cause there's no one like you on earth
that can be my burning star
"...oh my god, I forgot how hard he hits. Enhanced strength, enchanced speed, enhanced reflexes. The guy's got enchancements they don't talk about in church."
It doesn't stop her. She's got blood dripping from god knows where, but Dinah keeps at it. If he won't let her close enough to bring him to her side, she wants him dead. And he's given her the devices to see that it happens, but he's too fast. If she had gone to him earlier in the week, she'd have a better chance, but Dinah's throat can't handle another cry unless she wants to never chirp again. She can only throw a decent right hook, while her left arm is left injured after taking an arrow from Hawkeye.
The smell of copper is intoxicating, whether it's his or hers, she doesn't know or care, but she licks her lips and crashes against him once more. Sinew crushes beneath heavy knuckles and she knows her blows are slowing him down. Shouldn't he be proud? Isn't she who he wanted her to be?
Dinah should have visited him first. She could have talked a good talk, maybe persuaded him to let her pass on the power that coursed through her veins. They could have been a team, taking Boston together. Deep down, that's what she wanted. They were both on different sides of the law, but they weren't all that different, and together they made a hell of a pair. She thinks about this as they fight, trying to get the words out, but too focused on moving around him smartly. Even in Boston he's too quick for the blonde bruiser.
If he would just let her get her hands on him one time, she could share. This was her way of repaying him. All that training, those countless hours of fighting each other in the dewey warehouse. An assassin super soldier and a weapon of mass destruction. How could he not crave this the way she had? Years ago, he would have ground her face into the wall by now, but things were different. Although she was slow, she was keeping up. Eventually he had to tire out, eventually she would have her chance.
But Dinah never did have her chance, and a series of quick blows left her crumpled on the floor begging him to put a stop to this. The blood dripped from her face and pooled on the ground beneath her, the wound on her shoulder still fresh from that morning, her arm holding tight to her body.
It wasn't until he picked her up by her neck that she realied this was over, head lolling to one side as she laughed. "Kill me," she begged, wanting him to put her out of her misery. It was the words that followed that broke what was left of her heart.
"...then you'll really be alone. no one to care about you, no one to make sure you're still alive." Even as those words came out of her mouth, she couldn't believe she said them. frankly, she couldn't blame him for dropping her to the floor and heaving a great blow to her gut with his knee.
She couldn't blame him for taking her out when he had the opportunity.
She couldn't blame him for not trusting her. She couldn't blame him for not believing her.
Dinah didn't like to beg. Corrupted or not, begging wasn't something she did shamelessly. Hands bound by wire ties and her body aching as if she'd had a 747 dropped right on top of her, she barely pulled herself up. As they spoke, she put the vast majority of her energy into trying to break free. She rubbed and pulled and twisted with her hands to no avail, only leaving deep red marks on her wrists from the ties he'd bound her with.
When he spoke her prized nickname, her eyes shot up at him, telling two different stories. He had to have known she was still inside if he didn't kill her. He was protecting her the only way he knew how. Her heart sank through the floorboards.
But anger filled her eyes. Resentment took over as the cliche bird sayings weren't entirely lost on her. I'm no one's birdie she wanted to shout. Don't keep me caged up, she thought. But instead, Dinah laughed a bitter laugh and pushed him about how he should have just killed her when he had the chance. But her weakened physical state gave way to something different. Even if her words were scathing still, she had to let him know a part of her was still present.
So she said the only thing that could cut through Slade's toughened exterior to touch Nathan deep inside. And although the timing was repugnant, she knew she made her mark.
i stood by everything i loved
while you never understood me much.
There's a flannel balled up in her hands and she's staring just beyond it at the coffee table in front of her. The pain pills she's been taking have been making her woozy and nauseous as a direct side effect of not eating enough with them. They help a little, but she's riddled with so many other problems that the physical pain isn't all she wants to put at bay.
Isla lifts the shirt and smells it, her eyes clenched shut as she buries her face. It has the faint smell of cologne and cigarette smoke and she inhales deeply. This is the only thing she has of his, and although he'd done a lot to save her life, she wanted more to show for it. The usual '...and all I got was this lousy shirt!' joke comes to mind. She had slept with this shirt every day since he'd dropped her off in front of the home she and Oliver shared. Not because she missed him, and not because she longed to be at his side. Because it was a reminder of the events that transpired between them.
Even though it's been over a week, she can still feel the way his hand felt around her neck. The bruises were yellow and fading, but she remembers the distinct feeling it left her with before he dropped her to the ground. Every little thing is a reminder of what she almost lost by asking him to kill her. He could have done it. She wanted him to so badly, especially after the horrible things she said to him. Those words rang in her ears and she tried to block them out, unable to believe that she was capable of saying such hurtful things to someone she cared so much about. No matter what she does, Isla can't escape getting lost in the memories of last weeks hazy events.
Things he said echoed in her ears. Things she said echoed louder. Muffled cries were released into that balled up flannel, remembering one of the last things she'd said to him before going radio silence during the remainder of her stay there. It wasn't Dinah's place to say that, and Isla was furious. This wasn't something she felt comfortable admitting, knowing the sentiment behind it would be misunderstood. But it was said, and she can still remember the dry taste it left in her mouth once the words escaped between her lips.
She loves him, you know.
No. He doesn't know. He shouldn't know. It was no one elses fucking business, and from that moment onward, she wished he would snap and kill her. He had so many opportunities, from the second she showed up at his apartment and tore through it, to the moment he laid her out and took her to safety. The memories of that day made her stomach churn and she wished they never happened. Even Isla was smart enough to never admit that, and yet there it was, on display for him to do fuck all with without even understanding the context in which it was meant. Fuck.
She was so angry, it didn't matter if he chose to forgive her in the future. She would never forgive herself.
