Abruptly awakening, I found myself in a dingy alleyway, crumpled against wet concrete slabs and rotting brickwork. Finding my bearings, I could just make out Tommy's car resting on the road, people already at the scene. But I was hidden away from view, almost to divert the public's attention to the main road and leave me forgotten.
But who would want to do such a thing? Maybe The Reverse Flash, but he was too quick and impulsive to do such a thing as this. This was dramatic and well planned.
I waited as my attacker silently bided their time, each second another step closer to the inevitable. It was as almost as they wanted to create unnecessary tension, leaving me in an anxious anticipation.
As time went on, I could feel my side aching more and more, writhing with pain. Dabbing the affected area, a cold liquid touched my fingertips, red in colour upon further inspection. I was bleeding out, and fast. No wonder I was rather lightheaded.
Maybe I was just there for no reason, left to die after the accident. Maybe no one actually cared about me, and this dirty, ugly rut of a passageway would be my final resting place.
However, my thoughts were incorrect. But I wasn't completely wrong either. My attacker didn't greet me, but a hooded hero did instead.
Pulling me up from the filthy gravel, the vigilante carried me in his arms, his robust muscles unfazed by the dead weight of my body. It was as though I was paralysed; unable to move myself and relying solely on my saviour for mobility.
My ears soon gave way, an empty silence invading my thoughts. I watched my surroundings as though they were a silent movie, each person nearby moving as though they were dancing in an over exaggerated Charleston.
The Hood dropped me off at some hospital's revolving doors, nurses rushing to my aid as the vigilante disappeared once again. I felt particularly queasy, no doubt due to the loss of blood I was experiencing, my limbs heavy and numb as I tried to move them. Everything started to go hazy as I entered a trance, as though my senses had gone on an impromptu holiday, and my eyelids grew weightier until they closed for good.
---
'Hey,' Oliver's voice filled my ears as the bright lights above me seared into my vision.
'Where- where am I?' I fretted at once in disorientation. 'What happened?'
'It's all gonna be okay,' he smiled genuinely at my side.
I looked to the chair where Oliver was perched, its legs pushed up against the bed I was laid on. His hand was intertwined with mine, as if he had been waiting in my aid for a long time.
'How did I get here?' I asked him, unable to remember the past events of late.
'The hood guy brought you here,' Oliver retold me what had happened. 'You and Tommy were in a... Road accident last night.'
'Is Tommy okay?' I suddenly sat up in worry.
'He's fine,' Oliver nodded, gesturing for me to lie back down. 'But you need to focus on getting better first.'
'But he's okay?' I persisted.
'Yes,' Oliver told me definitely with a slight nod.
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I had so many unanswered questions that I wanted to understand, but I was too tired and worn out to ask Oliver for any more information. Although I was left in the dark, my pain cancelled out any curiosity I had.
---
My road to recovery was rather a tedious one, even though it only last for a few days. I grew immensely bored, answers to my questions arriving in dribs and drabs. I appeared to be the more injured one out of Tommy and I, not only because of where our opponent had hit the car, but due to the damage done to my body after the crash. It was as if we had been hit with intent, the perpetrator aiming for and imposing as much pain on me as damaging as possible.
I was told that the damage done to my body was only temporary, and that I was extremely lucky to have survived at all - a skill I seemed to be well accustomed to. Tommy only had a few bruises and cuts here and there, but nothing to worry about in the long term. But if I wasn't some medical miracle I always seemed to be, I most likely would have been dead.
The vast amounts of time I had on my hands also meant I had chance to try to figure out just who was behind The Hood. He had saved me when he could've easily left me to die; he did only go after the rich and corrupt after all. But this wasn't the first time he had saved me - he had protected me from Deadshot's bullets at the auction not too long ago.
So what was the vigilante's agenda? Was he just doing this out of goodness, or was it something more? Did he have some sort of attachment or relation to me? Maybe Ted Grant had resurfaced with an obsession with Robin Hood, but I didn't really think archery was his style. Merlyn was too ruthless to be the Hood, but if it wasn't him, who could it be?
I was just going to have to find out for myself.
'Thank you, Doctor Lamb,' I said to the Queens family doctor, who Moira had insisted I had to be taken care of by, as I left my private room the Queens had provided me with.
Oliver was guiding me through the corridors of the hospital, supporting me as I stumbled whilst trying to use my legs which had been inactive for a good 72 hours.
'I still don't know how you recovered so quickly,' Oliver shook his head in disbelief.
'Same here,' I commented, shocked at myself.
'You don't still have that... Fake Mirakuru in your system, do you?' Oliver asked me warily in a hushed voice.
'It's been four years, Ollie,' I said, trying to repress a laugh at his implausible worries.
'I just want to make sure you're okay,' he smiled as if he felt sorry for me, his hands on my arms with both emotive and supportive intent.
'Why are you being so... Mature at the moment?' I asked with a laugh, surprised at Oliver's seriousness and selflessness. 'I thought you said you hadn't changed.'
'Well, I've been thinking about what you said,' he explained. 'And I should be there for when my friends need me. When you need me.'
'What's happened to you, Ollie?' I asked him in a gasp. 'You have changed.'
'What happened to you and Tommy made me realise that I shouldn't be wasting my life away from you both,' Oliver continued with his little monologue. 'I've already been away for five years, and I need to be better than this.'
