"Twenty. That was a long time ago for me, and sometimes when you get to my age, you forget what it was like being yours."

When he felt her draw closer into him, he pulled himself a little more securely around her. She felt broken to him, but a lot of people did. A lot of broken things washed up on Jack's shores and he took care of them as best he could. As best he was able.

"You don't have to forgive him, Thea," Jack murmured quietly. A hand pulled away long enough to fish a handkerchief from his pocket and press it gently against her cheek as she looked up. The smile he wore was kind, patient.

"What you do have to do is stop hating. Hate never really serves a purpose except to eat at a person. I can hear it in your voice, see it in your eyes. It stops a person in time, Thea. You can't go on with hate like that."

He chased one last tear with the handkerchief and touched a fingertip to the curve of her cheek. "You're better than that hate. You're Thea. That makes you unique, special, powerful. You are not Malcolm Merlyn, Oliver Queen or anyone else. What they've done shouldn't and can't rule who you are. Who you will be. Whoever this Sara is that you're seeing, if it wasn't your fault, would she know that?"