Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

It happens again and again, a pattern that defines who they are, both on their own and together.

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

Steadfast, stalwart Laurel. Lively, lovable Sara.

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

The alliteration is all wrong. It drives Laurel crazy.

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

It starts at birth. Laurel is born three days late. Sara is an always exciting two weeks early.

Laurel sobs and wails and begs to stay home on the first day of pre-school. Sara skips into the classroom with barely a look over her shoulder.

At boring family gatherings, Sara plots (and often enacts) elaborate escape routes, while Laurel remains behind in the basement, gnawing at her lip at the thought of Sara being caught (never telling, of course, just worrying), only for Sara to happily stroll back in just before it is time to go, the adults none the wiser.

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

Laurel attends every single class in high school, front row, hand in the air. Sara skips as many as she goes to. Laurel watches through the window as a grinning Sara slips by with a tiny wave, headed off campus.

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

And of course, the most infamous example: Laurel in Starling City, Sara on the Queen's Gambit. Sara dead (for the first time), Laurel stuck alive, dying inside.

Laurel stays. Sara leaves.

Sure, Sara comes back. See, that's the thing about Sara. She always leaves, and she always comes back. But that's small consolation for the one always left behind.

It's an age old pattern that, at least when younger, Laurel wants to desperately to upend. Why can't she be wild sometimes? Why can't she run away when things are hard, or even just a little uncomfortable? Why can't she be the girl on the (oh so many) boats?

Laurel stays, and she gets an addiction for her troubles. (Unfair, but when she's weakest, she thinks it.)

Sara leaves, and she gets adventure while she's gone and ecstatic homecomings when she deigns to return.

Laurel stays, Sara leaves.

Back from the dead mere days and already itching to leave.

Laurel stays, Sara leaves.

Until, one day, they don't.

One day, it flips.

One day, Laurel accompanies her sister into Nanda Parbat.

Sara is dressed in all black, but she is an avenging angel. She separates Malcolm's head from his shoulders, and she doesn't seem so guilty about that one. Sara falls into Nyssa's arms, speaking in an Arabic too beautiful to be the same language she rasped without her soul.

(Laurel had to learn to love Nyssa separately before she understood what they are together:

Immortal.

But now she loves them both, and she loves them even more together.)

For once, Laurel leaves. Sara stays.

As if everything is finally right in the world, their sisterly separation doesn't hurt the same way this time.

Laurel embraces her sister, embraces the love of her sister's life, and finally she sees her wild, rebellious, wanderlusting little sister firmly planted. Serenely at peace, even with blood still drying on her boots.

And Laurel has a brand new peace, too, a brand new something ahead of her. No plans, no revenge, no grief to exorcise, no shoulds. Just a team to have her back and a city to protect.

Sara stays.

Laurel leaves.

fin