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Dedication: to @airsay58259 for finishing her course. I’m so proud of you bby... Though this isn’t isn’t exactly what you wanted. sozzers. word count: 3 375 Pairing: queensnow Information: Caitlin had to become someone else, something else... what are the chances of her bumping into the man who had that dilemma all those years ago? Quite high since she’s hiding in SC.

He finds her one night, the city quiet and empty, no voice in his ear, no backup near by. He finds her in an alleyway, a small child cowering in the corner, Caitlin crouching nearby, hair white like new snow, hands up and palms open in surrender. But more than that he sees the frozen man only a few metres away. Her voice carries down the alley, his heart breaking coinciding with the crack in her tone as she pleads for the child to calm down, to trust her. But the small girl doesn’t, curling in on herself, shaking terribly as Caitlin attempts to take a step closer. It is then he makes his entrance, gravel crunching underneath his feet, a hint of a smile upon his face, the girl lighting up at his presence, running past Caitlin to him, clinging to his leg as though he were her saviour. And he hates it - but to her he is. He directs her to the closest Big Belly Burger only a street away, the 24-hour food chain operated by one of the kindest souls he had met - he knew a meal and a call to the police would be a priority for them. She nods and runs off, leaving Caitlin - still facing the small corner - and him alone. She never moved, never flinched, her back still toward him.

The voice distorter unnecessary he turns it off. “Caitlin,” he sighs. He knew the story - Cisco had called before, the entirety of Team Arrow breaking at his words. The entirety of Team Arrow now consisting of only him. He knew Felicity had taken it hard, the woman throwing herself into work, determined to distract herself from Caitlin. From him. It is then that he hears the choked sob escape her, taken out of his memories and into the present, her body shuddering under it’s force. “Caitlin, look at me." She doesn’t move so he does, walking toward her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.She is shaking underneath his touch, she is sniffling and wiping away her tears. He closes his eyes, memories like tidal waves hitting him. And he stays there, saying nothing, doing nothing. He stays as her crying slows, as her body stops moving from the force of her feelings.

"I just wanted to help her,” she rasps, voice thick from emotion. “I just wanted to help.” Her agony is evident, coating every syllable, every word. “Am I just destined to be a monster then?”

And the self loathing, god, it tears through him, reminds him of a time not too long ago, of an Oliver he once was. Of a man he still is. "No.” And when did he become so choked up? “You’re not a monster Caitlin, you wanted to save that girl - you did.”

“And I terrified her Oliver.” she snaps. She stands then, turning to face him, eyes red and face blotchy, tear streaks shining in the moon light. “I freaked her out - how am I supposed to be a hero when people can’t stand to look at me? When they think i’m more terrifying then the person trying to kidnap them?"

His hand is still on her shoulder and he can feel her skin cooling with her emotions, dangerously cold."Caitlin,” he starts, an urgency in his tone but she doesn’t hear it, doesn’t care for it.

“No Oliver, explain it. Because I’ve been trying so hard and I don’t think there is actually an answer." Her hands were fisted by her side, icy smoke coming off of them and he lets go, determined to not back away, to not flinch to not give her more reasons to hate herself.

"You’re a hero Caitlin, you don’t need people to admire what you do for that to be true.”

“I’m. Not. Caitlin!" And the flare of anger in her unleashes her powers, ice crystals shooting from her fists, eyes glowing bright as beside him pours ice and yet he doesn’t move, their eyes still locked he watches that anger die, watches the horror fill her gaze as she realises what she had done. And she walks back even as he walks forward, walks back shaking her head, tears welling up once more as she turns,

and she runs.

It haunts him, the sight of her like that, the despair and loathing in her eyes, the fear that one day, in one moment, she may snap back into being Killer Frost. It haunts him just as much as the loss of his team, Oliver constantly waking with a shout lodged in his throat, ready to be let out. His eyes burn and it hurts, oh god it hurts. But he remembers his son only a room down, remembers the kid's nightmare's about the island, about the loss of his mother. And he has to stay strong,

even if it kills him inside.

He finds her again, a month of silence on her end, hidden in the darkest of corners in the town. He looked for her each night, Carly minding William on the nights he was out, a sorrowful look on his face as he tells her of Diggle and Felicity, of his sister and friends. She offers him a smile and a comforting hand, her own son near the age of his. And so she minds the children sometimes, Oliver offering a sad smile and a babysitter's allowance, even as she rebuffs the cash.

He searches for criminals, intent to keep the streets of his home safe. And he searches for her - to make sure she's safe too.

But he doesn't find her, doesn't hear any whispers of her on the streets, in the news. It plagues his soul with worry, the idea of her in his streets, no friend to rely on, no place to feel safe. She had been a sweet, kind woman, but he knew the look in her eyes very well, knew the allure that the darkness has. Knew the taste of bitterness when you seek to end the cravings, the addiction.

She was a different person, and Cisco's words told him that she was seeking to find herself again. But there was a difference between finding oneself and isolating yourself from the world. He, Oliver thinks, knows that better than most.

And so he continues to seek her out, searching for her.

Until one night, she makes a reappearance.

It was purely coincidental, Oliver seeing two suspect guys walking the streets. He thinks nothing of it, brushing it aside as paranoia and continues to monitor the streets of his city. But then he finds them again, turning into a dimly lit alley, laughing between themselves as they taunt another.

Oliver readies himself to save the helpless victim of their attacks.

But there is no victim, only her. He almost laughs at coincidence, the two of the cornering her, ignoring her warnings to leave her be. They chuckle in reply, lewd remarks on their tongues as they inch nearer and nearer. The instinct to intervene hits him, but he bites it down. He doesn't know if she'll appreciate his interruption, doesn't know how she'll fare on her own. And Oliver feels as though he should.

“Come on pretty girl," he hears in the wind, "just come and play with us." He bites back the anger down, needing to see more unfold, just a little bit more - just to make sure she could defend herself, that she had been safe the entire time she was out there alone.

She snaps back at them, caustic remarks burning through their pretend smiles and arrogant attitudes.

They touch her shoulder and she fights back, landing a fist in one of their noses, a telltale sound of a break echoing through the small space.

And with that all restraint snaps.

They throw a punch into her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. She doubles over, still lashing out with hands and feet, clocking one in the jaw. It serves to infuriate them, one grabbing her hands, the other punching her in the jaw. Oliver moves to break it apart when he hears the yelp of pain, the man holding her down letting go, anguished cries filling the alley as he started to run, both arms held up to his chest. She had frozen them, Oliver realised with a smirk, pride growing in his chest at the sight. The other man stops his attack, horror in his eyes as he backs away, pleading for his life before calling her words, horrible words. Oliver sees her shoulders slump, sees her struggle to move.

He jumps down, hidden by the darkness, ready to lend a helping hand.

"He called me a monster." She knows he's there, she doesn't need to see him to know. Oliver steps out of the shadows, hating that they were having this conversation. Again. "If a monster calls you a monster, does that make you better than them, or worse?" He can hear her own answer in the resigned sound of her voice.

"I can help you," he whispers, his voice broken like his heart. "I know what you're going through." But his words seem to have the wrong effect.

"Do you," she spits, words like venom. "Do you know what it's like to almost kill your best friend and not care. I'm not the same. I'm not the Caitlin Snow from before. But I'm not Killer Frost. I don't know who I am and I don't need your help to find me."

"Okay." His words are jarring, the strength of his words pulling the strength out of her frame. "Okay," he repeats, softly. "I don't need to help you find yourself if that's what you want. But I can train you." Her eyes narrow and she searches his eyes for some truth.

"And what do you know about training metahumans?"

"Nothing," he concedes. "But I know how to defend yourself when you don't have access to those powers. Without them who knows what may have happened tonight." He's close enough to touch her now, and he wants to. He wants to reach out and brush his fingers against the side of her face. It was already starting to bloom red. He bites back the urge. "And I know a bit about controlling your emotions. That's how you lose control," he ventures. "When your emotions are too much. When they control you." She doesn't say anything to confirm his suspicions, but she doesn't deny them either. She watches him through narrowed eyes, Oliver fully aware she was circling him, manoeuvring herself to the only exit. "You're not protecting anyone by running." There is a moment's hesitation before he adds, "and the guilt doesn't ease either."

"I appreciate the offer Oliver," and she's backing away from him. Again. He doesn't move after her this time - he knows he won't succeed. "But I'm doing fine on my own. See you around."

And she runs.

He stays for a bit longer, eyes staring into the cracks of the bricked wall, mind in another world entirely. Caitlin doesn't know that he sees Laurel sometimes, asking for help in her stance, in her technique. She doesn't know that he curses himself for all the times he turned her away, attempting to protect her when all he did was put her in more danger. She doesn't know that he thinks about his Laurel- thinks that she might be alive somehow if all he did was teach her properly how defend herself, how to attack, that maybe, just maybe, she could have escaped the situation she suffered through. If only.

She sought his help and he rejected her. He didn't want to lose another friend.

He thinks that whatever persona he has, whether it be Oliver Queen, playboy child or Oliver Queen, mayor of Starling City or even the Green Arrow, he puts those who he loves in danger.

What else is he to believe when he receives a call, demands for a ransom for the life of his son.

Oliver calls the school, the confirmation a dim buzz in his head. He knew it, he believed that coarse voice demanding the money, the smugness in the tone one that demanded to be taken seriously, one that knew just exactly who he was dealing with.

There is an internal struggle - to follow the standard procedure and wait for others to save his son, or to go himself, to sneak out of his company and suit up. It is risky, to leave the life of his son in the hands of virtual strangers, to trust them with his greatest treasure. But he is still the mayor, any disappearance on his behalf would be suspicious, would be dangerous. The act of disappearing itself - without Diggle as back up and an alibi, without Felicity in his ear telling him where to go and disabling the electronics - would be hard enough, he didn't realise how much he needed a team before they were taken away from him. And he can’t, security heightened on him as though he were in danger. They were numerous and they were persistent, their presence agitating him more than anything else.

He thinks of Caitlin, of how she would be able to assist - of her skills. But then he gets a call, and he thinks of her no longer, his deceptively steady hands picking up the phone and hitting the answer button.

His heart stutters as he hears a voice saying that his son was okay, rattling off a location and he was moving without realising he had started to move, forgetting his jacket and running to the elevator.

The car trip is nerve-wracking, Oliver jostling his right leg up and down, too much energy inside him and no where to put it.

He arrives to the scene, heart in his throat as he pushes his way through the crowds, searching for his son in the throng. And much like a storm, he could only find the calm in the centre, William surrounded by emergency workers taking care of him. He sits there, antsy, but his face lights up the moment he catches sight of Oliver.

"Dad!" The boy runs fast, the blanket they had wrapped over his shoulders falling to the floor as he sprints to Oliver who is standing there shell shocked. But this is real, his son is alive and safe and a l i v e. He quickly takes a look over him, searching for injuries on his body. But there was nothing. The workers that were with his son only moments before had only just reached him, little out of breath as they relaxed at the sight of the boy with his father.

"Dad you should have seen it! she was so cool! and wonderful." William seems to be in high spirits, looking up at his father with a beaming smile upon his face, before dropping it burying his face in Oliver's shirt, seeking his warmth.

"Thank you officers." His voice is hoarse, but no one will fault him for it, not when he thought his son was kidnapped for so long. They start shaking their heads, confusion in their expression as they exchange looks before turning back to him.

"Oh it wasn't us. We found the perps frozen to the floor. Don't know how that happened."

But Oliver knew.

And, in his own way, so did William.

William is bubbling with excitement; he had seen the woman who saved him, her image etched into his memory, from the flowing, snowy hair to the soft eyes that comforted him. He especially remembered the small display, snowflakes falling from nowhere, dazzling him more than anything else. Winter was, after all, his favourite season. He rambles on about the mysterious saviour, unaware of Oliver's bemused expression as the older man stirs the sauce for his pasta. "Set the table please," Oliver interrupts, and the great amusement in his voice surprises him.

"But daaaad," William whines and oh, how that phrase still manages to twist his heartstrings in the best of ways. "How can you expect me to concentrate when I was kidnapped, and then rescued by the greatest superhero ever." It catches his attention, the casual reference to the kidnapping, and it scares him, how much William had endured because he was his son.

"Oh," he chooses to say instead. "Even better than the Flash?" There is a little bitterness that the Green Arrow still isn't number one, but he figures he has some time to change the kid's mind.

"Yes," he says after some time, his head tilted eyebrows furrowed while deep in thought. "She's better than the Flash. And she doesn't even have a cool name!" he exclaims, as if that were a travesty, (Oliver muses that the kid may be right.)

"Well I'm sure that -" But whatever he was about to say is interrupted with a knock at the door. They both tense and, oh that is definitely something they need to deal with later on. Oliver strides to the door, forcing himself to not lock William away. It wouldn't do to condition the child to fear everything.

He peeks through the hole, body relaxing as he sees who is on the other side. He does more than relax, an easy grin on his face as he unlocks the door, ushering her in. "Hey Caitlin," he says quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. There was so much he wanted to say, and he couldn't find the words, was unsure how to even broach the topic.

"Hey," she says in reply, a small smile on her lips as she meets his gaze. She takes a few steps inside the loft, distracted from Oliver by the scurrying of a young boy, his footsteps coming closer and closer. Until he stops.

His cup clatters on the floor, eyes wide and mouth open as he watches Caitlin enter the loft. "You're - you're her. You're my hero." There is a moment where she freezes, eyes wide and fear shining in them. Oliver wants to reach out and soothe her, to make sure she realised that William was correct that she was a hero. But then the kid continues with an ‘I love you’ and it has both adults reacting to the phrase. "Are you staying for dinner? Please dad, please let her stay." He pleads, hands clasped together, a soft whine in his voice as his eyes dart between the pair of them.

"I brought takeout." She holds it up like a peace offering, William's smile lighting up the room as he takes it. He runs to the kitchen, much more eager to set up the table now he had a guest. Caitlin turns to Oliver who was leaning on the door, a warmth in his expression she had only linked to Felicity or Barry. She ducks her head, suddenly shy. "I hope coming by was okay."

"It's fine," he soothes, pushing himself off of the door to walk towards her, a hand on her back as he guides her to the table. "I was going to hear about you all night whether you're here or not." A beat, then "and it's nice, you being here." He steals a glance at her, hissing as he sees the bruises from before a light purple on her pale skin, make-up not enough to cover the full effect. He itches to stop, to grab a some ice and hold it against the bruises that he knew were far too bright to have been from anything other than today. He doesn't mention how she limps as she walks, favouring her left leg, how she tilted towards him, as if wanting support but too afraid to take what he would willingly give.

"Remember your offer," she starts, unable to meet him in the eye. He wonders if he had been staring too long, too intensely for her to feel comfortable. But she is still leaning towards him, and he thinks maybe not. "About training me." If she notices his steps falter she doesn't respond.

"Yeah,"

"I accept."

His smile doesn't dim throughout the dinner.

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