kara laughed before pulling Felicity into a tight hug. “Right back at you.”

When she pulled away, she found Quentin standing nearby, arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was softer than usual—though no less serious.

He stepped forward, exhaling. “I owe you my life,” he said simply, voice gruff but sincere. "Thank you."

Kara hesitated before offering a hand. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Lance.”

Quentin grunted, glancing briefly over his shoulder toward Laurel before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. “You saved my life, Kara. I think you get to call me by my first name.”

A small smile touched Kara’s lips. “Quentin, then.”

Kara’s gaze lifted—and met another familiar pair of eyes.

Laurel.

A quiet understanding settled between them, something unspoken yet heavy with meaning.

Kara broke the silence first. “You gonna be okay?” Her voice was soft but steady.

Laurel exhaled, tilting her head as she considered. “I don’t know.” The honesty in her voice was raw, unguarded. “But… I have a chance now.”

Something in Kara’s shoulders loosened. “Good.”

Laurel held her gaze for a moment before a faint smile ghosted across her lips—small, but real. “Thank you. For giving me that chance.”

Kara shook her head. “You were the one who decided to change.”

Laurel let out a slow breath, nodding. “Maybe. But you reminded me it was possible.”

Kara hesitated, then extended a hand. “Then I hope you keep going.”

Laurel’s eyes flicked to it, lingering for a second before she clasped it in her own. Her grip was firm, grounding. “I’ll try.”

When she let go, Kara turned—and found Nyssa waiting.

The warrior stood with her hands clasped neatly behind her back, her posture straight, unreadable as ever. But there was something in her gaze—a quiet regard, an assessment, perhaps even a hint of approval.

Kara took a careful step forward. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For what happened with your sister.”

Nyssa’s chin lifted slightly. “Talia made her choices,” she said, voice even. “And I made mine.” A pause, then the corner of her mouth quirked just slightly. “I would have stood with Oliver no matter what.”

Kara smiled. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Nyssa studied her for a beat before replying, “You as well, Supergirl.” She inclined her head ever so slightly. “It was an honor.”

Kara’s smile deepened. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

For a moment, Nyssa simply observed her. Then, with a decisive nod, she said, “If ever you find yourself in need of an ally… you only need to ask.”

Kara met her gaze, sincerity shining in her eyes. “I’ll remember that.”

Before Kara could take another step, a low, dry chuckle reached her ears.

“Well, that was an ordeal.”

She turned to find Malcolm standing there, adjusting his coat with practiced nonchalance, a smirk playing at his lips. “Am I the only one here who nearly died twice?”

Kara folded her arms. “You’re keeping count?”

“Of course,” Malcolm said smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If I don’t, who else will?”

Kara huffed, shaking her head, but before she could brush past him, something in his expression shifted—so subtly it was almost imperceptible.

“You saved my daughter’s life.” His voice had lost its usual snark, quieting into something more deliberate. “You gave me a chance with her.” He met her gaze, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface. “That’s not something I take lightly.”

Kara studied him for a moment before tilting her head. “Then don’t waste it.”

Malcolm’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t as sharp this time. He inclined his head. “I don’t intend to.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed him—but for now, that wasn’t her concern.

Before she could respond, another presence made itself known. One she’d been waiting to address.

Slade stood a few paces away, arms crossed, watching her with that ever-present calculating gaze.

Kara mirrored his stance, arching a brow. “The last time we really spoke, I threatened to kill you if you betrayed Oliver.” A beat. “Then you did—twice.”

Slade didn’t even flinch. “Technically, it was a fake betrayal.”

Kara scoffed. “You think I'll let you off on a technicality?”

Slade gave the barest hint of a smirk. “One can hope.”

She narrowed her eyes, but before she could fire back, his amusement faded, giving way to something else. Something steadier.

“If you hadn’t stopped Chase, we would likely be dead.” His voice remained even, but there was weight behind it. An acknowledgment.

Kara’s expression softened. “Oliver made the right call letting you out.”

Slade studied her for a long moment before finally extending his hand. “It was an honor, little one.”

Kara grasped it firmly, her respect clear. “Good luck finding your son.”

Slade gave her a slow, measured nod, something unspoken passing between them before he stepped back.

A scoff came from behind them.

“Man,” Rene muttered, shaking his head. “First Malcolm, now Slade and evil Laurel? You sure you’re not secretly running some kind of villain rehab program?”

Kara huffed, crossing her arms. “If I were, you’d be my first recruit.”

Rene smirked. “Only if it's free, Goldilocks.” Then, after a beat—quieter, grudging—he added, “But… thanks. For what you did back there.”

Kara’s expression softened, but before she could respond, Curtis let out a low whistle.

“I knew you were strong, but damn, girl, I think you actually punched the ground into submission.” He gestured dramatically. “Like, I swear I felt the tectonic plates shift.”

Kara chuckled. “Don’t tell the geologists. They’ll start asking questions.”

Curtis grinned. “No promises. But seriously—thank you.” 

Kara smiled at him.

Dinah let out a wry laugh. “Alright, you two, either start a fan club or wrap it up.” She turned to Kara, expression leveling out. “That was one hell of a thing back there. Glad I got to see it in person.”

Kara smiled. “Likewise.”

Dinah smirked slightly. “Try not to make a habit of saving our asses, though. Bad for morale.”

Kara snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Then, her gaze landed on Samantha.

She didn’t say anything at first—just stepped forward and pulled Kara into a hug. A real one. Tight, desperate, overflowing with emotion.

Kara blinked but returned it without hesitation, feeling the tremor in Samantha’s shoulders.

When Samantha finally pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For saving my son.”

Kara held her gaze, voice gentle. “I know what it’s like to lose a home,” she murmured. “I wasn’t about to let William lose his.”

Samantha let out a shaky breath, nodding as she wiped at her eyes. “I can never repay you for this.”

Kara squeezed her arm. “You don’t have to.”

Samantha swallowed hard, nodding again before stepping back, pressing a hand over her heart.

Kara exhaled, warmth spreading in her chest. Some things didn’t need words.

Kara turned, kneeling in front of William, who had been quiet through it all. She offered him a gentle smile, opening her arms in invitation.

“You were really brave on Lian Yu, Will,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you. All of us are.”

William hesitated only a second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around her in a brief but heartfelt hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Kara pressed a hand to his back, her touch light but reassuring. “You’re gonna be okay, buddy.”

When he pulled away, she gave him one last warm look before rising to her feet, turning to Oliver.

He didn’t say anything right away. Didn’t have to.

Kara tilted her head, lips quirking. “Next time I come to visit, it better not be because of a vengeful psychopath on an island full of bombs.”

Oliver let out a dry huff. “That's not up to me.”

Kara rolled her eyes but smiled, and in the next breath, Oliver pulled her into a firm, grounding hug. Oliver couldn't help but think that Kara was just about the best hugger he'd met, and not for the first time. 

“I’m going to miss you, Kara.” Oliver was almost surprised at how much he meant it.

“I’ll miss you too,” she murmured before pulling back. “But promise me something?”

Oliver huffed, tilting his head. “Do I have a choice?”

Kara smirked. “Not really.” Then, softer, “Don’t wait until the world’s ending to call.”

Oliver let out a quiet chuckle. “I’ll try.” A beat passed before his smirk faded into something more sincere. “And Kara?”

She paused, meeting his gaze.

“I won’t forget what you did for us.”

Her smile was small but certain. She would always be there if he needed her, and while she wished he didn’t feel indebted to her, she knew better than to argue with a stubborn Oliver Queen. With one last nod at the people behind him, she added, “Take care of them.”

Oliver’s expression softened as he nodded. “Always.”

And with that, she stepped through the breach, disappearing in a ripple of golden light.

A quiet settled over the room, the weight of everything they had survived pressing in.

Nyssa stood with her arms clasped behind her back, eyes still fixed on where Kara had been. “Supergirl is a warrior of great strength. I hope she remains an ally.”

Oliver exhaled, glancing at the spot where Kara had disappeared, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Me too, Nyssa,” he said quietly.

The room fell silent once more, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with grief or uncertainty. It carried something steadier.

A promise unspoken, but understood. Kara had their backs, and they had hers.

Kara stepped into her apartment, the soft whoosh of the breach closing behind her. The familiar hum of National City greeted her, wrapping around her like a long-forgotten melody. She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as the tension of the past few days settled into something quieter—something closer to exhaustion.

She dropped the bag with her suit onto the couch, the extrapolator slipping neatly into the cushions. Her gaze drifted to the skyline stretching beyond her window, the city lights flickering in the dark like stars caught between buildings.

Home.

It felt good to be back—to breathe in the air of her own world, to be surrounded by the city she had sworn to protect. And yet, beneath that relief, something else stirred. The weight of everything she had put on hold pressed against her chest. On Earth-1, she had thrown herself into battle, into chaos, into something far removed from the reality she had left behind. There, she could focus on saving lives, on stopping Chase, on anything but the things she wasn’t ready to face.

But now, there was no more running. No more distractions. Just home—and everything waiting for her here.

Still, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With one last glance at the skyline, Kara turned toward the cluttered countertop, her eyes landing on the home phone buried beneath a mess of unopened mail. She winced. The blinking light on the answering machine told her she had at least a dozen unheard messages.

Yeah. She was definitely back.

Sighing, she picked up the receiver and dialed the number etched into her memory. The phone barely rang twice before a familiar voice crackled through the line.

"Kara?" Alex’s voice was sharp, taut with worry and barely-contained frustration. "Where the fuck have you been?"

A smile tugged at Kara’s lips despite the exasperation radiating from her sister’s words. She leaned against the counter, fingers tapping absently against the surface.

"Hey, Alex," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I know you're mad, but—"

"You're goddamn right I'm mad!" Alex cut in, her tone pure fury.

Kara winced. "Okay, yeah, fair. Just... hear me out?" She let out a sheepish laugh. "I mean, it’s only been a few days."

"A few days without a single word." Alex snapped. " Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Kara ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "I know. I know. And I will explain. Just—trust me when I say, you’re gonna want to sit down for this."

A beat of silence. Then:

"I'm coming over," Alex said flatly. "You better have a good fucking explanation."

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