Dinah couldn’t rest, she kept looking over at him and she counted herself lucky that she had him through all of this. It was more than what anyone had. However, she felt so torn. There was the fighter in her, who wouldn’t quit until she had put things right. Then there was the part of her who was ready to take the next step. Despite their turbulent relationship, Dinah was ready to hang up the jacket and build something. She had never built anything before and it seemed she would have to wait a little longer.

Sometimes, her head was too loud and she just felt like she needed to hit something. It silence her mind sometimes. Released her frustrations but it was when she felt most zen because she was doing something. Anything to make a difference. She fought this hard because it was the right thing to do. That and she was fighting for that future with Ollie. It was just she wasn’t sure if they were going to outlive whatever this was. 

Hearing his voice, Dinah looked over her shoulder before mustering a smile. “I thought repressing your feelings was more of a you kinda deal.” Soft feet padded across the room back over to him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Just having a moment of existential crisis.” She tried to make light of it before she went quiet again. “Are you happy?” She finally asked, looking over at him.

“I’m happy right now,” Ollie lazily smiled back at her, reaching out to stroke Dinah’s bare thigh where the edges of a purple bruise had just started to fade. “We’re together, we’re safe and no one is actively trying to kill us... I’d say there’s plenty there to be happy about.”

If Dinah had taken off during the night again, I’m gonna be pissed.

The hanging blinds had been moved aside from the windows, exposing a dimly lit cityscape below as rain battered against the large panes.  Ollie could make out a silhouette of a figure, still and silent, gazing out into the night, their arms wrapped around their body as if to warm themselves against a cold only they could feel. 

“Talk to me, pretty bird,” Oliver said gently, the thin sheet covering his body dropping away as he grabbed another pillow.  “You doin’ okay?”

Oliver could’ve requested a Hub transfer to Wakanda or Genosha for some R&R, but Dinah wouldn’t have wanted to go and he wasn’t really someone who could properly relax on his own, so he’d opted for the next best option... Leaving the urban space and heading into the green.

The State Forest was located a little less than 50 miles north of Gotham, although much of it had been razed in a wild fire some time ago. Thankfully there were still enough wild spaces left for Oliver to lose himself in, and that was exactly what he tried to do as soon as he arrived.

Crouching on the bough of a tree, a bow cradled in his arms, the shades of Oliver’s outfit blended in with the mottled foliage around him.  It was blissfully quiet here, just a breeze rustling the leaves and the occasional sound of animals making their way through the undergrowth disturbed the silence, and Ollie could almost convince himself that it was years ago and everything was back how it had been before Darkseid’s arrival.  

However, one thing he’d learned from surviving alone on a seemingly deserted island for five years was that you don’t give into dreams of the past or what could’ve been, you have to stay focused on the now.  Accept the present you find yourself in, deal with what’s in front of you, then move onto the next challenge.

At a glance

Name: Oliver Jonas Queen Age: 44 Species: Human Alias: The Green Arrow

It had been a few, slow months since Bruce’s passing. It all felt like a dream now, just a memory to hold onto; an ever present scar, one that ached and ached. Diana did better than most who knew him, at least, that was what she showed off to be true. She was hurting, too, still, but there were others who’s pain was far worse. She didn’t feel like she had much right to wear it on her sleeve, so she distracted herself with side projects and work.

And people.

One such was Oliver, a good friend and occasional pain in the ass. His skills were exceptional and they would’ve been needed had he not turned down her offer to join the League. Diana respected his decision - while she had certainly missed working with her friends and teammates, she, too, had hesitated on returning. Being welcomed back to Themyscira, even for just the moment, had been a dream. It was disheartening to leave again.

But, she had made her choice and now she stood with hair slicked back into a sleek and long ponytail with sunglasses aimed directly at the blonde seated in front of her. Diana tipped her shades off her nose and shifted them to the top of her head; she returned his smile.

“Ah, you are just trying to let me down easy with sweets, hm?” Diana teased as she took to the empty spot beside him on the bench. “It’s good to see you, too. Bougatsa is,” she lifted her fingertips to her lips and kissed the air. “Thank you for this, it all looks wonderful.” Diana thanked as accepted one of the coffees.

“You’re always welcome, Diana... you know that,” Oliver said, stretching out his legs and leaning back until his shoulders cracked.  “Ahhh... it’s nice to just enjoy the morning, isn’t it? No suddenly alarms or summons to The Watchtower. Just coffee and pastries with a friend... not a care in the world.”

Oliver was a lot of things, but a great actor was not one of them.  His habit was one of excess and over-dramatizing; needing to be the center of attention.  Even now, he was over playing the role.

Believe it or not, Dinah wasn’t a violent person. She never went looking for a fight as much as people would beg to differ. She had all these moves but it was clear it all depended on the foe. If it was some local crook, she had the restraint and depth to keep things to a certain level. Keep it to Judo throws. Simple combos. Quick and effective. The more skilled the opponent? The more she would tap into her vast skillset. She could use the scream but she didn’t rely on the scream to be her be all and end all. The fact she had the restraint that some fighters didn’t was a fight all in itself. Just because she fought to defend, never to ruin, that didn’t mean she lacked bite. Her reputation as a fighter was well earned.

However, tonight was not about that. She finally had a singing gig. She never did want to be a singer but she found learning about music, specifically notes and her breathing, was a way to hone her Canary Cry. How she was able to hit subtle notes to cause dizziness and vomiting. How to make the fillings in your teeth tremble. Her voice was a weapon thanks to the vocal training. It also earned her a dollar when she needed it. She also didn’t mind it but she didn’t consider herself a performer. Just lucky enough to Mariah Carey a building down.

The stage wasn’t the best and the curtains stained but this was a perfect scenario. A singer that could fight? Or was it a fighter who could sing? It was a chicken and egg situation in all honesty. However, when that guitar began playing and the drums kicked in, she knew what to do. It was like fighting but instead of punches and head turns, it was different ways to move with the vibrations. [x]

After the performance was done, Dinah took the roll of cash. She was offered an encore but not on the stage but on the ring. “Thanks Sal but tonight isn’t the night.” She offered an apologetic smile since she knew she could bring in the revenue for him. She just didn’t know if that was a good thing. Sliding on the battered but faithful biker jacket, Dinah shoved her hands in her pockets.

She slid up to the bar, seemingly deflated and far from the persona on stage. “Can you do me a whiskey and soda?” She asked the bartender. Her finger tapped the bar three time before she tutted at herself. “Actually, hold the soda.” She said as she was passed the ice cold glass of amber. She took a large sip and recoiled slightly at the burning sensation. It was like she was punishing herself with its bitter taste but the warmth that followed after made it all worth it.

“I’ll take her soda,” Oliver said, sliding onto the seat next to Dinah and raising his own half-full glass of cranberry.  “Great set there, Pretty Bird... Been a while since I heard you sing like that, but you had the entire room eating out of the palm of your hand, same as always.”

Oliver gave the bartender a smile and nod of acknowledgement as his glass was refilled, although he only received an indifferent shrug in return.  This probably wasn’t the kind of place where someone was welcome if they weren’t either drinking or fighting... or both. 

Fumbling along the wall, he quickly located the metal handle of the power supply unit and sparks flew as long dead connectors suddenly felt the rush of electricity.  In the background, a quiet hum started and grew louder as emergency generators were brought to life.  Overhead, lights flickered and began to glow, casting a hazy light through the dust as they attempted to illuminate the space.

“Recognizz-zz-zzt-ed Green Arrow,” an artificial voice crackled from hidden speakers. “Welcome home.”

The Arrow Cave had seen better days.  Most of the equipment was covered with dust sheets, as well as a layer of filth and debris.  At the back of the man-made cave, an area of wall had collapsed, crushing part of the once sleek Arrow Jet and blocking its launch tunnel.  It was all a sad end.

Pulling down the kerchief, Oliver threw back one of the dust sheets and smiled as he ran a hand fondly over the bright yellow body of the Arrow Car, when the artificial voice suddenly crackled into unforeseen life once again.

“Recognizz-ed Speedy.  Welcome home.”

“Roy...?,” Oliver asked after a moment’s hesitation, before moving towards the newcomer.  “I never expected to see you down here... But it’s damned good to see you, son.”

With stalking, you don’t have those initial tracks.  You start with knowledge of both the prey and the environment, then begin to piece together patterns from those places where the two intersect.  Stalking is about asking questions - ‘where could they go?’, ‘where might they eat?’, ‘what do the need?’ - and then tracing answers to those questions, until you find tracks and the stalk becomes a hunt.

Oliver had always preferred the hunt.  It was more proactive and immediately satisfying than stalking an unseen target, hoping to stumble across a clue or indicator of where to go next.  It was infuriating, but he didn’t have any other way to track Dinah down.  She hadn’t answers her cell phone in weeks (not to him anyway) and none of his messages had been answered, whether by text or voice call.  He knew Bruce’s death would’ve hit her hard - it had affected the entire League - and Ollie wasn’t about to let her go it alone, even if that was what Dinah thought she wanted.

He’d started with the most common places that he knew about, not even expecting to find anything, but just to cross them off the list. Of course there was nothing, so he pushed out further afield - MMA clubs with open fight nights and bars with open mic evenings.  Ollie knew Dinah well, and could guess how she’d seek to work through her emotions; A combination of music and extreme violence. 

It took him two nights to get through the legitimate places of business, with nothing to show for it.  Now came the fun part...

Illegal drinking dens and no-holds barred fighting pits were a throwback to the prohibition days that Star City had never seemed to quite let go of.  Back in the day, the city had been a hot-bed of bootlegger activity and plenty of business was still done on places like these.  They were establishments founded on violence and money, and were still operated in the same way.  Every city had them, but Star City had more than most.

It took another few nights - and more than a few bruises - before Oliver found the right place.  He’d started hearing rumours the night before, about a banshee who fought like a demon, and knew he was finally on the right track.  After that, it was just a case of following the signs and hunting down his prey.

At that was how he came to be here, sat at a table with a cranberry & soda, having just watched two gladiators try to tear each other apart with make-shift clubs and now waiting for the threadbare curtains to open on the main stage.  The first note rang out before the heavy fabric even twitched - one note, perfect in pitch and tone, that seemed to hang in the air and demand an audience.  A hush settled over the place and Oliver knew he was in the right place.

The curtains swung apart and there she was, a goddess in leather and lace, daring anyone to look at her, but commanding their attention.  Dinah Lance, his Pretty Bird... With a tight lipped smile of triumph, Ollie sipped his drink and settled back to watch the show, waiting for the fireworks to start.

Ice cubes shifted in the amber liquor as he watched, tapping against the glass almost seductively.  He could smell the whiskey keenly, almost taste its sharp, burning sweetness.

“I’ve been staring at this thing for so long that I’m not sure whether I’m testing or torturing myself,” Oliver said without looking up, fully aware of the presence behind him. “Something I can help you with, Ted?” 

It was practically a parody of a good day, and Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, wondering how long it would’ve been in the old days before some supervillain or other had ruined an idyllic scene like this.

He used to carry his mask and a collapsible bow everywhere, always on edge and waiting for the next disaster to react to.  The Green Arrow rarely got the chance to just sir back and enjoy a day like this.

The only thing that was missing was good company, but that would be solved soon enough.  After all, Oliver wasn’t out here by chance.

Her message had been as cordial as ever, asking after him, hoping he was doing well, and then asking to meet.  He had a suspicion as to why, but hadn’t mentioned anything to Dinah... not yet.  

Raising his head at the approaching sound of footsteps, Oliie removed his sunglasses and grinned in his friend’s direction.

“Hey there Princess,” he called, raising a hand in greeting. “Got your message.  It’s good to see you.  I bought coffee and pastries... including some Bougatsa, which I’ve never had before but thought you might like.”

She was beauty, strength and elegance personified.  It was easy to understand why women and men worshipped her as an elemental force, hanging on her every word and action, hoping for a blessing.

But to him, she was just Diana.

“...And if you’re here about that other thing, my answer’s still no.”