Chapter Text
Oliver walks into the section of the Bunker cordoned off with the team’s various bikes and the van to see Sara pulling on a normal leather jacket. He watches her for a minute as she stuffs a partially filled canvas bag into the small compartment under the seat. “What are you doing?”
Sara looks up and sees Oliver standing in the doorway. She had been hoping to avoid this conversation and simultaneously wishing for it. “I’m leaving.” She says quietly.
“What…why?” He asks confused. He loves Sara beyond reason, but this is a part of her personality he never fully understood, her need to run, to be free. When he was younger and trapped by expectations, he found it incredibly attractive.
“I can’t stay here Ollie; I refuse to endanger Thea.” She is resolute on this fact. It was her main argument with her sister, her father and even Thea. It wasn’t her only reason, but she hopes no one pushes for those.
Oliver moved closer; he wants to hit himself for not seeing this coming a mile away. “Sara we can work on that. You don’t need to leave.”
Sara slumps, she is so fucking tired of keeping what has been swirling and raging inside her for the last week and a half, since she came to on that plexiglass platform. “Yes, Ollie I do. I absolutely refuse to endanger Thea. But that’s not my only reason.” She leans against the side of her bike as she runs a hand through her hair, she’s trying to contain the faint twitchiness caused by whatever is crawling under her skin.
“Then why? We all missed you, Sara.” He is trying not to raise his voice.
“Why should I stay?” She realizes the only way he’s going to let her leave is if she tells him all of it. “Ollie, I have nothing to stay for I don’t have a mission I can fight for, I don’t an identity or a person to stay for. You all missed me, but you all moved on as you were supposed to. I died on these streets; I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t like coming back from Lian Yu or The League; I was done and now I’m back but all I see around me is death. I can’t stay here and live.” She wraps her arms around herself, she feels like she’s coming out of her skin. She hates herself for saying all of this, none of it is his fault.
Oliver feels ill as she lists her reasons for leaving. He hadn’t really thought about how it might feel for her, he figured she would be happy to be back like they were all happy she was back. It hadn’t occurred to him that to her their conversation on that rooftop was one of the last things that happened, she didn’t have a year and half of memories and life as a buffer. Their last conversation that wasn’t related to rescuing Ray was about the two of them getting more time together, and now he’s living with Felicity. He wants to fight for her but isn’t sure how, so he picks another thing she listed, “What do you mean you don’t have an identity?”
“Well, I’m not Ta-er al-Sahfer anymore, Sara Lance is dead, and Laurel is now the Black Canary.” She knows it’s not Laurel’s fault, but she had so much tied up in the Canary anger and redemption loss and triumph and it’s now no longer hers. It brings up old, buried feelings of inadequacies which aren’t helping her fill in the gaps of her missing memories. She hopes this will cut him deep enough he’ll back off, so she doesn’t have to confess the worst of it. She stares as he processes her words.
He swallows around the lump in his throat as he begins to grasp all the things she has lost and the understanding it brings to him. Because while he would like to be selfish and keep her near, he knows, that he could never cage her. “What do Laurel and your dad think about this?” As soon as the question is out, he knows it’s the wrong one in part because Sara’s relationships with her family are complicated and two because Laurel taking on her mantle as the Black Canary seems to be poking at a bruise, he wasn’t aware of.
Sara’s smile is sharp enough to cut glass, “They understand and think it’s a good idea.” She leaves out that they think it will be temporary. She doesn’t think she will return Star City again, outside of maybe brief visits. Her original mission wasn’t about the city like his, it was about the people themselves.
Oliver nods his head as he admits defeat, it was a losing battle from the start. “OK,” he reaches in his wallet and pulls out a silver looking metal card and an old business card and hands them to her, “Take these, it’s in your name. We actually never had you declared dead, this time. The card is for John Constantine, he’s the one who helped return your soul. He’s an ass but good people.”
Sara gives him weary chuckle as she concedes to the cards. She knows he loves her even if it’s no longer romantic and this is a way to assuage his guilt complex and a sneaky way to low key keep track of her. “Thanks.” She walks over to give him a hug, more a habit than any real desire for physical touch. “Stay safe out there, Ollie.” She pulled away as she pulled on her helmet and climbed on her bike.
He nods in acknowledgement, “You too, Sar.” He refuses to say good-bye but watches with a heavy heart as she speeds out into the dark city.
~*~
Sara heads east slowly making her way towards Central City, she figures she owes her mother at the very least a visit. She contemplates her options; she could head south to Saint Roche or east to Metropolis or Gotham. Gotham is probably a terrible idea, though if she goes off the rails it may be a place to lose herself, she thinks bleakly. She weighs the pros and cons of going to Nanda Prabat to rescue Nyssa but given Malcolm’s control of the League, her own position when she died and her instability in a fight, she decides it’s too much of a risk. If it would only be her life on the line, she would go but she wouldn’t risk Nyssa’s.
The further she gets from Star City the less oppressive the darkness inside her feels. It doesn’t go away or even lighten but it doesn’t feel like it’s choking her anymore. She stops frequently taking in Mountains to do some hiking or rock climbing, there are other sights she pauses at keeping to small towns. She indulges in a bar fight, when she gets between a handsy biker and a pretty waitress; it releases the pressure, but she does succumb to demons whispering in her mind.
The sun is shining brightly as she enters the city and the differences between her home city and this place are glaringly obvious. It’s not simply the newer buildings next to restored historical edifices compared to the slow decay or out right crumbling buildings. It almost a feeling of hope that overlays the city rather than gloom that hoovers; Central City is clearly the shining beacon her father, her sister and Oliver wish that Star City could be. It’s late afternoon by the time she pulls up to the lovely brownstone townhouse her mother lives in.