Oliver Queen was a very different man. While he can hear the hesitation in her voice, the confusion, he can no longer fight his body's demand for sleep. Rest. In time he would heal and in time he would return to the League and have his revenge.
They will all die.
He sleeps, dreaming of golden hair and laughter and small, warm hands on his skin.
Oliver wakes and the sun has shifted in the sky. Hours perhaps, or even days had passed. He can hear the crash of surf as he remains still, assessing his injuries. Aching and in pain, but nothing that he couldn't stomach.
He starts to move, to sit up and take in where he was with a far clearer head.
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While he can hear the hesitation in her voice, the confusion, he can no longer fight his body's demand for sleep. Rest. In time he would heal and in time he would return to the League and have his revenge.
They will all die.
He sleeps, dreaming of golden hair and laughter and small, warm hands on his skin.
Oliver wakes and the sun has shifted in the sky. Hours perhaps, or even days had passed. He can hear the crash of surf as he remains still, assessing his injuries. Aching and in pain, but nothing that he couldn't stomach.
He starts to move, to sit up and take in where he was with a far clearer head.