She's slowly setting up the bathroom, lighting a couple of Felicity’s candles and leaning down to turn on the tub faucet even though her whole body aches like nobody's business, when she hears a soft click that she could swear is the front door. Felicity’s napping, all too willing to give Laurel some time to herself, so it’s not as though it’s her, but who would come by like this? Oliver? Oh, she’d shoot him. But no…he didn’t know she was here, did he? And he certainly wouldn’t come over to Felicity’s without permission, not unless he thought she was in danger, and then he’d call first, wouldn’t he?
Unwilling but as ready as she could be for another fight, Laurel tightens the belt of her bathrobe and glances around the bathroom for any sort of weapon, just in case. She can’t find anything - it was an IT babe’s bathroom, after all - but realizes that the lighter she’s holding should do just fine.
She doesn’t need it.
She turns out of the bathroom, looking right into the living room, a clear view at all the space between her and the front door of Felicity’s apartment, and it’s Sara who’s standing there.
Laurel can see that she’s been crying, and though her immediate reaction is to think to herself that she’ll beat the living daylights out of whoever it is that’s hurt her, it precedes - and is quickly trumped by - the feeling of her own heart breaking.
They only stand there looking at each other, Sara seemingly as unable to find words as Laurel is.
“You are,” Sara chokes out eventually.
“You have to know that you are…you are beautiful, and - and smart, and strong, and alive, God, you’re so alive, I’m so glad you’re still alive, you can’t - you can’t really think that I could ever, ever hate you, could you? Please, tell me you know that I could never hate you…” she cries, and the few words that Laurel can manage to think of can’t come out. But even though she starts to think that, since none of them are truly of agreement, she maybe shouldn’t even bother trying, she can’t. This is Sara - she can’t just close her mouth and walk away, close her heart. Could she?
She decides she doesn’t want to find out.
She gulps and musters what she can to shove a measly ‘please’ out from her quivering lips, and Sara bounds forward, gripping her sister tightly and ensconcing her in her arms.