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Chapter Text

Felicity paced the length of the hallway, chewing on her thumbnail, and subsequently spitting out the flakes of orange nail polish that came off as she did. 

Her brother, her big brother, was in the hospital, because he was dumb and noble and he had a stupidly big heart. She swiped quickly at a tear that tripped down her cheek and paced a little faster. She wanted to blame Laurel. Gorgeous Laurel who had all the boys tripping over themselves for any scrap of her attention. It was no surprise that Tommy was like all the rest. Enough so that he went running into a collapsing building to save her life. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t Laurel’s fault. God, it wasn’t. It was her father’s. Her tears tripled then. 

When was the last time she saw her father, the almighty Malcolm Merlyn? So fierce and strong that he ran off, leaving his two children defenseless. And oh, not even the tip of that ice berg, because as soon as Felicity started to look anything like her mother, she was shipped off to boarding school faster than she could ask for a return on what little puberty had given her. 

She changed her name, taking on her mother’s maiden name, when she was sixteen. Her father didn’t fight it. He signed the papers like she wanted him to and she agreed not to come home for Christmas break. She was celebrating Hanukkah now anyway, like her mother’s side of the family did.

But Tommy visited. He called and emailed and popped up out of nowhere, usually during exam times, because he could and he felt like it and he missed her. “I miss you, Flea,” he’d tell her as he plopped down on her bed, digging her diary out from under her pillow and thumbing through it like it was totally okay and not at all a breach of her privacy. So she would hit him with a pillow and tell him she didn’t have time, she had to study, but somehow she always ended up spending most of her time with her brother. Big brother, with his too big heart and his goofy smile and the best hugs a sister could ask for.

She couldn’t lose him. She was five when she lost her mother and she couldn’t remember much more than brown hair and blue eyes and the gentlest smile she’d ever known. And perfume. This sweet, lilac scent that Felicity found in a bottle on her mother’s shelf and treasured so completely that she never used it. She brought it with her to boarding school and with her on the flight back to Starling City. It was on her hotel dresser now. When she was sad or feeling particularly lonely or when she just wanted to have a piece of home with her, she’d uncap it and take a light sniff, letting the scent calm her and take her back to a time when she was a little girl with parents who loved her and a house she could actually call home.

She loved her mother, or the image of her that she could remember. But Tommy… Tommy was her rock. He was everything to her. When she decided to stay in London after she finished boarding school, he came over and stayed with her for a whole month, helping her settle in while not so subtly trying to convince her to come home, please, come home. She visited sometimes. She went home for the summers, when Malcolm always found a way to be busy or to leave town. She’d spend months in the sun, on the heels of her brother, with Oliver Queen’s arm around her neck as he gave her a noogie and called her Mini-Merlyn because he knew she hated it. Never mind that she had an insanely terrible crush on him while he thought of her as a little sister. At least he cared. Merlyns, it seemed, were of the few people Oliver took seriously and treated properly. Even if she was a Smoak now. 

She hadn’t seen him since before he’d disappeared on a yacht and was thought to be lost at sea. She had seen her brother, who showed up on her door five and a half years ago, distraught and lost. He stayed with her in London for a whole year then, trying to piece himself back together after the loss of his best friend. Merlyns were well acquainted with grief, but they never really dealt with it the way they should. So Tommy drank and he slept around and he struggled to figure out who he was without his faithful friend beside him. And it was hard. It was hard to pick him up off the floor each day and to put him to bed, still crying and clawing at her, begging her to tell him why, why did everybody he love die on him? And it was hard to tell him she wouldn’t do the same. She’d always be there. It was hard to say goodbye and send him back to Starling, all the while knowing she wasn’t really welcome there, not with a dad who couldn’t stand to look at her.

So, she stayed in London and made a life for herself and lived for the days that her brother just popped up out of nowhere, needing to see her and hold her and make her laugh. They Skyped and talked and knew everything there was to know about each other’s lives, but there was nothing quite like being right in front of each other.

Tommy gave the best hugs, did she mention that?

She would do anything for one right now.

“Felicity?”

She whirled, her eyes wide, because she knew that voice. She just hadn’t heard it in so, so long.

Oliver was standing there, an arm in a sling, dried blood on the front of his dress shirt. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her from too far a distance. Like he was surprised, like he was seeing a ghost, like he was somewhere between relief and fear. And then he was moving, eating up the space between them with his feet, and she followed suit until they met in the middle. She hadn’t cried, not really, a few stray tears that she quickly dashed away as she tried to hold herself together. But then Oliver was there and he was wrapping his one good arm around her and she was sobbing against his chest, gripping his shirt in her fists as she sucked in gulping breaths of air and shook against him.

He shushed her, rubbing her back and sliding his hand down her ponytail, squeezing his arm around her at random.

Oliver used to be the second best hug giver, but there was something to be said about having both arms at a time like this. The other was strapped to his chest and she only now worried that she was hurting him, pressed as tightly to him as she was. But when she tried to pull back, he wouldn’t let her, only holding on tighter.

“Tommy’s a fighter. He’ll get through this.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against him. “Promise me?”

His arm tightened around her and he ducked his head down to rest against hers. “He’s going to need you. So, you’re going to have to stick around…”

She shook her head. “My dad… I don’t even know what to ask first. Does he know or has he been arrested? I…”

He stiffened for a moment. “You haven’t heard?”

She went still then and raised her head. “Heard what?”

He swallowed thickly and looked down at her, searching her eyes. “Malcolm’s dead, Felicity. He was killed.”

Her brow furrowed tightly. “W-What?”

“The Hood, the…” His voice gave up for a moment. “I’m sure Tommy’s told you about him?”

She nodded jerkily. “Yeah, some— some Robin Hood type. Personally, I think archery looks ridiculous, but to each their own, I guess.”

His mouth curled faintly, but faded far quicker. “Your father was… He… He built this machine, this… It caused the quake that brought down the Glades. He was the Dark Archer. It was complicated. But, he and the Hood, they fought… and your father was killed.”

She stared up at him blankly, a hollow feeling settling in her chest. “He’s dead,” she whispered.

He nodded, his hand finding and squeezing her shoulder. “I— I’m so sorry.”

Her gaze fell, focusing on his shirt, on the dried bloom of blood on his previously pristine white shirt. “Tommy’s all I have left.”

Oliver stroked her hair back from her face and cradled her head, pulling her back in and hugging her. “He’ll be okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “He will.”

She was pretty sure he was saying it half to convince himself. 

Chapter Text

II.

Tommy was alive.

He made it through three surgeries and was moved into a hospital room registered to a Thomas Smoak. Felicity personally hired guards to stand outside and keep him safe. As far as Starling was concerned, Felicity Smoak had nothing to do with the Merlyn family. In London, she made a comfortable living, building tech and creating apps that put the big companies to shame. She wasn't a billionaire, not like her father, though her trust fund might say different. She never touched it, not after he sent her away. The only money she used was what she earned on her own. Malcolm paid for boarding school, and Tommy bought her first apartment for her when she absolutely refused to use one more dime of Malcolm's money. But now everything she had was hers. She wasn't surprised when the world at large forgot all about her. To Starling, she was a ghost, rarely seen and easily forgotten. As soon as Malcolm's deception was revealed, they froze Tommy's accounts and seized everything Malcolm had once lauded. They did the same to the Queens while they investigated Moira's part in the fall of the Glades.

Felicity was far more fortunate.

In the days that followed Tommy's surgeries, she rarely left his hospital room. She did, however, take Oliver's advice about finding more permanent accommodations. She found a penthouse suite downtown and bought it outright. Money had a way of moving things along much quicker. When Oliver admitted Thea was having trouble staying at the manor, Felicity gave him a spare key and told him to let his sister stay there if she so wanted. She bought everything online and had furniture delivered straight to what would be her new home. There were four bedrooms; one of them would be Tommy's while he recuperated. Another was temporarily Thea's while the chaos of the Glades passed. A third for Oliver, if he wanted it. Then there was a den Felicity planned on making into a library/office, and the master suite would be hers if she ever managed to leave the hospital.

She wasn't sure where Oliver went. He visited every day, asking if Tommy had woken yet. The doctors warned that with a trauma like his, Tommy might need more time sleeping, healing, before he woke up. She thought it was a fancy way of saying he was in a coma and they weren't sure when he'd come out of it. She repeatedly called him Snow White and promised to swear off apple pie if he'd just open his eyes.

Nine days after she took a red eye flight to the States, finding her hometown half in shambles, her father dead, and her brother near death, she finally felt Tommy's hand squeeze hers.

It took him a little while longer before he stirred, blinking open those warm blue eyes of his, and smiled at her. "Hey, Flea…" he murmured.

She broke down crying, burying her face on his shoulder, and hugged her arms around him carefully. "Don't you ever, ever scare me like that again, you jerk!"

He laughed, kissing her cheek, and said, "Love you, too, little sister."

Thea was kind of a semi-permanent guest, apparently.

She moved in to escape the insanely overwhelming rush of news coverage and the mobs of angry people out for revenge and then she just kind of, well, stayed.

Tommy wasn't allowed to leave the hospital for a while, but when he could, Felicity had a room waiting. A room that Thea personally decorated, since she had a whole lot of extra time on her hands. It was nice, actually. While Tommy was now alive and awake, Felicity had a chance to check out her new home and get reacquainted with Thea, who she hadn't seen since she was, oh, twelve or so.

She'd changed a lot, and not just in a 'look, I'm no longer a gangly pre-teen' kind of way that Felicity had been all too familiar with. No, Thea was wiser now, a haunted look to her that came from too many losses, even if at least one of those people came back to her.

That was another thing. Oliver was not who she remembered. He did a pretty good job of pretending that he was, but she knew fake smiles when she saw them, especially since she'd spent a good portion of her youth watching him shoot those smiles at anyone that wasn't her, Tommy, or Thea. So, she knew when Oliver wasn't acting right, and it didn't help that he was, quite possibly, the worst liar to ever attempt lying.

He stayed at her apartment because it was convenient, but she didn't think he slept much. In fact, she was pretty sure he was there because it meant he was close to Thea, and because he had a clear view of the destruction in the Glades. He spent a lot of time staring out the window at the fires they were still putting out, the crumbled buildings that sat in heaps of cement and cinderblock. Oliver was haunted too, but she thought it might be different to what Thea was suffering through.

She never asked about the island. She never asked where he went every day and night. She didn't ask, but she did wonder, and Felicity hated mysteries.

"I did buy cups for a reason."

Oliver choked on the milk he was drinking straight from the carton. As he lowered it, he wiped at a dribble that escaped down his chin.

She watched him, tying the waist of her silk robe, her brow furrowed. "You're home early."

His eyebrow arched. "It's 3 am."

"Right, and you don't usually sneak in until 5." She crossed the room and reached past him to get a cup down from the cupboard, standing far too close but unwilling to give him any ground. "I'm not going to ask you why, mostly because I hate being lied to, and whatever you do with your personal life is completely up to you, but…" She took the milk from his hand and poured it into the glass. "You have a sister trying really hard to act like things are normal, a mother awaiting trial in prison, a best friend healing in the hospital, and an ex-girlfriend who spends a lot of time avoiding you. So, this is me offering to be a friend if you want and an ear if you need to talk." She took his hand and placed the cup in it. "And pick up some milk the next time you go out; we're almost out." After putting the milk carton back in the fridge, she left him there in the kitchen and went to her bedroom for some much-needed sleep.

But, as she laid there atop her bed, she couldn't help but think of all the scrapes on his face that hadn't been there yesterday.

The first, and only, time she kissed Oliver Queen, Felicity was seventeen years old. She was a little tipsy and a lot sad and she was visiting for the summer before senior year. It was her mother's birthday; Rebecca would've been 47. Malcolm left the day before; he couldn't bring himself to look at her as he walked out the door, carefully avoiding so much as breathing in her direction.

She went in and had her hair dyed blonde as both an act of rebellion and a promise to herself that she wouldn't live in her mother's shadow any longer.

She didn't know where Tommy was. He usually liked to be alone on days like this. Both on Rebecca's birthday and the anniversary of her death, Tommy was more solemn than ever, and his way of grieving was to do the opposite of what he usually did. So, he shut himself away and turned off his phone. Felicity, on the other hand, wanted comfort.

Oliver was all too happy to give it to her.

They were on the grounds outside the manor, on a grassy hill that overlooked everything; the sprawling apple orchard, high rose bushes, stretching white stone walls, and the tall, grey manor that was dressed in climbing ivy.

Her head rested on his stomach, a beer in one hand while the other fiddled with a necklace her mother used to wear every day, a gift passed down from her own mother and promised to Felicity when she was thirteen. She found it in the things returned to them when Rebecca died. Her father never touched them. They were tucked away in a plastic bag in the attic that Felicity used to sneak away to so she could read her books in peace.

"What's going on in your big head?" Oliver tugged on a loose braid in her hair. While she'd usually bat his hand away, this time she let him. He twined it around his finger and used the tail to tickle her cheek.

"Just thinking." She shook her head. "You probably don't know what that feels like."

He cracked a grin at her, chuckling lowly. "Touché."

She smiled faintly. "Do you think you can miss someone if you don't really remember them?"

He didn't answer right away, brow knotted up with thought. "Yeah, sure you can. I don't really remember my grandpa, not what he looks like, but I remember what it felt like. I remember what he smelled like. And sometimes I miss that. Sometimes I smell things that reminds me of him and it's like my heart hurts."

She looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah."

He smiled down at her. "Yeah."

She took a swig of her beer and tipped her head up to stare at the clouds. "All right, that one looks like Tommy in sixth grade—"

"When he got his head stuck in that toilet seat," he laughed, nodding.

She grinned. "Exactly."

A warm feeling settled inside her, tingling right down to her toes. Part of it was the beer, a nice buzz that took the edge off, and part of it was just Oliver's company. First and foremost, despite her horrifically embarrassing crush on him, he was her friend. And he was Tommy's friend. Meaning they had one very important person whom they both loved in common.

Which was why they agreed never to tell him that they kissed.

It was pretty innocent, all things considered.

Oliver wasn't the first boy she kissed, nor would he be the last. But, he was up there on the scale of best kisses. His lips were softer than she thought they'd be. To be honest, she thought he might just dive in, take take take, because Oliver was selfish. He had good qualities. She could list them, even if he'd argue each one. He was also selfish and conceited and he burned through girls faster than anybody she knew. But, when he kissed her, it was soft and gentle and he stroked a thumb over her cheek as he sucked on her bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it before his tongue swept over the sting soothingly. He kissed her slowly, unhurried, pressing her back against the grass as he sipped from her mouth and stroked his fingers through her hair and down her neck. He kissed every inch of her mouth, as if memorizing what it felt like and tasted like and how it moved to meet his own. And for just a moment, with him hovering just above her, his nose lightly bumping hers, his breath skittering over her parted mouth, his eyes meeting hers with all the soft appreciation of someone who'd known her all her life, she thought he might just love her.

Thea interrupted, calling his name in the distance, demanding that he come and play.

And then he blinked, and that softness in his eyes was replaced with the playful boy she'd always known. He took helped her up from the grass and kept hold of her hand as they walked down to meet Thea, shouting at her to count to fifty while they hid. And then he turned to her and said the words at the tip of her own tongue. Tommy can't find out.

So, Tommy didn't and she and Oliver went back to being friends who didn't kiss.

She returned to London two weeks later, a month after that she started dating a boy in her class and forgot all about sweet kisses on grassy hills and warm eyes that said more than she'd ever expected.

Chapter Text

III.

Felicity's phone buzzed, drawing her eye from the computer screen. She reached for it absently, thumbing it open and reading the message she'd received. His name no longer graced her contact's list, so it was only a London phone number at the top of the message box. Not for the first time, she wished she'd blocked it.

—I miss you.

She frowned. It was one more message to add to the six previous. All a variation of apologies and asking her to call. With an impatient sigh, she turned her phone back over and returned to her work. She didn't have time to deal with any of that. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It was yet another level to an already long list of things demanding attention. Much like the rest, she wished it would just fade into the ether and leave her be.

But, nothing was ever that simple.

Despite the media vultures seeming to catch on that none of the Queens were staying at the manor anymore—meaning Thea could easily sneak back in— instead, she chose to continue staying at Felicity's apartment. More often than not, she had her boyfriend Roy around, too. This wasn't an issue for Felicity. Roy was a bit mouthy and a lot rebellious, but he seemed like a nice enough kid. It was, however, an issue for Oliver.

"He's making himself at home," he muttered, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island while Felicity stirred a pot of pasta. He was glaring at Thea and Roy, cuddled up in the living room, whispering and laughing with each other.

Felicity moved over to the cutting board, where a clove of garlic sat in wait. She was trying her hand at her bubbe's favorite recipes. While she could afford to hire a cook, she chose not to. Not everybody was as awesome as Raisa, and Felicity prided herself on being self-sufficient. With everything that happened with Tommy though, she was feeling nostalgic. So, she broke out her mother's old cookbooks, none of which she was pretty sure Rebecca ever actually used, but her bubbe had, and she'd taught Felicity a few things when she was a little girl.

"Oliver, you were having sex a lot younger than seventeen," she reminded.

His mouth screwed up. "And look how far that got me."

She raised an eyebrow, staring at him incredulously. "Are you really suggesting you regret being a Casanova in high school?"

"Not regret, exactly, just…" He shook his head. "I wasn't the most thoughtful guy. I mean, I didn't exactly have a lot of long-lasting relationships."

"I remember," she mused. "But Thea and Roy are in a long-term relationship, so maybe it's not ideal that they're sleeping together, but it could be worse."

"My sister is sleeping with a guy who has a criminal record, and who originally met her when he stole her purse…" His eyes widened for emphasis. "How much worse could it get?"

"He could be a mass-murderer." She pointed her stirring spoon at him as she moved back to the pot of boiling pasta. "A la my father. See? Worse."

Oliver snorted and rolled his eyes. "Her mother is also a fellow-mastermind of said mass murders."

"Right, but she tried to stop it, so she gets brownie points." Felicity shrugged. "Listen, Roy seems like a good kid. Rough around the edges, not very happy with authority, and slightly more sarcastic than necessary, but still good."

"Slightly?"

"You know, you two are a lot more alike than you think. He just blatantly shows off his dislike for the general public while you hide it behind a polite, and totally ingenuine, veneer."

Oliver watched her a long moment, waiting for her to elaborate.

She sighed. "Think back to how you were as a teenager. You weren't so different from him. You hated where you came from, and anybody telling you what to do, you barely got along with anybody, and I can count your closest friends on three fingers." She shrugged. "You were a wealthy Roy Harper. Suck it up."

He frowned at her. "I assume you added McKenna to that list?"

She nodded. "Although, she's kind of interchangeable with Laurel, depending on the time frame. Really, if you want to get technical, your only constant friend was Tommy."

"And you."

She frowned skeptically. "I don't know if it can be considered 'constant' if I spent most of my time in a different country."

"I still considered you one of my best friends." He shrugged, crossing his arms and resting them on the island. "You ever wonder what it might've been like if Malcolm hadn't sent you away?"

Felicity bit her lip, glancing at him briefly before she focused on her sauce. "Sure. A lot of awkward silences in the house and a blonde dye job a lot earlier in life."

He hummed. "What about with us?"

She paused. "What about us…?"

He stared at her a long moment. "I liked you."

"I hope so, you just called me one of your best friends."

His mouth twitched, but he shook his head. "I had a crush on you for years," he clarified.

Felicity scoffed. "No, you didn't."

"I think I'd know better than you who I had feelings for."

"Oliver, you treated me like your little sister and you slept with anything that moved. That doesn't exactly boast of super romantic feelings," she reminded.

"Yeah, and like I said earlier, I wasn't the most thoughtful person. You were fifteen when I realized I liked you and I only ever got to see you in the summer…" He shrugged. "There was no way Tommy would ever let me date you and I didn't even know if you liked me like that."

It was funny how obvious things seemed in hindsight. Every summer she came back to Starling and every summer Oliver was mysteriously single. Oh, he had girlfriends leading up to the summer – her brother was only too happy to boast about the triumphs of his best friend – but as soon as Felicity flew back into town, Oliver dropped whatever relationship he was in and dedicated the summer to just her and Tommy. And he was tactile; she never realized just how much. He always had an arm around her or he was ruffling her hair or pressing sloppy kisses to her cheek in an effort, she thought, to annoy her. He liked her but knew he shouldn't, knew Tommy would never let Oliver near her if he knew, so he adapted his approach.

Until that day when she was seventeen and they kissed in the grass.

"It took you two years to kiss me," she said, smiling to herself. "That must've been a blow to your ego."

He rolled his eyes. "I recovered, eventually."

Felicity offered him a half-smile. "So, what, you think if my dad hadn't sent me away we'd be some clandestine romance?"

He stared at her searchingly. "Is that so unbelievable?"

She shook her head, turning her attention down to the saucepan. "Maybe we would have. Or maybe we weren't ready for each other as teenagers. Maybe we would've graduated and gone to college together and gotten engaged and married young. Or maybe I would've gone to MIT and the long-distance would be too much. Or maybe you would've still met Laurel and fallen in love with her and all that history wouldn't have mattered." She shrugged. "The maybes don't amount to much, Oliver. What we are is two old friends, sharing an apartment, trying to be there for Tommy while the city burns down around us…" She raised her eyes to meet his. "Maybe I would've been the love of your life, or maybe that's just wishful thinking."

"For who?"

"For both of us."

He stared at her, the intensity of it enough to make her heart thump hard in her chest.

And then Thea swept into the kitchen. "What smells good?" She paused to look between them and frowned. "Oh, awkward, what's with the tension?"

Felicity tore her gaze away from him and turned to Thea. "Nothing. Hey, why don't you get the salad ready? Maybe Roy can help you."

"Sure…" Thea still glanced between them curiously, but moved to the fridge to gather up every vegetable in sight. She found some counter space and then, without the least bit of concern for anyone else, shouted as loud as she could, "Roy, come help!"

"All right, all right." Roy joined her in the kitchen. "Jesus, anybody ever tell you your voice could rupture eardrums?"

"Me. Frequently," Oliver muttered.

Felicity bit her lip and focused on the food in front of her. A few feet away, Roy and Thea bickered flirtatiously as they chopped vegetables, nudging each other with their elbows. Felicity felt Oliver's heavy gaze on her the whole time but refused to meet it. They both had way too much on their plates to add whatever romantic implications were being tossed around on top of it.

"Question…" Felicity shook an empty box of Shreddies at Roy, who was sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of, yup, Shreddies. "Was putting the empty box back in the cupboard on purpose, or…?"

Roy had the decency to wince. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Habit, I guess."

"Great. Then, you can help me pick up the groceries today."

His brow furrowed. "Aren't you rich enough to have them delivered?"

"I'm also rich enough to have security put up a picture of you so you're stopped in the lobby." She grinned. "But, I don't. Because Thea likes you. And I trust her judgement."

He tipped his head to stare at her. "You know I have a record, right?"

"Yep. Mostly for theft. Although, there was some talk about assault…"

He blinked at her, surprised.

She pointed at herself, fingertips a bright, pearly pink. "Computer genius. And you're a stranger, living in my very secure apartment, with the most important people in my life, so…"

"Right. Makes sense." He nodded. "So, groceries?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna get ready. Why don't you make a list and we'll see what we can grab?"

He frowned. "Should I wake Thea up?"

Felicity shook her head. "Nah. Let her sleep. She probably doesn't want to be out in public more than she has to. Plus, if anybody spots her, it'll be more fuss than we need."

He shrugged. "Okay."

"Fifteen minutes. Finish your breakfast and get that list ready."

He saluted her as she walked away.

"How much would it take for you to plan a jailbreak?"

Felicity rolled her eyes as she walked into her brother's hospital room. "You're being discharged next week."

"Which is a week too long." He groaned, dropping his head back against his pillow. "I can't take it anymore, Flea. This place is sucking my soul into a vortex of doom."

"Wow, you've been watching way too much television." She crossed the room to take a seat in the chair next to his bed. "I come bearing gifts. Or, a gift, same difference."

"Is it a nail file baked inside of a cake?"

"No. And that would be redundant, since you can technically leave at any time. I just wouldn't recommend it, since there are reporters parked outside, waiting for any peek at you. And also the doctor's concerned about that semi-mortal wound you have."

"Please, this old thing? It's a flesh wound." He eyed her purse as she dug through it. "Is it a pony?"

She scoffed. "What've you done to deserve a pony?"

"Excuse you, I saved a person's life."

"And then got a building dropped on you. Thus nullifying any accolades."

He pulled a face. "What? Why?"

"Because!" She tossed a hand up. "How dare you nearly get yourself killed!"

"Whatever. No good deed goes unpunished."

"Tommy, you don't even like horses. Not since Four-Eyes bucked you off of her when you were eight."

"A," He raised a finger for emphasis, "that is still a terrible name for a horse—"

"Better than you and Oliver calling her Foreskin."

"—and B, that horse had a vendetta against me."

"Again, probably because you called her Foreskin."

He rolled his eyes. "Weren't you bringing me gifts?"

"I'm reconsidering. And I'm thinking about telling your doctor to keep you two weeks."

"That's low!" His eyes narrowed at her. "First, no pony and now the threat of extended hospital time? It's like I don't even know you anymore."

"Yeah, you really need to stop watching so much TV. I'm bringing you a book tomorrow." She pulled her hand from her bag then. "I almost regret bringing you this still warm cheeseburger from Big Belly Burger…"

Tommy lit up and held a hand out. "Don't kick a guy when he's down."

With a snort, she handed him his burger. "There. Don't pull a stitch."

"I'm going to let that one slide because I'm so grateful," he muttered, unwrapping his burger.

"Mmhmm."

Felicity leaned back in her chair then, and waited for his overenthusiastic appreciation to die down so she could ask him how he was feeling. Much as she loved her brother, Tommy tended to make a joke out of most things, so while he put on a good face for her, she knew he was in pain. The dark pockets under his eyes said enough, but he just looked rough in general. He needed a shave and a hot shower and a bed somewhere that didn't smell like disinfectant. Which he would get, in one week. She wanted him home as soon as possible, but she wouldn't ignore doctor's orders. What mattered now was his health. She'd already lost him once; she wasn't willing to test life's ability to suck right now.

"Hey!"

Felicity looked up as the door to her office slid open, and Thea walked in. "Hey," she greeted, fingers still poised over her keyboard. "What's up?"

Thea shrugged. "Not much. Just thought I'd see what you were doing."

"Bored, huh?"

She sagged. "Yes!"

"Must be hard, being cooped up here until things blow over."

Frowning, she slumped into a chair. "Will it?"

"Not anytime soon." Felicity sat back in her chair and stacked her hands on her stomach. "You can talk to me, you know? If you ever feel like things are getting to be too much."

"I know." Thea tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. "I used to idolize you a bit when I was a kid."

"Just when you were a kid?" Felicity joked.

Her mouth hitched up on one side. "Well, you got to live in London for one thing. And whenever you visited, you were always so nice to me. Plus, you were smart. Between you and Laurel, it was like hashtag-goals."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you were my idols. I wanted to be smart and funny and sophisticated, just like you two."

"And look at that, you are. Probably more than us, actually. Well, I can only speak for myself, but the sophisticated thing is mostly a carefully woven shroud." She waved a hand around herself. "I'm a mess. I just wear nice things to hide it."

"Oh, please. You made your own business and it's been blowing up." Thea's brows hiked. "I've kept an ear out. Your apps are huge."

"Mostly in Tokyo. They haven't taken off as much in the American market." Felicity shrugged. "But, I am pretty proud of them."

"You should be." Thea nodded. "Anyway, if anyone's a mess, it's probably me. I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Your life is a little crazy right now. It's okay to take a break and try to salvage things before you throw yourself into the next big thing. College can wait. Or work, if that's what you want to do."

"That's just it. I don't know what I want to do. Half the time, I just want to bury my head and pretend everything going on is just a really realistic nightmare."

"Yeah. I know the feeling." Felicity smiled sympathetically. "Thea, whatever you do, it'll be the right thing for you, and that's all that matters."

"Yeah. Fingers crossed." She sighed and then sat forward in her seat. "All right, I'll let you get back to work. But, if you don't mind, I was thinking I might make dinner tonight."

"By 'make' do you mean 'cook' or 'call for takeout?'"

Thea grinned. Pushing up from her seat, she walked to the door. "I know a great Korean BBQ place that you'll love. Promise."

"I'm allergic to—"

"Peanuts, I know!"

"Oh. Okay. Then great! See you at dinner."

Thea nodded, and pulled the door closed. "Happy working."

Oliver snuck in just after 1 am. A small miracle since 2 or 3 was more his staple.

"There's leftovers in the fridge," Felicity said from her perch on the couch.

He walked into the living room quietly, and she absently wondered how it was someone learned to walk so silently.

"What're you still doing up?" he wondered, taking a seat next to her.

"Work." She sighed, and stretched her head back, rolling her shoulders. "I didn't plan to be up this late. But Thea wanted to watch a movie after dinner, so I traded in my laptop for popcorn. I'm a push-over like that."

Oliver smiled. "It's been good for her, having you here. With mom… absent, she needed something stable."

Turning in her seat to face him, she raised an eyebrow. "So, what are you then?"

"I'm… sneaking in at 2 am. So, not stable."

She laughed lightly. "Well, I'm sure you have your reasons. But… I think she'd benefit from having you around, too."

"You're right. But, things are complicated right now. I have a lot on my plate."

"Hers isn't exactly empty."

"Neither is yours." He reached over then, and covered her hand, squeezing gently. "I haven't really asked how you're dealing with things. Learning about your dad… That had to be rough."

"It's been strange." She sighed. "I knew something wasn't right with him. It was staring me in the face the whole time. But… I never imagined it would lead here. I mean, can anyone really expect this?"

"No." He shook his head and dropped his gaze a moment. "Before the island, if you had told me any of this was going on, that my mother would be involved with something like this, I would've thought you were crazy. But… Things happen. People change. Not always for the better."

Felicity turned her hand over and folded it around his. "But, you believe your mom was innocent. Or that she was manipulated into this somehow. Don't you?"

"I want to." He raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression drawn. "I want to believe that, deep down, she is still the woman who raised me. That there's something good left inside her."

"I'm not sure I have the same luxury… But, Moira wasn't like my dad. She wasn't motivated by hate like him. So, maybe you're right. Maybe this isn't as much on her as it is my dad. Maybe she was just another cog in his machine."

Oliver sighed and tapped his thumb against hers. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Thank you, but you don't owe me an apology. You're just as much a victim as any of us… I just, I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that my dad did this." She bit her lip as it started to quiver. "I was worried for him. When I realized Tommy was hurt, when I was flying over, I… I was worried my dad was, too. But, it was him. It was his fault. And a part of me feels stupid for thinking about him at all, because I know he never thought about me. He didn't want anything to do with me. And another part of me thinks that maybe he got what he deserved, dying like he did. And then a third part—because that's all I am at this point, just parts— feels so awful for thinking it. For thinking my own father deserved to die. Because what does that make me? What kind of person am I?"

"Felicity, you're the farthest thing from a bad person."

"Aren't I?" She blinked quickly against the sting of tears. "A whole city was burning because of my dad, and I was worried about him."

"You didn't know."

"Still. Even after I found out that it was him, it hurt. I—I missed him. I still do. Maybe not who he became, but… Whoever he was."

"And that's okay." He pulled on her hand, drawing her into his side.

Felicity pushed her laptop over onto the couch cushion and let herself fall against him. "How did any of this happen? I just, I don't get it. How did our lives become this?"

He hugged her, his hands rubbing her back and over her shoulders. "I don't know."

"I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to fall."

He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Me, too."

She laughed, thick and emotional. "Well, I'm glad we're in the same boat." She flinched and looked up. "You know, metaphorically. Not…"

He smiled down at her. "I know."

"Now I feel even worse. I'm crying about all my dad issues. But you have mom issues on top of lost-at-sea issues."

He chuckled. "I guess you should be hugging me then."

She shifted and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest. "I think the last time we did this was before the island… You and Tommy came out to see me in London. You remember?"

"Mm-hmm. You had a little too much champagne and you wanted to cuddle on the couch while we watched The Breakfast Club."

"Iconic movie."

"Iconic cuddling."

She snorted. "Okay, Casanova. I think I fell asleep on you and left a drool patch right about…" She poked him in his left pec. "Here."

"A highlight of my life."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

He squeezed her. "It was. It's not every day you get to spend the whole night spooning your crush."

"I'm pretty sure at some point I was spooning you."

"I like to actively forget that part."

"I'm pretty sure Tommy took a picture."

He nodded. "Yeah, he still blackmails me with it sometimes."

She giggled. "You're pretty good at this comforting thing."

"I thought I was rusty."

"Not from where I'm sitting." Her eyes started to droop then. "Maybe too good. I need to go to bed."

"In a few minutes," he said, his hands still rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Fine. But I can't be held responsible for any future drool patches."

He laughed lowly, the rumble warm against her ear. "Duly noted."

Unsurprisingly, she did fall asleep on him, but this time he carried her to bed and tucked her in. On the one hand, how gallant of him. On the other, she was starting to worry she was adding another level of complicated to an already over-complicated life. Because if Oliver Queen was anything, he was that.

Tommy was a giant baby.

Now that he was discharged from the hospital and comfortably set up in a room in Felicity's apartment, he'd taken to complaining whenever possible. Felicity hired a physio therapist to help him with his recovery. The rebar hadn't severed his spine, but it had torn through enough that moving in any direction was agony. Gemma, his physio therapist was amazing; funny, patient, and not the least bit affected by Tommy's grumpiness or his sporadic flirting. Despite this, all Tommy wanted to do was become a bed potato— the second cousin of the couch potato— often refusing to leave his bedroom.

So, yeah, Tommy didn't want a therapist and he frequently made that known. And Felicity ignored him, because he might be older but she was smarter.

"She's a tyrant!" he complained, groaning as he laid on the floor of the exercise room, sprawled on a mat.

Felicity rolled her eyes, a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, thumb tapping out a message to a client. "She came with amazing recommendations."

He glared at her from under the arm he'd thrown over his flushed and sweaty face. "Those are easy to fake."

"Have you considered the possibility that you're just a terrible patient?"

Tommy frowned. "I can't believe my own sister, my blood, is a traitor." He paused then, seeming to realize the weight of what he was saying. "That came out wrong. Let's just pretend I didn't say anything."

She hummed. "Including the tyrant bit?"

"No, that part I stand by." He raised a finger and pointed at her meaningfully. "How sure are we this woman isn't secretly an assassin, hired to slowly kill me through unnecessary exercise?"

Across the room, Gemma snorted. "I can think of at least three different ways to kill you that would be both easier and quieter."

Tommy waved a hand toward her and then looked at Felicity. "Do you see what I'm working with?"

"A competent and patient woman that I trust has your best interests in mind." Felicity grinned. "Okay. While you're here working on getting better, I have my own work to do. I'll be back later, all right?"

"Bring food!" Tommy called after her.

She flicked her thumb up from around her phone and waved it at them before she cut toward her office.

Thankfully, since everything Felicity did was on her own time anyway, she didn't have set hours or need to answer to anybody. Whatever she put out there was her own creation, and she was still making plenty of money on what she'd already done. But, idle hands and all that.

Felicity had a few people trying to contract her into building specific projects, wanting her to be there in person rather than reaching out across the interwebs, but she wasn't so sure now was the right time for that. She wanted to focus on whatever would keep her close to her brother. Which would be fine, because her brain was a commodity and her ability to wield technology was a gift. A very expensive gift that few could manage to afford. But, there were some and so, to avoid boredom, she took those contracts on and busied her mind and hands with that.

That didn't, however, distract her from the mystery going on right under her roof.

Felicity frowned as she walked into the kitchen, heels clacking on the floor, to find Roy seated at the island, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his face. "Do I want to know where that came from?" she wondered, pointing at the bruising that crept from his forehead to his chin, leaving the entire left side of his face a purple mess.

"I'm not great at making friends," he muttered, wincing as the cut on his lip pulled.

"I have a First Aid kit somewhere…"

"'m fine."

Humming, she shook her head, and made her way down the hall to raid her bathroom cabinet. She returned triumphant, waving the red bag at him. "All right, let's see what we're working with here."

Sighing, Roy dropped the bag of peas to the counter and looked at her dubiously. "Do you even know how to use that thing?"

She whistled, long and low, before carefully reaching up to poke at his face.

Wincing, he pulled back from her probing fingers. "Uh, ow."

"Baby. My brother had rebar through his chest. This is nothing." She unzipped the bag and dug around in it. "So, why didn't you go to the hospital?"

He snorted. "Ever since the Glades blew up, they've got their hands full. If you don't have the money to move things along, you're not exactly getting a great experience. Anyway, I don't exactly have insurance."

"My dad used to have a private doctor on retainer. Anytime he caught so much as a sniffle, he'd call her up." Felicity looked his face over. "I can see if she'll take my call. The Merlyn name doesn't hold much weight lately, but, like you said, money still greases palms, so…"

"It's fine. I'll heal."

"Your choice." She took his chin and turned it so he was facing her better. "Hold still. This is going to sting."

"Wait, what is— Ow! Jesus, what the hell!"

"It's an open cut." She rolled her eyes. "I needed to disinfect it."

"You go to med school in London, too?"

"Not even close. I was a computer geek all the way."

Roy grumbled, as she continued poking at his face, cleaning out a few other scrapes. "Thea mentioned you a few times… She was thinking of moving there after high school. Something about studying fashion. She was gonna see if you'd let her stay with you while she went to school."

Felicity hummed. "I would have. And she'd be amazing at that."

He frowned. "You think she'd want to still?"

"I don't know. She hasn't mentioned anything to me. I still have an apartment there, if she needs somewhere to stay…" She shrugged. "Thea's smart. Whatever she wants to do, I'd bet money she revolutionizes it."

Roy stared at her a long beat. "You were really close with the Queens, huh?"

"Once upon a time." She started peeling open a few bandages then. "When we were kids, we went everywhere together. Then I was sent to boarding school and that had to change. But, Oliver and Tommy still had each other. That helped. And when I came home, they were always there. Or, here, I guess."

"Gotta be weird for you, though. All this stuff with the trial and seeing your dad on the news for the bombings."

Felicity paused, her brow furrowed. "It hasn't been easy. But… We'll get through it."

"Yeah, people like you tend to bounce back."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean rich people?"

He stared at her knowingly.

"Well, you're not wrong." She smoothed a bandage over a split in his cheek and then stepped back, dusting her hands off. "Look, Roy, I know that you used to live in the Glades and… I'm sorry. For what my dad did."

"Not sure it's your place to apologize. You didn't do this."

"No. But… He's not here to apologize for what he did. And if he was, I'm not sure he would. So, I'm sorry. I'll take responsibility in whatever way I can." She crossed her arms and shrugged. "I'm not sure what that means yet, but… I hope an apology can hold you over until I figure it out."

He stared up at her, brow furrowed. "It's weird."

"What is?"

"How someone like you can be related to him." He shook his head. "You're nothing like him."

"Well, in this context, I'm hoping that's a compliment."

He snorted a laugh. "It is."

"Good." She smiled. "Now, since you defrosted the peas, how about we have them with dinner?"

He glanced at the bag and then nodded. "Sure, what are we making?"

For the most part, Felicity tried to avoid consuming negative press, especially when it concerned her family. But, the fact that her father had been a terrorist wasn't something she needed to see on a TV screen or on a magazine to know it was true. Somewhere along the way, Malcolm Merlyn had lost the part of himself that his children had so admired, that his wife had loved. He became a shadow of the man he once was, a phantom that haunted the earth until it was ready to decimate it. And she didn't know how to feel about it. Angry, sure. But also, disappointed and confused and guilty.

Really guilty.

Obviously, it wasn't her fault. She hadn't put the idea in his head, and she didn't help him go through with it. If anything, she abhorred what he'd done. But, she wasn't there to stop him. To guide him back to that moral place he'd once lived. To support him through whatever insanity had led him to this place. Was that on her? Did that make her a terrible daughter? He was her father. Despite everything. Even on the days that she hated him for sending her away, for not being able to look at her, for trying so hard to erase her existence from his life, he was still her father.

And he was gone.

The funeral was a quiet one. With the press unaware of where Tommy was staying, it wasn't difficult to leave the apartment and drive to the cemetery. They kept the details of the funeral quiet, and the guest list at a paltry two.

Tommy sat hunched in a wheelchair while Felicity stood next to him, hands balled up into fists. Oliver and Thea had offered to come, but she'd waved them off. It was a nice gesture, and she appreciated it, but Malcolm was no friend to the Queen family. Somehow, he'd brought Moira Queen into all of this, likely against her will, and Felicity couldn't ask them to stand in front of his grave and listen to anything kind that might be said.

But, now that she was there, she was finding words – kind or otherwise – difficult.

"Is this the part where we highlight all of his good qualities, or can we just throw some dirt on him?" Tommy wondered.

Felicity looked down at him knowingly. He was dressed in his best suit, even if he kept tugging his tie a little looser. "Whatever he was, whatever he did, he's still… dad."

"Yeah." Tommy scoffed, his mouth pressed flat in a line. "Was he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe he died. When mom… Maybe he followed her."

Felicity's eyes stung. She reached out and laid a hand atop Tommy's shoulder. "It's wasn't always bad. Right? I mean… He had good days."

"Yeah. Sure. When we were little. For a while."

Malcolm had disappeared early on, returning years later and acting like that was a normal grieving process. His behaviour, however, had drastically changed. Gone was the warm parent they'd been used to, and in his place was a more hardened man. There were no more kind words or comfort, just expectations and disappointment. It didn't matter what his children did, they couldn't live up to what he wanted them to be. So, they stopped trying. Felicity gave up on being his daughter at all, and accepted her new life in London. Tommy threw himself into his rebellious image and never quite stopped. In her case, school cushioned her. For Tommy, he had Oliver. And now, here they were, burying a man that hardly qualified as a father.

The gravestone was simple. A name and a date. There wasn't much more than that. She wondered how long it would be before someone desecrated it somehow. She wondered if she would care.

"So, maybe we say goodbye to who he used to be?" She forced a smile. "Before mom died, before… all of this."

Tommy shifted in his wheelchair, still frowning. "He used to be funny. And… nice. He was kind to us. To other people..."

"He told the best bedtime stories." Felicity stared at his name, carved into marble. Malcolm. In a strange way, it seemed so foreign to her. "He gave great piggy back rides. And he never tucked the sheets in too tight. Mom always made it so snug, I couldn't move."

Tommy huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, because you rolled right off the bed."

"Right, so dad made the teddy bear walls. They penned me in." She smiled slowly. "He was a good dad, wasn't he? Back then."

Tommy reached up, covering her hand in his own. "Yeah," he rasped.

"Then we remember him. We love him. And we… let him go."

He squeezed her hand so hard it hurt.

Digging a handful of flower petals out of her jacket pocket, she tossed them forward to fall into the grave, and then she nodded. "I hope, wherever you are, you're at peace."

Tommy cleared his throat. "Goodbye… dad."

Closing her eyes, Felicity let out a long breath, twin tears sliding down her cheeks.

It was a farewell long coming.

Chapter Text

IV.

"I wasn't expecting to see you." Moira glanced around, as if she expected to find another guest hidden somewhere in the sparse meeting room of the prison. Her face fell with disappointment when it was clear who she was hoping to see was nowhere to be found. Finally, she returned her attention to Felicity, lifting her chin high, somehow looking elegant even in her drab charcoal prisoner's jumpsuit.

"Thea's not here," Felicity said unnecessarily. "I know you've been hoping she'd come by, but… She's not ready."

"And she asked you to tell me that?" Moira raised a sculpted brow.

"No. Thea doesn't know I'm here."

"I made it clear that the only people I wanted to see were my lawyer or my children. How did you manage to get on my guest list, Miss Merlyn? Or should I call you Miss Smoak now?"

"I prefer 'Smoak.'" Felicity stared at her. "I think you know why I'm here."

"Ah." Her gaze fell to the table, expression soft with knowing. "You want answers."

"I've never liked mysteries."

"Yes, I remember…" Rather fond, Moira said, "When you were a child, Robert gave you a book of his. You spent a lot of time in the library, so he thought you might like it. It was a collection of unsolved mysteries. You became so upset that none of them had a proper ending that you spent a whole summer trying to figure them out."

She nodded. "I still have it."

Moira raised her eyes to meet Felicity's. "You want to know why your father would go to such extreme lengths to cause the entire destruction of a whole neighborhood."

"I want to know how he became more monster than man… How no one saw it…" She shook her head. "You said that he threatened you and Oliver and Thea. That you had proof that he killed dozens of people. I— I'm not saying that I don't believe you. I'm just… confused. I mean, he wasn't my father anymore. I know that. He changed after my mom died. But a mass-murderer?"

"We only think we know the people around us. It's never that simple. Especially when it comes to children and their parents." Moira cupped her hands atop the table, fingers folded demurely. "Malcolm wasn't always a monster. Before Rebecca's murder, he truly was a good man and father. But, you have to understand… Death can be like a poison. The violence that was shown to your mother, it infected him. All he cared about was getting his version of justice, no matter the cost."

"What did he think would happen?" Felicity's brow furrowed. "So, the Glades blew up and thousands of innocent people died. But, what then?"

"I can't be sure." Moira stared at her. "I did what I had to do to save my family. I know that doesn't justify my actions or my part in all of this. It doesn't excuse how long it took me to come forward. But, I hope you understand. Anything and everything that I've done has been to keep Oliver and Thea safe."

"I'm not sure I get to play judge and jury here on your morality." Felicity sighed. "Oliver, he wants to believe that you're innocent. And maybe he's right. I don't know." She laughed humorlessly. "I didn't even know my dad was a terrorist in the making, so I don't know what kind of judgement I really have on all of this."

Reaching across the table, Moira's hands covered Felicity's. "Morality is a flawed concept. We use it to make ourselves feel better. But, until you're under the weight of someone else's thumb, faced with a choice you can't possibly know the right answer to, you can't judge my actions as wrong."

Felicity stared at Moira's hands. "When my mother died, before my dad sent me away, you used to come out to the house and take me out for girls' days. You'd help me pick the brightest, pinkest nail polish to cheer me up. And we'd go for afternoon tea at Star Hotel. I'd eat my weight in macaroons. I never knew how to tell you how much it meant to me that you were there."

"I was happy to be. Rebecca was one of my closest friends." She squeezed Felicity's hands and gave them a little shake. "Her death was terrible, and I wanted you and Tommy to know we would always be there for you."

Eyes burning, Felicity blinked quickly. "I want to believe that you had no choice but to do this. For Thea and Oliver. Because I know what it's like to realize one of your parents is a complete stranger to you. I want to believe that, but I don't know if I can. Not when my own father just turned out to be a murderer and I had no idea."

"I understand." Moira's eyes widened as she stared at Felicity seriously. "I won't try to change your mind. All I ask is that you're there for my children the way I was for you. Take care of them, please. Thea… She thinks she knows everything. That she's all grown up. But, she's still so young, and there's still so much for her to learn."

"I will," Felicity promised. "I'll do whatever I can."

Moira sighed with relief. "Thank you."

She smiled faintly. "You think the guards will take it personally if we add a little color to this place?"

Moira let out a wobbling laugh. "Honestly? Yes."

"Well, it's a good thing I already made sure I could." Felicity nodded to a female guard standing against the wall, and smiled as the bottle of pink nail polish was handed to her. "I know the shade isn't really your favorite, but…"

Moira spread her fingers out on the table. "I think it's a lovely shade."

Unscrewing the top, Felicity smiled. "So, what's the prison gossip?"

With an amused raise of her eyebrow, Moira indulged her. "Well, the young lady in the cell next to mine seems to be having relationship problems. If you ask me, she should definitely leave her partner."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

As she elaborated, Felicity smiled to herself, and forgot, for a moment, that she and Moira weren't sitting down to afternoon tea, sharing whatever gossip was buzzing around their social circle.

After four hours spent hunched over her laptop, Felicity left her office for a break. She'd wandered into the living room looking for sustenance when she spotted her brother. "Have you migrated from your bedroom to the living room?"

Tommy looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch. "Gemma skipped physio today. She had an appointment she couldn't move."

"So, you thought you'd spend your day watching terrible reality TV…?"

"Real Housewives is a staple of our culture. Also, the batteries in the remote died."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "We have batteries in the utility drawer."

He tipped his head back on the couch and looked at her, brow furrowed. "I didn't even know we had a utility drawer."

"It's right here." She pointed to a drawer next to the fridge.

"Cool. So, you wanna throw me a couple of double-A's?"

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to walk around more? Like, say, from the living room to the kitchen?"

"I would, but… Oooh, it hurts." He pressed a hand to his chest. "Almost like a piece of rebar went through my chest and nearly killed me."

Unimpressed, Felicity merely stared at him.

With a long-suffering sigh, he slumped in his seat. "Fine. Another hour of Housewives it is…"

Snorting, she turned to the fridge. "You want a sandwich with your marathon?"

"You'll make food but you won't bring me batteries? What kind of logic is that?"

"I was going to put the batteries and the sandwich here on the island and tell you to come get them. Two birds, one walk."

Tommy frowned at her. "Fine. But, I want extra pickles."

Smiling, she pulled the jar of dill pickles from the fridge and raised them in his direction. "All the pickles."

By the time his sandwich was ready, Tommy had dragged himself off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen, wincing here or there. He was getting better, though. Slowly but surely. And for that, she gave him an extra pickle on the side, and a kiss on the cheek, leaving a bright red imprint.

"Worth it," he groaned as he sank his teeth into his sandwich.

"I'd ask how your day was going, but I have a feeling it was exhausting." Felicity raised an empty coffee mug in askance.

Gemma nodded. "Yes, please." Taking a seat at the kitchen island, she sighed and said, "You know, once upon a time, I was going to be an Olympic swimmer."

"Really? What happened?"

"A little bit of everything. Eating disorder, blew out my rotator cuff, lost my grandma… Eventually, it was just a little too much. So, I took a break, pulled myself back together, and by the time I was done, I don't know. My dream changed. I decided it was better to help others. That would be the way I would make a difference in the world."

"So, you went into physio therapy?"

"Actually, I went to med school to become a surgeon." Gemma scrunched her nose up. "Long story short, I spent a lot of time studying and a lot of time hating it. But, I will say, I had the cleanest stitches of any class."

Felicity whistled. "Something to aspire to."

"Yup. I'm an ace with butterfly bandages, too."

"Useful." Felicity dropped a mug of coffee in front of her and offered her the cream and sugar. "Where did physio come in?"

"About half-way through med school I realized that something wasn't quite clicking for me. It wasn't great. I kind of had a melt-down."

"Life has a way of making that happen."

"Yeah." Gemma snorted. "Anyway, I tried to figure out what about the medical field pulled me in to begin with. When I was a teenager, I went through a lot of rehabilitation. Not just for my shoulder, but for my mind. Bulimia really twisted up my thinking, and it took a lot of time trying to untangle all of it. I still struggle sometimes."

"Sounds hard."

"It was." Gemma nodded. "But, the people I worked with were amazing. Not just my therapist, for all of the ED stuff. But my physio-therapist was just top tier. She made me feel like a person when, half the time, I just felt like an object. Like, I was a projectile moving through the water. The human me was allowed to make mistakes and to fall down and to be fragile. I found myself again. Not the athlete me or the scared girl watching the scale. Just a girl trying to find her place in the world. It changed my life."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So, I wanted to do that for someone else. Becoming a doctor didn't fit, but physio-therapy did. So, I changed direction and I finally got where I needed to go."

Felicity nodded. "Good for you."

"Thank you." Gemma smiled as she stirred her coffee. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you all of this for a reason."

"Okay."

"I know who you are."

Felicity paused and stared at Gemma. "Sorry?"

"I know that you're Malcolm Merlyn's daughter. Just like I know that 'Thomas Smoak' is his son." She shook her head. "I'm not saying this to scare you or anything. I'm telling you because I like your brother. He's a good person, even if he's probably one of the worst complainers I've ever worked with." She smiled faintly. "I only know what Moira Queen said on the News about this Undertaking business. I don't know your dad or her, and just about every other channel has an opinion on it, from TMZ to CNN. But I do know that you and Tommy have both been kind to me, and that my job is to help people. That's my only goal. So, I wanted you to know. If you're worried about anonymity or client-patient privilege, I'll get it. But it felt wrong not to let you know that I'm aware of who you are."

Taking a deep breath, Felicity let it out on a heavy sigh. "Okay. Um, thank you for telling me this. I… I know that must've been hard. When I hired you, I was worried about any kind of bias coming in, and I just wanted Tommy to have the best care possible."

"I get it."

"If you're willing to, I'd like you to keep working with him." Felicity nodded. "I checked you out before I hired you and you've been seriously patient with him. I know he complains a lot, but I think he'd be even worse with someone else."

She laughed. "I'm not sure he could be. But, I'd be happy to stay on."

"Great." Felicity raised her coffee in cheers.

Gemma raised her in return.

A knock at her office door drew Felicity's attention; her fingers abruptly stilled on her keyboard. She looked up, readjusting her glasses absently, and found Oliver staring back at her.

"Hey." She motioned for him to come inside and squinted at the clock hanging on her wall. "Have I been working the whole day or are you actually here during daylight hours?"

He ducked his head as he smiled. "It's noon. I'm as shocked as you are."

"I doubt that." She leaned back in her seat. "So? To what do I owe the unexpected visit?"

"Actually, I was hoping we could talk…" He pointed to one of the chairs in front of her desk in askance. When she nodded, he took a seat and cleared his throat. "I spoke to my mother. She said you came to visit her."

"Oh." Her brows hiked. "Uh, yeah, I did. Was that overstepping? I should've asked, right? Or, just not gone. That makes sense. It was kind of last minute. And I mean, she's your mom, who I haven't even really talked to since I was like, a teenager. Not that I'm old or anything, but—"

"Felicity," he interrupted, looking amused. "It's okay. Really. I'm sure she liked seeing someone other than me or her lawyer."

Felicity winced. "Yeah, I'm not sure her lawyer would be happy I visited. If someone remembers I exist and they dig up the visitor's log, that won't look too good on her. Or, well, the DA will spin it that way, I'm sure."

"It's fine."

She wasn't so sure about that, and promised herself she wouldn't return. Or that she'd be better at hiding it in future. She didn't say that to Oliver, however. Instead, she asked, "Okay, then, what's up?"

He shook his head. "I guess I'm just wondering how it went."

"She didn't try to shiv me, if that's what you're asking."

His mouth curled up faintly. "It wasn't. But I'm glad she's not fashioning weapons out of her toothbrush… yet."

"Seriously, though, it was good. We just talked. Painted our nails. You know, jail stuff."

"That would explain the very pink nail polish."

She grinned. "Looks good, right? Brightens up all that grey."

"It was a surprise. A good one."

"Cool." She fiddled with a pen and tapped it against the edge of her desk. "I talked to her a bit, about my dad… I think I needed some closure or something. Not that I expect her to be able to explain what was going on in his head. It was just… I don't know. I feel like maybe she knew something about him, something I didn't, that could make sense of all this."

He hummed. "Did she?"

Her gaze fell and her brow furrowed. She thought about Moira's plea that Felicity look out for her children. "Hey, are you hungry? I don't know what you usually do around lunch, since you pull a Houdini most days. But, I am starving."

Oliver stared at her a beat.

She knew he wanted to press the issue, to ask what it was she might've found out in visiting Moira. But, if Felicity was honest, she wasn't sure she'd gained any real insight into her father. She wasn't sure there was any insight to be found. Malcolm had been unhinged. He'd made selfish and insane plans to destroy the lives of countless people. Whoever or whatever he was, it didn't matter. He was gone now. Buried and lost. As far as she was concerned, her father died the same day as her mother, and whoever replaced him was a poor substitution.

"I'm thinking Thai. There's a place a few blocks over. They always remember my peanut allergy." She pulled a face. "Does that mean I go there too often?"

Oliver stood, and smiled faintly. "Thai sounds fine."

"Great!" Closing her laptop, she stood and pressed her hands to her lower back as she tried to stretch out her sore muscles. "Ugh. It's a good thing we're walking. I've been sitting too much."

Oliver frowned. "Being seen in public with me might not help your image..."

She waved it off. "So, if anybody asks, we lie and say I'm your personal assistant or something."

"Are you sure you don't want to be acting CEO?" He motioned for her to walk ahead of him as they left her office.

"Is that a position that's open…?"

"With mom in prison, I was asked to step up." He sighed. "Not that I'm doing a very good job at it. Most of the partners have made it clear I don't have what it takes."

"So, that's where you've been all this time... Huh. Not as exciting as I was expecting." She paused. "Hey, weren't you running a club before all of this? I swear I remember Tommy mentioning a nightclub…"

"Verdant. And we were, but it needs some serious repairs after everything with the Glades. Besides, I'm not sure Tommy will want to reopen it, and he was doing most of the work. I don't think I'll be wining employee of the month anytime soon."

She hummed. "So, acting CEO. That must be different."

"It's... a lot of work." As they lingered by the front door of the apartment, Oliver handed her jacket to her. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for it."

Felicity tipped her head as she stared up at him, brows raised. "Oliver, if I know anything it's that you are a lot more capable than you think." She stepped forward and reached up, pressing a hand to his chest, just over his heart. "You got pretty good at pretending you didn't have any usable skills when we were younger, but they're there."

"Well, I'm not sure being beer-pong champion is something I can put on a resume."

"No, but you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. Seriously. I mean, math isn't your forte, and you sucked at English."

He stifled a smile. "Careful, don't flatter me too much."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "But, you weren't terrible with computers, and you won every debate. Personally, I think that last one was because you were too stubborn to accept defeat. And I like to think I had a hand in your computer skills."

"I'm nowhere near as skilled with computers as you are."

"Well, who is, really?" she joked.

Oliver's mouth twitched. "Very few."

She stared up at him a moment, and then cleared her throat and took a step back. "Anyway. All I'm saying is not to count yourself out. Sure, being CEO seems daunting, but, I know you. And you can do this."

He nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, anytime you need a pep-talk. I'm your girl." She paused, blinked at her wording, and then sucked in a sharp breath. "I mean—"

He reached out then, dropping a hand atop her shoulder. "Earlier, when I asked about what you and my mother talked about…" He shook his head. "That wasn't my place. But, if you do ever need to talk to someone… I'm your guy."

Felicity dipped her chin. "Yeah. I know. And… I will. When I'm ready."

"Okay. Good."

They lingered there a moment, a few inches of space all that separated them. And then Felicity cleared her throat. "We should get out of here. Before you need to get back to being CEO."

Oliver turned then, and pulled the door open for her. "Hey, if I have an IT issue…"

She snorted, and patted his chest as she passed him by. "Luckily, you have a whole IT department for that."

"Hey!" Felicity ducked her head through the sliding glass door to find Thea sprawled on a chair on the balcony, her expression drawn as she stared at the Glades in the distance.

"Hey." Thea tipped her head back to see her. "You seem… cheerful."

"I am. I found a drop-in boxing class!"

Thea raised an eyebrow. "And this is exciting because…?"

"Because. I find it's a great tension reliever. I used to do it in London, when I'd get stressed over work. Anyway, I thought you'd want to come with."

Thea frowned. "I don't know…"

"Why? Busy night of moping ahead?"

"Ha, ha." She rolled her eyes.

"Come on. If you don't like it, I won't bug you to keep trying. But if you do, then hey, at least we've got something we can do."

"All right. Fine." She pushed herself up from her chair and walked to Felicity. "But, I reserve the right to complain if it completely sucks."

Felicity smiled. "I take complaints in the form of long-winded rants."

With a snort, Thea nodded. "I'll keep that in mind…"

Two hours later, they walked out of their first kick-boxing class; tired, sweaty, and happy. They were nearly out the door of the studio when Thea suddenly stopped, catching sight of a flyer on a community notice board. "Hey… Have you ever heard of kenjutsu?"

Felicity shook her head. "Nope. But it looks like it's part of a martial arts package. Why? You interested?"

Thea shrugged. "Maybe." She pulled a number off the bottom and then turned back to Felicity. "All right, let's go. Somebody mentioned a kale smoothie earlier, and it made me hungry."

"For kale?"

"God, no. I was thinking more like… pizza."

Felicity laughed. "That's more my style, yeah."

"Should I know you? I feel like you're familiar but it's just not ringing a bell…" Felicity frowned and cast narrowed eyes at the stranger standing at her front door.

"John Diggle, ma'am." He crossed his arms in front of him, one hand wrapped around the other wrist. "I'm head of Mr. Queen's security."

Felicity blinked. "He needs an escort from home now?"

"He doesn't have many friends lately."

"Right." She raised a dubious eyebrow. "But, from the home nobody knows he's staying in…?"

"You can never be too careful."

"I designed the security on this apartment. As in, nobody gets past my sensors or my cameras without a password. Which, by the way, is 16 different characters, a thumb print, and a retinal scan."

"Yeah, it sucks. It takes forever," Roy complained as he walked past, en route to the kitchen.

"You'll thank me when that Robin Hood wannabe doesn't pay you an unwanted visit," Felicity called back, but kept her eyes on John. "Have you eaten? We have croissants. And coffee."

"You're outta coffee," Roy told her.

"What? How? I just made…" She glared at the overlarge mug in his hand. "You better be sharing that with Thea or so help me…"

He grinned at her and then swaggered down the hall toward Thea's room.

"You know, I wasn't sure I wanted kids. And that walking teenage rebellion is a red alert on why."

John snorted.

Felicity looked back at him. "So… Croissant?"

"I shouldn't. I'm on the job."

"What? You think Oliver will fire you for getting crumbs on your snazzy suit?" She turned on her heel and walked toward the kitchen. "Out of curiosity, are people really scared of the big bad CEO? Because I could tell you stories…" She raised the glass lid off an ivory dessert platter with croissants piled on top of it. "Oliver went through a few different phases, you know? Like, when he was thirteen, he went punk for a little while. Worst haircut ever. And then at sixteen, he hit the tanning booth, hard, and wore puka shells the whole year. Terrible. And at eighteen—"

"Okay, I think that's enough story-telling," Oliver interrupted as he entered the kitchen.

"What? But I was just getting started." She grinned up at John. "I still have pictures, if you're interested."

"He isn't."

"I don't know. It could be a matter of security." John's mouth twitched. "Preserving your image and all that."

Oliver side-glared at him, before turning to Felicity. "I'll be out late."

"Aren't you always?" She took a bite out of the corner of a croissant and then handed it to him. "Take this. Eat it. You shouldn't skip breakfast."

"No coffee?"

"Blame Roy. Besides, you can get your own coffee." She dusted a croissant crumb from the lapel of his jacket and then smoothed out his tie. "Go get 'em, Tiger."

He grinned at her slowly. "I'll see you later."

"Sure. I'll save you some dinner." She looked to John then. "Another for the road?"

He looked down at the untouched croissant he was still holding. "I think I'm fine."

"You say that now, but you haven't tried them yet. Those are speciality made in the Jewish bakery down the street. It's kosher. Trust me, it's amazing."

He raised the croissant in thanks and nodded at her. "Have a nice day, Miss Smoak."

"Call me Felicity."

"Felicity then." He glanced at Oliver. "Mr. Queen?"

"Right. We should go." He nodded, and then turned to drop a kiss on Felicity's cheek. "Have a good morning."

Felicity tamped down on the sudden fluttery feeling in her stomach. "You, too."

She watched them as they left, and raised a hand to wave when Oliver looked back as he passed through the door. When it closed, she blew out a sigh and walked to her coffee maker. She would need a new pot if she wanted her morning to go well.

"I like this new thing you're doing," Felicity said, as she took a seat on the couch, watching her brother as he did arm curls with a rubber rope hooked under his foot and a handle tucked in his palm. "By that I mean not hiding in your bedroom."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "This is about the laziest exercise I can do. Figure it's better to do it out here."

"Because I removed your TV?"

"Because you removed my TV." He nodded. "Anyway, Gemma said I needed to move around more, and not just when she was there to make me."

"So, you thought this was what she meant?"

"Well, I started out eating a pint of ice cream, but then I had a flashback to her telling me to quit moping, so I figured something was better than nothing." He shrugged. "I was gonna take the elevator down and check the mail, but then I remember I don't have a key for the mailbox."

"Also, standing in an elevator isn't exactly exercise…"

"Tell that to my legs. Apparently, all of this—" He motioned to his chest. "—heavier than it looks."

Felicity winked. "You're all heart, Kid."

He smiled. "You sound like grandpa."

"All I need is a cigar and a mustache."

"He had a killer mustache!" Tommy's eyes widened. "You remember when I tried to grow mine out?"

She snorted. "'Tried' being the operative word there…"

"To be fair, I was seventeen. I hadn't reached my full facial hair growing potential yet."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Really. I can grow a full beard now." He scratched his fingers over his chin. "Think I might try, actually. Shaving is hell right now."

She hummed. "That explains the weird patchy thing you've got going on."

He rolled his eyes. "Things've been hard. Also, I was kind of growing a beard before things went sideways."

"Oh?" Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Manpain."

"Ah. Right, of course."

He frowned, his good humor fading. "I, uh... I talked to dad, before everything happened."

"You never told me that."

Licking his lips, he took a deep breath and admitted, "He told me the truth."

"What?"

"Yeah, he— He said that he closed mom's clinic because he didn't want to see it leveled. He played mom's voice mail before she died. I guess she called him after. I begged him to shut it off, but..." He swallowed tightly. "No one came for her. No one helped, and she... she just bled out."

"Tommy..." Felicity reached for him, her hand folding around his forearm.

"He wanted them to die because they didn't help. They didn't care. Like, they deserved it for what happened." He shook his head. "It's one thing to hear it on the news or from other people. It sounds crazy when they say it. But, he told me. And I could see it on his face, how sure he was that what he was doing was right. He had a secret room in his office, where he kept this— this suit that he wore to hide his identity. I mean… That's crazy, right?"

"Well, from what I saw on the news, it did seem like there was influx of masked vigilantes around here. So, not entirely crazy."

"I almost shot him."

Felicity's heart dropped into her stomach. "What?"

"The police or the swat, I don't know who they were, but they showed up to take him in or stop him or something. He grabbed a sword and just… destroyed them. And I— I found a gun. I aimed it at him, told him to stay back, that I didn't want to hurt him… But, he knew. He knew I couldn't do it." He looked at her then, his eyes damp. "What if I did? If I shot him, maybe all those people…"

"Tommy, you can't blame yourself for this."

"But, I do. For part of it. I mean… He was our dad. And we never knew. Ol… Someone told me that I must've known. That I had to know what kind of person dad was. Deep down. And they were right. I didn't want to believe it. I want to believe that I never thought he was capable of it. But… He wasn't good, Felicity. Something was wrong in him. Something was missing."

Throat tight, Felicity reached for him. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face at his shoulder.

Tommy clutched at her, his whole body shaking.

Sniffling, she turned her head. "You know why you couldn't shoot him? Because you aren't him. Because whatever was missing in him, you still had it. Humanity or empathy or something. You're a good person, Tommy. And you just wanted to believe that dad was, too."

He held her a little tighter, his chin balanced on her shoulder. "I'm glad… I'm glad he's gone. That we don't have to stand by him or try to understand or support him through some lengthy trial. I know it's horrible to say, but… He's better off dead."

Felicity closed her eyes tightly. "Yeah."

While not the last person Felicity expected to see, Laurel Lance still ranked among those that drew a moment of confusion. But, that might have more to do with the fact that the bombing was two and a half months in the past, and yet she was only now making an appearance…

"You're hard to find," Laurel said, stepping inside.

Felicity stepped out of her way. "Okay, so, apparently, I invited you inside…" She turned to face her as the door closed at her back. "How did you find me?"

"It's not that hard if you're the only one who remembers Malcolm had a daughter." Laurel offered a brittle smile. "I'm sorry, about your dad..."

"That he's a mass-murderer or that he's dead?"

She shrugged a little. "Both?"

Felicity snorted. "Both works."

Laurel glanced around, before asking, "Is he here?"

Tipping her head curiously, she asked, "Which 'he'?"

Laurel stared at her. "He told you then? About me and Oliver?"

Felicity felt her heart thud in her chest. As far as she knew, Laurel and Oliver were finished pre-island. But, given their rocky past, she wasn't all that surprised that they'd gotten back together. It was just strange that Oliver hadn't mentioned anything. Not that he owed her an explanation for his personal life. Of course not. It just felt like sometimes he was hinting at things. At what they could be. Realizing that Laurel was still very much a part of the equation squashed whatever flickering hope might've been building up.

Laurel blew out a heavy sigh and started to pace. "After he came back, it felt like there was all of this unfinished business and it just… overflowed. I didn't mean to hurt Tommy. We were just starting to find a balance, and then Oliver was there, and I just…"

"Did what you always do." Felicity frowned and waved her hands. "Sorry, that sounded like I was putting it all on you, and I'm not. Whatever happens in your relationship with Tommy or Oliver, that's your business. But, I've witnessed this merry-go-round a few times, and it usually ends with Tommy pretending he's okay with you and Oliver giving it another try…"

"You're right." Laurel's lips turned down in a frown. "I keep repeating the same mistake and expecting it to be better the next time. And when I meet someone I know will be better for me, I don't let myself get too attached, because a part of me is still waiting on Oliver… But I'm done with that. I'm done waiting." Her eyes darted around thoughtfully. "It was never easy with him. Not like it was with Tommy. I… I was happier when I was with Tommy. I guess that says everything."

Felicity shrugged. "Like I said, that's your business." She reached for her bag, sitting on a side table against the wall, and hooked it over her shoulder. "Anyway, Tommy is doing his physio exercises. Third door on the left." She pointed, before turning on her heel. "I have somewhere to be. Good luck with… whatever."

Just as she opened the door, Laurel called her name.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning back.

Laurel stared at her a beat. "I guess I was just wondering how long you plan on staying… With Moira's trial coming up, things could get a lot more tense around here for any surviving Merlyns."

"Right. I think I saw something online about you joining up with the DA… meaning you're actively trying to put Moira in prison. I guess this would be extra awkward if my dad was still alive."

"Just a little." Laurel sighed. "I'm not trying to be difficult. I care about Moira, I do. But, someone needs to stand trial for what happened in the Glades."

"What's still happening. Last I checked, the city hadn't fixed a lot of the damage done to the infrastructure of the remaining buildings. It's a veritable booby-trap for anyone still living there."

"All the more reason to make someone face justice."

"Or, we could save some tax money and put it toward rebuilding what was broken."

"You mean blown up?"

Felicity's eyes narrowed. "I won't deny that what my dad did was awful. It was. But, let's not pretend that the city cared much about the Glades or the people living there to begin with. And they're still doing a poor job of looking out for anyone stuck in the rubble."

Lauren's chin tipped up defensively. "The city is doing what it can. And if you're so concerned, we have a relief fund gala coming up in two weeks. You're more than welcome to join us."

"I'll keep that in mind." Felicity stepped out the door. "Be careful with my brother. The last time you two were in close proximity, a building tried to kill him." She didn't linger long enough to hear a reply.

Felicity had been sitting in a coffee shop, nursing the same cold mug of coffee for the last two hours. She just couldn't gather the energy to go home. Ever since she'd come back from London, it felt like there was this floating secret she wasn't in on. She wasn't an idiot. She'd noticed that Oliver and Tommy weren't talking. The few times that Tommy left his room and Oliver was present, one or the other made an excuse to leave. Tommy to his bedroom, or Oliver to places unknown. She hadn't been sure what that meant. But now, with the addition of Laurel Lance, and a little more light shone on the Tommy/Laurel/Oliver triangle of doom, she was starting to figure it out. Oliver said he was out because of work, but maybe that wasn't all of it. Two in the morning was late even for a CEO, so maybe part of his night was spent rekindling an old romance. Not that he needed to tell Felicity that. He was a grown adult. But, still, there was a part of her that felt… lied to.

It wasn't hard for him to say he was in a relationship. She had been there through his various attempts to put real effort into a relationship with McKenna or Laurel. She'd supported him, even if they always ended badly, usually through no fault but his own. And she would've tried to support him and Laurel this time around, to an extent anyway. Her brother mattered more, and she'd always known that Tommy had feelings for Laurel. But, this time felt strange. With Oliver going out of his way to tell her that they could've been something, it just felt empty and unnecessary. With everything going on, the last thing she needed was to get stuck in some weird romantic triangle or quadrangle or whatever shape it would take. She had enough on her plate.

Her phone buzzed then, drawing her eye, and she turned it over, thumbing the screen open.

—Are you there?

A London number, still not blocked.

She chewed her lip uncertainly, and then started typing. She erased what she wrote three different times, feeling like she was oversharing in each. Finally, she just settled on:

—Yes.

Easy and succinct. That worked.

The tiny dots showed up as he worked on a reply. The longer they fluctuated, the more she regretted answering him.

—You answered! Is everything okay? I've been watching the news. Things have been tense there. I can take a flight down if you need me. I know we left a lot of things unsaid, but I want to be there for you. Just say the word.

Felicity sighed, and sat back in her seat. She stared down at the screen, re-reading his message, over and over. Finally, she typed back.

—Things are rough. I'm with my brother, helping him get back on his feet. I appreciate the offer, but I think it's better if I just focus on Tommy. Thanks, though.

Dropping her phone back to the table, she turned her gaze to the street outside, watching people walk to and fro, busy with their day to day lives. She'd basically walked out on her work. It was fine; she'd already had a few Skype calls in the morning and she was on schedule with everything she'd promised to have done. Still, it felt like she was wasting time. And all because of a guy. Ugh. She hated that her life had narrowed down to this. Between her dad, Tommy, and Oliver, everything was dominated by men.

Her phone buzzed.

And there was another guy to add to the list.

—Can we talk? Please? I feel like we still need to settle things. Do you know when you'll be home? It's been months already… I miss you.

Groaning, Felicity stabbed the button to shut her phone off and left the whole thing alone. Maybe it wasn't the most mature thing to do, but she didn't feel like dealing with it. Instead, she pushed up from her table, took her cup up to the counter to be cleaned, dropped another tip in the jar, and then made her way outside. A chill cut through her jacket, making her skin sting, but she just hugged it tighter and kept walking.

By the time she got back to the apartment, Laurel was gone and Tommy was sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with Roy and Thea. Before anyone could say anything, she said, "I'm seriously craving take-out. Ideas?"

Sure, it was a cop out, but she deserved a few of those.

Chapter Text

V.

Oliver wasn't an idiot. He did a pretty good impression of one, and if you were to ask his sister or his high school teachers, they might say different. But, the island had changed that. It had sharpened him in a way that regular life hadn't. Couldn't. Sometimes, this was a good thing. It let him do the things he wanted to do. Needed to do. But, it also kept him from having the things—the life—he wanted.

The Undertaking had shone a harsh light on that. The glare still so sharp that it was difficult for Oliver to reflect on without flinching. If Starling City knew the breadth of what could have happened, that the devastation of The Glades could have been absolute, rather than it was now, perhaps they would consider it a win. Or a partial win, at least. One of two bombs had just barely been disarmed, but it kept The Glades from being leveled entirely. That didn't comfort Oliver at night, or when he watched the body count rise daily. It didn't bring him peace that he had waylaid part of Malcolm's plan. It was not a win, not in his books, not in the city's, and not to those who died or mourned for those they lost.

The Undertaking, while not as successful as Malcolm had hoped, was still, to some extent, successful in bringing pain and suffering. And Oliver was not exempt from that.

He could hear shuffling feet coming down the hallway. It was well after midnight, and Oliver knew the best idea would be to get out of sight. He had a clear route toward the room Felicity had offered him. He didn't have to stay. He knew this, too. In fact, he would bet Tommy would prefer that. But, Thea was here, and, as much as his best friend had trouble looking at him straight, sometimes Oliver needed to see him, to know that he was real and solid and not a figment of a desperate imagination. Tommy hadn't died in the dusty debris of the CNRI building, no. Against all odds, he survived, just barely. Which brought home another bright spot in Oliver's life.

Felicity.

The physical manifestation of sunshine at its best.

One of his closest friends, Felicity had seen him through the best and worst days of his life. Sometimes from a distance, and sometimes from right next to him. After he'd returned from the island, he kept his distance. Calling her, asking her to visit, would be putting her in danger. Or that was the excuse he gave himself. If he was being honest, he wondered if it was much bigger than that. Would she have been a distraction? A voice of reason? Another disappointed face alongside his mother's and sister's? Another person he would have had to lie to? Unsuccessfully, he was sure. She always did tell him he was a terrible liar.

In the end, he had too much on his plate. Adding Felicity would have toppled it completely, and that said something, considering most days he hardly kept it together as it was. But, Felicity had a way about her. A way that dug deep into him, tethering and rooting him, showing him a path to some semblance of happiness. Even before the island—when he was a restless, overindulged, privileged asshole— she had a way of knocking some sense back into him. One of the view voices to call him on his shit that he didn't tune out completely. Of course, it wasn't her job to keep him in line. That was something he needed to learn on his own.

He wondered sometimes if that was the real reason he'd never pursued something with her. Maybe it had nothing to do with Tommy at all. Maybe it was his subconscious, fully aware that he wasn't ready for Felicity. That maybe he never would be. Because what could truly change who he was? What could redefine his idea of what life should be? What could make selfish, unfaithful, directionless Oliver Queen become someone that Felicity would even consider being with? The answer had always eluded him. So, he went on with his life, stuffing those feelings down deep, telling himself it was friendship, that it was better this way, that at least he wouldn't have a chance to mess it up so completely he would lose her entirely.

Except, now here he was, a year out from the island, a secret identity lurking in the shadows, The Glades in shambles, a stunning secret heavy on his shoulders, with the weight of Malcolm's death simultaneously a relief and a burden. He was living in an apartment with his life-long crush, his estranged best friend, and his sister. Not to mention his sister's boyfriend, who may or may not be desperate to join Oliver's crusade. It was ridiculous. Unsafe. Playing with fire.

And yet…

Felicity jumped when she came into the kitchen to find Oliver seated at the island. Hand finding her chest, she let out a nervous giggle. "You startled me."

"Sorry." He half-smiled. "It's late. I thought turning on a light might wake someone."

"So, you're just eating in the dark." She eyed the plate in front of him, an eyebrow raised. "You know, I seem to remember you trying that before, and it didn't end well."

"In my defense, I was very drunk."

She snorted a laugh. "And obsessed with spaghetti for some reason. We must've called six places before we found one that would deliver that far out, and that late at night."

"The eighty-dollar tip probably helped."

"Couldn't've hurt." She crossed the kitchen to join him at the island. "So, what's got you up this late? Insomnia? You used to sleep like a rock." She paused. "Not that I spent a lot of time watching you sleep. That'd be weird. Just that we spent a lot of time together, so I saw you sleep a lot. From a distance. In a non-stalkery way."

His mouth turned up slowly. "I don't sleep much."

"Oh, you mean since…" She trailed off.

"The island. You can say it."

"Can I?" She squinted at him. "You know, you never called after. I mean, I didn't expect to be your first call or anything. Maybe around fifth. You know, your mom, Thea, Tommy, Laurel, then me. Then again, your mom and Thea live together, so I guess they could've been one call. So, maybe I'm fourth…" Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, before she shrugged. "Anyway, I was expecting that at some point, you might call across the pond and check in."

He nodded. "I should've."

"Even a 'just got back from shipwreck, will call later' text would've been good."

He smiled faintly. "I'll remember that the next time I return from being shipwrecked."

Felicity grinned. "That's all I ask."

He ducked his gaze to his food. "How's London been?"

"Busy, mostly." She shrugged. "It's weird being back. I mean, the voices are different. You kind of get used to hearing a certain accent while you're over there. Not that I'm any good at it."

"I remember."

She rolled her eyes. "It's weird, being here and not hearing that… Britishness all around me."

He nodded. "But, you like it?"

"I… like being around Tommy. I'd like being around you if you were here more. I feel a little cooped up. I spend most of my time on the computer. I don't know. I think I might start kick-boxing again, just to get out of the house and get moving."

"Again?"

"I'm not a kick-boxing champion or anything, but it's a good way to get the heart pumping." She shrugged. "That and yoga hates me. I mean, I tried. I really did. Andi goes to this hot yoga class that she swears by, but it was the worst. I've never sweat so much in my life. All the brand new yoga gear I bought? Ruined. That sweat was not coming out… Not that you needed to know any of that. I think being sleepy makes my wonky filter even worse than it was when I was a teenager. I swear, I actually got something of a handle on it at boarding school. But now, it's all down the drain."

"It's fine." He smiled. "So, you traded in yoga for kick-boxing."

"Yup. Best decision I ever made. I keep the yoga mat in my room as a reminder… or maybe a warning. Anyway, whenever I see it, I make sure I go to kick-boxing class. Just so I never have to do a downward dog again. At least, not in a yoga studio." She laughed, and then frowned to herself. "Just ignore me."

Oliver stared at her, fond and amused. "You'll have to show me some time."

Her brow furrowed. "My downward dog?"

He chuckled under his breath. "I was going to say your kick-boxing skills."

"Oh. Right. That makes more sense." She flushed. "Let's pretend I didn't mention the, uh… other thing."

He half-grinned at her. "Not sure I can forget it."

Rolling her eyes at him, a blush still riding high on her cheeks, she reached over and stole his fork. Stabbing a piece of ravioli, she fed it to herself, and licked up the pesto sauce from her lips. "Think it might be even better this way."

"That's because it was in the sauce for hours, soaked up all the flavor." He took the fork back and pulled his food out of her reach, mouth twitching as she pouted. "What're you doing up this late?"

She shrugged. "Late night munchies. My sleeping schedule's a little weird."

"Still operating on London time?"

"A little. But, also because of work. I take a lot of Skype calls to talk business, and I mostly do it on their schedule, so sometimes I need to be up at weird hours."

He hummed. "Sounds exhausting."

"It can be." She let out a long yawn, her nose scrunched up. When she was done, she outstretched her hand again.

But, Oliver resisted, keeping his food from reach.

"Oliverrr…" She stuck out her bottom lip and stared up at him from bright, blue eyes.

He sighed. If anybody could see him now, they would call him a pushover. As the Arrow, he made the worst of the worst run for their lives. But here, in this kitchen, one wobbly lip had him crumbling in a matter of seconds. He scooped up a ravioli and held it out to her.

Felicity brightened abruptly. Rather than take the fork from him, she simply wrapped her mouth around the end of it and sucked the ravioli, sauce and all, right into her mouth.

It reminded him of when they were teenagers. When he, Felicity, and Tommy would crowd around a table at whatever fast food joint they were craving and take what they liked from each other. Felicity would steal Oliver's fries while he drank half of Tommy's milkshake, and Tommy would finish off Felicity's burger when he'd already eaten his own. That camaraderie and comfort, the way they would joke and push at each other, he missed that. The ease of a friendship that wasn't mired with secrets and lies. For a moment, he felt like he had it back. But, he knew he didn't.

Felicity didn't know he was the Arrow. She didn't know that he killed her father. When she looked at him, she saw Oliver, her best friend since they were toddlers. She didn't see a murderer or a survivor or a vigilante. She just saw him.

And then she was reaching for him, a hand outstretched, and a smile pulling at her lips. His breath caught in his throat and his heart squeezed in his chest. Her thumb skimmed over his chin, a gentle back and forth rub, before she sat back. "Pesto," was all she said.

He nodded, a quick jerk of his head, his heart still beating a little too quick.

She smiled up at him gently, her eyes a little droopy from sleep, her hair mussed, and her cheeks a warm pink. She was beautiful. She always was. And it reminded him, all too readily, that the crush he'd had on her when they were younger had never really gone anywhere. It just stayed there, patiently waiting to creep back up on him, and remind him that the first person to make him feel butterflies was sitting in front of him. The first person to make his hands clammy; to make his heart stutter in his chest; to made his voice crack with nerves, it was all her. The same person that held his hand when he was angry; that let him cry on her shoulder when he was overwhelmed; that called him every day the first month she spent in London; that sent him mile long emails; that hugged him so tight when she came to visit that he couldn't even breathe, that was all her.

Oliver couldn't call it love back then, because they'd never progressed beyond friendship. But, sometimes he wondered if all of it, every little moment, all those years he spent looking at her and wondering 'what if,' every time his heart felt like it was going to crawl right out of his chest and into hers, if maybe that was the pre-cursor to love. The 'almost there.' The 'what are you waiting for.' The 'inevitable.'

He'd never been good at those. At any relationship he'd had, really. From Laurel to McKenna to Sara to Shado to all the women in between. He hadn't been enough. He hadn't given enough. He hadn't worked to be what they wanted or needed or deserved. And he wanted to believe that was over now. That post-island him could be better. Both Laurel and Helena were proof that it wasn't quite that easy.

And yet…

Felicity had polished off half his pasta. He wasn't even sure when she stole the fork from him. But, she had, and she didn't look the least bit sorry about it. There were two raviolis at the bottom of the bowl when she stabbed one, angled it up, and then raised her eyebrows.

He ate it off the end of the fork and stared her in the eye.

She grinned. "Sharing is caring."

He snorted. "I'll remember that next time."

Handing him the fork back, she stood from her stool. "I need some sleep. I have a business call at 7 am tomorrow." With a stretch, raising her arms above her head, she let out a sleepy sigh. Dropping her arms, she tipped her head and looked at him. "See you tomorrow? Same time?"

He should've made an excuse. Making it a regular thing, going out of his way to be there, to spend time with her, to stoke the dying embers of a crush he couldn't afford right now, was bad planning. He had too much going on. Too many issues he needed to deal with.

What came out of his mouth was not an excuse. It was a hope.

"I'll be here."

Nobody was better at playing with fire than he was.

1991

"Tommy! Mom says you have to let me in the playhouse!"

Oliver looked up from the comic book laid in front of him, cocked his head, and turned to Tommy.

Sitting on a cushioned bench by the window, a similar comic book in his lap, Tommy frowned, and turned his head. "It's not a playhouse, it's a fort. And you can't come in, 'cause no girls allowed!"

"She could have cooties," Oliver said with a decisive nod. "That's contagious." What he actually said was 'contaybus,' but at six, it was the same thing.

"You have cooties, Flis."

"I do not."

Oliver couldn't see her, but he knew Felicity well enough to know that she had her fists on her hips and she was stomping a pink-shoed foot on the ground.

"Prove it," Tommy said.

Felicity didn't reply, but moments later, she was climbing up the tree to the fort, shoving up the hatch door, and climbing inside.

"You contamimated the fort!" Tommy cried, before falling back against the window bench dramatically, clutching his throat like he was choking.

Felicity, dressed in her pinkest dress, with pink tights, pink shoes, and pink barrettes in her hair, glowered at her brother. "You said I had cooties!" she accused, stabbing a finger in his direction.

"Girls got cooties. Mark Brandon said so," he defended.

"Mark Brandon is dumb."

Oliver nodded. "He puts glitter in his paste and eats it."

"That's 'cause he says it will make his poop shiny," Tommy said. Then giggled. "Poop."

Oliver laughed, too. "Poop."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Cooties are fake and also I want to play with you. You're being mean." Her lower lip started to tremble then, and Oliver turned, wide-eyed, to Tommy.

Shuffling awkwardly, Tommy stared at her. "Don't cry!"

"I'm not…" She started sniffling. "I'm not crying. I'm not a baby!" She rubbed at her ruddy cheeks with her hands.

"You can play with us," Oliver said, pushing up off the floor.

Tommy shot him a look, but Oliver shrugged. "We were just looking at comic books anyway. Here." He shoved his in Felicity's direction.

She stared at it through tear-filled eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just… don't get boogies on it."

She swiped her arm over her face. "I won't."

"Come on. You can sit over here. We got snacks and stuff, too. Your mom made us sandwiches."

Still overwhelmed and hiccupping on her tears, Felicity looked at the sandwiches he was digging out of a lunchbox in the corner. "With peanut butter?"

"Nope. No peanuts." He'd seen Felicity have an allergic reaction once; she'd started to swell up and she couldn't breathe. Her mom had to stab her with a needle and then take her to the hospital. Tommy had cried, he was so scared Felicity was going to die and it'd be all his fault for giving her a chocolate bar that had peanuts in it.

"Okay." Felicity accepted a quarter of his sandwich and flopped down on the wooden floor, legs crossed beneath her.

Oliver sat with her, and then looked to Tommy. "I don't think she's got cooties. Maybe she's special."

"Maybe…" Tommy made his way over, taking a seat across from them, his knees bumping against both Oliver's and Felicity's. "I want one."

Oliver handed him a sandwich, too.

When the sandwiches were all gone and Felicity's tears had dried up, they left the comic books behind and played a game instead. Cooties forgotten.

Sleep eluded Oliver on the best of nights. Even after spending most of the evening trying to keep The Glades from falling into further disorder, he just couldn't sleep. Part of it was the dreams. Some nights, he dreamed that nothing was what it seemed. Tommy died in CNRI and Oliver had run away, back to the island, isolating himself from life, marinating in his own mistakes.

On those nights, he needed something tangible, something to show him that it was okay, that Tommy lived.

Tommy's room was dark but for the shaft of moonlight coming in from a mostly covered window. On the bedside table were a cluster of bottles, the labels of which Oliver was sure would fit a myriad of pain killers. He couldn't move without help yet, spending much of his time in a wheel chair. Felicity had hired a physio-therapist to get him through it, but Tommy had been pretty vocal about how much he hated it.

To be honest, as much as looking at him reinforced the fact that he survived, it was more than that. Oliver wondered if seeing him there, with the pain meds so close in reach, was meant as a reminder of his failure. Yes, Tommy had lived, but it never should have been that close. If Oliver had known about the second bomb, he could have avoided all of this. Tommy wouldn't be injured, The Glades wouldn't be in shambles, and all those lives wouldn't have been lost.

Backing out of the room, Oliver closed the door as quietly as he could and then made his way to his own room.

He sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, head down, and wondered how he deserved this. Here he was in the penthouse apartment of one of the most expensive and luxurious buildings in all of Starling City, when outside his window he could see The Glades still falling apart. Their terror and pain and sacrifice had all been because he wasn't fast enough, wasn't good enough. Because he hadn't saved them.

Shuffling out of his clothes, he climbed into bed and sank down against the plush mattress, with its too soft pillows and sheets, silken against rough, scarred skin. He stared at the ceiling, and wondered how he would ever get past this. How he would forgive himself.

If he even should.

1992

"Hello, Oliver. What are you doing down here?" Rebecca Merlyn found him sitting in the parlor, slumped on the couch, legs dangling off the end.

He sighed at her, long and suffering. "Tommy's mad at me."

"Ah, I see." Rebecca took a seat next to him. She smelled like flowers. Kind of like his mom, but not quite. "Is this about that ninja turtle?"

"No. And Tommy lost that one, not me." He crossed his arms over his chest. "He's just mad 'cause I hung out with Carter Bowen at school. But, I don't even like Carter. His mom knows my mom and she makes us hang out sometimes. And I told Tommy that, but then he said that's what you and mom do, and that it's the same. But it isn't. Because Carter's a butthead and Tommy's not."

Rebecca smothered a smile as she nodded. "It's perfectly okay not to want to be friends with people. I think Tommy might just be a little jealous. You're his best friend and he's probably worried he's going to lose you."

"That's dumb. He's my best friend, too. He's like my brother. I'm not going anywhere."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No."

"Well, how is he supposed to know then?"

Oliver looked up at her, that knowing look on her face that was too much like his own mom's. With a sigh, he sunk lower into the couch. "Do I have to?"

"No." Rebecca shook her head. "But, if you don't, you might stay mad at each other. Even longer than when one of you lost the turtle."

"He lost it."

"And did he apologize?"

Yes. Eventually. In the most half-hearted attempt at an apology ever. But, it still counted. "Yeah."

"So, what do you think you should do?"

Oliver kicked his legs back and forth. "Not talk to Carter ever again."

"I don't think you have to go quite that far. It's okay to have other friends."

"But I don't wanna be friends with Carter." He rolled his eyes. "He's a butthead."

"Right, of course. But, why don't you tell Tommy that no matter who else you hang out with, you'll always be his friend."

Oliver thought it over a minute, and then nodded. "Yeah. I'll say that."

"And then, once you two have patched things up, you can find Felicity. And we can eat. How does that sound?"

He looked up at her dubiously. "Did you cook?"

She laughed, not the least bit offended. "If by 'cooked' you mean cutting up fruit, then yes. I was thinking we could have strawberries and blueberries with a few chocolate chips, and then a little bit of whipped cream and—"

Oliver shoved off the couch. "I'll go tell him now!"

Rebecca laughed lightly as he ran off, eager to get the apology over with so he could have his treat.

And, by apology he meant saying "Carter's a butthead and you're my best friend and it's always gonna stay that way. Okay?" before launching into a description of the treat Rebecca was making.

Best friends once more, the two boys hurried downstairs and raced to the kitchen, where they found Felicity sitting on the counter, a bag of chocolate chips in her lap and chocolate smeared around her mouth. She grinned at them cheerfully. And all was right in Oliver's world once more.

To Oliver, it would never fail to jar him, just how strange it was to be standing in a prison with his mother dressed in a grey jumpsuit. Somehow, and he really had no idea how, Moira Queen managed to keep her appearance up. Her hair fell in soft waves, her make-up less face seemed serene and untouched by the cold, sterile atmosphere of the jail, and her posture was as impeccable as ever.

She smiled as he sat across from her, and reached over the table to take his hands, squeezing them gently. "I've missed you."

Oliver rubbed his thumbs over her fingers, absent of her rings, seeming thin and fragile. "It's been a busy two weeks. I meant to come out earlier."

"It's fine." She shook her head dismissively. "I should be happy you visit me at all, after everything…"

"Mom." He stared at her. "It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't my intention. I had hoped that somehow everything would just… fix itself. That this situation I'd become a pawn in would eventually become nothing more than a terrible memory." Her eyes fell. "It is that, but not quite like I'd hoped."

"The jury will understand why you did this."

"Will they?" Her brow furrowed as she raised her eyes to meet his. "Never mind. I don't want to talk about this. Tell me about something else. How is Tommy doing?"

"He's… better. He was discharged from the hospital. He's living at Felicity's apartment."

"Felicity," she repeated, her eyes round. "I haven't seen her in so long."

"Yeah. Well, after she decided to stay in London, summer visits were a little less frequent."

"You used to fly out there all the time…" Moira smiled. "You had the biggest crush on her."

He made a disgruntled noise and shook his head faintly.

"You did." She laughed softly. "A mother always knows."

"We were kids."

"Maybe when it started. You know, they say the best love stories are built on friendship."

He sighed, long and heavy. "I think we have enough going on without adding romance to things."

"On the contrary. With all that's happening, I think we deserve a little happiness, don't you?" She searched his face. "Felicity was nothing like her father. Tommy, either. Those children took after their mother in every way. Sure, Tommy could be a little… rebellious. Not unlike you. But at his core, he was so good. And Felicity, she was focused. Smart and kind and ready to take on the world. It just took a little longer for you boys to find your path. With Verdant, I think maybe you were doing that."

"Aren't you the one that called Verdant my hobby?"

"I was… skeptical about just how invested you truly were in it. That was my fault. I was still treating you like the boy you were when you were lost at sea. I didn't want to see the man you'd become. Maybe because it highlighted just how much I'd missed, or because I'd have to ask myself what could have happened there to harden you, to change you…" She sighed. "I made mistakes, Oliver. I wanted so badly to give you a good life, to give you everything you could ever want, that I didn't see that, in doing so, I limited your ability to work for those things yourself… I regret that, I do. And I regret that when you came back and you wanted to show that you could work for something, I didn't support you in it. I tried to guide you and mould you into who I thought you should be. But… You did that all on your own."

"You did shape me." He stared at her seriously. "I'm a better person for having you in my life."

"Perhaps." She smiled, but her lips trembled. "Either way. I'm just glad that you're here now, and that we can be here for each other. That's all I want."

"I know. And I'm not going anywhere."

She gave his hands a squeeze. "Tell me more. How is your sister?"

Oliver took a deep breath and prepared himself for talking about Thea.

Thea who refused to see their mother. Who refused to talk about what happened in The Glades. Who actively avoided being around him because she knew that was what he wanted to talk about. But, who was also in a safe place. Who was spending time with Felicity and Roy. Who wasn't running or hiding and who was being strong and fiercely independent, something he couldn't help but be proud of her for.

1993

Oliver had asked his parents to let him stay a little longer. Not because he particularly liked being at the cemetery, but because Tommy needed him. And it sounded like Felicity might, too.

"It's not fair!" She was clutching Tommy's hand tightly, her cheeks scored with tears. "How come she had to go now?"

"I don't know." Tommy stared at the figure of his father, the only one still seated in front of Rebecca Merlyn's grave.

Oliver came to a stop on the other side of Felicity. He glanced at Tommy. "Your dad told me your mom's an angel now."

"I don't want her to be an angel," Tommy muttered, pressing his lips flat together.

"Do all mommy's change into angels?" Felicity looked from Tommy to Oliver. "Is Bubbe an angel, too?"

"Good people turn into angels," Oliver said, sounding very sure of himself. "So, yeah, they're both angels."

"What about your mom?" she wondered. "Is Moira gonna be an angel?"

He shook his head and felt his stomach hollow out. "Not for a while, I don't think."

"That's dumb. It's not fair, Tommy!" She pulled at her brother's hand. "Tell mommy to come back. It's not her turn yet!"

He swallowed tightly. "It doesn't work like that."

"How come?"

He sighed. "I don't know."

"Well, I don't like it." Felicity's shoulders started to shake. "I want mommy back."

"Yeah." Tommy blinked quickly. "Me, too."

Oliver, having no words to offer, reached out and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Do you think daddy will bring her back?" Felicity hoped.

Nobody replied. Slowly, her face fell, and her bottom lip started to wobble. "It's not fair," she whispered.

Oliver thought she was right.

Oliver sat in his office—the office he didn't want, that was hindering him from doing what he really wanted, and that only served to remind him just how unqualified he really was for the job—pondering how long he needed to be there before he could sneak away. A restless and irritated Diggle looked like he was having the same thought, tugging at the cuffs of his suit and shifting his feet, eager to quit playing 'bodyguard' to the acting-CEO.

And then, just as he thought his morning could not be more mind-numbingly boring, a new arrival to the office brought with her enough drama to remind him that sometimes, boring was a good thing.

Laurel swept past Diggle without even pausing to see if it was okay for her to be there. Not that he imagined Diggle could do much against the force that was Laurel, nor did he need to, since she wasn't really a threat. But, still. It said something that she didn't even bother to consider that the very large, very intimidating bodyguard might stop her.

Then again, she was wearing four-inch spike heels; she could probably do more than enough damage if provoked.

"We need to talk," she announced, stalking up to his desk.

"Do we?" He sat forward in his seat, saw her sharp expression, and nodded. "We do."

Dropping her bag onto a chair, she took a deep breath. "It was a mistake."

He blinked. "You might need to be more specific. I've made a lot of those."

She huffed at him, unamused. "Us. What happened. Our… reunion."

"Okay." He tapped his fingers atop his desk and then cleared his throat. "So, you waited a month and a half to tell me that?"

"I was busy. With CNRI folding and everything in The Glades, I've been looking for work elsewhere, helping where I can—"

"Avoiding me and Tommy," he interrupted knowingly.

She paused and stared at him. Finally, with a sigh, her shoulders slumped. "That night, when the bombs went off, I… I thought I was doing the right thing by going back for the records. It was my job and I had a duty to the people I was working with. And I reacted. I ran in there, head first, sure that I was doing something noble. And then everything just… fell apart."

"The Undertaking wasn't your fault, Laurel. You couldn't have expected—"

"I knew that The Glades were about to be destroyed. You told me not to go to CRNI, and I still went back. It was stupid. It was—"

"Instinct." He stared at her. "Your job was built on helping people that others wouldn't. If the files were lost to the fire or the explosion, there might never be a way to help them." He shook his head. "It wasn't the most well-thought out plan, but your intentions were good."

"Tommy was there for me. Because he knew I would go back and he wanted me to be safe." Her eyes sparked with a sheen of tears. "He almost died because of me. Because I had to play hero."

"And he would do it again. Because he loves you."

Laurel winced and looked away. "After everything that happened, after we…"

Nodding, Oliver stood from his desk, smoothing a hand down his tie absently. "Laurel, he'll forgive you."

"Will he? Should he? We weren't together, not really, but I knew. I knew that he loved me, that he changed, and I knew that he was insecure about how I felt about you."

He stared at her searchingly. "We have history. We needed to work through that. He won't hold that against you."

"Is that what we were doing?" Her brow furrowed. "Just one last time to put it all behind us?"

He frowned. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know!" She tossed her hands up and let out a choked laugh. "I—I don't know what I want. Sometimes, I… I look at you and I feel like I'm home. Like everything I thought would happen between us still has a chance. And other times, it's like looking at a complete stranger. Like the man I knew, the man I loved, is just… gone. A figment of my imagination. Because parts of you are him, parts of you sound and look like him, and other parts are just so unfamiliar to me that I don't know you. And if I don't know you, how can I love you? How can I want you? Or be with you?"

Circling around his desk, he moved toward her. "Who I was before, I can't be the person again. And I don't want to be. That person was self-entitled and self-motivated. He didn't care enough. He sacrificed everyone around him for whatever he wanted or needed in the moment. And you deserve better than that. Than who I was and who I am right now. Because this me… he can't be who you need."

Laurel stared up at him from damp eyes. "Then who do I need?" She let out a heavy breath, as if she wasn't expecting an answer, and then she nodded. Reaching up to swipe at her cheeks, she grabbed her purse with her other hand and hooked the strap over her shoulder. "Thank you."

He frowned, confused. "For what?"

"For making this easy. For… letting it be over, I guess."

He reached out, gently touching her wrist with the tips of his fingers. "You always liked new beginnings. I think this is a good time for one."

"Yeah." She nodded, and stared down at his hand. "Listen, I… I've been offered a position as assistant district attorney." She raised her eyes to meet his. "If I take it, it means I'll be working with ADA Adam Donner in the case against your mother… I'm not asking for your permission, but, I thought you should hear it from me."

Oliver felt shell-shocked for a moment, unable to string the words together to say, well, anything.

Laurel nodded. "I'll understand if you need some time. But, this is the right thing to do. If Moira is innocent, a jury will find in her favor. If not…"

She left it at that, and then stepped back.

Without another word, she took her leave, and Oliver let the weight of what had just happened fall on him.

He admired Laurel. Her intelligence, strength and stubborn nature made her a good lawyer. But, now that she was poised to stand against his mother, he couldn't help but feel a thread of betrayal run through him. Pivoting, he grabbed the nearest thing he could—a vase of some kind— and threw it at the wall, listening to it shatter, an explosion of glass and water that littered the wall and the floor.

It wasn't enough. But, it would have to do.

1996

Felicity sat on the end of the diving board, cheering them on as Tommy and Oliver raced from one end of the pool to the other.

Arms heavy and chest heaving, Oliver grabbed on to the edge of the pool a half a second before Tommy did. "I win!"

"Recount!" Tommy said, and then swiveled and called out to Felicity, "Judge's decision. Who won?"

She hummed, shrugged, and said, "Tommy!"

Tommy turned a toothy grin on him.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "That's cheating! She always says you won. You could've sunk to the bottom halfway through and she'd still say you were the winner."

Tommy laughed. "You wanna ask Thea?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. Thea was barely a year old; she didn't do much more than drool and poop. "Yeah, right."

"Rematch then?" Tommy bobbed in the water and turned toward Felicity. "We're going again, Smoaky!"

"Okay!" she called back.

"No cheating this time," Oliver added.

Felicity smiled. "Swim faster, slowpoke."

With a huff, he turned, put his foot back against the wall of the pool, and waited for her "One, two, three— GO!" before he pushed off and launched into the water.

"My prodigal brother returns…" Thea found him in the living room, channel surfing. "What're you doing up so late?" She flopped down on the couch next to him.

"I could ask you the same thing." While most nights he was still up due to feeling too wired, tonight he'd had a nightmare that was keeping him too on edge to try and sleep again.

Thea shrugged. She sunk back against the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. "Roy snores when he's really tired."

Oliver pulled a face.

She laughed. "Not like that. I just meant that he's been busy. He's been volunteering in The Glades, trying to clean it up, do what he can… He got home pretty late, ate some dinner, and passed right out."

He hummed. "Not you, though."

Her lips pressed flat in a line. "I'm not really a welcome face in The Glades." She glanced at him. "What about you?"

"Work, mostly. I'm trying to keep the family business from going under."

She snorted. "And someone thought you, with your non-existent business degree, could pull that off?"

"Yeah, well, desperate times…"

Half-smiling, she shrugged. "I guess."

He channel surfed a little more, never landing on anything for too long, until Thea got tired of it and stole the remote. "There's a cooking show I like that plays around now. It makes me sleepy."

"Cooking makes you tired?"

"And hungry. But, mostly it's the way she talks. I don't know, it's soothing. Don't judge." She flipped it over to the channel she wanted and let out a content sigh.

It was a few minutes of mindlessly watching the TV chef chop up vegetables before Oliver heard the faint sound of Thea's snoring. He watched her a moment; looking so much younger and at peace than she had been in some time.

Grabbing up a throw blanket from the corner of the couch, he laid it over her gently, tucking it in around her, and then turned back to the TV. He'd just watch a little more…

1998

Oliver found Felicity standing in a hallway, staring at herself in a tall mirror.

"Raisa says staring at yourself too hard is a sign you're conceited."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Do you even know what 'conceited' is?"

He shrugged, and moved toward her, resting his shoulder against the wall. "What's up?"

"Nothing." She wiggled around and reached up to delicately touch the necklace she was wearing. "I was gonna trade it in for Bubbe's pearls, but I don't like to take it off."

The necklace she was wearing was her mother's. She'd found it a few years back and hadn't taken it off since. "You could tuck it in, under your dress," he suggested.

Felicity chewed on her lip. "Do you think she'd like it?" She smoothed a hand down her dress. It was royal blue with a white belt around her waist. "Mom always said blue was a good color on me."

"You look… pretty." He flushed a little, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, are you almost ready? Tommy said we have to go soon."

She nodded. "Yeah, almost." Taking a deep breath, she stared at the mirror, and then reached up to lift the necklace and drop it inside the fabric of her dress. "I might need help with Bubbe's pearls," she told him. "The clasp always sticks."

"I can help," he offered.

Felicity turned to smile at him with pink cheeks and bright blue eyes. She was starting to look a lot more like her mom. That's what his mother always said. That Felicity was the spitting image of Rebecca. He could see it, kind of, if he squinted. Mostly, she just looked like, well, Felicity.

"We need to talk," Diggle said as he walked into Oliver's office.

"Are you breaking up with me, John?" Oliver glanced up, a brow raised. "And here I thought we had a pretty good thing going."

Diggle rolled his eyes. "Look, I get that things with the company are important, but I'm a little concerned that you don't know what you're doing. And while I want to support you in figuring it out, we've got a few other things on our plate that need working on."

"You mean the copycats that keep popping up?" He nodded. "I'm working on it."

"From here?"

"The servers here are safe. And they give me access to things I might have a little more trouble accessing at the foundry, which, if you remember, is still being rebuilt."

"Which we could be helping with if you weren't stuck behind a desk." John sighed. "I'm not trying to stick a fork in your still dying company. But, what exactly do you expect to happen here? Oliver Queen, CEO by night and green vigilante by day?"

"I was managing it at least somewhat before, wasn't I?"

"That was when you were a nightclub owner and your best friend did most of the work." He stared him down seriously. "Something's going to have to change, Oliver. And soon."

Oliver sighed, but didn't argue the point.

Because he was right.

1999

"What do you mean you're moving to London?" Tommy yelled.

Oliver stood against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a feeling of dread filling him from his head to his toes.

"Dad told me this morning." Felicity moved from her closet to her bed, calmly folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. "There's a boarding school he likes. Their computer science program comes highly recommended. He said mom went there when she was my age. Probably not for computer science, but still. It's kind of cool, right? Being in a place that mom was. Who knows, maybe I'll even have her room. Or see her picture somewhere. That'd be cool. Hey! Mom was on the debate team. Maybe they have pictures or video archived somewhere. I'm sure I can find it if I look."

"Felicity, this is crazy!" Tommy stared at her, his eyes wide. "You can't just leave."

Sighing, she turned to face him. "I don't really have a choice."

"Of course you have a choice!"

"No, I really don't." Throwing a handful of clothes down on her bed, she tossed her hands up. "You think I didn't beg him to let me stay? That I didn't tell him I'd do whatever he wanted. I'd stop talking to him, stop being around the house so much, he'd never have to see me again if he would just let me stay." She shook her head. "But, he pretended he didn't even hear me. He says it's for my own good. That I'll like it there."

All of the fight bled out of Tommy and he immediately stepped forward and pulled Felicity into a hug. "We can visit. You can come back on holidays—all the holidays! Christmas, Hanukah, New Years, Valentine's Day—"

"Valentine's day isn't a real holiday."

"And every summer, too! Or I can come out there to you!"

Felicity wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her head against his chest. "I don't understand why he hates me… What did I do?"

Oliver watched pain streak across Tommy's face.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything." He squeezed her tighter. "This is on him."

Sniffling, she pressed her face against his shoulder. "I don't wanna go," she cried.

Tommy bent his head down and kissed the top of her hair. "School's not that long anyway, right? You're smart. You can finish early. Like, one, two years tops."

She snorted a laugh. "Finish all of middle school and high school in two years?"

"What, you're not up for the challenge? And you call yourself a genius?"

"Hey!" She leaned back to frown at him. "I have a genius IQ, thank you very much."

Tommy grinned down at her, and wiped away her tears. "Prove it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but her mouth quirked up in a faint smile.

It wouldn't be two years, but Felicity would graduate early, with honors.

Malcolm wouldn't make it to graduation; a mix-up in his schedule, he said. But, Tommy and Oliver were there, and they cheered the loudest of anyone.

Oliver couldn't get back to the apartment every night in time to see Felicity. There was too much going on around the city for that. But, each time he did get home, he found himself lingering in the kitchen, hoping she would show.

Just finishing up a business call in her office, it was after one in the morning when she shuffled into the kitchen, mid-yawn.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

Beaming at him, her eyes red and tired, she said, "Well, I don't want to toast my success too early, but I think I might've just made a multi-million-dollar deal. And opened a new contract to start work on something else." She took a seat on a stool across from him at the island. "How was your day?"

"Not nearly as successful." He rested his arms on the counter. "How's Tommy been?"

"Still complaining every chance he gets, but Gemma said he should be able to walk around on his own soon. It'll take him a while to walk long distances, but it's something."

"Good. I'm glad."

She stared at him a long beat. "You should visit with him. I'm sure he'd like to have someone around that isn't me or Gemma. I mean, he hangs out with Thea sometimes. But, I don't know, I kind of feel like he's isolating. I'm not blaming him, considering. I just don't want that for him."

"Yeah. You're right. I should."

"He missed you a lot. When you were… missing." She frowned, staring down at the counter. "He was lost, I think. You guys were two peas in a pod."

"I think there were three peas for the most part."

She smiled. "Maybe. Sometimes."

"We were better when you were there."

"You mean you got caught less?"

He half-grinned. "That, too. But… No. I think we were better people with your influence. Or, we tried to be."

"I don't know." Her brow furrowed. "I remember being pretty susceptible to your charms more than a few times."

"I take full responsibility for the Ferrari incident," he agreed. "But, aside from a few slightly illegal things—"

"Slightly?"

"—I always felt like I tried more when you were there. That I was better somehow."

"You don't need me to be a good person, Oliver. You do that on your own."

"Not consistently."

"We can all work on things." She shrugged. "Like this metaphor? I'm not even a fan of peas. They're so mushy."

He laughed under his breath. "That's one way to look at it."

She smiled, her head tipped thoughtfully. "I felt better, too. When you were around, I felt… stronger. Invincible, even."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Feeling invincible?" She nodded slowly. "It can be. When you mostly feel fragile and overlooked, yeah, it has its upsides."

He sighed. "Your dad…"

"Was a dick. I know. And in a lot of ways, I don't miss that. Going away to London didn't feel great. It was awful in the beginning. I missed you and Tommy constantly. But, I made friends. I met Andi. I- I found myself. Who I wanted to be. And in a way, dad did me a favor. Because once I was out from under his thumb, out of my mom's shadow, I had a chance to figure out who I was underneath all of that. I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I'm pretty happy with the result."

He stared at her a moment and then nodded. "Me, too."

2001

At sixteen, with a brand new car, and a whole summer ahead of him, Oliver was feeling on top of the world. Which was only made better by the fact that his best friend was there, too. Not Tommy. He was always there.

"Hey!" Felicity took a seat next to him on the edge of the pool, her dyed-blonde hair still new enough for his eyes to catch on it.

Tommy was floating in the middle of the pool, possibly sleeping, definitely burning.

Pushing her sunglasses up into her hair, she smiled at Oliver. "I know it's like, a month and a half late, but…" She produced a small, wrapped present. "Happy birthday."

His brows hiked. "You already got me something."

"Yeah, a card. That ridiculously huge bottle of vodka Tommy gave you was in no way associated with me. Now, here. Take it."

Oliver plucked the small, square package from her outstretched fingers. "It's not a pony, is it?"

She snorted. "As if."

He grinned and lifted the top off the box, putting it aside before he peeled the green tissue open and looked inside. Cufflinks. Not just any cufflinks though, they were shaped like little—

"Microchips," Felicity said. "I know they're dorky, and you are terrible with computers, but… I don't know." She shrugged. "You always complain about going to those galas your mom drags you to, and it sucks I can't be there. So, now it's kind of like I'm there with you in spirit. Like moral support or a ghost date or something. Not like a date-date, just..." Flushed, she rolled her eyes. "It's dumb. You don't have to wear them."

"No. I will." He grinned down at her gift. He'd never been so happy to receive cufflinks before. In fact, most of the time, he'd hate it. He wasn't exactly fond of wearing suits in the first place. But this… This was one of the nicest gifts he'd ever gotten. It was heartfelt and sweet and so… Felicity. "Thank you."

"Welcome."

He turned to put the cover back on the box and moved it back from the edge so it wouldn't accidentally get wet or fall into the pool. And then he turned, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. The ends of her hair tickled against the length of his forearm. She smelled like coconut and floral shampoo and— His heart squeezed in his chest, beating just a little too hard. She was warm and soft and it felt so good to have her back. To have her there, right in front of him. They had a whole summer ahead of them and he was going to spend every day of it with her and Tommy. In a couple months, he'd have to wave goodbye at the airport as she left again, but he didn't want to think of that. Of the strange hollow feeling that invaded him whenever he knew he wasn't going to see her for a while. Or the excited streak that ran through him when he knew she was coming home. He never really realized just how much he missed her until he got her back.

Turning his face down, he sighed, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"I'm not complaining, because you give good hug, but are you okay?" Felicity wondered, rubbing a hand against his back.

"Yeah." He felt his cheeks darken, realizing he'd been holding on a little too long. And then he grinned. "Just getting your guard down."

"My guar—?"

He twisted them sideways and launched them both over the edge of the pool.

Felicity came up sputtering, her eyes wide. "You!"

He laughed.

"Oh, you are dead!" She swam toward him and, just as he turned to swim away, she climbed onto his back, arms around his neck.

There, floating in the pool, with her wrapped around him, his gift just a few feet away, Oliver came to a conclusion long in the making.

He had feelings for her. Real, tangible, all-encompassing feelings.

Just as that reality crashed down on top of him, nearly letting her drown him in the process, Tommy flipped off his floatie and swam over to join the fray.

And Oliver realized that, whatever his feelings were—a crush, infatuation, love— it couldn't go anywhere.

First and foremost, Felicity was his friend, and so was Tommy. He couldn't risk that. Not for anything.

Tommy flicked on the light in the kitchen, and startled at seeing Oliver seated at the island. He raised a hand to his chest, a choked noise leaving his throat. "Jesus… You couldn't give me some warning?"

"Calling out from the shadows probably would've had the same effect."

Tommy frowned, his brow furrowed, and then shuffled over to the fridge. He dug around inside and came out with a container of leftovers with a distinctive sticky note on top. He ignored it and walked over to the cutlery drawer. Grabbing out a fork, he turned around, resting his back against the counter, and scooped up a large bite.

"Isn't that Felicity's?"

"I'm injured. She'll forgive me." Tommy popped the food into his mouth and tapped his fingers against the plastic container. He wasn't quite looking at Oliver, more like just to the left of him. "You just get in?"

Oliver nodded. "Not long ago."

"So, you thought you'd just hang out in the dark kitchen? Is that like… how you come down from all your vigilante-ing?"

"Not exactly."

Tommy pushed his food around with his fork. "You were waiting up, weren't you?"

Oliver didn't answer, staring at the top of the island. There was a stand with muffins piled on top of it. Diggle had raved about the croissant Felicity had given him, wishing he'd taken the second one she'd tried to push on him. The muffins were from the same bakery. She frequented it. They were blueberry; that was her favorite.

"You can't do this."

"Hm?" Oliver looked up then, to see Tommy staring at him with pursed lips.

"Felicity. You can't…" He sighed and shook his head. "What happened to Laurel?"

Oliver's brow wrinkled. "Laurel and I aren't together."

"Right." Tommy scoffed. "This week, this month, maybe this year…"

"We talked. Agreed that neither of us were in the right place for a relationship. That what happened… It was a mistake. Tommy, I love Laurel. I always will. She was my first love. Before everything, before the island, she was who I thought I'd spend my life with."

Tommy shifted, grimacing.

"I'm not saying that in a romantic way. I'm saying that as someone who expected that eventually he would have to settle down, and Laurel was… always there. But, what we had, what we were together, it wasn't good." He paused. "It wasn't bad, either. It just wasn't right for us. We were young. Too young. And we thought that because we kept drifting back together it must mean something. All it really meant was that we were familiar."

"So, that's it? You expect me to believe you two are done?"

"I don't expect you to believe anything. I've spent too much time lying to you." He picked at his thumb. "I can't… apologize enough for what happened. For Laurel. For The Glades." His gaze fell to Tommy's chest. "For your father."

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath. "And you shouldn't."

Oliver looked up, surprised, and confused.

"I don't want an apology. I don't want an excuse or a reason or any of that. My life was turned inside out. My dad is dead. My girlfriend…" He laughed incredulously and shoved his food aside, dropping it to the counter with a clatter. "My ex-girlfriend thinks we can salvage this— whatever this is. I have a wound in my chest that makes breathing hurt. My best friend has been lying to me, killing people, and running around playing Robin Hood like some kind of comic book reject. There's nothing you can say or do that's going to fix any of that. Nothing."

Oliver flinched.

Tommy stared at him, his expression twisted with regret and anger and sadness. "You told me you didn't kill him. You let me think that he survived!"

Swallowing tightly, Oliver nodded. "I didn't think you'd make it."

"So, the last thing you wanted to say to me was a lie?"

"I just…" He clenched his teeth. "I wanted you to have some kind of peace."

Tommy stared at him, his face unreadable, and then he looked away. "My sister is the only thing I have left. She's the only family I have. The only friend. The one person in this entire city that can look at me without seeing my dad… And I need it to stay that way."

Oliver's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"This thing you have with Laurel. I get it. Because for as long as I can remember, for as long as I've known Laurel, I've had feelings for her. It's hard not to. She is… amazing and smart and funny. But, for as long as I've known you, you've only ever been half with her. Because as much as you wanted her, as much as you talk about expecting that one day you'd settle down with her, we both know that's not true. Laurel was a placeholder to you."

Oliver frowned.

Tommy shook his head. "I'm not an idiot. I'm not blind. You think I didn't notice how you were with her?"

"With who?"

"Felicity." Tommy stood a little taller, glowering now. "You dropped everything when she'd come back to town. You'd get pissed at me if I went to London without you. You had your dad fly you over on his private jet just so you could go to a concert with us. And yeah, I'm sure some of it was not wanting to feel left out, or wanting to hang out with your best friends. But Oliver… you might as well have cartoon cupids dancing around your head whenever you look at her."

He let out a slow breath. "You never said anything."

"Because I hoped it would go away. Or you would find someone else. Or that she'd never like you back."

Oliver snorted.

"Look. I'm still angry at you. I… I'm trying to get over the green leather issue. I'm simultaneously hating and grieving my father. I'm struggling to get better from all of this…" He motioned to his chest. "Because despite how monumentally stupid this crusade of yours is, you are still my best friend."

Oliver softened a little, the tension in his body beginning to leech out of him.

"But… you can't drag my sister into this."

He paused. "I wouldn't…"

"You're sitting in the dark because you're hoping she'll come out. Because that's what she does. She sets an alarm on her phone to wake herself up so she can come out and see if you're home yet. Maybe she'll write that off as just friendly concern, but I know my sister. And as much as you're looking at her, she's looking at you." He waved a hand. "Don't get too excited. Because if there's one person on this planet you can't get involved with, it's her."

"I know that."

"Do you?" Tommy stared at him. "You're a vigilante. You— You fight crime and you kill people and you invite that kind of thing into your life. You push away the people you care about, you lie to them. And let's face it, Felicity won't let you. So, what's going to happen? Do you tell her everything? Just parts of it? Nothing? How is that going to end? Really, ask yourself that. Because Felicity hates a mystery, and I guarantee you she can already tell something is going on."

"Tommy, I won't drag Felicity into this," he said. But even he could feel a tremor of doubt run through him. Could he even make that statement? That promise? Did he want to?

"You say that now, but I know you. When we were fourteen, you borrowed your dad's Ferrari. Who was the first person you picked up?"

"You weren't home," he defended. Poorly.

Tommy snorted. "When we were nineteen. You snuck into the Viper Club downtown. Paid the bouncer three hundred dollars to get you in. Who'd you bring with you?"

"That was her idea. She made the fake ID's!"

"And when Felicity said she could hack the SCPD files and get your criminal record expunged, what did you do?"

"I was an idiot."

"You encouraged her!"

"She can make her own decisions. I didn't force her to do any of those things."

"No, Oliver, you're just a terrible influence. One she expects will protect her."

"Because I will."

"When you were nineteen, you hid your molly stash on the girl you were with. She got hit with a possession charge and you walked away scot free."

"And like I said, I was an asshole. But, that was before the island. I'm not that person anymore."

"Are you better?"

Oliver didn't have an answer for that, and so he didn't give one.

Tommy stared at him, the tense moment stretched between them. Eventually, he sighed, the fight bleeding out of him. "Look…" He squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I know what it's like to love someone and think you can never have them. And it… sucks. It does. But, I'm letting go of Laurel. I'm letting go of all of it. And I think… I think you should do the same."

Oliver frowned.

"In a few months, Felicity is going to want to go home and… I'm gonna go with her. Whatever you choose to do, whoever you choose to be, it stays here. I won't tell anyone your secret. I won't ask you why you're doing it. I won't even tell you to stop. But, whatever this thing is that's building between you and her, it needs to stop."

Sitting back in his seat, he searched Tommy's face. "That's what you want? To go to London? To walk away?"

"A few months ago, I wasn't sure I'd survive. When I woke up, I wasn't sure I'd be able to walk again. If this has taught me anything, it's that this place is a deathtrap. It killed my parents, it almost killed me, and if I stay… I think it'll try again." He shook his head. "I don't know how many more chances I've got left."

Oliver nodded, even as his heart clenched in his chest. "Tommy…"

"I know. You're sorry. You wish it was different. But you wouldn't change it, would you? The not telling me part."

"I was trying to keep you safe."

"How'd that work out for you?"

He winced.

Tommy sighed. "It's late. I need to get some sleep. My physio-therapist is relentless and she likes to start early." He turned, scooped up the food container, and then started for the hallway, leaving Oliver to sit in the kitchen.

"I would never put her in danger. Not on purpose," he managed to get out, his voice thick.

"You're not a fortune teller. You don't know what's coming anymore than I do. So, you might say that, but you can't predict what kind of danger is around the next corner. And I won't lose her, too."

Tommy didn't bother lingering after that. He made his way down the hall, food in tow, and left Oliver to ponder the heavy reality he'd been left with.

Sighing, exhausted, he eventually dragged himself up from his seat and made his way down the hall, crawling into his bed and rolling onto his back. He stared at the ceiling as the gravity of it all fell on top of him with crushing accuracy. He could do nothing but let it.

2007

Felicity was tipsy on champagne. She'd been twirling and dancing around the room, swinging the nearly empty bottle to and fro, her arm stretched up high above her head. Oliver watched from the couch, a no-doubt cheesy smile pasted on his face. It was times like these that he remembered those feelings he'd spent the last six years pretending didn't exist were still very much there. Admittedly, with her in London and him in Starling, there were times when it was easy to pretend. To lose himself in other people. But, as soon as they were in the same vicinity, he felt it swoop back in.

They'd flown out to celebrate the new year with her, and after hitting up a few parties, they'd eventually wandered back to her apartment to crash.

Tommy was passed out in an arm chair, wearing a pair of oversized plastic glasses that spelled out the year, with the 0's over his eyes. He looked ridiculous, and he'd enjoyed every minute of it.

Felicity had kicked off her high heels as soon as they walked through the door. The sequins on her mini-dress glittered each time she moved. The lights in the living room were turned down low, which only seemed to highlight every curve of her body. She was by no means tall, never had been, but her legs looked impossibly long.

"If you keep dancing, you're gonna miss the movie," he told her.

She'd been perfectly content to watch The Breakfast Club from the couch until it reached the library dance scene and then she'd launched up to show off her own, off-beat dancing skills. He couldn't really blame her for it when he and Tommy sang along to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody three times in a row, re-enacting the overdramatic routine they came up with as teenagers. He was ninety-percent sure that Felicity recorded that on her flip phone, but he was too blitzed to care.

As soon as the dancing on-screen ended, she stopped, flushed and out of breath. She walked back over to the couch, dropped the champagne bottle off on the coffee table, and flopped down next to him. "Hey," she said, tipping her head to look at him.

Oliver grinned at her. "Hey."

She smiled back and let out a little giggle. "You know what?"

"Hm?"

"We should cuddle."

"Should we?"

"Yup!" She popped the 'p' for emphasis and then rolled herself onto her side. "Come on. You're warm and comfy and you can keep me from rolling off the couch."

Oliver looked from her face to the space she'd made behind her. He let out a tired sigh, forgot the very logical reasons why he should not be doing this, and slid over, wedging himself between her and the couch.

"There," she said, sounding very proud of herself. She pulled his arm around her waist and arching her back, pressing herself into him until her entire body found his, her ass snug in the cradle of his hips.

Oliver made a choking noise, but Felicity didn't seem to notice, or care. She just rested her head on his outstretched arm and watched the movie play out ahead. "You think John and Claire went anywhere?"

"Who?"

She pointed at the screen. "The bad boy and the good girl."

He glanced at the movie. "Do you want them to?"

"I don't know. Maybe… Or maybe everything goes back to how it was before. Maybe they just go back to being who they were. Climb back into their little boxes and never talk to each other again. Because that's all they're supposed to be. Just one big moment where they connected and let go of everything else, only as important and as meaningful as it is in that moment, and nowhere else." She turns her head to look back at him. "But, that's sad. Right?"

"Yeah."

She nodded. "So, I like to think they do talk. They stay friends. Claire dates John, and Andrew loves Allison, Claire and Allison still hang out and go shopping and do each other's make up, and they all take Brian under their wing… And they don't care what anybody thinks." Letting out a sleepy sigh, she dropped her head back to his arm and continued watching the movie.

So, Oliver did the same.

At some point, she rolled over, snuggled her face against his chest, tangled her legs with his, and just fell asleep. A tiny pool of drool collected on his chest and, like the sap he was when it came to her, he only found it endearing.

Minutes passed and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Not so much because of the movie as it was to remember this moment. Six years of wanting her and now here she was, as close as he'd ever get to having her.

Eventually, he fell asleep like that, half-listening to 'Don't You Forget About Me' as the movie faded out.

Hours later, he woke up with his face half-buried in the back cushion of the couch, Felicity's arm wound around his waist, her face pressed against his back, spooning him like he'd spooned her when they first laid down. He smiled, hazy with sleep, and drifted back off, warm and happy, his fingers folded in the spaces between hers.

Just before noon, he woke to Tommy snapping a picture of them before loudly saying, "Get up! It's a near year and we need to kick it off right!"

Groaning, Felicity stretched her legs out, the length of her body pressed along Oliver's. She smacked her lips and sighed. Her hand slid up his chest, patted at him lightly, and then was gone. She rolled herself off the couch, her sparkly dress wrinkled all over, and stumbled off in search of a shower and a pot of coffee.

Oliver rolled himself onto his back and watched her go, her hair in disarray and a sleepy smile turning her lips up. And he wondered if not having feelings for her, getting over this silly crush, thinking of her only as a best friend, w as ever even an option.

It wasn't.

Chapter Text

VI.

Three days had passed since Laurel had visited. Felicity hadn't seen her since, nor had she heard a whisper of her visit from Tommy or Oliver. Not that she was spending all that much time with either. It felt a little like she was avoiding them both. Maybe she didn't want to know. Didn't want to find out her brother had forgiven Laurel for whatever her transgressions were, and they were on a rocky, but happy path toward something. Or that, once again, he was being traded in for his best friend. To which Tommy would smile and joke and pretend it didn't hurt like hell.

Felicity had nothing against Laurel. She wouldn't call them friends, exactly. But, that made sense after spending one too many times telling her brother he deserved better. Tommy was the shoulder Laurel ran to when things went sideways with Oliver. And, more recently, the bed she slept in. Tommy didn't tell Felicity a lot about it. Just that he and Laurel were friends with benefits, poised for (hopefully) something more. That hope was more on Tommy's side, Felicity guessed. Because, if she learned anything watching the train-wreck that was the Oliver/Laurel/Tommy triangle, it was that Tommy was always the odd man left out in the end.

Felicity didn't begrudge Laurel her complicated romantic history, at least not with Oliver. She maybe held a little resentment toward her, but that was because Tommy was her brother. And, not to get too sappy, but he was kind of awesome, and maybe her favorite person alive. So, yeah, she might resent Laurel for stringing him along whenever it suited her. Or, that was the impression she got, anyway. Truth be told, she might zone out when Laurel was mentioned. In part, because she'd heard enough about amazing, perfect, gorgeous Laurel as a teenager. But, also, because it inevitably led to Tommy voicing all those heartbreaking worries that spoke of lower self-esteem than most would credit him with.

Most people looked at the tabloid pictures of a billionaire's son and saw all the privilege he was afforded in life. She wasn't saying he didn't have that. He did. In spades. But, there was another part of him. The part always desperate for his father's love and pride. The part that missed his mother and longed for someone to fill that motherly role. The part that compared himself to his best friend and always felt wanting. And even the part of him that looked at his sister's accomplishments and intelligence and worried he'd never compare. Knowing all that, knowing what he carried with him into each relationship, and the hope he'd dragged behind him each time Laurel walked back into his life, Felicity couldn't help but want better for him.

A knock at Felicity's office door grabbed her attention, jarring her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Thea smiling back at her.

"Hey. I was gonna check out that kenjutsu class. Interested?"

She frowned disappointedly. "Usually, I'd be happy to. But, I have a Skype-appointment in…" She cursed under her breath as she checked the time. "Five minutes. Ugh. Time is the worst."

Thea snorted. "Don't worry about it. Maybe next time." She winked. "Enjoy your appointment."

"Thanks! Kick some butt for me!"

She grinned. "Will do."

A wild Roy Harper appeared in the kitchen.

"Here."

Felicity looked up from her bowl of shredded wheat, where the ratio of blueberries and sliced banana far outweighed the wheat. And that wasn't even touching on the brown sugar she'd sprinkled overtop all of it. Spoon paused just short of her mouth, dripping milk, she raised her eyebrows. "Huh?"

"I bought coffee. The kind you like."

"The kind I like is imported. And expensive." She stared at the bag in front of her. "And this is it. What? How did you…?"

Roy shrugged, affecting an apathetic expression.

"A nice gesture, admittedly. But, I really need to know. Because if there's a place I can find it around here for cheaper, I'm all for it."

"I thought you rich types liked overpaying. For social status or whatever."

"Because I've been flaunting my wealth to my vast group of vapid friends?" She tipped her head at him. "We've gotta work on these judgements you have about the wealthy. Or, maybe just about me. Because I like to think I'm not your average tabloid face."

He snorted. "Whatever. Anyway, since you keep complaining I'm drinking all your coffee—"

"You skipped a cup yesterday and just poured it into a bowl," she pointed out.

"—consider this me repaying you."

She hummed. "Okay, well, thank you."

He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his sweater and shrugged again.

"Hungry?" she asked.

He glanced at her bowl dubiously.

"We have other food." She rolled her eyes. "There's enough in there for a few awesome omelets, if you're interested."

"Are you?"

"Nope. I'm happy with this." She knocked her spoon against the edge of her bowl. "But, you go ahead. Hey, maybe Thea would like an omelet!"

Roy nodded before turning to dig around in the fridge. Silently, he pulled everything he needed out, carried it to the island, and started dicing up vegetables. It was a few minutes in, with the pan warming on the stove, that he said, "My mom wasn't big on breakfast."

"I hear it's the most important meal of the day."

He snorted. "Yeah, well, mom's idea of a meal was cheese out of a can and some stale crackers."

Felicity hummed, and coked her head thoughtfully. "You know, I've never had cheese in a can, but guessing by the face you're making, it's not a delicacy."

"It's no beluga caviar," he muttered.

"Also a thing I haven't had." Her nose wrinkled. "Ew, fish eggs." She waved a finger. "Don't even get me started on escargot. Had it. Hated it. Never again." She paused. "Actually, that was a much shorter rant than I was expecting to have…"

Roy ticked a brow at her, seeming amused, and shook his head. "Anyway, groceries add up. Especially when the closet place to buy them is the Quik-Mart on the corner."

"So, no breakfast."

"Not often." He shrugged. "Sometimes I'd pick up a burrito or something. But, mostly I learned to just take what I could get when I could get it."

"Explains why you're so skinny."

He frowned at her.

"What? You are!" She waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not saying it in a bad way. There's nothing wrong with being skinny, or being not skinny. It's just a fact that you're… lean."

He rolled his eyes.

"You know, some people think coffee is an appetite suppressant."

Roy didn't respond, moving to the pan to pour out his egg mixture.

"I hope you know that if you're hungry, you can eat. There's plenty to go around." She sat back on her seat and scooped up another bite of her cereal. "I had a cook growing up. I know, I know. Typical rich people talk. He was a good guy. He was no Raisa, but still good. Before him, my Bubbe did a lot of the cooking. My mom was terrible in the kitchen, but Bubbe had it down like an art. She died shortly before my mom did. I thought it was the worst thing that could ever happen. But, life likes to prove you wrong, so… Mom died, too."

Roy turned back to her. "Your mom was a good person. I mean, I didn't know her personally, but… I've heard people talk about the clinic and how much she used to help people in the Glades. She was one of the last people willing to take a chance out there."

"The steel mill was a pretty big deal… I never understood why Robert closed it."

"Yeah." Roy frowned. "Lotta people lost their jobs. Just one more nail in the coffin."

"People have a way of coming back. And I think The Glades, of all places, deserves its underdog moment."

"Maybe." He sighed, and turned back to his omelet. "Hopefully."

Felicity left it at that, finishing up her cereal and sipping at her coffee.

Eventually, Roy left, an over-sized omelet in hand, off to share it with Thea. That boy was all rough angles and snarky defense, but, there was a good heart under all of it.

Felicity smiled at her new bag of imported coffee and, with that, her morning was off to a good start.

"Felicity Megan Smoak!"

Oh, Felicity would know that posh London accent anywhere. Andira "Andi" Gray, Felicity's very best, and very dramatic, best friend.

Felicity cringed with regret. "I know… I'm sorry. I should've called."

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I mean, probably pretty worried. I did abruptly leave town for a city that had a giant bomb warning on it." She sat back in her office chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I swear, I meant to call. But, between work and family and keeping a low profile—"

"Oh, tosh. Do not give me those patently pointless excuses. I, your very best friend, and a terribly wonderful person, who loves you more than anyone or anything, who watered your poor, defenseless, dying plants—"

"You're laying it on a little thick here, Andi…"

"—worried sick for your health and well-being, crying my eyes out for months, only raiding your fabulous closet twice—"

"Which is the real proof you were worried."

"—and all I get is distracted email telling me you were fine, dozens of unanswered voicemails, and a half-arsed apology? As if. I demand reparations for my time and suffering."

"Oh, really?" Felicity grinned. "Can I guess what form they'll take?"

"Just a stunning red dress that might as well still have the tags on it… I'm looking at it right now. It's perfect."

Thinking of the exact article of clothing Andi was referencing— a floor length gown that hugged her curves and made her feel like she was stepping out of a dramatic perfume commercial whenever she wore it— she snorted. "Perfect for what?"

"Every-day wear, of course. I have some groceries I need to pick up. Can you imagine what people will think when I walk around the market in this thing?"

"You're ridiculous, but yes, go ahead. And send pictures."

"I will." The sound of rustling clothing hangers followed, and then, "So? How are things? More importantly, when are you coming home?"

Felicity sighed. "I don't know. Not until I'm sure Tommy's on his feet. Maybe longer. With everything that happened, I don't really want to leave him alone."

"So, invite him back. Tommy's always a laugh. I miss his awful face."

"You just like that he flirts with you."

"Darling, everyone flirts with me. I'd be offended if they didn't. Tell him to pack up his terrible American accent and his crutches and come sleep on my couch. I'll let him stay as long as he wants... A good week should do him."

Laughing, she bit her lip. "He was mortally wounded."

"Not so mortally if he's still around breathing, is it?"

Rolling her eyes, Felicity sighed. "You know what I mean."

"I know he was hurt enough that you took a red-eye out, which says a lot, considering how little time you like to spend there."

"That was before…"

Andi's voice softened. "Before your dad."

Felicity closed her eyes. "I can't believe he's gone."

"Good riddance, if you ask me. The way he treated you. Ignoring your calls. Acting like you weren't his daughter. I had a perfectly good hitman lined up to take him out if he ever made you cry again."

Felicity's mouth kicked up. "Just on speed dial?"

"Naturally." The click of Andi's heels echoed through the phone as she, presumably, moved to the full-length mirror in Felicity's walk-in closet to see how yet another dress looked against her long, lanky body. "I'm borrowing the purple one, too."

"I'm going to need you to send me my clothes, you know that, right? I'm actually thinking of going to this relief fund gala, to raise money for The Glades."

"Oh, I know just which dress to send you! Just you wait. You'll look darling!"

"If you say so."

"I do." Andi let out a little noise of satisfaction. "Trust me, you'll thank me for this one. You'll have people swarming for your attention."

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly what I'm avoiding right now."

"I don't mean reporters asking for an exclusive. I mean someone to take home and ruffle the sheets with. A handsome man, a pretty girl, something in between. Whatever you like."

"Oh, I know what I like." She frowned. "I'm just ninety percent sure it doesn't like me."

"That's bollocks," Andi dismissed. "Everybody likes you."

"Not true. Jefferson White hated me."

"Only because you were smarter than him. Men and their insufferable inferiority complexes. Forget him. What's he even do now?"

"I'm pretty sure he's a successful lawyer."

"Oh?" Andi perked up, curious. "How successful?"

Felicity grinned. "Not on your level. You can do better."

"Of course I can. And do. Have I told you of Margot yet? Stunning, smart, and speaks six languages. She's an absolute dream."

"That was a lot of S's…" She shook her head. "Anyway, no, you haven't told me about Margot. How long has that been happening?"

"A month or so. Flirting is fun, but sometimes the pay-off can't compare to the lead-up. Not so with Margot. Not yet, at least. Anyway, tell me about this 'it' that doesn't like you. Should I send the hitman for them then?"

"No. It's nothing. It's just some… unrequited crush from forever ago, rearing its ugly head."

"Ah, I see. It's that Oliver Queen, isn't it? I've seen pictures." She hummed thoughtfully. "I'd sit on that face. It'd be worth a little whisker-burn, I think."

Felicity laughed and rubbed her fingers over her forehead. "I know."

"You two had a thing, didn't you? A little kiss in a field that you think back on dreamily?"

"Not dreamily."

"Oh, very dreamily. I've only see that look on your face once before…" Her voice became clipped and sharp then, "With Jamie. That tosser."

"So, you're saying my judgment in men sucks?"

"Not all men." She gasped. "I cannot believe I just uttered that sentence! My soul has just turned itself away from me in disgust."

"Jamie was an outlier then?" Felicity snorted. "I don't know about that…"

"Jamie was, and is, a soggy piece of cabbage that crept into your defenseless little heart, unseen and unprepared, and parked his overgrown, gym-sock-smelling self in your home. It was a wonder you let him stay."

"Three years, Di… I gave him three years of my life and he just… exited stage left. No warning at all. And now! Now, he keeps texting me. Can you believe that? All these messages about missing me and wanting to know if I'm okay!"

"Oh, if he does again, let him know that I set all of his things on fire."

"What? Andi…"

"His things were just everywhere. I had to make space."

"A) You don't even live in my apartment. And b) for what?"

"A) I've spent more time here than you in the last three months, thank you very much. And b) for my unending disdain for him. It fills up the entire apartment building. I might have to ask the others tenants to move out."

Felicity sighed, but a smile pulled at her mouth. "Have I mentioned that you're crazy?"

"You have, and you love me. So, listen to me… Jamie Shaw is a shallow, no good, underdeveloped, maggot of a person who did not deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone occupy the same space. If I were to see him today, I'd rip that raggedy thing he calls a beard right off his face, use it to make a nest for some needy little mouse, and then kick his arse so far out to the curb, he would be run over by a bicyclist that would deform his face so completely that he could never be identified. And so he'd be buried as the terrible, faceless victim of a bicycling accident. Remembered only as an absurd story people tell from time to time."

Felicity snorted as laughter bubbled out of her.

"There. You see? Don't you feel much better?"

"I do," she agreed, grinning.

"So, shouldn't you call your fantastically wonderful best friend more often?"

"I should."

"Good. Then do that. Also… I'm going to borrow the yellow one. I have to visit the laundrette tomorrow, and I want to see how many strange looks I get."

"Pictures or it never happened."

"As always."

With a long sigh, Felicity sat forward in her seat. "I should get back to work. But, I'll call you. Soon."

"All right. Be good, love. And if you ever need to talk, you know where I am."

"I do."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

With a sad pout, Felicity hung up her phone and then turned back to her laptop. It was times like these she really did miss home. Or, at least, what had been home for so much of her life. Andi had been her right arm since high school, glued to her side, the best friend she could ask for, and she missed her. But, alas, Andi was in London and Felicity was in Starling. For now, at least. Eventually, she would go home. Wouldn't she?

"Do you ever miss outside? Because I do. Every day. And right now."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "That was super subtle, Tommy. Would you like to go outside today?"

He looked over to her from where he was sitting on the couch. "Yes. Please! I feel like I've been in this bathrobe for eight years."

"The drama is strong in this one…" She put her phone away and moved toward him, holding out her hands to help him stand. "All right. We'll go out for a short walk, maybe get coffee. But no straining yourself!"

He saluted her as she led him into his bedroom and dug out some clothes for him to wear. While he said she didn't need to hang around, her worry that he might fall or injure himself had her standing just outside of his door, waiting. He was slow-moving thanks the injury. He was making a lot of progress with Gemma, but it still hurt to raise his arms over his head.

When almost twenty minutes passed, she got nervous, and was just about to knock on the door when it swung open.

Noticing her frown, he sighed. "I'm fine."

"Okay," she said, over-bright.

"Really. I still think Gemma's trying to kill me, but I'm getting stronger."

"I believe you."

Still, the walk down the block to the coffee shop Felicity favored was slow, with a few rests in between before they finally stepped through the door. Tommy was sweating, red with exertion, and shaking a little. Felicity led him to a table while she put in their order and then rejoined him once their coffees were ready. He was wearing a hood, drawn up over his head to at least attempt to hide his face from any curious observers.

"So?" She sipped at her latte. "How are you feeling?"

He frowned. "Tired."

There were circles under his eyes. Nightmares. He never said so, but she could hear him sometimes. She couldn't imagine what it was like, being trapped inside that building, rebar shoved through his body, certain that he wouldn't survive it. She shuddered just thinking about it. "We could try whale sounds."

He blinked at her.

"What? They're supposed to be soothing." She shrugged. "Maybe a white noise machine or something. Or hypnotism."

"Or drugs. I hear drugs can make you sleepy."

She rolled her eyes. "We're not getting you hooked on drugs."

"I'm not saying to load me up on bath salts." He grinned, and for a moment, he looked like his old self. "I'm just saying, a little something to take the edge off, knock me out for a bit, wouldn't be the worst…"

She stared at him. "Maybe you should talk to someone."

"I am. I'm talking to you. Right now. Over this second-rate coffee." He pulled a face. "What did you order me? This is awful."

"Tommy, there's nothing wrong with getting therapy. It's not like we have the most stable of family histories here. And everything would be private. Patient/client privilege means that anything you tell them doesn't get shared with the public."

"Yeah." He scoffed. "Because people always follow the letter of the law."

Frowning, she dropped her gaze to the table. "I just want you to be okay. I know you're having nightmares, and I know this can't be easy on you—"

"What about you?"

Her brows hiked a little. "What about me…?"

"He was your dad, too." He stared at her. "Do you even miss him?"

"Where is this coming from? A week ago you were telling me you were glad he was gone."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm still figuring out how I feel about all of this. Every day feels surreal. Some days I hate him and some days I don't."

She frowned. "You don't think I feel the same way?"

"It was no secret that you two could hardly stand each other."

Her expression hardened. "He made that choice."

"Did he? Because I seem to remember you could come home anytime you wanted, but you didn't." He stared at her searchingly. "You ran away and you hid and you just left. Maybe you're more like him than you think."

She reared back, her heart squeezing at the dig. "You think I ran away?"

"I think you stayed away. And the only reason you're back now is because he's gone."

Swallowing tightly, she shook her head. "I didn't know that he was this… this Dark Archer thing. I didn't know that he was going to bomb a city. All I knew was that you were in the hospital and everything was going to hell. I came back for both of you. Because whatever he is, whatever he became, he was still my father. He left me first. I just got the message and stayed away." She pushed up from the table then, angry and flustered. "I get that you are going through something right now. Between your recovery and whatever weirdness is happening between you and Oliver and Laurel, it sucks. But, I didn't come here to be your punching bag."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, eyes brimming with tears.

After her blow out with Tommy, Felicity went home and exiled herself to the balcony to be alone with her admittedly maudlin thoughts. She heard when he came home, but he didn't approach her and she was purposely keeping her distance. She wasn't sure why he snapped at her, or where that particular issue had even come from. Had he been holding all that in for years? Did he feel like she abandoned him when they were kids? Because that was the last thing she ever wanted to do, and she thought he understood that. It wasn't her choice to leave. If it had been up to her, she never would have…

1999

Felicity was in the middle of eating breakfast when a stack of pamphlets landed on the table next to her glass of orange juice. Brow furrowed, she stared at them a beat. One after the other listed the many reasons any parent with a lot of money and a child they wanted to see less of should send said child away. All right, so it wasn't in blatant block print, but it sure looked like that was exactly what her dad wanted. The biggest selling point being that it was in—

"London?" she asked, looking up to stare at her dad across the table. She readjusted her glasses, as she was prone to do when she was nervous, and especially lately, since they were brand new. "But… Why?"

"It's a prestigious school. Only the brightest can attend. With your grades, you'll fit right in," Malcolm said, offering an empty grin. "Don't look so disappointed. There are plenty of children out there that would beg for the chance to go."

"I like Rosemary Academy. I have friends and I know all my teachers and I have Tommy and Oliver and—"

"You'll have to pack today. I've arranged for you to fly down early to set yourself up in your dormitory."

"I don't understand…" Felicity felt an itch growing in her throat as tears started to prick at her eyes. "Why are you sending me away? Did I do something? Say something? Because I can change it. I… I can join more clubs or leave you alone more or whatever you want. Just… Please, don't send me away."

Ignoring her, Malcolm continued, "The head master will give you a personal tour of the property and explain how the curriculum is set up and what kind of expectations there will be. You can't slack off here, Felicity. You have an image and a name to uphold."

"Will you look at me? Please?" She stared at him searchingly, but he kept his gaze on his plate of egg whites and sautéed vegetables. "I know you don't like me anymore. I— I know that it's because I look like mom and—"

Malcolm's fist hit the table abruptly, rattling the glasses and cutlery. When he raised his eyes, they cut into her. "This has nothing to do with your mother."

Felicity lifted her chin defiantly, even as it wobbled. "I look like her. You can say it. I look just like her and you hate me for it."

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Don't be dramatic, Felicity. It doesn't become you."

"You don't talk to me anymore," she accused. "You don't look at me. You never ask me how my day was and how I'm feeling. I might as well be invisible to you!"

"I wouldn't be offering an invisible child a chance at one of the most prestigious schools—"

"I don't want a prestigious school!" she yelled.

He scowled at her. "I have worked too hard for you to waste the opportunities you're being given here. Your mother went to this school." He stabbed a finger down on the table. "She would be thrilled to know you are too, and here you are acting like this isn't a gift."

Cheeks flushed with anger, she shook her head. "It's not a gift." She pushed back from the table abruptly. "It's exile." Turning on her heel, she left the room.

"Felicity," he called after her. "Felicity Meghan Merlyn, you are going to that school and I won't hear another word about it. Do you hear me?"

She mocked him out of sight, rolling her eyes as she hurried toward the stairs.

"You leave in the morning!" he yelled.

Felicity felt her heart drop into her stomach, but she kept moving, climbing the stairs two at a time. If he wanted her gone, then fine. She'd be gone.

And she was never coming back.

Felicity was wrong about that last bit. She had come back, every chance she could get. But, not to see her father. Always to be near Tommy. She'd missed him while she was away, him and Oliver both. She'd gone from having her brother with her every single day of her life to only on holidays. Calling and emailing could only do so much for her, especially when he wasn't particularly adept with a computer yet. But, she tried. She always tried to be there for him. She thought he knew that…

"Hey."

Felicity looked up, blinking herself out her hazy thoughts, to see Thea standing next to her. "Hey… I didn't know you were home."

"Just got back."

"Kenjutsu class again?"

Thea nodded. "It feels good, getting everything out like that. It's its own kind of therapy, I guess."

"That's good."

"Yeah." With a sigh, Thea took a seat on the chair across from Felicity.

The view from the balcony would have been one people paid a lot of money for, once upon a time. But currently, all it looked like was a visual depiction of chaos versus controlled calm. The destruction of the Glades looked like it'd been sectioned off. It was in shambles, rubble and debris spread end to end, with sporadic fires peppered throughout. Some of them, Felicity imagined, were set on purpose, to keep warm, while others were from people trying to make something terrible even worse. Outside of the Glades, the rest of the city was seemingly untouched, turning a blind eye to the misery of the people trapped beyond the shroud.

"Is it weird for you?"

"Hm?" Felicity turned to look at her. "What?"

"Knowing that all of that was because of your dad." Thea jutted her chin out toward The Glades and then slumped down in her chair. "I kind of hate her for it. Or maybe I just want to, I don't know. But, I know that part of this, part of that body count, it's on her. My mom did this, and… I don't know how to look at her anymore."

"You haven't talked to her since it happened."

It wasn't a question, but Thea shook her head, dropping her gaze to her hands, twisting her fingers in her lap. "She keeps asking for me. Telling Oliver she wants to see me. But… I can't." She scoffed. "Maybe it'd be easier if she was dead."

Felicity flinched.

"Sorry. That… I wasn't trying to…" Thea sighed. "I just meant—"

"I know." Felicity looked out at the city once more, at the dark cloud that seemed to hover over the Glades. "It's weird. Sometimes I think it's all some crazy nightmare. Like, how could my dad do that? I mean… We weren't close. Haven't been for a while. He… I don't know. He changed after mom died. But, I never thought he could do something like this. All those people… The kind of hate that takes. I just didn't think he had that in him." Her eyes blurred with tears. "And I want to hate him. I want to. But then I wonder if that means I'll be just like him. Trapped in this never-ending maze of hatred. That's not what I want. Not for me or Tommy or you or Oliver. We don't need to be like him."

As a tear tripped down her cheek, she swiped at it, taking deep gulping breaths, trying to stem off the need to sob. And then Thea reached for her, taking Felicity's hand and squeezing. Thea moved from her own chair and climbed onto Felicity's, dropping her head to Felicity's shoulder. There, in full view of the wreckage of their parents' making, they fell apart, and held each other together.

Oliver was back. Felicity knew it was him. It wasn't the shuffling of feet or anything. That was more Tommy's style. With Oliver, he moved silently, almost ominously so. But, he couldn't quiet the sound of the security system when he put in all the codes to grant him access. And he was the only one who'd be coming home this late, so two-and-two…

Ever since Laurel's visit, Felicity had been doing this. Listening for when he got home, but not going out to greet him. They had a good thing going with their late-night meet ups. At least, she thought so. She was trying not to push or pry, to let him have the space to open up as he pleased. But, a part of her felt lied to or led on. That wasn't what she expected from him. She wasn't stupid; she knew Oliver's romantic history was checkered, at best. But, she thought maybe something changed. Whether that was the island or just growing up, she wasn't sure. There was just a shift in him. A more serious side that had rarely shown itself in the years they'd known each other.

Oliver had always been more of a 'fun time' person, just like her brother. She didn't begrudge either of them that. They had their fun, and they lived life the way they wanted to. It wasn't her style but so long as they stayed safe, she didn't much care what happened. Although, their many drunken mistakes ending up in the local tabloids weren't exactly flattering, and she had a good time reminding them of just how ridiculous they looked. But, that was when they were all young; eager to make mistakes and ignorant enough to think it wouldn't come back on them. They'd come a long way from then.

It wasn't like she was putting stock in the idea that she and Oliver were 'soul mates' or something. She just felt like maybe there was a 'what if' dangling there, just out of reach, teasing them closer together. The timing was terrible and she wasn't sure what it meant or where it could go, but a part of her had hoped. And now she felt foolish for even giving it any thought.

Rolling onto her side, she pressed her cheek down against her cold pillow and stared at the time on the clock. Minutes passed and sleep eluded her. The answerless questions of what he was doing, if he was still up, did he even notice she wasn't there, kept picking at her, but she tried to ignore them. Counting sheep had never worked for her; it always devolved into something else, like code and the latest issue she was having in what she was working on. So, instead, she focused on her breathing; counting to 7 on the inhale and 9 on the exhale.

And then, there was a noise, barely anything really. It could've been her imagination, but she swore she heard a tap, or maybe the scuff of a shoe, just outside her door. She stared at it, wondering if it would happen again, but when nothing happened, she dropped her head back and told herself to stop imagining things.

An hour passed with her telling herself that no, there was no way he just tapped at her door or stood outside of it like some sad, wistful character out of a sappy romance movie, hoping she'd tap back or open the door or jump into his arms and kiss his stupid, scruffy face.

Her life was not a romance movie. Far from it. In fact, she was pretty sure hers would be in the drama section, under 'dysfunctional family,' with no romantic plotline whatsoever. Just an ex-boyfriend that she avoided for good reason and who was never really seen on screen. Turning onto her other side, she vowed that she would sleep, and she did, restlessly.

"I don't want to step on anybody's toes, but have you noticed that a certain brother of yours has been extra grumpy lately?"

Felicity looked up from her extra-large mug of coffee and blinked owlishly at the very awake and put together Gemma standing across from her. "My wha…?"

Amused, Gemma smiled at her patiently. "Tommy has been grumpier than usual. Did something happen?" She shrugged. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Felicity sighed and dropped her gaze back to the dark depths of her mug. "We're fighting."

Gemma hummed.

"You know, as far as siblings go, I always felt like Tommy and I had a pretty good relationship. We fought, of course. But, we were always close. I like to think he just can't stay mad at me, but it's probably got something to do with solidarity. Outside of an aunt on my mom's side, we're all we really have left." Her nose wrinkled. "It's weird, fighting with him."

"Is it important?" Gemma wondered.

Felicity looked up at her, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"What you're fighting about, is it for a good reason?"

"Well… I think it is. I mean, it came out of nowhere for me, but it really hurt my feelings, so, yeah."

"Okay. Good." Gemma nodded. "If you're going to fight, make sure it means something. Otherwise, apologize and move on."

"Ohhh, no. He needs to apologize to me!" She waved a finger around meaningfully. "I've done some thinking about this. A lot of it, actually. And I was not in the wrong here. I was thirteen! I didn't even have a choice."

Pouring her own mug of coffee, Gemma nodded, adding a little cream to it.

"And who holds onto a grudge like that for this long? I mean, if it was really bothering him that much, he should've said something! Has he just secretly resented me all these years? What kind of crap is that?"

"Sounds like you two have a lot to talk about."

She scoffed. "If we do, he needs to be the one to bring it up. Because I have done plenty. It's his turn to extend the olive branch."

Gemma half-smiled. "You've got gumption, Smoak, I'll give you that."

"Damn right." She smiled, but it fell away quickly, and her shoulders slumped. "When you say 'grumpy'…?"

"Well, he always complains. And I get it, physio is hard. It pulls on everything that hurts and you either focus on that or what you got you there. Neither of which is fun. But, today there was no grumbling. It was just the face he was making, constantly frustrated with something but not talking about it." She shook her head. "Honestly, that's a lot worse than getting it all out. If he wants to complain it hurts, that's good. At least he's putting a voice to it, you know? It's when they don't and they just hold it all in that I get worried."

Felicity felt a wave of concern hit her. She chewed on her lip and rubbed her hands on either side of her coffee mug.

"Hey…" Gemma stared at her knowingly. "You can't fix him. You can support him, you can love him, you can be there when he wants to talk, but you can't fix him… When he's ready to talk, he'll come to you. Until then, it's okay to be upset if he's hurt you. It's okay to worry about him. And it's okay to give him space to figure out what's going on."

Nodding slowly, Felicity let out a sigh. "Yeah, no, you're right."

"I usually am." Gemma winked. "All right. I need to get back in there and make sure he isn't just laying around in a puddle of misery. See you in a bit." She walked away, sipping at her coffee, and humming under her breath.

Felicity watched her go and then frowned to herself. It was solid advice, no doubt. She just hoped that her brother wouldn't avoid talking to her for too long. Much as she was annoyed with him, and for good reason, she didn't want it to come at the risk of his health.

Starling City remembered Felicity existed early on a Wednesday morning. She was wearing her comfiest, and least attractive, sweats to make a coffee run when she was swarmed by people shouting "Felicity Merlyn!" Abruptly, she turned back around and walked straight into her building.

"Well, it's official. I'm a Merlyn again." She slumped down onto the couch and pouted. "It's only been a couple minutes and I already miss the anonymity."

"Does this mean we're moving again?" Roy was sitting on the arm of the couch, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops. There was a litter of fading bruises on his face, but they were on their way to healing. However, she did notice he winced every time he turned too quickly, like his ribs were bothering him.

Chewing her lip, Felicity shook her head. "No. I'll just have to face the piranhas."

He snorted. "Your funeral."

"I just need to find a way to bend them to my advantage…"

"Wow. You really are a Merlyn."

Ignoring him, she said, "An interview might be enough." Or some exposure from the relief gala… "They need to see that Tommy and I aren't like our dad. That we want to help, to clean up the mess he made, to… I don't know. Right his wrongs, somehow."

"Throwing money at this isn't going to fix it." Roy stared at her seriously. "There are people out there suffering. Stuck living in all of that. Left behind to rot."

Her heart sunk down into her stomach. "I know. But, I have to do something. I… I can't let this be our legacy. My mom believed in The Glades, in helping people. She would be horrified that my dad did this. And so am I." Pushing up from her chair, she started to pace. "There has to be a way to help them."

Roy watched her, frowning, a milk mustache staining his upper-lip. "Well, if the interview doesn't work, I hear vigilantism is pretty popular these days."

She snorted. "Yeah, I'll pencil that in as a back-up plan."

"I had to take a cab, you know."

Felicity looked up from her desk, and frowned as her brother stood, leaning in the doorway. "Oh?"

"Yeah, which I had to get Roy to pay for, because I didn't have my wallet on me, and most of my money is frozen anyway."

"You could've walked."

"I'm still working on the finer points of that most days." He stepped further into her office. He was moving slow, but wincing less, so she counted it as a win. Carefully, he dropped himself into a chair and leaned into the plush leather with a quiet sigh. "This isn't easy for me."

"What? Walking? That's why Gemma's so important. If you'd just trust that she—"

"No. Not that. Although that isn't much easier. I meant apologizing. Usually, I'd pretend it never happened, give you some space, then just show up in London, take you out on the town until you forgot why you were mad at me to begin with."

"Somehow, I don't think clubbing is in the cards for you. Not for a while, anyway."

He smiled faintly. "Probably not."

"So, an apology?" She stared at her. "Sounds awkward."

"You could say that."

Leaning back in her chair, she tapped the edge of her desk. "We could just skip it. We've got a lot on our plates already. Sibling stuff can wait, right?"

"If I've learned anything from this, it's probably that it's not smart to let things fester. So…" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, about what I said. I know you didn't leave because you wanted to. Dad sent you away and it… sucked. Boarding school isn't fun for anybody, but it's especially hard when you're in a foreign city with nobody you know."

"I like to think I did okay. Graduated with honors and all that."

"Yeah. You got most of the brains, I think."

She rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh, and you got all the looks. You used to say that to people all the time."

"Yeah, well, it worked when you had that gangly phase."

"Weren't you apologizing?"

He smiled faintly. "Look, you're all I've got. It's just me and you, the only Merlyns left. And things are going to get hard. With Moira's trial and public opinion out to vilify us, we're going to need each other. I don't want to be the one that pushes you away. I missed you when you were in London, and as much as all of this sucks, I'd like to think you might be the one good thing to come out of it."

She stared at him a long moment. "Huh."

"What?"

"For someone who doesn't apologize much, you're not the worst at it."

"Yeah, well, I might've practiced that speech a few times."

"Thea?" she asked knowingly.

"She told me you cried on her shoulder."

"Hey, that was mutual crying!" she defended. "We were having a moment."

"Either way…"

Sitting forward, she closed her laptop. "Are you hungry? 'Cause I'm starving, and I kind of feel like going through Bubbe's cook book again."

"You still have that thing?"

"Of course!" She pushed back from her desk. "Come on. We have to find something big enough to feed everybody. Between you and Oliver…" She paused as she caught the look on his face. "Wait, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"That face."

"What face?"

"You made a face."

"I make lots of faces."

She frowned. "Tommy…"

"It's nothing. Hey, weren't you going to feed me?"

"Laurel told me, you know. That her and Oliver started their 'thing' again."

Tommy eyed her. "She did?"

"Yeah. She said it was a mistake. That she ruined a good thing with you."

He hummed. "She did."

"Is that why you guys have been avoiding each other?"

His brow furrowed. "We haven't."

She stared at him knowingly. "He's always disappearing somewhere. I know he's busy with this new acting-CEO thing, but I guess I assumed you two would be thick as thieves. If makes sense, if this weirdness over Laurel is becoming an issue again. It's just… He was so worried at the hospital. And with everything that happened, him disappearing at sea and then coming back… It's been a weird year."

"Yeah. Strange," he dismissed. "What about kugel? Bubbe made a great kugel…"

Crossing her arms, Felicity stared him down. "You're being weird."

"And you're being insensitive. I'm a severely injured person. You should really be more understanding."

"Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll have to have ask Oliver."

He scoffed. "Good luck with that. Oliver is a vault."

"Yeah, we'll see about that…" She marched out of her office.

"So… Is that a no on the kugel?" Tommy called after her.

She popped her head back into the office. "No, that's a 'yes' to the kugel. I'll find Oliver later and grill him then."

Tommy grinned. "I stopped listening at 'yes to the kugel.'"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Come on, you can help."

"Sure." He pushed up from his chair. "I'll be the taste-tester."

"We should go shopping."

Felicity looked up from her computer to squint at Thea in confusion. "We what?"

"I need out of this apartment, and you need some time away from the screen." She shrugged. "Retail therapy cures all. Or, at least the temporary funk I'm in. So? Are you in?"

Felicity glanced from her to the computer, and then nodded. "Yeah, actually. That sounds like a great idea."

"Awesome. Because I already called for a ride."

Felicity frowned dubiously. "You think a cab is going to make it through the swarm outside?"

"Nope. Which is why I'm having a private driver pick us up. Tinted windows, and they call pull into the underground parking, so we can avoid the vultures."

"Even better." Felicity grinned, and then grabbed up her purse. "You know, I don't think I've gone shopping since London… Well, except online, when I was ordering furniture and stuff."

"Even better. We can update your wardrobe. That'll take the whole day." Thea grinned. "First though, I vote we get some brunch. I'm starving."

"I like the way you think…"

"You're not talking to me."

Felicity jumped, and whirled around, her eyes wide. "What the hell, Oliver!? You can't just sneak up on people in dark kitchens."

"Sorry." He stared at her searchingly. "You've been avoiding me."

Sighing, she stepped away from the open fridge and circled around to take a seat at the island, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "It's not hard when you're rarely around."

"Things have been… hectic. Between mom and the trial and trying to avoid the vultures outside, I've just been keeping busy."

"And hidden." She looked up at him, squinting. "So, what are you doing up at 2 am?"

"Waiting for you."

"There's this nifty thing called a phone. You could use it sometime, instead of hiding out in dark shadows and waiting for unsuspecting people to show."

His mouth turned up faintly. "I just wanted to talk to you in person… I feel like we haven't done that in a while."

She hummed non-commitally, and sipped at her juice.

"I can't change it if you don't talk to me." He stared at her searchingly. "Did I do something? Or say something?"

Felicity drummed her fingers atop the counter. "What's going on with you and Tommy?"

His brow furrowed, and he drew his head back, seeming confused by the question. "Me and Tommy?"

"Laurel came by the other day. She wanted to talk to Tommy about their relationship… or lack thereof. She had a lot to say, actually. Not the least of which was that you two had… reunited. But, she regretted it and that she cared about Tommy, etcetera, etcetera."

Oliver stared, his brows hiked. "I…"

"I get it. You two had your… thing. Or have a thing. I don't know." She shook her head and waved a hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. I just don't want to see you and Tommy end a friendship over this."

"Felicity—"

"You don't owe me an explanation. Whatever you and Laurel are or aren't doesn't matter to me. But, Tommy is my brother. And with everything that's happened, I thought you'd spend more time together. Ever since he woke up, though, you're hardly ever in the same room. It's like you're avoiding each other. Which doesn't make any kind of sense to me. Especially when you have the epic failures of our parents as yet another thing to bond over."

He dropped his gaze down. "I guess we've both just had a lot on our minds.

She frowned. "You know you're a terrible liar, right?"

He blinked, surprised, and looked at her. "Sorry?"

"It's a good thing you never became a politician." Crossing her arms, she stared up at him searchingly. "So, what was it? If it isn't about Laurel, then what'd you fight about? I think the last time you were mad enough to stop talking it was over some stupid GI Joe that one of you lost."

"It was a teenage mutant ninja turtle action figure," he corrected. "And Tommy lost it."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, unable to squash a feeling of affection that welled up. "So, what was it?"

He stared at her. "Before The Undertaking, I… lied to him. About something pretty serious. He found out and… He wasn't sure he could be okay with it."

She frowned, her brow furrowed. "Okay… That was vague."

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry. But this… It's between me and Tommy."

She paused, her chest feeling tight. For as long as she could remember, whatever was happening between Oliver or Tommy, it involved her, too. Whether she wanted it to or not, she was always brought into their lives or their fights or anything really. Until recently. Until Oliver came back from the island and she was summarily ignored, and then The Undertaking happened, and now she was being pushed out again.

Nodding, she murmured, "Oh."

He sighed. "I know you're just trying to help, but—"

"No. It's fine. You don't need to tell me all your deep, dark secrets." She pushed up from the island and stepped back, putting distance between them. "I just think there's a lot going on right now, and you should have each other to lean on. That's all." With a half-smile, she turned on her heel.

"Felicity…"

She paused. A part of her screamed to keep walking, but her feet stayed glued to the floor.

"I'm not trying to block you out," he said. "This thing with me and Tommy… I just feel like it's something we need to work out alone, and I don't want to drag you into it."

Whirling back around to face him, she narrowed her eyes. "That's just it. This doesn't feel like it's between just you two. It feels a lot bigger than that."

He stared at her a beat and took a deep breath. "You're right. It does." He shifted his weight from one foot the other and then cleared his throat. "It's been hard to readjust since I… got back. Hard to fall back into old routines of… sharing with people. Or being open with them. I've kept things from him, from both of you, and I'm still trying to figure out how to share those things…"

"Since the island?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She stared up at him. "Have you… I don't know, thought about talking to someone? Like, professionally, not your local bartender or something."

He made a face, and she rolled her eyes.

"What is it with men and getting weird about therapy? I had a therapist growing up. She was amazing. Helped me through like, a third of my daddy issues."

"A third?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, I have baggage like you wouldn't believe."

He grinned then. "I think I can relate."

Felicity dropped her gaze to the floor. "It hurts," she admitted. "I wanted to be understanding when you came back. I wanted to give you time and space to readjust. I thought you'd reach out when you were ready."

"And I was going to," he said hurriedly.

"But, you didn't." She stared up at him. "We live together. We share the same space. We're closer now, physically, than we have been in years, and some days I feel farther apart than I ever have."

He sighed. "That's not what I want."

"But, it's what's happening." She frowned. "You're right. Whatever is going on between you and Tommy, that's your business. I'm worried and I want you two to be okay, but I'm not going to insinuate myself into your friendship." She shook her head. "But this, you and me… I know you're hiding something from me. Maybe that's something that happened on the island or maybe it's something else. I don't know. But I know you, Oliver. Five years on an island or another planet, it doesn't matter. I know you…"

He stared at her, his teeth clenched. "I need you to trust me."

"How?" She stared up at him searchingly. "You're vague and avoid-y and you keep weird hours and you flirt with me one minute, you tell me you think we could be something, and the next I'm finding out Laurel is still a main player in your life,"

He shook his head. "That's not—"

"I don't expect you to rearrange your entire life because I came back. That's not what I want."

His brow furrowed. "What do you want?"

Felicity took a deep breath. "I want my brother to be okay. I… I want you to be friends again. To be there for each other. I want…"

He took a step toward her, staring down at her. The planes of his face seemed more defined and sculpted, his eyes intense in a way they'd never been before. "Felicity…" His voice deepened. "What do you want?"

She swallowed tightly. "I want you to be honest with me."

"What if you don't like what I'm honest about?"

"What if I do?"

A know slowly formed between his brows. After a moment, he said, "I miss you."

She tipped her head, curious. "When?"

"Now… Always." He shook his head faintly and let out a heavy sigh. "I missed you on the island. And when I came back, I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you. But, I thought that if I did, I'd tell you everything."

"What's wrong with that?"

"There are things that I had to do…" His gaze fell. "Thing I did to survive… That I'm not sure you could forgive me for."

Felicity stepped forward. She reached up and pressed her fingers to his cheek. "Whatever you did, it's okay."

He looked up. "Felicity…"

"Whatever happened on that island, it came down to you living or dying, so I'm sorry, but… There's no choice to make. You live, Oliver. You fight and you survive and you do whatever it takes to come home." She shook her head. "I could never be mad at you for that."

"It's complicated." He covered her hand, his fingers stretched atop her own. "I'm not the same person I was. I'm not… I can't be who I was."

She nodded. "Okay."

He frowned. "Okay?"

"We're all growing and changing. Our experiences make us who we are. I'm not going to say I don't miss parts of who you were. I miss how carefree you were, but that's just because I see how… burdened you are now. When you don't think anyone's looking, it's like you have the whole world on your shoulders."

He let out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes it feels that way."

"I don't expect you to be who you were. But, I do expect you to let me get to know who you are. Sound fair?"

He nodded slowly.

Biting her lip, she tapped his cheek. "Good."

She drew her hand back, but he caught it, his thumb pressing against her palm.

That heavy seriousness was back in his face. It was times like these that Oliver no longer looked like the boy she knew but a more hardened man, carved out of marble and sacrifice. "If you ask me to tell you everything… I will. It won't be easy, but I'll try."

She wanted to. The questions were practically tripping over themselves to reach her tongue. But, at the same time, she wondered if maybe that wasn't fair. Oliver had a lot on his plate, and a lot that he was working through. If he said that he was trying, she believed him. She just wanted to know that she still had a place in his new life. Be it as a friend or something… else. Something more.

"It's getting late," she said. "Maybe we should save the deep, dark secret sharing for another night. Preferably when I've had more sleep."

"Sure."

Felicity could see the tension bleed out of him. Despite making the offer, he was also clearly worried about how she might take whatever he had to tell her. She wasn't sure what could have happened on an isolated island in five years, but whatever it was, it had an effect. She told herself that eventually she would know what that was, but for now, she could be okay with the progress they'd made.

Seemingly more lighthearted, he wondered, "Does this mean you'll stop avoiding me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Will you stop hiding in my dark kitchen?"

"You're the one who didn't turn on the light."

"Beside the fact," she dismissed. "Skulking isn't an attractive trait, you know."

He smiled slowly. "Should I work on that?"

"It used to come second nature to you."

"I'll try harder."

"To be attractive?" Her brows raised. "Is that possible?"

His smile stretched wider. "I guess we'll find out."

Felicity smothered a grin of her own and then turned, ready to leave.

Only he still had her hand.

She looked back at him, brows hiked.

He was still smiling, warm and gentle. "I really did miss you."

Felicity's heart thumped in her chest. "I missed you, too."

He squeezed her hand. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Can you fit me into your skulking schedule?"

His mouth twitched. "I'll try my best."

"All right." She turned on her heel to leave. As she walked away, their hands stayed linked, until just the tips of their fingers were brushing against each other. "Goodnight, Oliver."

"Night."

Felicity walked back to her room feeling a little breathless, and a lot like something very significant had just changed.

Chapter Text

VII.

Felicity turned her eyes up irritably as she called Andi's cellphone for the sixth time that morning and it continued to ring through unanswered. She turned a disinterested eye to the TV in the corner of the room; the morning news was discussing another rash of copycat Hood sightings around the city. She'd heard bits and pieces, but between work and trying to maintain a normal life outside of the journalists packed in front of her building, she was generally avoiding the media.

As Andi's voice mail picked up, she sighed. "Andi, hey, Felicity again. Listen, the benefit is tonight and I still haven't received whatever dress you picked out. Are you sure you sent it Express? Or do you have a tracking number I can use? This is me doing the polite thing and not hacking your bank records to see who you used. I need to make other arrangements, and soon, if it's not coming in today. Call me when you get this. 'Kay, love you. Bye!"

Hanging up, she stepped toward the front counter, smiled at the barista, and put in her order. Just as it was being rung up, Felicity's phone buzzed with a message.

-thea wants to know if you can pick her up a skinny latte? And I like muffins of the chocolate variety

Felicity rolled her eyes at her brother's not-so-subtle hint and then turned back to the barista. Wincing, she said, "Two more things?"

The barista was kind enough not to look irritated. "Sure. What do you need?"

Her phone buzzed again.

—and an apple fritter for gemma! Extra glaze

With a snort, she texted back—

—I can't control the glaze

—pick the glaziest then

—Is this really for Gemma, or are you making a fritter/muffin hybrid?

—I'm offended you even asked! You know I don't like apple fritters. Do they have blueberry?

—I thought you wanted a chocolate muffin

—I'm INJURED

—you can't use that excuse forever

The barista cleared their throat, and Felicity flushed awkwardly. "Sorry! Uh, one apple fritter. Whatever one looks the most glazed, please. A chocolate muffin. And a skinny latte."

To Tommy, she texted—

—Anything else?

—Skinny caramel macchiato

—For who? I only have two hands!

He didn't answer, but Felicity added it to her order anyway. Ten minutes later, she walked out of the building to find a town car waiting for her. Recognizing the driver as the one Thea used when they'd last gone shopping, she smiled.

"Hey Earl!"

"Miss Smoak." He held the back door open for her. "Thirsty?" he joked, glancing at her tray.

"I only dropped in for one and it turned into a delivery service."

"I know the feeling." He reached for the tray, holding it as she climbed inside and got settled. When she was ready, he handed it back. "To your building, or did you need to stop anywhere else?"

"Just home. Thanks, Earl!"

"No problem, Miss Smoak." He closed the door and circled back around to climb in the front.

For a moment, she was reminded of her childhood. Of her and Tommy sitting side by side in a car just like this on the way to whatever gala or benefit their parents were attending. Her mother dressed to the nines, looking beautiful and sophisticated in a way that Felicity hoped she too would one day master. She wasn't sure she had, but she liked to think her mother would approve of the size of her closet back home. She hoped her mother would approve of a lot of things in her life. Her success in school, her career choices, the life she'd built for herself… Knowing Rebecca, Felicity thought she would. Rebecca always saw the best in people, and she'd loved her children with the kind of endless adoration that only a mother could.

Felicity's fingers wrapped around the necklace she still wore, the one her mother rarely took off, and decided to hold on to Rebecca's faith in humanity and the human spirit while she attended tonight's gala. If all went well, it would be a success, and the first step in rebuilding the Merlyn name.

Felicity shifted the drink tray to one side as she stepped into her apartment and put in the security requirements one-handed. Absently, her mind on the high-tech security system, she called out, "Hey, Thea, what are the chances you know someone who can get me a relatively unique dress for tonight's gala last minute…? Or, if that's a bust, how do you feel about going shopping?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You'll hurt my feelings if you don't wear what I brought you."

Felicity went still at the familiar voice, and then pivoted, her eyes wide. "Andi?"

Andi threw her arms out and wiggled her hips side to side. "Surprise!"

Letting out an excited noise, Felicity hurried toward her, then stopped, reached back, plugged in the last few numbers on the security panel, and then continued on to her best friend. Hugging tightly, the drink tray still held awkwardly in hand, she wondered, "How? When?"

"This morning!"

Tommy shuffled into the room then, wearing his workout gear and a happy grin. "She called me when she flew in. I let her know where we were and told security downstairs to let her through." He pointed at her purse. "Muffin and fritter?"

Felicity passed him her purse. "Wait, so, the macchiato's for you then! Duh!"

"Oh, yes, please!" Andi turned and plucked her drink up from the tray. "I'm positively parched. All this flying and surprising business is hard work."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "She flew in first class and slept most of the way."

"Beauty sleep is a necessary part of my schedule, and one I take very seriously." Andi winked at him before she turned her attention back to Felicity. "Now, I think we have a gala to get ready for."

"Thanks for this," Tommy said, holding up the brown paper bag with the muffin and fritter respectively as he walked backwards toward his physio room. "Have fun!"

"Uh-huh." Felicity said to him, before grinning at Andi. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Yes, well, after I heard how truly depressed you were without me in your immediate vicinity, I thought I'd come down and grace you with my stunning self." She grinned. "Also, you know I never pass up an opportunity to go full glam!"

"Then, you're coming with me?" Felicity perked up, which seemed almost impossible considering how excited she already was.

"Of course!" Andi raised her chin defiantly. "I'll beat those piranhas away myself."

Amused, but also sincerely touched, Felicity smiled. "You don't have a violent bone in your body, Di."

"Not true," she argued. "I just prefer to have others fight my fights for me, lest I break a nail."

Laughing, Felicity shook her head. "I'm just glad you'll be there. I'm not exactly excited about having to answer questions and defend the Merlyn name. Not in this context, anyway."

Clucking her tongue, Andi reached up and cupped Felicity's chin, giving it a little shake. "Whatever you need, darling, you say the word and I'll give it to you." She paused. "Except for the Monique Lhuillier gown I packed, because I brought that one for myself."

Rolling her eyes, Felicity said, "I'm sure it's safe. Speaking of gowns though… Which one did you bring me?"

"That is a surprise." She turned on her heel. "Come along then. We have so much to do."

"What?" Felicity frowned. "The gala isn't for hours and it's barely eleven."

"Right, but I had to call all over the city looking for a salon that could fit us in last minute. When my own illustrious name couldn't pull any strings, I had the Little Queen set something up."

"Thea?"

"Apparently, money still talks." Walking up to them, hips swaying, Thea smirked. "Most of ours is still frozen, but I had some cash lying around."

"You mean 'hidden' around?" Felicity asked.

Thea shrugged. "The rich don't stay rich if they don't know how to cheat the system." Arms crossed over her chest, she jutted her chin out toward Andi. "Anyway, London here asked me for a favor and I figured, why not. You're putting me and Roy up here while things smooth out, it's the least I could do."

"Thank you." Felicity offered her the drink tray, where her skinny latte sat. "Are you coming with tonight?"

"Me? Nah." She scrunched up her nose. "I'm leaving all the journalists to you. I might hit up a kenjutsu class later, but otherwise, I'm vegging out on the couch with some Gilmore Girls re-runs."

Felicity brightened. "Ooh, tempting."

"Yes, but not enough." Andi pressed a hand to Felicity's shoulder, encouraging her to turn. "Come on. We have an appointment to get to in a half hour. I need a pedi and I'd wager that you do, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that I know you and when you get working, it's hard to remember to do anything but drink coffee and code."

Felicity decided not to argue with her, instead letting her best friend usher her toward the door. "Bye, Thea!"

After a muffled 'later' was returned, Felicity found herself standing outside of her apartment once more. "So, pedicures?"

"And manicures. And I set us up for hair and make-up. I figure, if this is going to be your first public appearance on your own terms, you might as well give them something to gawk at."

"Not bad advice," Felicity admitted.

"As if I even know how to give bad advice."

With a raised eyebrow, Felicity snorted as she walked toward the elevator. "You were like sixty percent of the reason I thought I looked good goth. I probably would've died my hair back earlier if it wasn't for you telling me I was making it work."

"You were!" Andi insisted. "I stand by my word. You made a fantastic goth." She reached out and tugged on a piece of Felicity's hair. "You could pull it off now, too."

"Don't bet on it."

Andi smirked. "I always bet on black."

"I needed this," Felicity moaned, a slumped heap of comfort as her feet soaked in a bubbling bath. "I don't think I've had a pedicure since I was in London. The last time we went out. Which was easily forever ago."

"Months and months," Andi agreed, sipping at a glass of champagne one of the aestheticians had handed her. "What have you been doing with yourself out here without me, hm?"

"Besides missing you?"

Andi smiled. "Yes, besides that."

Felicity blew out a heavy sigh. "Work, mostly."

"That's it?" Andi frowned at her. "How do you survive on work alone? What about weekend brunch? Afternoon tea? You were always a workaholic, 'City, but you made time for other things. Art shows and fashion walks and that terrible ceramics class you signed us up for. I went to two without you! Miss Celine wanted a bowl, I gave her an ashtray. It was awful. I don't know why I ever let you convince me that would be fun."

Felicity snorted. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I miss all of that. Especially the ceramics class. Not because I was any good at it, but definitely because you were so terrible at it."

"Oh, shut it." Andi rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I far preferred that nude drawing class we took."

"Uh-huh. We didn't even get to finish that class after you told the teacher if the model got to be nude, you should be, too."

"Sound logic if you ask me. And I was only topless. They didn't even get to see the good bits."

Felicity laughed. "Their loss."

"Too right." Andi grinned. "I haven't been sidetracked though. It sounds like you need some more fun and culture in your life."

"I guess it's good you're here."

Reaching across the divide between their chairs, Andi took Felicity's hand and squeezed. "It is. And I'll be staying as long as you need me."

Softening, Felicity stared at her best friend. "Really?"

"Of course. I'm allowed to do that, remember? Expected even. My trust fund is nowhere near to depletion, so I have plenty of time to be out here, spending my time and money as frivolously as possible."

With a frown, Felicity said, "I thought you were working at Vogue?"

"Freelance. I'm under no contract. Besides, as I hear it, the real work is happening at the Teen Vogue out here." She winked. "Maybe they'll hire me on, hey?"

"They'd be lucky to have you. But, until that happens, and you move your glamorous self out to New York, I plan on keeping you right here for as long as humanly possible."

Andi raised her champagne in cheers. "And I will make sure we both enjoy every second of it."

After a very expensive, very detailed spa day, Felicity and Andi returned to the apartment refreshed, coiffed, and utterly stunning.

Gemma whistled from the couch as she caught sight of them. "Wow."

Felicity smiled. "We're not even dressed yet. This is just all the extraneous detail stuff."

"You're going to knock them dead at that gala." Gemma looked to Andi then. "I don't think we've properly met." Standing from the couch, she walked over and stretched a hand out for Andi to shake. "I'm Gemma Rhodes."

Taking it, Andi nodded. "Andira Gray, pleasure to meet you."

Gemma paused. "Like… London fashion designer Wallace Gray's daughter, Andira Gray?"

"You know, I usually get 'business scion of the Gray empire, Esther Gray's daughter, Andira Gray.' But I quite like your thinking. Yes, I am my father's daughter. I blame him for my continued attempts to play dress-up wherever I damn well please."

Gemma let out a breathy laugh. "Oh my…" She pressed a hand to her heart. "Your father makes some of the most amazing clothes I've ever seen in my life. And I do mean 'seen,' because I've only looked at them on a computer screen. I don't think I'd be allowed to even window-shop at any store that carries his stuff."

"You know, I didn't take you for a fashion buff," Felicity admitted.

"Probably because I wear so much workout gear." Gemma shrugged. "When I was a swimmer, I felt like 'athlete' was a big part of my personality. I didn't mind that, I just thought maybe my femininity got lost in translation sometimes. I don't always have a good reason to dress up, but I take what I can get."

"Personally, I think yoga pants are the greatest fashion invention in years," Tommy piped up from the couch, a bowl of popcorn in his lap that he was throwing up in the air to catch in his mouth.

All three women rolled their eyes at him.

"I'll be sure to pick you up a pair next session. I'm sure you'll like the fit," Gemma offered.

Tommy grinned at her and winked. "I've got nothing to hide."

"Annnd that's enough of this conversation." Felicity pointed a thumb toward the hallway. "Di and I are going to finish getting ready. Have you guys eaten, because we ordered Chinese. And…" She paused, halfway toward the hall. "Tommy, are you watching National Geographic?"

"Hey! This is 'World's Deadliest.' It's badass!"

Gemma smiled softly. "He teared up when a baby buffalo was killed."

"I shed a tear for the lion that ate him, because he's a majestic beast," he defended, sinking down into his seat.

Felicity snorted and turned on her heel. "All right, enjoy the majestic circle of life."

"I will!" he called after her.

Andi and Felicity walked down the hall, took a right at the end, and continued down until they reached Felicity's bedroom door.

"This place is huge," Andi said, casting her gaze around. "It's like, four of your apartment back home."

"Yeah, well, I have four times the people living here."

Felicity shrugged off her jacket as she walked over to sit on the long, red ottoman across from her bed. At her back was a table, on the left and right of which were book shelves that curved into the corners of the room. Beside those were two large wardrobes. On the opposite side of the room was Felicity's bed, dressed in bright red and white linens, with two long bags with their dressed tucked cleanly inside. On opposite sides of the bed, angled in the corners were two oversized, red arm chairs. Andi's luggage was piled up next to one, near the door leading into the en suite.

"We'll have touch up our make-up after we eat," Andi said. "Which is fine, since I'm not sure the wing on my eyeliner is sharp enough."

"I hardly think the Chinese food is going to get close enough to your eyes that you need to sharpen the wing."

"No, but I'd prefer to." Andi took a seat on the end of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. "Are you excited for tonight?"

"I'm… nervous." Felicity shook her head and gave a great, gusty sigh. "They're going to have questions and, while I like to think I'm past my foot-in-mouth days, it still flares up sometimes. What if I say something stupid?"

"Then I'll swoop in and save you. Vigilante-ism seems to be on the rise. Consider me your personal hero for the night."

Felicity smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

The drive to the gala had Felicity's stomach in knots. Her nerves from earlier had just about tripled. "I'm already regretting this. You think we can turn around?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We're not far now. You'll do fine." Andi reapplied her lipstick with her hand mirror, not the least bit worried about the storm that was about to come. "We'll go in, pledge ourselves to the cause, make a good show for the cameras, and stay smart and calm throughout the whole thing. It'll be over before you know it."

"They hate us, Di. Well, me. Not you. They have no reason to hate you. Aside from the fact that you'll be there with me, so hate by association, I guess. Is that a thing? Who am I kidding? Of course that's a thing!" Felicity slumped in her seat. "As soon as I get there, the piranhas will attack. Journalists and politicians, all trying to shift the attention and blame to me and my brother."

"Tosh, you weren't even in the country when it happened." Capping her lipstick, she placed it back in her clutch and then shifted in her seat to see Felicity better. "Are you going to let these buffoons decide who you are? No, you aren't. You're going to show them who you are and what you stand for. You're going to walk in there with your chin up and tell all these leeches that you're back, and you're going to do everything you can to make a difference. You will not swallow their vitriol as truth, do you hear me?"

Felicity took a deep breath. "Okay."

The partition lowered then. "Miss Smoak? We're here."

"Thank you, Earl." Taking a deep breath, she pressed a hand to her heart, willing it to slow down, and then nodded at him. "We're ready."

"Yes, ma'am." He climbed out of the car and circled around to her side.

Felicity looked back to Andira, who gave her a winning grin. "Show 'em that fire, Smoak."

A slow smile crept across Felicity's mouth, and then the door to the car opened and Earl's hand appeared.

Taking it, she slid out of the car, and was immediately met with a wall of flashing lights. For a second, her breath caught in her throat, and she could do nothing but hope that blinking back the spots in her eyes would work. Stepping forward, she pivoted. Both to give her eyes a rest, and to see Andi as she stepped out of the car, smoothing a hand down the hip of her dress.

Meeting the crowd with a sharp tilt of her head and a reckless grin, Andi held out an elbow, and Felicity took it.

Together, they walked up the carpeted path toward the stairs leading inside. Felicity ignored the shout of her name and the questions being volleyed in her direction. She kept walking, pulse jittering nervously, but otherwise the picture of calm. With each step toward the building, she felt her resolve grow. She was Felicity Smoak, and no one was going to stop her now.

An hour into the relief fund, Felicity was getting tired of playing nice, and even more tired of having people dig for information on her late father. It seemed, regardless of the reason for everyone gathering together, a moral expectation to do good, most people just wanted the dirt on each other, even if said people were dead.

Mayor Altman found Felicity and Andi poking around the buffet. He was a short man, about her height, with narrow shoulders; sandy, gray-blond hair; and a politician's face. All boxy lines, like someone made in a factory rather than a real human-being.

"Miss Merlyn!" He smoothed a hand down his blue tie with its red and white stripes. "I can honestly say I wasn't expecting to see you here this evening."

Felicity offered him a bland smile. She'd been hearing that all night. "Yes, well, considering my father is the cause for a lot of this strife, it's only right that I do my part in trying to make it right."

"Altruistic of you," Altman said.

"I don't know about that," a man said, coming to stand next to them.

"DA Donner." Altman nodded at him pleasantly.

"Mayor," Donner replied, before glancing at Felicity. "I noticed your brother wasn't in attendance tonight, Miss Merlyn."

"I prefer to go by 'Smoak,'" she corrected, looking between both men. "I had my name legally changed a long time ago."

"Sorry, Miss Smoak then." Donner looked indifferent. He was tall with wide shoulders, brown hair, and a sculpted face. There was a furrow between his brows that she could only assume formed in kindergarten and never really went away. He cast a brief look around before saying, "Was Thomas unavailable tonight?"

"Tommy is still recovering." Her tone had a bite to it now, unwilling to let anyone, let alone a stranger, try to shame her brother. "If you'll remember, he was one of the people hurt when The Glades were destroyed."

"Oh, that's right. I heard something about that. How is his recovery coming along?" Mayor Altman wondered.

"Slowly." Felicity forced a smile. "He's working with a physio-therapist to get his strength up, but standing for too long causes him a lot of pain."

"In a way, he's lucky to be standing at all." Donner stared at her, his expression hard and unforgiving. "According to some of my sources, Mister Merlyn was on his way to The Glades before Moira Queen even had a chance to reveal the sordid plot on the news." He stared at her searchingly.

"Are you asking me a question, Mister Donner?" Felicity raised an eyebrow. "Or just fishing for information?"

He smiled, teeth sharp and white and eager to tear into a defendant. "Merely stating facts."

"Last I heard, a source wasn't a fact," Andira stepped forward, catching Donner's eye. "What proof do you have that your source is reliable?"

"I suppose it's a good thing we aren't currently in a courtroom, Miss…?"

"Gray," she offered. "And it truly is. Otherwise you might be overruled for throwing out statements like they carry any kind of real weight. A jury of my peers might find that underhanded."

He smiled, but there was no humor in it.

"Well," Mayor Altman said, drawing the attention back to him. "Quite a turn out we've had. It's liberating to see so many people step out for the cause."

Donner hummed. "I assume you and your brother, Miss… Smoak, will be giving what you can?"

"My brother's assets were frozen while the investigation continues. But, I assure you, I will give everything I can to make sure the people in The Glades get the help they need and deserve."

"Kind of you," he said, "to clean up the mess your father left in his wake."

"My father was a sick man. He must've been to come up with the insane idea that he did. But my family, my brother and I, we aren't him."

He hummed, and cocked his head thoughtfully. "What's that saying? The sins of the father are passed on to their children."

Felicity met his severe gaze with her own, her chin raised high in defiance, even as a wave of anger rippled through her. "Some sins can't be redeemed. But, we do our best."

"Let's hope your best is enough."

Mayor Altman cleared his throat. "I heard you asked to have more security placed here tonight, Mister Donner. May I ask why?"

He kept his attention on Felicity a beat longer, before turning to answer the Mayor's question. "With the recent string of vigilante attacks, I worried we might see one here."

"Ah, yes. I've seen a lot of dissent about these vigilantes. Positives and negatives to the action they've taken. I understand that some, in The Glades, consider what they do a 'justice' of sorts."

"What they're doing is spreading more chaos in an already chaotic time."

Mayor Altman nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Wasn't our country founded on a brand of vigilantism, Mr. Donner? The revolutionaries in the Boston Tea Party were certainly choosing justice over law." He glanced at Felicity and offered her a wink, like this was all in good jest, a game of 'who can out-debate the other' on a topic with no real answer. Not that Felicity was particularly pro-vigilante. She wasn't sure how she felt about them, frankly. The News had their ideas, journalists had theirs, and then there were the people that the Hood had helped, raising their voice in defense of his actions. But, the copycats weren't the Hood, they were their own version of him, and, seemingly, far more directionless.

"I'd hardly compare our founding fathers to the Hood, Mr. Mayor, or these copycats who have risen in his wake."

Mayor Altman looked past him then and thrust a hand out beyond Donner's shoulder, toward the stairway. "Miss Lance!"

Felicity turned her head to see Laurel walking down the stairs, as elegant as ever, her hand sliding down the marble banister.

Both men turned to face her as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Felicity and Andi followed suit, shoulder to shoulder.

"What do you think about vigilantes?" Mayor Altman asked.

Laurel glanced at Donner and then back to the Mayor and walked toward them. "I'd be foolish to disagree with my new boss."

Felicity watched Donner's face crumble from its former attempt at being granite, his mouth turning up in a grin. "I knew I was smart to hire you."

Andi rolled her eyes and turned a 'can you believe this rubbish?' look on Felicity.

Felicity smothered a smile.

"I'd heard you joined the district attorney's office," Mayor Altman said.

Laurel's face fell. "It was time for a change."

"Still, I'm sorry that you and your colleagues at CNRI won't be opening your doors again."

"There were no doors left to be reopened." Her eyes cut toward Felicity then. "Nothing but debris left now."

"And a whole lot of burned up case files." Felicity stared back at her. "Too bad you didn't get those out in time."

A muscle ticked in Laurel's cheek. "A poor attempt at salvaging a good cause."

"A poor attempt at something." Felicity pursed her lips. "Still, I heard the CNRI was doing good work. It's too bad it can't be reopened somewhere else."

"Yes, well, a lot of things can't be what they were," Donner said, moving to take up position at Laurel's side, creating a team in facing off against Felicity.

Bells rung out then, and Mayor Altman looked up. "They're playing my song." He nodded at everyone around him, and then turned, climbing the stairs, two at a time.

"What a blustery politician," Andi muttered to Felicity. "Then again, this whole room is filled with those. It's a wonder this place doesn't take flight with all the hot air filling it."

Felicity bit her lip to hide her amusement.

Mayor Altman moved to a podium overlooking the crowd gathered below. At his back were two police officers, standing on guard. "Good evening," he began. "It has been a very difficult year for Starling City. Our losses have been incalculable, our grief unimaginable. But with the generous donations you people are making tonight, we will come back from this tragedy—"

A deeper voice suddenly interrupted him, ringing out across the room from some unseen source. "You have failed this city, Mr. Mayor!"

Everyone in the crowd began to turn around, raising their gaze above, in search of the voice's owner.

Felicity frowned, a shiver running down her spine. "Andi…"

"This isn't good," Andi said, reaching for Felicity's hand.

"The Glades descended into hell on your watch!" the voice continued, bouncing off every wall, echoing from every direction. "You swore to protect all the citizens of Starling, not just the wealthy!"

Mayor Altman shook his head and said to the crowd, "We're sorry about this, folks. We'll have this sorted out in just a minute." He smiled to one of the police officers, motioning with his hand, and then a burst of gun fire sprayed across his chest.

A gasp went out across the crowd, who bent, avoiding the incoming fire.

Four gunmen dressed in black ascended from the stairs on the opposite side of the room, spraying bullets as they went. Police officers and security leapt forward to shoot back. The crowd fell to its knees and covered their heads. Andi went first, dragging Felicity down with her, the skirts of their dresses overlapping in a puddle of fabric around their knees.

The only two left standing were Donner and Laurel. Two gunmen walked in their direction while a third and fourth moved elsewhere.

"Mister District Attorney," one mocked, raising a gun to Donner's chest.

Laurel went on the defensive, grabbing at his wrist as she slammed a fist into the gunmen's face, then added her elbow for good measure. He fell backwards and rolled away, leaving her gun in his hand. The second gunmen raised his gun to Laurel's head and flicked the safety off. He motioned for her to get on her knees and, slowly, she did.

Andi was shaking; Felicity could feel her whole body quivering next to her own.

"It's okay," Felicity murmured. "It's going to be okay."

"Felicity Merlyn," the second gunmen shouted.

Maybe not so okay…

Felicity felt her heart drop into her stomach. "You have three seconds to show yourself or ADA Lance here will pay for your sins… One."

Andi looked at her, tears shining in her eyes. "Don't," she whispered.

"Two."

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut.

"Thr—"

"I'm here." She pushed herself up from her wobbling knees, raising her hands to show she wasn't a threat. "I— I'm here. Don't hurt her."

A third gunmen moved toward her, grabbing her by the elbow and towing her along until she was standing next to Laurel.

Removing his gun from Laurel's forehead, he redirected it to Felicity's chest. "What do you have to say to defend yourself?"

Felicity felt her heart climb up into her throat as she raised her eyes to meet his, shrouded by the black rubber mask that covered all but his eyes and the surrounding skin. "My father…" Her voice shook, and she took a second to gather herself. Letting out a shaking breath, she lifted her chin. "I'm not my father. What he did… to you… to The Glades… to everyone… That's not who I am. Not what I believe in."

He stepped forward, pressing the tip of the gun into her chest so hard she could already feel a bruise forming. "Malcolm Merlyn cannot pay for what he's done. Someone has to."

Felicity nodded shakily, and raised tearful eyes to meet his. "I know… I know that money can't fix this… I know that galas and relief funds and playing nice for the cameras won't fix what was done to The Glades." A tear tripped down her cheek. "I want justice for the people my father hurt. The people that he killed. My father was as monster… But, I am not him."

The man stared at her a beat. "We are The Hoods," he declared. "And what was taken from us, we will take back." He pulled the trigger, but no bullet rang out.

Still, Felicity's body jerked as if expecting to feel one pulse through her chest. She let out a gasp of shock and fear, and then he was gone, moving past her. He and his two other compatriots left as quickly as they arrived.

Legs shaking beneath her, Felicity raised a hand to her chest, where a small, crescent moon of blood marked her skin.

Just before her knees gave out on her, Andi was there, ringing an arm around her waist, and catching her. "I've got you, I'm here," she said soothingly, but all Felicity could do was turn her head, bury it against Andi's shoulder and cry.

In the aftermath, time became both fast and sluggish.

Felicity and Andi sat on a long bench seat, shoulder to shoulder. Andi had taken one of Felicity's hands in both of hers and was holding it in her lap. Felicity's free hand traced a gold embellishment on the fine fabric of the settee.

"I always knew violence in America was much higher than back home, but this seems a little barbaric, wouldn't you say?"

Felicity laughed; a hiccup of a snort, really. She turned to her best friend and shook her head. "I'm sorry. You came out here to support me and now look…" She waved a hand toward the chaos of the room; police officers and crime scene technicians moving to and fro, witnesses collected in groups either giving statements or trying to come down from the trauma of it all. "The mayor is dead, a group of copycat vigilantes wants to kill me, and look… Your eyeliner smudged."

"What? But, it's water proof." Andi reached up to carefully wipe around her eyes. "What kind of bollocks is that?"

Felicity shook her head. "This was a disaster." She sighed as she watched a man race down the stairs and hurry toward where Laurel was standing, grabbing her up in a hug. Her stomach twisted up in knots for a moment.

Felicity couldn't remember the last time her dad had shown any kind of worry for her. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time he acted like he was interested in her at all. Malcolm had been a cold son of a bitch for most of her life. Usually, she could convince herself that she was okay with that. But, there were moments… Like watching a father hug his daughter, relief pouring off him, that she wished her own dad had even an ounce of that kind of love left in him.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Andi said, knowingly. "You've got that look about you. Same one you always get when you start wishing your dad was someone he couldn't be."

Felicity sighed. "Easy for you to say, your dad's awesome."

"My dad wears dresses better than I ever could. I'll never forgive him for one-upping me every time we're seen together."

With a snort, Felicity squeezed Andi's hand. "It's selfish. He almost lost his daughter tonight, because my dad blew up The Glades. And here I am, wishing he was alive."

"And had some kind of lobotomy… Felicity, Malcolm was the worst. And I don't just mean because of the terrorist attack he waged here, which is proof enough. But, I mean before that. He was like that piece of gum you step on in the streets and you try everything to get it off. Scrape it on every available surface, pick at it with knifes and your fingers and some random stick you find laying about. But no matter what you do, he's there forever. Clinging to you, making that one foot drag everywhere you go. You could throw away those shoes, but they're yours, and for some absurd reason you hold on to them out of a strange sense of loyalty or misplaced love. But, in your heart, you know they belong in the bin, because that gum will never be anything more than a tasteless, chewed up, piece of rubbish."

Throat swollen with emotion and eyes brimming with tears, Felicity nodded. "I know that in here…" She pointed at her head. "Just, not so much down here." She tapped at her chest.

"Well, who needs a heart anyway?" Andi joked. "What a wonky organ that is."

She laughed, thick and a little more lighthearted. "I'm glad you're here."

"Really? I'm rather wishing I'd stuck to London. I could be making the second ugliest ashtray Miss Celine has ever seen."

"Second ugliest?"

"No way I can top my last one."

Felicity grinned and leaned against Andi. "I'm not glad you were put in this position, but I'm glad you're here now. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh, I have an idea…"

Felicity looked up, her brow furrowed.

And then she heard a worried, "Felicity!"

Turning her head, she looked up to see Oliver hurrying down the stairs.

Standing, she moved to meet him as he crossed the floor toward her. "Oliver, what are you…"

He reached for her, his hands sliding along the underside of her forearms until his fingers met her elbows. "I heard what happened. I came as soon as I could."

"Heard how? Is it already on the news?"

"An attack like this gets coverage pretty quick." He shook his head. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured, nodding.

His gaze fell, to make sure for himself, and locked onto her chest. He reached up, a thumb rubbing a circle over tender skin. "You're bleeding."

"Was bleeding. I'm pretty sure it's dry now."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "What happened?" His dropped down to a lower pitch, nearing on a growl.

Felicity shivered. Though, she noticed it wasn't the same as when the terrifying voice echoed around the room. This was a decidedly more pleasant shiver. Shaking it off, she looked up at him. "There were these gunmen; they called themselves The Hoods. They… They shot the mayor and they were going to attack Donner, but then Laurel stepped in." She turned her head, searching Laurel out, and found her across the room, still with her dad, but watching them, a curious look on her face. Dropping her gaze to the floor, Felicity turned back to Oliver. "Laurel is fine, but… they had a gun to her head."

"How did this happen?" His thumb stroked gently, curving around her tiny wound.

"They asked for me by name… They said they would shoot Laurel otherwise. Or that was the implication, I guess. So, I… I stood up."

His fingers squeezed around her elbow. "Felicity…"

"What was I supposed to do? Let Laurel get killed?" She stared up at him wildly. "It was me or her, and all I knew for sure was that they already killed one person, what's one more?"

He stared at her searchingly, his jaw clenched. "What you did was risky."

"It was a risk I was willing to take." She took a deep breath. "They didn't hurt me."

"This blood would beg to differ."

"They were trying to scare me. To scare everyone." She shook her head; a tendril of her hair had fallen loose and brushed along her shoulder with the movement. "They said that someone needed to pay and… And they pulled the trigger."

He swallowed tightly, his fingers tapping against her arm.

"But, I— I don't know if they were out of bullets or if it was a statement or what it was. It just didn't fire. And…"

His hand moved from her chest to her cheek, wiping away a stream of tears she didn't even know were falling. "Hey…" He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her, his fingers stroking gently along the nape of her neck. "You're okay."

Felicity clung to him, her hand gripping the back of his shirt. She pressed her face against his chest and let out a shaky breath. "I'm overreacting," she murmured. "It could've been so much worse."

"It was bad enough." He rubbed his hand over her back in slow circles. "Come on. I'll take you and Andi home."

"I haven't given a statement yet."

"They know where to find you." He lowered his arm, wrapping it around her waist as he turned to walk at her side.

Andi crossed to stand with them, holding both her and Felicity's clutches. "Oliver," she greeted.

"Andi. It's been a while." He tipped his chin down. "I'm sorry your first night here had to end like this."

"Oh, this isn't the end. I plan on getting us both incredibly drunk and gorging on ice cream until we pass out in a heap back at the apartment."

His mouth ticked up faintly. "Glad to hear it."

"I'm glad you let your scruff grow out." She walked ahead of them. "That serial-killer look you had the last time we met was doing you no favors."

"Duly noted."

Felicity half-smiled, shaking her head at her best friend. She hooked her arm around Oliver's waist and looked up at him. "I'm surprised they let you in, considering."

"I'm pretty good at sneaking into places. I think you know that first hand."

"It's one thing to sneak into a club or two, but a crime scene?"

"People were distracted." He squeezed her hip. "Do you have mint-chip at home or do you want me to stop somewhere?"

"You're a keeper," she blurted out, and then paused. "I mean, yes, thank you, can we stop somewhere? Except you can go inside, because I need to get these heels off immediately. And as soon as we're in a car, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Oliver ducked his head as he smiled. "Sure you don't just want a piggy back ride through the aisle? The last time I got the wrong mint-chip you didn't speak to me for the rest of the night."

"You can't get no-name. If you're getting ice cream, quality matters."

"You ate the whole carton," he pointed out.

"Well, I wasn't going to waste it."

He chuckled under her breath. "Okay, so I'm a keeper who will buy you expensive, brand name mint-chip ice cream. Have I got everything?"

"I'll probably still ask for a piggy back ride. I don't want to walk barefoot in the underground garage."

He glanced down at her dress and then raised his eyebrows.

"We'll make it work," she decided.

With a hum, he bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Given the circumstances of the night, saying that was a highlight didn't mean much, but, she was hoping her night was getting better. With her best friend there, a pint of ice cream on the way, and Oliver next to her, she thought it might just.

In a dingy warehouse across town, four men collected around a small TV, watching the News.

"…after an attack at The Glades' relief fund, Oliver Queen was spotted escorting none other than Felicity Merlyn, daughter to the late Malcolm Merlyn, who was named the mastermind of The Undertaking, which resulted in the deaths of hundreds in The Glades. Miss Merlyn offered no statement to News outlets collected outside. Shaken from the aftermath of a gunfight, she was quickly ushered into a car by Mister Queen. While there has been no statement made by either party on the relationship between Felicity Merlyn and Oliver Queen, Robert Queen and Malcolm Merlyn were known as close business associates. The two families were often seen at galas over the years. And it is a well known fact that Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn are close friends. Speculation has risen that the Queen scion and the Merlyn heiress may have more than friendship between them…"

"Unbelievable…" Aglin said. "We off the mayor on live TV, and what's the local news keep showing? Oliver Queen. Why?"

"He's taking over the family business…" Sitting on a crate, Baker stared down at the screen, brow furrowed. "More than that, romance sells. People are looking for a distraction, so they push the 'love in a time of war' angle."

Aglin scoffed. "We've been going about this wrong."

Standing against the wall, Colton snapped, "What do you mean?"

"If we want real payback we gotta take the fight to the name that did this to us."

"Queen or Merlyn?" Jeff wondered.

"Looks like they go hand-in-hand these days." Aglin's eyes narrowed. "Two birds, one stone."

Colton frowned. "They're useless trust fund brats. They're hardly worth our time."

Aglin tipped his head back and laughed hollowly. "The applied sciences division of Queen Consolidated built the earthquake generator. And Felicity Merlyn might try to act like she isn't her father, but she's just as culpable as he is. If Malcolm Merlyn can't be here to pay for his actions, then his children will have to stand in his place." He walked toward the screen, still showing footage of Oliver and Felicity standing together, arms wrapped around each other, as they waited for their car to arrive.

"If we want real justice," Aglin said, pointing at the TV screen, "then they need to pay for the suffering they've caused us… In full."

As soon as the front door of the apartment opened, Tommy let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. His entire body sagging with it as she saw his sister step inside. "I've been calling you all night!" He crossed the room as quickly as he could, his arms out.

"I'm okay, I'm fine." Felicity wrapped her arms around him, dropping her chin to his shoulder. "It was just some stupid group of vigilantes out to play dress-up."

"Vigilantes?" He stiffened, his hand pressed against her back. Over her shoulder, he stared at Oliver, who was putting in the security codes by the door.

"Yeah, these copy-cat Hood-wannabes." She leaned away from him and rolled her eyes. "The police are tracking them down. I don't know how much faith I have in them since these guys have been causing problems all over the city for months now, but, I guess we'll see." Slumping, she let out a long breath. "Andi and I are going to get changed, but, if you're not tired, maybe we could all stay up and watch a movie or something? I don't think I can go to sleep just yet."

"Yeah, of course." He rubbed her shoulders soothingly. "Hurry up. I'll find something to watch."

"Thanks." She smiled and popped a kiss on his cheek before reaching for Andi and then sweeping down the hallway, her gown dragging on the floor as she went.

Tommy watched her go, waiting for the tell-tale sound of her door closing, before he turned on Oliver. "Copy-cat Hoods?!"

Oliver frowned. "I have nothing to do with that." He crossed the floor, making his way to the fridge to put a carton of ice cream away. "They've been coming out of the wood works since The Undertaking. Diggle and I are trying to track them down."

"You're not trying hard enough then." Tommy followed after him, frowning. "I thought you had the latest tech working on this. What was all that stuff in the basement for?"

"Verdant didn't hold up too well against the bomb. We've been clearing it out, but we're not back up to speed just yet. We have a lot of eyes on us, so we've had to be careful."

"So, what, in the mean time, the city suffers?"

Turning to face him, Oliver shook his head faintly. "I thought you wanted me to hang up the hood? Most of your pitch was that this was an insane idea and I was putting people in more danger than I was ever helping them."

"And I stand by that… mostly." He sighed. "The way you were doing things before was reckless. The risk for casualties was too high."

"I don't exactly have a 'How To' manual when it comes to this."

"Step One: Don't kill people."

Oliver sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "You make things sound a lot simpler than they actually are."

"No, I make things harder for you, because doing them my way means taking the time to consider the ramifications of what you're doing. And let's face it, you don't exactly like thinking of consequences."

"I seem to remember we were in a lot of the same tabloids for the doing the same things. Let's not pretend I'm the only one who's screwed up."

"There's peeing on a cop car and then there's dressing up in green every night and hunting down people on a list your dead father left for you."

Oliver raised a finger to stop him. "Careful."

Tommy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He raised his eyes to meet Oliver's, judgement and anger shining through. "Felicity was a target tonight. Do you understand that?"

"And if I had known that was going to happen, I would've—"

"You would've what? Arrowed them?"

"Helped her."

"This was what I meant." He threw his hands up. "All she was trying to do was help The Glades and try to remove the stigma around us and our name. And now she's being targeted by people who want to be just like you. Because to them, Felicity might as well be on your little list."

"That's not fair."

"Why?" Tommy stared up at him. "What are you going to do about this? How are you going to keep her safe?"

Oliver shifted his weight to the opposite foot. "I don't know what you're asking of me here."

"The News has let everyone in Starling know what building Felicity lives in. The Hoods have put a target on her. You split your time between Queen Consolidated and vigilante business. So, explain to me where, in all of that, are you supposed to keep her alive?"

He stared back at him a beat, until his gaze finally fell.

"That's what I thought."

"Tommy…"

"I know her. Instead of scaring her, this is going to make her even more resolved to do something. She's going to jump in with both feet, and it's going to get her killed."

Tommy didn't wait for a reply, he simply turned, and walked away.

Ten minutes later, Felicity walked out of her room, redressed in pajamas, and took a confused look around. "Where's Tommy?"

"He, uh, he wasn't feeling so good," Oliver said. "He went to lay down."

"Oh." She frowned. "Maybe I should check on him."

"It's been a long day. I think, with the attack and everything, he just needs some rest."

Nodding, she crossed the room to stand in front of Oliver. "What about you?"

He stared down at her. "What about me?"

"Do you need… rest?"

"I need…" He let out a heavy breath. "I need to be as close to you as I can get right now."

"Which will not be as close as you want it to be." Andi entered the kitchen with a wink. "Keep it clean, darlings. And point me in the direction of that ice cream."

Oliver's mouth twitched. "It's in the fridge. Spoons are over there." He pointed to a drawer.

"Thank you." Grabbing out two spoons, she snagged the ice cream from the fridge, and then skirted around them and made her way into the living room. "Movie time, yeah?"

Felicity tugged on the end of Oliver's shirt. "Interested?"

He nodded down at her. Stepping closer, he pressed a hand to the small of her back, and directed her toward the living room. "What are we watching?"

Taking a seat on the couch, he pulled Felicity down so she was tucked into his side, and she let him. While Andi flipped through the available movies on demand, she handed Felicity the ice cream, who scooped a bite into her mouth and then dug out another spoonful and lifted it up for him to eat. Oliver took the whole bite in one fell swoop and then tipped his head back and let out a little breath as the cold ice cream stung the inside of his mouth for a second.

"Brain freeze?" Felicity asked, scrunching up her nose.

He smiled. "I'll live."

Snuggling a little closer to him, she dropped her head back against his shoulder. "You should've gone the 'poor me' route; you might've gotten a sympathy cuddle."

He laughed under his breath. "Not sure how much sympathy I deserve. You're the one who faced off against a gunman tonight."

"Well, you didn't hear it from me, but maybe cuddling could be mutually beneficial."

He smiled slowly. "I'll keep that in mind."

It was well after one in the morning, and Felicity was in that foggy headspace where she knew she should go to sleep, but every time her eyes fell closed, she forced them back open. At some point, she'd shifted, her head falling to Oliver's lap. Andi was sprawled out next to her, wrapped in a white throw blanket, her hand wrapped around a corner tassel.

Oliver's fingers lightly dragged through Felicity's hair, rubbing circles against her temple before each stretch along her head. "Tired?"

Felicity hummed. "I don't wanna sleep."

"Nightmares?"

She pursed her lips in a pout. "They barely hurt me." She took a deep breath and stretched her legs out, blinking wildly to wake herself up. "The people in The Glades were hurt worse."

"I don't think you need to compare scars." He stared down at searchingly. "You were scared."

"For a second, with that gun against my chest, I thought… This is it. This is how I die." Her brow knotted. "And a part of me wanted to beg them not to do it. Not to pull the trigger. Because I still had so much that I wanted to do and see. Normal stuff, you know? But, another part of me was just… angry."

His brows furrowed. "Angry?"

"That they used Laurel like a tool. That they called me up there to be their scare tactic. That they wanted to use me like a prop in their cause…" She shook her head. "I understand what they're doing and why they're doing it, I do. But, it's people like them, people like my dad, that get so blinded by their own ideology that there's no room for anyone else. They convince themselves that what they're doing is right, no matter the cost. And I don't want to be added to that list."

His gaze fell to her chest, covered by the high neck of her shirt. She'd seen the purple crescent imprinted on her skin when she changed, washing away the crusted blood from her skin, and changed into something that would purposely keep it at out of view. She would face it later, but for now, she wanted to forget it existed at all.

Oliver let out a quiet sigh. "Tommy mentioned you might be moving back to London soon… It wouldn't be the worst idea."

Felicity frowned. "Tommy's not ready for that, and neither am I. I'm not leaving just because some assholes with a mission think they can run me off. If I leave now, they win. Not to mention, that doesn't make anything better in The Glades."

"The Glades aren't your responsibility—"

"Yes, they are." Staring up at him, she pursed her lips. "I'm not going anywhere, so you can get that thought out of your head right now. I'm staying. This is my choice. Nobody gets to make it for me."

He met her gaze, saw how stubborn she was going to be, and nodded. "What about security? I can ask Diggle to recommend someone."

"No."

"Felicity—"

"No." Her brows hiked. "I'm not letting this dictate my life. Besides, I built the security system on this apartment myself. Nobody is getting in here."

"They don't need to get past your security measures. Just into the building. From there, they can blow the door in and storm the apartment. Your system is wired to alert the police. It can't keep you safe from a sneak attack aimed to kill you. They'll be here and gone before the police know what's happening."

Felicity swallowed tightly.

"I'm not trying to scare you."

"Aren't you?" she asked.

He paused. "I just want you to be realistic about this."

"I thought I was." She frowned. "I know you're worried. I'm worried, too. But, I can't live like that. Scared of my shadow. It's not who I am, and it's not someone I'm willing to become."

"You spend most of your time at the apartment. What about a security detail outside? They'll only shadow you when you leave. You already have a driver. Earl's been vetted. He's good. But, it would help to have someone nearby, just in case something happens."

Felicity's eyes narrowed. "How about I think about it?"

"Fine. But, don't wait too long."

"I won't."

"That's all I ask." He stared at her a beat and then changed the subject. "I have a meeting tomorrow, with the shareholders."

"Is there a problem?"

"Stellmoor International has been making moves toward overtaking Queen Consolidated… I think tomorrow's another attempt to unseat me as CEO."

"Oliver, that's…" She shook her head. "What're you going to do?"

"Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help me with that."

She frowned. "Really? How?"

"Your company, SmoakScreen, it's been doing great work. Even before you told me about the deals you've been making, there's been talk from some of our Japanese shareholders. You're an asset, one they want to get a more serious contract with."

"I work on individual projects on a contract to contract basis. Besides, most of the work I've been doing is on apps."

"You undersell yourself. I've looked into some of the projects you've overseen. Our applied sciences division hasn't come close to replicating anything you're working on."

"A lot of my work is in the beginning stages. It's mostly theory. And the contracts I have right now are in the millions. Queen Consolidated is a multi-billion-dollar company. It's out of my league."

"Felicity, you're in a league all your own." He stared at her searchingly. "All I'm asking you to do is consider it… And, also, if you're interested, maybe sit it on the meeting with me tomorrow. I could use your eyes and ears on this. It's no understatement to say that I lack business acumen. I'm mostly holding on by the tips of my fingers at this point. But, it means a lot to my family, to me, that I don't lose Queen Consolidated."

Felicity nodded. "Of course I will. Whatever you need."

He let out a relieved breath. "Thank you."

"Sure." She raised an eyebrow. "Don't think I didn't notice that this also keeps me close to you, limiting my chances of being attacked by The Hoods."

"I don't know if it erases the threat, but at least Queen Consolidated has security measures in place."

"So did the relief fund."

"Point taken." He sighed. "Am I being overbearing?"

"A tiny bit." She shifted so she was sitting up, her hip pressed against his thigh. "I get it, though. A lot happened tonight."

"Right, and I don't want any of it to happen again."

"Any of it?" She tipped her head. "Because I was wearing a pretty awesome dress. Also, there was some head-in-lap stuff going on there..." She paused. "That came out wrong. But, it's late, so you're going to pretend it was not as sexual as it sounded."

He tamped down on a grin. "The dress was very nice. You looked lovely… Next time you go to one of these things, I'd like to be there."

"Are you asking to be my plus-one to the next fundraiser I go to?"

"Maybe your plus-two. I don't think Andi would like it if I stole her place."

"Good point."

He reached over and took her hand, rubbing his thumb along the back. "But, if you want some more company next time, I'd like to be there."

"Think you can fit it in between work?"

"I will do my best to."

Felicity smiled. "Okay."

"Okay." Oliver tugged on her hand until she leaned forward and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Come on. It's late and you should rest."

"What about Andi?"

"I can carry her."

"I'll walk," Andi said, her voice muffled and sleepy.

Felicity turned her head, her eyes wide. "Were you listening that whole time?"

"Not the whole time." Andi stretched out, raising her arms above her head and yawning. "Just long enough to realize you're both sickeningly cute with each other."

Felicity snorted. "Thanks."

"Welcome." Pushing off the couch, Andi tossed her blanket back and then circled around and started for the hall. "If you take too long, I'll starfish in the center of the bed."

Felicity watched her go and then turned to Oliver. "She's not kidding. She doesn't share well."

He chuckled lightly and stood from the couch, raising her hand as she turned and joined him. They walked down the hallway together, fingers looped around each other.

Coming to a stop in front of her door, directly across from his own, he turned to her. "If you can't sleep… Or if you have a nightmare…"

She nodded. "I know where to find you."

He hesitated a moment, his gaze bouncing around her face, and then he pulled her forward and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm glad you're okay. I…" He swallowed tightly. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good thing you don't have to find out."

He held on a while longer, turning his head to press his face against her hair.

She rubbed her hand against his shoulder before she let go, tipping her head up to see him. "Meeting tomorrow. 9 am sharp, right?"

He nodded.

"I'll be ready. Stellmoor International won't know what hit 'em."

His lips curved up at the corner. "I'm sure they won't."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

Felicity stepped back, opening her door and sliding inside. Andi was already spread out on one side, snoring lightly. She looked back toward Oliver, standing in the hallway, looking at her with the softest expression on his face. Her breath caught for a second, and her heart thumped in her chest. But it was a good feeling, not like earlier, when her heart slammed into her ribs and her lungs seized with panic. This was gentle, like a wave of want and hope and need.

A part of her wanted to rush right back out, grab his face, and kiss him. Another part of her warned that might just be the adrenaline still wearing off. Whatever this was with her and Oliver, she didn't want to rush it. And sure, yeah, this thing had been growing for years. But, it was only getting some real traction now. So, she would do it slowly. She would wade into the unknown, step by step, feeling her way around, until she was sure that it was solid and real and right. And she would—

Fuck it.

She marched right back out her door, leaned up on the tips of her toes, slid a hand behind his neck, and pulled him down to meet her.

Oliver's mouth slanted across hers. His stubble scraped at her chin, leaving a tingling sensation across her skin. It spread out along her cheeks and rippled down her neck, sending a shiver through her body that she felt all the way to her toes. Her mouth parted on a sigh and his fell into the cradle left between her lips. She was pressed, chest to chest, with him, one of his hands low on her back while the other was buried in her hair, curved around the nape of her neck.

Their kiss started out hard and searching; a need to prove that it was real and she was okay and this was happening. And then it flowed into something slower, gentler. Like a lazy morning, where things find a natural beat, unhurried and very willing to drag out each and every second to maximum fulfillment. Until, eventually, Felicity landed back on her feet, her heart skipping an uneven beat in her chest, her cheeks warm, and her entire body caught in a strange limbo, like it was floating, not quite tethered to the earth, but not loose either.

"That was…"

"Much better than when we were teenagers," she decided.

He grinned. "That, too."

Licking her lips, she cleared her throat, and then patted a hand to his chest. "I could definitely blame this on adrenaline and near-death experiences."

He stared at her. "I hope you don't."

Biting down on her lip, she pressed her hands to her hips. "We should sleep." She blinked and shook her head. "Separately. Now. In different rooms."

He smothered a smile. "Okay."

"And I will see you tomorrow, bright and early." She nodded, backing into her room.

Oliver pointed to his room. "Is that a cue to leave? Because the last time we did this, you ran back out and kissed me. I don't want to misread any signals here…"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Shut up. And go to sleep."

He grinned then, and reached for his door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mm-hmm." She reached for her own door, and closed it slowly, keeping her eyes on him as long as possible. Once the door finally shut, she let out a long breath. "Oh, I did that… Yeah, I definitely did that."

"Well, don't just rub it in. How was it?" Andi sat up in bed, her hair mussed and her sleep mask pushed up on top of her head.

Jumping, Felicity turned to face her. "I thought you were sleeping!"

"As if, this is better than television. Well, give me details." She patted the bed. "On a scale of 1 to 10…"

Felicity smiled goofily and walked over, dropping down on the bed with a groan. "Twelve."

Chapter Text

VIII.

"I have a waffle maker?" Felicity frowned as she took a seat at the kitchen island. "Since when?"

"You did not. It's shameful, really. I had to borrow one from a neighbor." Andi pushed a plate toward her, piled high with thick, Belgian waffles, mixed berries, and three slices of cantaloupe on the side. "Eat up!"

"I don't have neighbors." Felicity waved a fork around. "We're the only ones on this floor."

"Yes, us and an elevator that visits the floor beneath you." She pointed downward with her spatula. "Lovely woman. Three cats. Darla, Dory, and McFluff."

"One of these things is not like the other," Thea said, chipmunking a large bite of her own waffles, a dribble of syrup falling down her chin. After wiping at away with a napkin, she sipped her orange juice and sat back in her chair. She brought one of her legs up, foot dangling over the edge of the seat, her knee pressed to her shoulder. "So, you're going to QC for some big meeting?" she asked Felicity.

"Yes. I've been asked to sit in and, I don't know, observe."

Andi snorted. "More like 'make all the smart commentary and fluff up the boss.'" She winked at her. "You could have that whole place under your thumb in a month, tops."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "I don't want to. I have my own business to worry about."

"That's what multi-tasking is for." She turned her attention to Thea then. "What are you up to today, Little Queen? I need someone to hang out with while my smarter half is using her big brain to shock and awe musty suits."

"I will be in The Glades."

"What?" Felicity sat up, alarmed. "After last night? Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm bored. And Ollie isn't using his club, so I'm gonna steal it out from under him and get it running. Just for kicks."

Andi grinned. "Are you going to do all the hard labor yourself then? Because what I lack in arm strength I make up for in pep-talks."

Thea snorted. "Thanks, but I think I'm just gonna pay a construction crew to take care of it."

Felicity raised a dubious eyebrow. "With that money you have squirreled away somewhere?"

"Once I get Verdant going again, I'll have my own income stream coming in. So, really, this is economical."

"Does Tommy know you're doing this? He was managing the place…"

Thea pursed her lips. "I mentioned it to him last night. He said he's not planning on heading to The Glades any time soon, so I can do whatever I want with it."

"Did he make sad-bitter face?" Felicity imitated her brother's expression; one he'd recently been using all too often.

"Yes." Thea pointed at her. "But, he lightened up when Gemma made hot chocolate for all of us. She's pretty cool."

"She is," Felicity agreed.

"Who's what?" Tommy muttered groggily, shuffling into the kitchen with half-closed eyes, a yawn cracking his jaw. "Is that food I smell?"

"Don't get used to it, but I happened to make enough for everyone." Andi made up a plate for him and dropped it on the counter in front of his seat. "Coffee?"

He groaned appreciatively and nodded. Turning a sleepy look on Felicity, he rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You're up early."

"So are you."

"Physio."

"Ah, well, I have a meeting."

He frowned. "What time is it in Tokyo?"

"One in the morning," she answered. "But, it's not with Tokyo. I'm heading to QC with Oliver. He's got some big meeting and he wanted me to sit in on. I'm pretty sure most of it is just because of last night. He thinks if I'm in an ultra secure building, I won't be kidnapped by rogue Hoods."

"He's not wrong. Probably safer there than here." Thea popped a blueberry into her mouth. "Safer than driving into The Glades anyway."

"You're still planning on going there?" Tommy sighed. "It's too early in the morning for this."

"Oh, buck up, dear." Andi handed him a mug of steaming coffee. "You're surrounded by smart, independent women who can save their own arses."

"Really? So, how exactly did you save yourself from that gun fight last night?"

"Luckily, I wasn't a target. But, if I had been, I would hope that I'd kill them with my dry wit and superior good looks."

Tommy stared at her a beat, and then snorted. "You know, Andi, for you I think that might just work."

She grinned at him. "Thank you, darling."

A knock at the door drew everyone's attention then. Felicity hopped up from her seat. "Calm down. As if The Hoods would knock."

Roy breezed into the kitchen and bee-lined it for the coffeepot. "Maybe that's just what they want you to think."

"Thanks for that," Felicity muttered, crossing to the door.

She was surprised to find her heart was beating a little fast. Logically, she didn't think there was a masked vigilante on the other side of the door. But, her body wasn't operating on logic so much as last night's memory. And not the good part at the end where she and Oliver made out in the hallway like frisky teenagers, no. Like the terrified woman standing in front of a gunman, wondering if this was how she would die. It made sense to be afraid. To be skeptical about people dropping by her apartment without warning. However, another part of her was unwilling to be scared, to let The Hoods take her feeling of safety hostage. This was her home, and they weren't allowed to permeate it with their awful scare tactics.

With that in mind, she reached out and opened the door, holding her breath as it swung open. Until she found John Diggle staring back at her. Absurdly large and indomitable man that he was, all corded muscle and bulky promises of safety. She'd thought Oliver was large, especially standing next to her, but John made him look average by comparison.

"Hey," she said, brightly. "I wasn't expecting you… I mean, I should have. Considering you're Oliver's bodyguard slash driver and we're definitely going to QC. But, for some reason, that didn't quite compute." Stepping back, she motioned to the kitchen with her head. "Are you hungry? Andi's making waffles."

His brows hiked a little as he looked past her to where everyone at the island had raised a hand in greeting. "Not sure we have time for that…" Still, he was walking forward, sniffing at the air. "Wouldn't turn down a coffee though."

"Coffee comes with a waffle, handsome. No arguments." Andi placed a plate and a mug down on the counter. "Sure you don't want bacon?"

John wandered over to take a seat, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. "Well, if you're insisting…"

She winked at him and slid a few slices onto his plate before handing him a bowl of mixed berries to add to his waffle at his discretion.

John scooped up a large spoonful and dropped them on his waffle. Loosening up, he dug right in, polishing off half his waffle in a few big bites. Knocking back a gulp of his coffee, he turned to Felicity. "How're you feeling? Last night was pretty rough."

Felicity shrugged. "Still a little jittery, but I'll be okay."

He raised an eyebrow and stared at her a beat. She wondered if he noticed how long it took for her to open the door. Had it been a while? It felt like it had. Or maybe her nerves were showing more than she thought. Either way, it felt like John Diggle could see right through her 'I'm totally okay' veneer, and that was slightly jarring. It wasn't that she felt like she was the best actress. She didn't make practice of pretending to be something she wasn't. It was just a strange feeling to realize that someone who didn't know her well could see that she was struggling.

Taking pity on her, John redirected his gaze to his waffle. "Ready for today?"

"It's just a meeting, isn't it? I know Oliver said he was…" Trailing off, she glanced around the room. For the most part, everyone was busy with their food or each other. But, she still felt a little uncomfortable expressing Oliver's concerns about the family business. "Should I be on the lookout for anything?"

John frowned. "Just stay sharp around Rochev. She's, uh… complicated."

"Complicated like her dad blew up half the city, or complicated like the Avril Lavigne song?"

He blinked at her. "Complicated like she's a shark and you're a minnow."

"Ouch." She pointed her fork at him. "Don't judge until you've seen my teeth, John Diggle."

His mouth hitched up faintly. "Just telling you to be careful. She's not the friendliest person you'll meet today."

"I'm not going to QC to make friends. I'm going to make sure nobody gets their sticky fingers on Oliver's corner office." She paused. "Does he even have a corner office? Why are those always sought after anyway? I don't even have a window in my office. Now that I think about it, the lighting could be better…"

He snorted, and sipped at his coffee.

"Most of my office is glass," Oliver said as he walked into the kitchen, buttoning his jacket. "I'll show you today."

"Ooh, a tour. I love those. Do I get a little map that marks off all the restricted areas?"

Oliver smothered a smile, but Felicity still caught it. "I'm sure you'll figure that out when you start roaming around without supervision."

"I am prone to wandering. You know, a pass to all the fun stuff would be appreciated." To John she said, "Unfettered access is my favorite kind of access."

John hummed. "Somehow, I worry you might bring the world to its knees if you had that kind of power."

"Only for a little while." She shrugged. "Just to prove I can."

He grinned and shook his head faintly.

"We should get going." Oliver checked his watch and then glanced between Felicity and John. "This might be one meeting I can't afford to be late to."

"Aren't they all like that?" Still, Felicity pushed back from her chair, finished off the last of her coffee, and grabbed a slice of cantaloupe. "Okay." She popped a kiss on Tommy's cheek. "Therapy your butt off and tell Gemma I say 'hi.'"

He rolled his eyes, but lifted his coffee in cheers.

Felicity turned to Thea then, "Have fun in The Glades, don't get shanked."

"No promises." Thea tore a bite off a slice of bacon and grinned at her.

Circling the island, Felicity hooked an arm around Andi's waist and smiled as her best friend pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll see you when I get back."

"If I'm not here, I've convinced Thea to take me to the bad part of town. Call me when you get out of your meeting. We can meet somewhere and do something terrible."

"As long as everyone stays dressed." Andi's favorite place to visit was a burlesque show back in London. She'd befriended most of the dancers and had even done a few shows herself. Felicity couldn't say it was the worst time out, but the last place she needed paparazzi to find her right now was anywhere they could spin poorly.

Pouting, Andi waved a dismissive hand. "Where's the fun in that?"

On the way to the door, she passed Roy, and squeezed his shoulder in farewell. "Be good."

"Yes, mom," he muttered.

Oliver and John joined her at the door. John walked out first, then Felicity, with Oliver following at the end.

"Does anyone know I'm coming today?" she wondered as they climbed onto the elevator. Briefly, she wondered to herself if it was built to withstand their combined weight. Between the two men alone, the muscle mass had to be phenomenal.

"I'm pretty sure this thing is built to last," John said, looking amused.

Felicity winced and offered him a lighthearted shrug. "Whoops."

Pressing the button for the underground parking lot, Oliver returned to the subject at hand. "I haven't told anyone you'll be there…" His hand settled on her lower back. "I like the element of surprise."

In the car, en route to Queen Consolidated, Felicity turned her attention from the window to Oliver. "So, what can I expect from this meeting? John likened Isabel Rochev to a shark. But, then again, he also suggested I was a minnow. Which is patently untrue. I'm at least a…" She paused. "What was that fish that hung out with Ariel in The Little Mermaid? And don't pretend you didn't see it. I used to make you and Tommy watch it with me all the time."

He turned his eyes up as he thought back. "Flounder?"

"Yes!" She snapped her fingers. "I'm at least a Flounder. Specifically, the adorable animated one."

Oliver's mouth kicked up at the corners.

Frowning, she wondered, "Would that make Isabel 'Ursula' or one of the creepy eels?"

"Flotsam and Jetsum," Oliver offered.

"Really?" John snorted.

"Between her and Thea, I've seen that movie enough that it's imprinted on my brain." To Felicity, he added, "And she can't be Urusla, or that would imply that I'm…" He grimaced.

Felicity grinned. "Go ahead, say it."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're Ariel." She patted his knee. "And Queen Consolidated is your voice…. Or wait, is Queen Consolidated 'Eric'? No, because Urusla's ultimate goal was the voice, wasn't it? Eric was just like, icing on the cake or something." She frowned and leaned back against her seat. "Wait, why did Ursula even want Eric? She was a badass sea witch…"

"She wanted Ariel. It was a bargaining tool so she could get Triton's crown."

Felicity hummed, and tapped her fingers against his knee absently. "I need to re-watch that."

Oliver sighed, looking resigned to his fate.

She grinned. "I'm sure Thea would be up for it. Andi too, actually. She loves anything she can sing to."

"Good." He covered her hand, flattening her fingers against his knee, an inch or two along his thigh.

Was that too intimate? she wondered. Were they at that stage? Were there even stages to this? They hadn't exactly laid out ground rules to whatever they were now. Still friends? Friends with benefits? Friends exploring more than just benefits? Friends overwhelmed by a very tense night? Friends overwhelmed in general?

"Hey."

She blinked and turned to face him. "Huh?"

"You okay?"

Oliver had a lot of faces. Expressions she'd long grown used to. There were times, however, that he was muted. Like, the full breadth of expression he used to let loose at any time, for any reason, had become stunted. And she got it. Logically, anyway. A part of her understood that all that time on the island would have an affect on him. But, another part of her mourned for that openness.

Right now, he wasn't muting himself. Then again, she wasn't sure he ever actively muted his expression. Just that, occasionally, she could see a shutter fall in place, disguising his true feelings. But now, this face, she knew that one. It was concern. The same face he made when she fell out of the tree house when she was eight.

"I'm fine," she said, nodding.

Oliver wasn't convinced. His gaze had fallen to her chest, where she was absently rubbing at the wound from the night before. She'd stared at it for a good five minutes that morning. The heat of her shower had softened up her skin, and the wound seemed extra pink and raw in the mirror. It wasn't bleeding, but still tender. And rubbing it now wasn't helping.

She dropped her hand to her lap and curled her fingers into her palm. "Just thinking."

"About last night?"

Biting her lip, she slumped back against the buttery leather of the seat. "Things just feel like they're moving fast and slow at the same time. Andi showed up, then the relief fundraiser, then The Hoods, then—"

"Us."

She paused and looked over at him. "That happened, right? I didn't have some weird post-attack hallucination?"

He huffed a laugh. "Not unless it was a joint-hallucination."

"I'm sure there are cases of that happening, but the likelihood is pretty slim…" She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Like I said, both fast and slow."

"Do you regret it?"

She frowned.

Oliver slotted his fingers between hers. "If it was too fast…"

She looked up then and met his gaze. Stoic now. Shuttered, like he was expecting her to push him back or away or tell him that yes, it was too fast. But… was it?

"When we first kissed, before…"

"In the field."

She nodded, and reached up to readjust her glasses, poking at the corner to re-center them on her nose. "I don't think the timing was right… It's not that I regret it. I just think that who we were then, we weren't ready to go beyond that."

He watched her carefully. "And now?"

"Now, I… I want—"

"We're here."

Felicity faced forward abruptly, flushed and caught off guard. John was already climbing out of the car, and she felt a wave of embarrassment hit her. She'd completely forgotten that he was there, and that he was forced to listen in on her their conversation. Talk about uncomfortable. She tracked him as he circled the car, fiddling with his cufflinks, and wondered if she could apologize via those croissants she knew he liked. He always kept an eye out for them when he picked Oliver up.

Just as her car door opened, Oliver tugged on her hand. "Later," he said, his brows raised with emphasis.

She stared at him a beat, and then nodded. "Yeah. We'll talk."

He dipped his chin, and then slowly let her hand go.

She turned, and took John's offered hand, climbing from the car. Stepping out onto the pavement, she smoothed a hand over her jacket, feeling a little too warm and off-kilter for her liking. She needed to focus. Tipping her head back, she stared at the imposing figure that Queen Consolidated cut. Two skyscrapers, bridged together by a skyway, it was all neat lines of metal and glass. Merlyn Global was a single skyscraper, boxy and much darker looking in appearance. Absently, she wondered if Tommy would want to take over, or if they would expect her to have some say-so in the goings-on. Not for the first time, she realized she was falling lax on her family duties. Would their father want them to continue his business? The stock must be in the sewer by now, given what he'd done. She hadn't cared to check.

"Ready?" Oliver's hand settled on her lower back as he stopped at her side.

"Yes." Dragging her gaze away from the building and looking ahead to the steps leading toward the front doors. Her heart was beating a little fast, but she blamed that on the fact that most of the meetings she took were through a computer screen and not in person. It would be a new experience, but not an unwelcome one. She'd do what she could to help Oliver out, and hopefully keep QC from going under in the process.

"Mr. Queen!" A harried-looking assistant scurried toward the group as they stepped off the elevator. He was a little pudgy around the middle, emphasized by the checkered shirt tucked tightly into his belted pants. Felicity especially liked the bright pink bow-tie he was wearing; it added a certain 'pop.'

"Morning, Paul."

"Peter," he corrected. "Everyone is in the conference room. Miss Rochev sent her minion, or, uh, assistant to triple-check with me that you remembered the meeting."

Felicity glanced at the time. "We're fifteen minutes early."

Peter turned to her and sighed. It wasn't even 9 am and he looked like he'd already been working overtime. "You could've been here at 8 and she wouldn't be happy."

"Shark," John said, raising his brows at Felicity.

"You know, I'm reminded of my Aunt Donna who said 'always kill 'em with kindness… That way, when the police start poking around, you're the last suspect.'"

Oliver turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "Aunt Donna who lives in Las Vegas?"

She nodded, cutting a hand through the air for emphasis. "Friendliest cocktail waitress you'll ever meet."

John hummed. "Given her advice, I'm not sure that's very comforting."

Felicity smirked. "She was my mom's favorite sister. Also, her only sister. But, she used to say that even if she had more, nobody could brighten up a room like Aunt Donna."

"Yeah, well, you might have to channel her. Because we're about to go into the lion's den." Oliver paused near the door and readjusted his tie, simultaneously seeming to loosen and tighten it.

"Shark-filled waters, here we come." Felicity batted Oliver's hands away, smoothed out the lapels of his jacket, checked his tie wasn't too tight, and then raised her eyes to meet his. "We've got this."

He stared back at her a beat, and then nodded, quick and short. "Let's go."

Oliver swung the door open and stepped through it, making his way toward the conference room with Felicity, John, and Peter at his back.

Peter motioned to her with a stylus pen. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name..."

"Oh. I'm Felicity." She waved. "Felicity Smoak."

"Peter Pauermont, executive assistant to Mr. Queen."

"Cool! I'm executive best friend."

They stepped into the conference room then and Felicity's attention redirected to a slim woman with long, wavy brown hair, wearing a bright red dress.

"Miss Rochev," Oliver greeted with a curt nod.

"Mister Queen. You'll forgive me if I'm surprised you're on time. You seem to make a habit of showing up late."

"To meetings?"

"And to a career in business." She cast her gaze past him and zeroed in on Felicity.

Felicity would be lying if she said she didn't feel the temperature in the room drop, but she kept her expression sunny and hid the sudden shiver of wariness that was ricocheting through her body like a ping-pong ball on acid.

A tiny furrow formed between Isabel's brows. "This is a closed meeting."

"This is a friend of mine," Oliver started to say, raising a hand to Felicity's shoulder.

"And you thought that was appropriate?" Isabel's lips thinned into a line. "Business meetings aren't fit for dates."

Oliver ground his teeth and forced a smile. "As I was saying, this is a friend of mine. Felicity Smoak, of SmoakScreen Technologies. She has business with some of our Tokyo investors." With his other hand, Oliver pulled a chair out from the table and motioned for Felicity to take her seat.

Looking between them, Felicity cut across their paths quickly, lest she be stabbed by the icy glares they were exchanging. Taking a seat, she readjusted the skirt of her dress and plucked her tablet out from her bag, laying it down on the table. She smiled at the man and woman sitting across from her, who offered nothing but bland, emotionless nods.

"I wasn't aware you were taking on a new business partner, Mr. Queen." Isabel glanced at Felicity dismissively. "A little late in the game, wouldn't you say?"

Oliver moved to take a seat at the head of the table. "I didn't realize hostile takeovers were filled with so much hostility."

Isabel sat down too and offered an amused smile. "Not at all. I'm actually in quite a good mood."

"Really? So, destroying companies agrees with you?" His voice was taking on an edge, and Felicity shifted, extending her leg so her ankle was hooked around his. It wasn't much, but she wasn't willing to do more in front of a group of vultures.

"Winning agrees with me," Isabel said.

Oliver's expression darkened. "You haven't won yet."

"Since you majored in dropping out of college, let me put this in terms that are easy for you to understand." Isabel clasped her hands atop the table. "You control 45% of Queen Consolidated stock. Those investors you're thinking of in Tokyo? Not an issue. As of yesterday, I officially control 45%. With stock falling the way it is, the bad press your mother continues to get, and a questionable leader acting as CEO, it was easy to convince the other shareholders that the best thing they could do was sell me their shares in the company. That way, at least they walk away with something."

This time, Felicity did reach out, covering Oliver's wrist with her hand and squeezing.

He let out a slow, measured breath, but every line of him was tensed.

"That leaves 10% outstanding," Isabel continued. "And in two days, the board will release it."

"And I'll buy it before you do."

"With what money?" she asked. "I doubt your trust fund is that large, and no angel investor will go near the company that built the machine that destroyed half the city."

"You don't know that," Felicity said, pursing her lips.

Isabel's eyes cut in her direction before she scoffed and cut a dismissive look at Oliver. "You brought the daughter of a terrorist to act as your saving grace? Interesting choice."

"I'm not here to play hero. Just support." Felicity shook her head. "We have two days. So, if all this meeting is about is you posturing, we have better things to do."

Isabel clenched her teeth, her eyes narrowing, and then she looked to Oliver. "Companies rise and fall, Mr. Queen. Your company has fallen."

Before he had a chance to respond, the doors to the conference room swung open. Three men in hoods and carrying guns charged inside.

Felicity felt her heart drop into her stomach, her body suddenly going numb with the familiar figures they cut.

The gunman in the middle cocked his gun. "Oliver Queen, you have failed this city!" With that, he started shooting.

Felicity threw herself sideways and landed flat on her stomach on the floor. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she wasn't sure if it was her heartbeat or gunshots going off in her ears. At this rate, probably both.

Turning her head, she saw Oliver crouched at the front of the table, Isabel a few feet to his right.

Shooting back, John knelt next to Felicity, using the table for cover. He reached a hand out to her shoulder to check on her.

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice came out as a croak.

She didn't want to be scared. That was the last thing she wanted. These same assholes had already ruined her night and now they were (quite literally) gunning for her morning, too.

"Fall back!" John yelled. The middle gunman fell as John shot him in the chest. "Oliver, go! Go, go, go!"

Felicity watched, her hair crowded around her face, as Oliver rushed Isabel out through a side door. Absently, she thought about just how ridiculous it was that the majority of the walls were made of glass. What kind of horror house was this place? With every bullet that whizzed by, everything was made that much more treacherous.

"Get Queen!" one of the gunmen shouted.

Felicity started shuffling across the floor, moving around John, who was focused on his shooting.

Just as Oliver turned back to the conference room, one of the gunmen raised a gun to his chest.

Felicity would blame it on adrenaline later. That was the only excuse she could think of for why she decided to grab the heaviest thing in her vicinity and slam it down on the gunman's head. Adrenaline and maybe a large dose of vengeance. Seeing as she had no idea what any of them looked like, she couldn't be sure that was the one that pressed a gun to her chest and scared a good ten years off her life. But, maybe they all deserved a good clobbering given what they'd been up to the last two days.

As the gunman slumped away, a spray of bullets peppered the walls.

Felicity froze, but Oliver lunged forward and tackled her to the floor as the glass wall behind him shattered.

Felicity grunted at the impact, slivers of glass cutting the back of her arms and legs and digging through the fabric of her dress. Oliver was up and moving while her head was still spinning, her glasses askew and her balance off-kilter. A fourth gunman entered the room and didn't waste any time before he opened fire. Oliver yanked her up from the floor and started running, pulling her along with him. Before she even had a chance to ask him where, exactly, he thought they could go— again, every room was made of glass and the mass quantity of bullets these jackholes were using were shredding them like paper in every direction— Oliver grabbed on to a chain hanging against a wall and then slammed himself, shoulder first, through the window.

Felicity yelled. She wasn't going to lie. Considering just how absurd her morning was going, this was absolutely the most terrified she'd been. They were free-falling, twenty-eight stories up, with nothing but cars and pavement below them. And this was not how she planned to die. Not that she had a very detailed plan for her death. It basically narrowed down to old, tired, and ready to kick the bucket. Preferably in a comfy bed, some much-loved friends and family around her, having lived a long and interesting life. But this, no. This was way too early and way, way too painful.

And then the chain he was holding jerked. They suddenly swung inward, a floor beneath where they had been, and Oliver's feet made contact with the window, shattering it on impact, allowing them to fly in, tumble across a desk, and crash on the floor in a mess of glass and scattered papers.

While at first, the shock was enough that she was just elated to be on solid ground and not a Felicity-esque pancake, she quickly realized her hip was killing her and just about every other inch of her body was quick to follow. Oh, yeah, she'd be feeling that later. And now. But mostly later, once the adrenaline ran out.

Laying on her stomach, eyes darting around in shock, her glasses falling down the slope of her nose, she breathed out a shaky breath of relief.

Oliver reached for her, brushing her hair back and out of her face with a frantic hand. As soon as she met his eyes, he let out a heavy breath, his entire body going limp with relief. He dropped his face down, forehead pressed against his arm.

"What the hell was that?" she muttered.

With a groan, he turned his head. "The Hoods, I'm guessing. I must've been next on their hitlist."

"Not that. I know who they are. I made their unfortunate acquaintance last night." She shook her head and thrust a hand back, toward the window. "What was that? Your little Tarzan act back there. How the hell did you know that would even work? Was that the chain for the blinds? You couldn't know that would hold both of us. I'm surprised it even held you with all your…" She flicked her hand up and down his frame, "that."

"My 'that'?" He ticked an eyebrow up.

"Do not do that. Don't change the subject or try to distract me with your… Oliverness." She frowned at him. "Four men with guns just tried to kill you. Us. And your idea was to jump out of a window?"

He blinked. "It worked."

She stared at him a beat. "It worked? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

He pursed his lips, his eyes turned up as he searched for something else to add.

"Guns, Oliver! Guns with bullets. Aimed at you. And me. And John!" She pushed herself up a little. "Who's still up there! We can't just leave him there alone!"

"Felicity, John's ex-Army, and my bodyguard. He knows what he's doing." Despite his words, which she was pretty sure were more to calm her down than anything, he pushed himself up to stand as well. He balanced on one leg for a moment, shaking the other out with a wince, and then started moving.

Felicity walked a clipped pace toward the elevator, where she stabbed at the button frantically.

"Hey…" Oliver caught her by the elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I just jumped out of a building and was swung in through a window. No, I am not okay." She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. "What is it with these guys? I mean, it can't be a coincidence that they hit a place I'm in twice."

"They couldn't've known you'd be here." He tugged at her elbow again. "Will you look at me? Please."

Sighing, she turned to face him, her mouth set in a disgruntled frown.

"I took a risk," he said, "jumping like that. But, I had no choice. With the way they were shooting… It felt like the only option."

Taking a step forward, she poked a finger at his chest. "What if the chain broke, huh? What if we both just… splat, right out there on the pavement."

He let out a slow breath. "I was acting on instinct."

"You have a sister waiting on you at home. Do you know how devastated she would be if you died? She needs you, Oliver. So this, jumping out windows, this shouldn't be instinct."

"Felicity—"

"Tell me honestly, did you really think it would work?" She tilted her chin up and stared at him. "On a scale of one to ten, how sure were you that we'd live through that?"

His gaze searched hers a moment. "I was more sure about the window than the gunmen."

Felicity let out a heavy breath and flattened her hand against his chest. "Look, you know that I trust you. I- I would trust you with my life, any day of the week. And don't think I didn't connect 'instinct' to 'island.' Because I did. I don't know what could've possibly happened over there that your first instinct is to dive out of a building twenty-eight floors away from solid ground. Maybe one day you'll tell me. But, right now, I'm still trying to come down from the heart-stopping terror of the last five minutes."

"I know." He reached out and cupped her shoulders, squeezing gently. "I would never willingly put you in danger. It was the only option I had in the moment. I just wanted to get us to safety."

A ding from the elevator let them know it had arrived. Felicity glanced at it and then looked back up at him. "And I trust you. But, that doesn't mean my heart isn't firmly lodged in my foot right now."

His mouth kicked up faintly. "It'll find its way back."

They stepped on the elevator then and he pushed the button to return them to the right floor.

"You think they're still there?" she wondered, gnawing on her lip.

"I don't know. But, I know Diggle. He can handle himself."

"Against four gunmen at once?"

"He knows what he's doing. And besides, at least one of them was incapacitated… by you."

Felicity huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Big deal." She leaned back against the wall of the elevator. "Instinct, right?"

"If it wasn't for you, I might not be here. Which, I hear would be devastating for my sister, so… I appreciate the save."

"Any time."

The elevator doors opened once more, revealing a hallway of chaos. Workers were running to and fro, some crying, and glass littered the floor in every direction.

"They're gone," John said as he stepped out, gun still in hand and body tensed on high alert. "They took off not long after you two went out the window." He frowned from Oliver to Felicity. "You all right?"

"Just slowly working my way up to an awesome panic attack." Felicity turned a concerned look on him. "How are you? Are you hurt?"

"I'll live." To Oliver, he said, "Police should be here soon. They'll want to know what happened. And Rochev is back in the conference room. You might want to deal with that. She looks out for blood."

"It's not Oliver's fault that these vigilantes targeted him. If you want to get technical, the blame would lay more with Moira." She waved her hands as Oliver frowned. "Not that I'm blaming her. I'm just saying…"

"Yeah, well, Mrs. Queen isn't exactly in a place that's easy for these guys to get to, so, next best target, I guess." John shook his head. "But, if this is about The Undertaking, Rochev could use it to pitch the board on the other ten percent."

Felicity grimaced. "It's not fair, but it does make you look like a hazard to the company."

Oliver sighed, long and loud, and then cast a look toward the conference room. "I'll talk to her. You stay here." He looked from Felicity to John. "Watch her."

"'Her' has ears," Felicity piped up.

Oliver smiled down at her, somehow both exasperated and endeared. "Stay with Diggle. Please? Until I know everything is safe."

"If it's not safe, you shouldn't be going anywhere alone." She tipped her chin up defiantly.

"I'll be back soon. I promise."

She pursed her lips. "You have five minutes, and then I'll come looking for you."

He smothered a smile and bent to press a kiss to her temple. "Thank you."

With that, he was gone, and Felicity turned on her heel to face John. "So… What do you think the chances are that my tablet survived?"

He shook his head.

Felicity's shoulders slumped. "Rats."

"Miss? Have you been looked at?"

Felicity looked up to see a vaguely familiar police officer standing in front of her. Strange, since she didn't know many police officers. Sure, the relief fund was overrun with them after the gunfight, but she couldn't say she paid much attention to most of them, stuck in a bit of a fog given all that had happened. Plus, there were two officers that dropped by her apartment last night, forcing her to pause the movie she, Oliver, and Andi had been watching so she could give a statement. But, other than that…

"Miss?"

"Oh. Uh, sorry. No, I'm fine, really."

The officer looked her over, and Felicity suddenly found herself wondering just what kind of mess she probably looked like. Was there glass on her? She felt like she'd been rolling around in it more than once.

"You sure? You're a little beat up? You got some scrapes and bruises on you. Were you in the main room there?"

"Um, yeah, I was." Felicity hugged her arms around her waist. "I'm fine, though. No bullet holes. Just a whole lot of glass in places it shouldn't be. Not that there's a lot of places glass should be. Well, I mean, technically, in the broader sense, sure. But, on a person, no."

He blinked at her, his thick eyebrows hiking briefly, before he glanced to her side. "Diggle… Your boss hanging somewhere nearby?"

"He's busy right now."

The officer's lip curled faintly. "I'm sure."

Felicity frowned between the two men. "You know Oliver?"

The officer looked back at her, somewhat surprised. "Do you?"

"I mean, only since we were toddlers."

The officer frowned and stared at her face searchingly. She could see the exact moment it dawned on him, his face widening with the realization. "Miss Merlyn. Guess I didn't recognize you without a flashbulb going off in your face."

"I prefer 'Smoak.' I had it changed, legally, but nobody seems to care. It's not like it's my identity or anything." She rolled her eyes.

"Miss Smoak," he corrected, and then shifted his stance. "You were in the blow out last night… My daughter, Laurel, she said they were looking for you. That they threatened her so you would show yourself…" He stared at her. "Brave thing, standing up and letting them see you like that."

"Laurel's your daughter?" Her eyes widened. "That's right! That's where I know you from. I saw you last night."

He nodded. "I heard what happened over the scanner, drove over as soon as I could… This attack today, you think it's related to last night?"

"Only if that 'relation' is The Glades. I mentioned it to Oliver, but, what are the odds they would've known I was here?" She shook her head. "They were here for him. Sins of the parent kind of situation."

"Yeah." Lance grimaced.

"Anyway, you got some of them, right? You can ask them?"

Lance shook his head. "Far as I heard, there were four gunmen and all four got away."

"But, John shot one, and I hit one over the head with a piece of art that weighed more than a bowling ball! They just shook that off?"

"Body armor," John said. "Must've had bulletproof vests and a thick helmet on. Might've knocked the breath out of 'em, but it didn't put 'em down permanently."

Felicity frowned. "Totally unfair."

Lance snorted. "Got that right."

"Felicity." Oliver stepped out of the conference room and started toward her, his hand out. "There's a paramedic set up nearby. We should get you looked at."

She reached for his hand, but shook her head. "I'm fine, really."

"You're bleeding, kid." Lance nodded his chin toward her arm. "Better to get it cleaned up now than risk infection later."

Felicity pulled a face. "When you put it like that…" She let Oliver tug her toward him.

Lance pivoted to face them better. "Queen," he grunted.

"Detective Lance," he returned.

"It's 'Officer' now."

Oliver nodded but didn't correct himself. "Any ideas who this might be?"

"No shortage of suspects. Pretty hard to narrow down, too."

"Well, I have faith the SCPD will do their jobs." Oliver forced a smile and then pressed a hand against Felicity's shoulder. "If you'll excuse us."

"You take care of yourself, Miss Smoak," Lance called out. "Lot of people seem to be waving guns around in your direction. Best if you kept your head down for a while."

Felicity looked back at him, and gave a quick nod. "Thanks."

Oliver led her down the hall then, until they reached a paramedic that was set up in a small side office, gloves on and medical supplies ready. She had a no-nonsense look about her that Felicity could appreciate.

However, as soon as Felicity was inside, Oliver started backing up to the door. "I'll be right back, okay? You stay here, I'll come get you."

Felicity frowned. "What about you?"

"I'm fine."

"Unless I'm imagining things, you also jumped through two windows today and got shot at. How do I know you don't have glass lodged in your body somewhere and you're so hyped up on adrenaline that you don't even know it?" Reaching for his forearm, she tugged on him, drawing him deeper into the room. "Once you've been cleared, she can do whatever she wants with me." She paused. "In a medical, make-sure-I'm-not-fatally-injured kind of way."

With a sigh, Oliver stripped off his jacket and turned at the waist. "I'm not injured."

"Your shoulder is bleeding, Mr. Queen." The paramedic nodded her chin toward his arm.

Oliver glanced down at the tear in the fabric, soaked through with blood. "It's a scrape."

"A wound is a wound." Felicity towed him toward a chair. "Unless you're suggesting that women are weaker than men and medical attention is strictly for women."

Oliver stared up at her. "I'm not."

"Great, then you won't have any trouble letting this very competent paramedic stitch you up."

He pressed his lips flat and gave a short nod. With nimble fingers, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a white tank-top beneath, and flipped the blood-soaked fabric away from his shoulder. "Does that work?"

The paramedic nodded. "You might not need stitches. I'd like to clean it up and bandage it though."

"Works for me."

Felicity pulled another chair over and settled herself in front of him so they were knee to knee. She glanced at his shoulder and then to his face. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "Not much."

"Because of the adrenaline?"

"That's part of it." Oliver reached a hand out silently.

Felicity settled her palm against his and stretched her fingers out so they brushed against his wrist. "You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt, you know? Pain is normal. Tommy complains all the time."

His mouth twitched. "Tommy's threshold for pain is a stubbed toe."

"He has a delicate constitution."

He snorted a laugh. "You remember sixth grade?"

"I don't even know how someone can break the same finger three times in less than a year. What was he even doing?"

Oliver grimaced as the paramedic gently probed at his shoulder.

"Sorry," the paramedic said. "But I need to make sure there's no debris in the wound."

He shook his head faintly. "It's fine."

Felicity reached out with her free hand and slid her palm up Oliver's forearm. "Is it 'later' yet?"

His brow scrunched up and he searched her face. "You want to talk about that now?"

"Two gunfights in two days kind of puts things into perspective." She shrugged. "What about you?"

His fingers circled her wrist, but his grip was loose. "I think you were right, when you said that we weren't ready before. We were young and… I needed to grow up."

"And now?"

"Now, I…" He rubbed his thumb along the side of her wrist. "I want things I'm not sure I deserve."

She leaned forward. "Says who?"

He sighed, his shoulders dipping. "Says me."

Felicity shook her head. "What do you deserve, Oliver?"

With his free hand, he gently tapped her knee. "When I figure it out, I'll tell you."

She stared at him, his face unmasked but shrouded in doubt and edged with sadness.

"There. We're all done here," the paramedic said. "You'll want to keep the area clean. If there's any sign of infection, get to a doctor. But, other than that, I think you're good to go."

Oliver smiled briefly. "Your turn," he said to Felicity. He stood from his chair and took his jacket and soggy dress shirt with him. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? I need to check in with Diggle about security." As he moved past Felicity, he paused, dropping his fingers to her shoulder. "The News will pick this up. You might want to call Tommy."

"Yeah." She nodded shortly. "Thanks."

As he left, she slumped back in her seat and sighed. It wasn't even 10 am, and her day was already a write off.

"Are we going to talk about it?" John raised an eyebrow at Oliver as he left a small, side office and cut toward him.

"About?"

"How you didn't exactly help back there." They turned and continued walking toward the elevator.

"Diggle…" he said, his voice was sharp with warning.

"You've been off your game these last few months. And you can't blame it all on the foundry rebuild. It's going slow, I know. But, that's not what has you fumbling."

The elevator doors opened, admitting them inside. Oliver waited until they were closed and the number for his floor was lit up before he turned back to Diggle. "I've reframed my thinking."

Unamused, Diggle stared at him. "Really?"

"If I had fought back like I wanted to, Isabel and The Hoods would have a pretty good idea of what I'm capable of. That would lead to questions. I don't know if you've noticed, but she's looking for any reason to take this company from me. I don't need any added suspicion."

"For months now, you've been pulling punches. You go out, but something's not right." Diggle crossed his arms over his chest. "Is it about Felicity?"

"What? No." Oliver shook his head.

The elevator doors opened then and they stepped out, striding quickly toward his office.

"Then what is it? Because I like her, I do. She's got a good head on her shoulders and she's been helping you and your family get back on your feet. But, if she's in your head, I need to know. Because we can't do this if one of us isn't focused."

"I'm focused." Oliver turned to face him, his mouth set in a harsh line. "I'm just…" He sighed. "Ever since The Glades, I can't help thinking about the body count."

"You weren't too worried about it before." John stared at him searchingly. "This is about Tommy."

Oliver ground his teeth. "When Tommy found out my secret, you know what he called me? A murderer… And he was right."

"Tommy was angry. He felt lied to."

"Because I lied to him!" Oliver caught himself as his voice rose and took a quick breath to center himself. "Half the time, he can't look at me. He says that he gets it, or that I'm still his friend. But, there is a part of him that will never look at me like he used to. That can never be friends with who I am now. And I want to respect that, I do. But, when I put the hood on, it's kill or be killed. That's what kept me alive."

"You're not on the island anymore, Oliver."

"No, but sometimes it feels like I am."

John nodded slowly, but still looked unconvinced. "What's this mean then? For this… mission."

Oliver grimaced. "I don't know."

"It doesn't look terrible." Andi crossed the floor of a dark, empty Verdant on platform heels. "It was a club you said?"

"Yeah. My brother and Tommy ran it." Thea turned, taking a good look around. "It needs some work still. A lot of it's been cleaned out. Tommy said the basement was stable, so it's mostly just getting the rest of the debris out and making sure everything else is going to stay up."

"Bones on the place looks good." Roy kicked at a stray chunk of cement. "You're gonna need a serious crew to come in here and get it going, though. Could take a while."

"We could hire people from The Glades, bring a little work back to the neighborhood." Thea shook her head. "With how bad everything is though, I'm not even sure we can get officials in here to give us the okay."

"Money goes a long way in cutting through red tape." Andi smiled. "And I like your idea. Hire locals. You'll need hard labor at first. Then bar tenders and security. They'll be invested in seeing it prosper since it means they'll get a piece of it, too."

"Right. So… I'm doing this." Thea's brows hiked. "I'm opening a club. Or re-opening, anyway."

"Gotta clean it up first…" Roy crossed his arms over his chest. "I might know some people. I'll ask around, get 'em in here by tonight."

"That would be great!" Thea grinned from him to Andi, and then it fell away. "Is this crazy?"

"Well, you don't have any business background and I'm not sure you've even graduated high school, but who am I to talk? I ran an illegal gambling ring at my boarding school when I was younger than you are." Andi shrugged. "Reach for your dreams, darling."

Thea snorted a laugh, and then hooked her arms around Roy's waist and rested her head atop his shoulder. "So, tonight then? That quick?"

Roy rubbed his hands down her back. "People need work. Sooner we get this place cleaned up, sooner we can start hiring people."

"We?" She tipped her head back, chin still resting against him.

He shrugged. "If you're hiring, I'm looking for work."

She grinned. "What're your qualifications, Harper?"

He half-smirked down at her. "You want a preview?"

"I know I don't." Andi, who had wandered across the floor, and was standing next to a security panel leading to, presumably, the basement, turned on her heel to face them. "Since I didn't bring my hard hat with me, maybe we can do something a little more my speed? I'm thinking… shopping."

Thea perked up. "You're speaking my language now." Patting Roy's chest, she leaned back. "Bring in whoever you think can do the work. I'll check back in with you, see how things are going. Sound good?"

He nodded.

"Great." Grinning at Andi, she said, "I know a few places we can hit. Then we can check in with Felicity, see if she wants to join us. Her meeting can't last too much longer, right?"

"Sounds perfect." Andi crossed to meet her and hooked her arm through Thea's. "Lead the way, Little Queen."

"Miss Smoak!" Peter skidded along the floor as he chased her down the hallway. His foot slipped on a collection of shattered glass and his arms flailed as he caught his balance.

"Whoa. Are you okay?" Felicity reached out to help steady him. "I hear crime scenes aren't the best place to be running around in. What can I do for you?"

Panting a little, he shook his head, and reached up to tug at his bow-tie. "Sorry. Uh, Miss Rochev is asking to speak to you. Well, demanding it, really."

Felicity frowned. "Now? I was just going to hop on the elevator and see if there's a button marked 'CEO's office.'"

"Top floor." Peter turned and motioned down the hall. "She really is insisting though. If you don't mind…"

"You're just saying that to be polite. I don't really have a choice, do I?"

He winced. "I wouldn't put it past her to have security haul you over to her office if you tried to leave."

"Ah, so this would be the path of least resistance then." She started walking, nodding her head for him to follow. "You know, I've always preferred making my own paths. Things get a lot more interesting when you don't know what's coming and have nothing but your brainpower to get you out of it."

Peter stared at her a beat. "I alphabetize everything. I hate surprises. And it's Wednesday, so I'm wearing my Wednesday tie."

"On Wednesdays you wear pink?"

He blinked at her owlishly.

"Yeah, didn't catch that, huh? What's your email? I want to send you something. Like, immediately. For pop culture reasons."

"Oh, uh. I have a card." He rustled around in his pockets before eventually coming up with a bent card with his name and phone number typed on it. 'Executive Assistant' was scrawled in pen. "I have to get new ones printed up," he explained, his cheeks flushed.

"No worries. Thanks for this." She smiled. "Now, where is Ursula hiding…?"

Peter led her to a corner office, where Isabel was seated behind a huge desk with a black marble top, paperwork spread out in front of her. She looked up as Felicity entered and offered a forced, humorless smile. "Miss Merlyn."

"It's Smoak," she corrected, and then nodded to Peter as he backed up toward the door. "I had it legally changed—"

"When you were sixteen," Isabel interrupted. "Yes, I'm aware."

"You've been doing your homework." Felicity's brow furrowed. "Can I ask why?"

"Preservation." Standing from her desk, Isabel tilted her chin and stared at Felicity. "I'm a business woman, Miss Merlyn. I'm very good at what I do. And a part of my job is to plan for any kind of interference."

Felicity hummed, somewhat amused. "Sure. Who doesn't plan for estranged tech geniuses showing up and playing the Friend card. Capital 'f' in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

Felicity felt a stab of irritation, but refused to let it show on her face, instead counting back from 5 in her head.

"Tech genius," Isabel said in a monotone. "You think highly of yourself."

"As a fellow woman in business, I'm guessing you know that the only way to get anywhere is to make sure you do. You can't hock your work anywhere unless you believe it's the best around. And mine is."

Isabel tipped her head. "You aren't what I was expecting."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

"I haven't decided yet." Circling her desk, she stepped in front of Felicity, a stand-off of sorts.

Felicity wasn't sure if it was the heels that had them meeting at perfect eye-level, but at least it made her feel like they were equals. A first for a flounder meeting a shark. Or octopus? This metaphor was getting a little fuzzy on her.

"It's… honorable of you, to try and help keep Queen Consolidated afloat."

"Yeah, that's me. Honorable Felicity."

"Honor has no place in business. You're new to this game. Your little tech business might be doing well now, but it's small time. And it would likely stay that way, fading into obscurity over time. But, now that you've aligned yourself with this sinking ship, you might just be hailing for a lifeboat sooner than I thought."

Felicity snorted. "Are you the lifeboat or the clean up crew?"

Isabel's smirk was undeniably deadly. "I'm the only survivor."

A drop of cold dread tripped down Felicity's spine, but she forced a grin of her own. "Don't count me out too soon." Turning on her heel, she walked to the door. "I'm a great swimmer."

After Isabel, Felicity was pulled into a conversation with a police officer, giving her account of what happened. A good hour had passed before she found Oliver's office. He was standing at the window, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. He'd managed to find a spare dress shirt somewhere and had rolled the sleeves up is forearms. He looked much more put together than when she'd last seen him.

With a knock against the glass door of his office, she poked her head inside. "Hey. Forget something?"

He turned, and let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry. I… have a lot on my mind."

Stepping further inside, she shook her head. "It's fine. I spent some time giving my statement to an Officer Menendez. Nice guy. I might've skipped telling him we jumped out of a window, though. Mostly because I didn't want to see that 'have your lost your mind?' face I expect any sane person to give me. They'll probably chalk the window up to bullets anyway. Although, someone's definitely going to have to clean that mess up downstairs."

"I'm sure we can find someone." Oliver walked toward her, his gaze moving from the tips of her shoes to the top of her head. "You're okay?"

"Paramedic cleared me." She flipped a hand side to side. "Well, I think I'll be feeling it later. I can already feel a few bruises setting in. But overall, yeah." She nodded toward him. "I guess I should thank you. I still think jumping out the window makes no logical sense, but it saved our lives, so…"

"The Hoods were here for me." He ducked his head and grimaced. "One could argue I was the reason you were being shot at in the first place."

"Oliver, no…" She crossed the distance between them and pressed a hand to his chest. "You weren't the one waving a gun around, okay?"

"No, but I share some of the responsibility." He swallowed tightly and reached for her, his fingers curving behind her elbows and skimming gently along her skin. "Not to mention, I asked you to be here today."

"To help you... You didn't know they were going to attack you here. Nobody could've guessed that."

"I thought, with security downstairs, that you would be safer here. Or maybe just having you close would mean I could protect you."

Tapping his chest, she lifted her eyebrows. "You're blaming yourself for something you don't need to. The police will find these Hoods and this will all be a very strange story we tell people."

"Including the window jump?"

"That will be a story I tell about you, as a warning, to good, logical people, that you are just this side of crazy." She grinned. "In the best way."

"Was that supposed to soften the blow?"

Her smile widened. "Did it work?"

He chuckled, low and under his breath, and tugged on her elbows, drawing her a few inches closer. "Why don't I make it up to you? I have some paperwork I need to finish, but if you want, you can take a look around the Applied Sciences Department. And after, we can get some lunch. How does that sound?"

"When you say access…?"

His lips curved up at the corners. "The unfettered kind."

Felicity wiggled excitedly. "Sold."

"For the record, you give even me a run for my money when it comes to shopping." Andi circled around to the back of the car, where Earl was unloading their bags. "Albeit a short run, since I held my own quite well. And I'd wager some of it is leftover jet lag. But, still."

Thea snorted. "I'm just glad to have another person around to go shopping with. I love Felicity, but dragging her away from her computers takes some work."

Andi laughed. "Her first app, she spent most of her nights at the computer. Would just fall asleep right there. Had to replace her laptop after she killed it with drool."

"No way."

"Yes way." Andi accepted the armful of bags Earl handed to her. "I used to have to pry her away from that thing when we were younger. She carried it around with her everywhere she went. Good for business, sure, but terrible for a personal life."

"I bet." Thea opened her mouth to say more, but paused when the screeching of tires suddenly echoed through the underground parking. "What was that?"

"Ooh, I love this game. After a sordid affair, she realizes she's late to meeting her husband and speeds out of the parking lot, desperately trying to come up with a good reason for her tardiness."

"Nah," Thea said. "Pill-popping soccer mom late for her kid's game because she was passed out upstairs."

"Dark." Andi nodded. "I like it."

They were laughing until an unmarked van came to a screeching halt in front of them. The door swung open to admit three, masked gunmen.

Andi dropped her bags. "Are you bloody well kidding me?"

"Thea Queen, you have failed this city!" one of them yelled.

Earl stepped forward, holding a crow bar in hand. "You girls make a run for it. I'll do what I can."

Thea reached back to press a hand to his shoulder. "Earl, no. They'll kill you."

Marching forward, the gunmen circled them. "Take them."

"Both of them?"

The gunman on the far left motioned to Andi. "She was with Merlyn last night, at the fundraiser. Take her, too."

As a hand coiled around Andi's arm, she jerked away from him, but couldn't get loose. "Get your filthy paws off me, you prick!"

He pressed his gun against her ribs, hard enough to make her cry out. "You're a bargaining chip, lady. Put up a fight and you'll just be collateral damage."

Sneering up at him, she slammed her heel down onto his foot and pushed at his chest. "I'll show you collateral damage."

"Andi!" Thea shouted, darting toward her.

The gunman nearest her grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back. Thea struggled, twisting around at the waist. Gritting her teeth, she slammed her elbow into her attacker's chest and clutched his arm, twisting his hand in an effort to torque his wrist. But instead of working, his hand fell apart. Three of his fingers were amputated and the plastic replacements clattered to the ground. Her distraction cost her. The gunman grabbed her around the neck and pressed his gun against her stomach. "Get in the van!" he shouted at her face.

Panting hard, she turned her eyes to the side, where a limp Andi was being tossed into the back of the van.

"All right," Thea bit out. "All right, I'll go with you."

"Move."

"Now hold on," Earl said, raising his crowbar. "You aren't taking those girls."

Thea looked back at him, tears burning her eyes. "It's okay, Earl. Please. Just… Tell my brother."

"Yes, Earl, tell Oliver Queen that his precious little sister is with The Hoods."

Behind Earl, one of The Hoods crept closer, and slammed him in the back of the head with the butt of their gun. Earl crumbled, and Thea screamed.

The sound echoed all around the parking lot as she was shoved into the van to sit, folded up next to an unconscious Andi.

Thea glared at the two men that climbed in the back, while a third jumped in the passenger seat and nodded at the driver to start moving.

"You have no idea what you've just done," Thea said.

She wanted it to be a threat, but her voice wavered, and she felt the very real possibility of her impending death swamp her.

This was not how her day was supposed to go. Today was supposed to be a new start. She was going to reopen Verdant. She was going to take the first step in a life that she wanted. She was going to be happy. Despite all of this. Despite her mother being in Iron Heights. Despite her parents being accomplices in the The Undertaking. Despite her brother not being the man she remembered and missed. Despite all of that.

But, here she was.

A victim.

And she absolutely hated it.

Felicity was in her glory. Oliver's paperwork had basically taken up the rest of the morning, which was fine. He'd had lunch delivered to his office, which she'd maybe eaten a little too fast. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend more time with him, she did, but the toys that the Applied Sciences people were working on were just too tempting to avoid for long. With her all-access pass and a very interested group of tech-heads trying to show her what they were working on, Felicity could almost forget the insanity of the morning.

Stepping away from the lab, she made her way into the hallway to call Andi. As much fun as she was having, she hoped Andi was, too. Given she was hanging out with Thea, Felicity would assume she was doing well. But, there was something to be said about having time for one's bestie, so she was thinking food (always) and a movie. She wasn't sure what was playing, but there was bound to be something on worth watching. She could already imagine the over-the-top gown Andi would want to wear. She might even bring those ridiculous theatre binoculars with her, just for added effect.

Andi's phone kept ringing, on and on until Felicity was ready to give up and try again in another half hour. One of the techs was waving at her from inside the lab, and Felicity was already excited to see what they were working on. Just as she was about to hang up, however, the phone clicked on. When no voice answered, she frowned. "Andi? You there?"

There was a pause, and then, "Felicity Merlyn, you have failed this city."

Her heart leapt up into her throat and her hand drifted to her chest, rubbing circles around her wound. As quickly as the fear hit her, the anger followed. "If you hurt her…"

"Save your threats. I'm in the mood to make a deal."

"Right." She scoffed. "Because what kind of vigilante doesn't make deals with their target?"

"It's a two for one special, I think you'll like it. You for the posh socialite and Thea Queen."

Felicity's stomach dropped. Thea was there, too. It would've been a small miracle if there was only one person at risk. She didn't want that person to be Andi, but for it to be both her and Thea was just icing on an already terrible cake.

"How do I know you'll let them go?"

"You said you weren't like your father, Miss Merlyn. Are you going to let two people die for you, or are you ready to face your sins?"

Felicity swallowed tightly. "Tell me where to meet you."

Chapter Text

IX.

"If you tell anyone—

If you go to the cops—

If you try anything—

I will kill them."

Felicity did not call the cops.

She wanted to.

She wanted to send the whole force of the Starling City SWAT team to wherever The Hoods were hiding.

But, she had to do this smartly.

If Felicity was anything, it was smart.

And loyal.

And stubborn.

And really, fucking, pissed.

Peter burst into Oliver's office, wincing as Diggle turned, ready to take him out if need be.

"Sorry, sorry!" He raised his hands in apology, and possibly in an effort to fend off attack. When Diggle simply sighed, Peter turned his attention to Oliver. "Mr. Queen, there's an Earl Belmont on the phone. He sounds pretty frantic. He said something about your sister, Thea."

Oliver frowned. He glanced at Diggle and then reached for the phone.

"Line two, sir," Peter added.

With a short nod, Oliver pressed the button for line two and raised the phone to his ear. "Earl?"

"They took them," he said without preamble.

"What? Who?" Oliver barked.

"These— These men in hoods. They pulled into the parking lot in a van. They took Miss Andi and Miss Thea with them. I tried to help them, I swear. They knocked me out. I don't know how much time I lost..."

"Did they say anything?"

"It's foggy, but… One of them said something to Miss Andi. That she was a bargaining chip. To get at Miss Felicity."

Oliver closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Earl."

"Oh, and one of them had prosthetic fingers on his hand. I don't know if it helps but—"

"It does." Oliver hung up the phone and stood from his desk. "Peter, where's Felicity?"

"She was still in the Applied Sciences Division last I saw her." He backed out of the door, hugging his tablet to his chest. "Should I call down and see if she's there?"

"No. Thank you. I'll take care of it." Oliver crossed the floor of his office in three quick strides. Diggle was right behind him.

Applied Sciences was down eight floors, which meant the elevator was the faster play. Standing still, however, felt like a slow march to death. Oliver picked at his thumb, nerves frayed. As soon as the doors opened, he was out and moving toward the door leading into the lab.

One of the techs—an older woman, mid-50's, with greying brown hair, and a crooked smile— spotted him and made her way over. Before they could get a greeting out, Oliver demanded, "There was a woman here. Short, blonde—"

"Felicity, yes. Nice young lady. She spent most of the day visiting with everybody. Took a keen interest in knowing what everybody was working on in their spare time. Especially Kiera."

"Have you seen her?"

"She took a call in the hallway earlier." She turned her tablet down and pressed it against her stomach, a frown making lines furrow around her mouth. "It looked tense. She stepped back in to say there was an emergency, apologized for having to leave so soon."

Oliver let out a heavy breath. "How long ago?"

"A half hour, maybe forty minutes ago."

Grinding his teeth, Oliver pivoted and returned to the elevator.

John took one look at him and grimaced. "What do we do?"

Oliver dug his phone out of his pocket and shook his head. "We hope Felicity picks up and that she has an idea of where they are."

"And if she doesn't?"

"Then we run a search. Earl said one of the shooters had a prosthetic on his hand. That's a lead we can use."

"Can we use it from here?" Diggle wondered. "The computers aren't set up right at the foundry yet."

"We can try."

"Oliver…" John turned to him. "The odds on this aren't good."

"No, they aren't." He stared forward, at the blurred image of himself in the elevator doors. "Which means I might just have to rescind that no killing rule."

Inside an abandoned church in The Glades, The Hoods stood, unmasked.

In the middle of the aisle, pews draped in dusty sheets on either side of them, Thea and Andi were tied to a pair of chairs, back to back.

"These ropes are doing terrible things to my skin," Andi muttered.

Thea wanted to laugh, but her whole body felt numb. Not just with fear, but with anger. Her gaze jumped around the room, watching the men march closer to them, talking amongst themselves. Still, she mustered up a, "Spa day after this?"

"My treat," Andi agreed.

"I signed on for taking out her brother. But, this one's still a kid," one of The Hoods said. Tall, black, and missing part of his hand, he was the one that Thea had fought and lost against.

"Nobody said we had to kill her," another piped up. Older, with greying hair and a narrow face. "We can knock her out, drop her somewhere when everything's done."

"Buy her some Prada's while you're at it," a third muttered. "She's seen our faces, remember?"

"Merlyn's the only one coming. We haven't made contact with Queen yet." The man ahead of Thea was the leader, or she was assuming he was anyway. He seemed to make the final call on everything. Not to mention he seemed the most unhinged. "We take out Merlyn first. Then we make a move on Queen."

"Why not get them both done now?"

"Wasn't so easy this morning, was it?"

"We didn't know she'd be there!"

"Why can't we use Merlyn as a bargaining chip? If taking his sister hostage won't keep his mouth shut, his missing girlfriend will."

"Are you getting soft on us?"

"No, of course not. But, this one's not much older than my sister was when she was killed in the earthquake."

Thea twisted in her seat, glancing at Andi over her shoulder, and then back to the men circling her. "Is that why you're doing this?" she bit out. "My brother didn't do anything wrong. Neither did Felicity. She wasn't even in the country!"

"Too right. We were safely tucked away in London, where every trigger-happy sociopath kept their distance," Andi added.

Ignoring them, The Hoods continued to bicker amongst themselves.

"What we're doing here is justice, which makes us the heroes!"

"These two didn't kill anybody."

"Neither did my mother." Thea pulled at her bound hands restlessly and raised angry eyes at the closest of the gunmen. "Malcolm Merlyn destroyed The Glades."

"With mommy's help," the leader snapped back.

"Malcolm Merlyn was a controlling, abusive, self-centered arsehole who didn't care one whit about his children. So, if you think that harming Felicity will be some kind of revenge, you're sorely mistaken." Andi scoffed. "That man was utter garbage, and if you knew his children, you'd know that they are nothing like him."

"He killed my father and my mother thought he was going to kill my brother, too. That was the only reason she went along with his plan," Thea insisted. "She was afraid of him…" Her gaze fell as she muttered quietly, "She must've been so afraid."

"Just like my wife," the leader spat, reaching for a gun at his hip. "When our house collapsed on top of her."

Thea went still, watching him raise the gun, a cold shiver of dream running through her body.

But then, a buzz interrupted the tension, and everyone looked to the leader. Sighing, he reached down and plucked the phone from his pocket. "It's Merlyn. She's at the pick-up spot." He jerked his chin at the two men standing beside Andi. "Baker, Colton. Go get her." To Thea and Andi, he said, "Looks like your friend cares enough to trade herself for you two. Too bad you won't be around for the reunion…" He flicked the safety off and aimed the barrel for Thea's forehead.

(ONE HOUR AGO)

Felicity rapped her knuckles against a half-open office door. Glancing at the name plate, she asked, "Kiera González?"

Behind the sole desk in the room was a woman, her dark hair tied in a fish-tail braid that hung over one shoulder. "That's me..." She finished what she was typing and then looked. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh! Yes. Um, I'm Felicity Smoak." She stepped further into the office. "I've been doing a bit of a meet n' greet on this floor. It's where all the toys are."

"Can't argue there. Are you new to AS, then?"

"No, no." She waved her hands. "I'm not directly affiliated with QC, exactly."

Kiera frowned, her brow furrowed.

"Wow, that sounds sketchy, like I'm here for corporate espionage purposes or something. Um, here. I have a pass." Felicity pulled the it off over her head and handed it over. "I'm a friend of Oliver's. Or, Mr. Queen, I guess. I have my own tech business. Smoak Screen—"

"Technologies? Hey, I know you!" Kiera's face brightened. "I've seen some of your work. I mean, not legally." She paused. "Or illegally... Scratch what I just said."

Felicity grinned. "I'm surprised you've even heard of me."

"Yeah, well, I like to keep an eye out for competition... or inspiration, in your case."

"I'm flattered." She shrugged. "Anyway, I've just been poking around, seeing what everyone's working on. You don't have to show me, of course. But, I'm curious by nature."

"You said you were a friend of Mr. Queen's? He gave you this?" Kiera handed the pass back to her. "This is the highest security I've seen on, well, anyone. I mean, I haven't read Mr. Queen's security pass. I'm not even sure he has one. I feel like he just glares at people and they let him go wherever he wants."

She snorted. "You know, you're the third person to mention his 'glare.' I feel like I'm missing out on something here. I mean, he doesn't smirk as much as he used to, and his grin only makes very special appearances, but I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him glare."

"It's an experience. Anyway, yeah, if you're really serious about seeing what I'm working on, I wouldn't mind you taking a look. Of course, if anything like it suddenly shows up with your name attached to it, expect a full-throttle cyber attack."

Felicity nodded. "Of course."

Kiera pushed back from her desk and circled around it, revealing a black and silver wheelchair. At Felicity's surprised expression, she said, "Nothing I'm working on has to do with my legs, if you're wondering."

"Oh, no, I wasn't..."

"It's fine. People just kind of assume that everything I do will lead to some kind of miracle fix-it or something." She snorted and rolled over to a table, the glass top working as a tablet screen. "I was born this way, and honestly, I'm not looking to change it."

Felicity followed after her, watching her hands move around quickly, bringing up a file folder. With a tap of Kiera's finger, various files spread out across the glass. Wheeling to the right, she stretched an arm out and tapped a file called—

"Hedgehog?" Felicity's brow furrowed. "Can I ask...?"

"It's a joke. Sonic the Hedgehog." Schematics spread out then, the mechanics of her work broken down in various pieces. "Basically, it's like a sonic boom. Instant percussion wave that knocks out whoever it hits within a 30-meter radius. I've been able to work it out so that it's directive. Meaning whatever height it's at, it's a straight line out from there. If you're under or over that line, you're safe. But, if it hits you..."

"You wake up later with one hell of a headache." Felicity nodded. "Wow."

"Yeah." Kiera shrugged and sat back in her wheel chair. "It's not perfect. I mean, originally, it was supposed to be used at war. It would mean a lot less bloodshed, that's for sure. But, we ran into some issues with trying to use it in the field. For one thing, letting everyone on your side know that you're about to set it off. War is pretty chaotic, so if our side doesn't know, they could be sitting ducks, too."

"Yeah, then anyone outside of the 30-meter radius can come in and pick off whoever's down."

"Exactly." She frowned. "Plus, the attachment method. We've tried tossing it up in the air, but that throws the direction off. Since it's a straight line, it needs to be angled right, otherwise the only thing we're knocking out is birds and worms."

Felicity hummed. "Still. Pretty genius."

Kiera nodded. "Thanks. It's a work in progress, but it'll get there."

"Do you have a prototype?" Felicity wondered.

"Yeah. This one's kind of my baby. We've had a few different versions, but the best one so far is Mark-6." She wheeled over to her desk and plucked up a palm-sized disc from a line of five others.

Felicity held it in her palm. "Lot of punch for such a little thing."

Keira grinned. "That's my specialty."

"There she is!" Baker sat forward in his seat, pointing toward where a blonde woman was standing next to a street lamp.

"You sure it's her?" Colton frowned. His gaze was darting around, in search of some kind of trick. He was waiting to see a swarm of undercover police suddenly turn and pull their guns, shining a spotlight on the unmarked white van they were driving.

"I'm sure." Baker nodded. "I tapped into the security cameras outside of QC from this morning. That's her jacket."

"You're a fashion expert now?" Colton snorted, but slowed the van down. She was slotted between the street lamp and a tall mailbox, her back to them as she looked at her phone. "She seem nervous to you?"

"We've got her friends held hostage. Of course she looks nervous. Are we doing this or what?"

Colton grimaced, but nodded shortly. He pulled the van into the next line and slowed it down. "When we're close, you grab her. Got it?"

"I know what I'm doing," Baker muttered, crouched by the door. He pulled his mask down over his face and then nodded at him. "Let's do this."

The brakes squealed with the abrupt stop. Baker threw the door open and leaned out the door, ready and eager to grab Felicity Merlyn off the street.

Instead, he paused, his head cocked to the side.

The blonde turned to face him, and offered a smirk.

"It's a trap!" Baker yelled.

The tell-tale snap of a safety flicking off a gun seemed to echo through the van.

"Keep yours hands where I can see them," a deep voice growled.

Up front, Colton slowly drew his fingers back from where they were just grazing the grip of his gun, leaving it useless in the cup-holder between the seats. He turned his eyes to the side, where a grizzled looking man sneered at him. "Out of the van, now."

Baker looked from Colton to the woman in front of him, who was, quite obviously, not Felicity Merlyn. The only gun he could see was on Colton, so he lunged forward in an effort to make a run for it. The woman in front of him seemed to expect it. She reared a fist back and slammed it into his nose, sending him tumbling into the hollow van, cursing a storm and reaching for his broken, bleeding nose.

"You got him, Laurel?" the guy dragging Colton from the van asked.

"Got him." She glared down at Baker. "You just attempted to kidnap the Assistant District Attorney. And that mask looks an awful lot like what The Hoods were wearing when they attacked the fundraiser last night and killed the mayor. I'd try not to rack up any more changes. You've got enough on your plate."

Swiping the blood away from his chin, Baker slumped back against the wall of the van and shook his head.

Pressed up against the front of the van, Colton was spitting up a storm. "If you don't let us go, those girls are dead. Do you hear me? Dead!"

Laurel extended her arm, an expandable baton opening as she did, and pointed at Baker. "Out of the van. Now."

Shuffling his way out, Baker sneered at her, teeth stained red, but let her push him around to the front of the van.

"Laurel, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on? Who else do these guys have?"

Sighing, she watched her dad put a pair of cuffs on Colton before she said, "There are two others Hoods out there; they have Thea and Felicity's friend, Andi."

"Felicity Smoak?" Quentin shook his head. "Is that why you're wearing a blonde wig, telling me to get down here and arrest some attempted kidnappers?"

"She has a plan."

"Oh yeah?" His brows hiked. "You wanna share with the class?"

"I would. But, she didn't exactly share it with me."

Quentin let out a long-suffering sigh. "What did she share with you?"

(30 MINUTES AGO)

Felicity hammered her fist down against the door, over and over again. Absently, she wondered if maybe she should have called ahead. It wasn't like Laurel didn't have a job. Clearly, she did. As the assistant district attorney, as evidenced by last night. Maybe it was just a desperate hope that after last night's attack, Laurel would choose to take the night off. Seeing as Felicity hadn't, she should have expected Laurel wouldn't either.

Just as she was about to give up on an obviously lost cause, the door swung open.

Laurel frowned. "No offense, but you're the last person I expected to see at my door."

"I need your help," Felicity blurted, before pushing past Laurel into her apartment.

"Please, come in," she muttered.

"I'm feeling a hint of déjà vu right now, but we can come back to that." She turned on her heel to face her. "You remember last night? Stupid question, of course you remember last night. Who forgets they were attacked by masked gunmen? I mean, obviously, some people do. That's like, a form of amnesia, isn't it? Due to high stress or something. I can relate." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm rambling, I'm just really nervous. I swear, I got a better grip on this no-filter thing ages ago, but when I get stressed, it gets all… Bleh."

Laurel stared at her, brow knit. "Start from the beginning. What does this have to do with the gunmen?"

"Right. See." Felicity pointed at her. "That's why I'm here. Because who better to understand my situation than someone who personally went through it?"

"Sorry, is this supposed to be like a… therapy thing? Because, while I support you in searching out some kind of support group or—"

"What? No. Not that I'm knocking therapy. I mean, go therapy, for anybody who wants or needs it. But, no, this isn't about that."

"Then…?"

"The gunmen, The Hoods, they contacted me."

Laurel's eyes widened. "What? When? Why?"

"They have Andi and Thea. They're holding them hostage. And they want to set up an exchange, me for them."

Blown away, Laurel shook her head slowly. "We have to call my dad! Immediately!"

"No." Felicity leapt forward and threw her hands up to block Laurel from bee-lining toward a phone.

"Are you crazy? We can't put lives at risk, Felicity. My dad will know what to do and who to call."

"I'm going to the exchange!" she exclaimed.

Laurel paused and reared her head back. "Do you have any idea what kind of risk that is?"

"I know that there are four gunmen and they'll only send one or two to pick me up from the location they gave me. Obviously, they're not going to bring Thea or Andi with them. And frankly, they're nuts, so the chances of Andi or Thea living through this are pretty slim. I mean, they said it was a trade, but let's be real. They shot up Queen Consolidated today in an effort to get at Oliver. I don't see them drawing the line at Thea."

"They attacked Queen Consolidated?"

"Another issue for another time." Felicity shook her head. "Look, I came to you because I need your help."

Laurel crossed her arms over her chest and raised a dubious eyebrow. "It sounds like you've already made up your mind, what do you need me for?"

"They gave me a time-limit to get to the pick-up point. I have to text them when I arrive. It isn't far from here."

"Okay…?"

"Once I text, they'll send their people over, and they'll find who they think is me, standing exactly where they want me. Only it's not going to be me, it'll be you."

Laurel frowned.

"You can call your dad. He can be your back-up. Once they show, he can collar them or arrest them or whatever you want to call it. You'll be a main player in bringing down these vigilantes, which I'm guessing will be a pretty big win for your career."

"And where will you be?"

"Tracking the others down." Inside her purse was a tablet she'd borrowed from the Applied Science's department. After hanging up with The Hoods, she'd texted Tommy to get Laurel's address, caught a cab to her apartment, and then called Earl, hoping he might have some more information. As it turned out, Earl had been with Thea and Andi when they were taken. Groggy from a head wound, it'd taken him a little while to tell her everything that happened, but something stuck out. He told her one of the attackers had lost three of his fingers in an accident and was wearing a prosthetic. Since finding that out, Felicity had been running a program to search for anybody matching that type of injury that lived in The Glades or was affected by The Undertaking. Once she knew one of the attacker's identities, she could narrow down the suspect pool a little more.

"How?" Laurel demanded.

"Listen, the less you know, the better." While Felicity needed her help, she also had to consider that Laurel was an ADA. She was limited by her ties to the law. Felicity wasn't. Which was why she was using illegal software to search for one of the perps.

"Felicity, if we catch these guys, we can ask them where Thea and Andi are, and then we can send the SWAT team in."

"We don't have time for that." Felicity shook her head. "And frankly, I don't trust SWAT or SCPD to prioritize them. I like your dad. I met him today and he seems like a really good person. But, the Queens are persona non grata around here right now. And with The Hoods being so high-profile, I feel like police will be looking for a good photo op, regardless of any collateral damage."

"These men are armed and dangerous. What, exactly, do you think you're going to do that will insure you, Thea, and Andi walk away from this?"

"Just… Trust me. Okay? I know what I'm doing." She shook her head. "I know you don't know me very well, and I know you think I hate you—"

Laurel scoffed. "You do hate me. You always have."

"No. I resent that a lot of your decisions negatively impact my brother."

Laurel didn't look completely convinced, but she nodded. "Okay, not a terrible reason..."

"Look, Laurel, I came to you because I thought you, of all people, would understand how important it is to stop these people. They're reckless and dangerous and they're putting lives at risk. After last night and this morning, I want to stop them, and I think you do, too."

"I do. The legal way."

"Which is why you and your dad will run this little sting operation however you like, and I will handle my half of things strictly off the record."

"I don't like this. There are too many holes. Too many ways it can go wrong…" Laurel stared at her searchingly before letting out a heavy sigh. "What's the plan?"

"First things first, we need to change. You need to wear my dress, since they saw me wearing it earlier. And I need to borrow some clothes. Preferably black stealth-wear."

"I'm not sure I have anything specifically stealthy, but I'll see what I can find."

"Great!" Felicity grinned. "Also, what are the chances you own a blonde wig…?"

Laurel smirked. "Better than you'd think."

It occurred to Felicity that tracking the identity of The Hoods wasn't her only option. There was also the fact that Andi's' phone had tracking software on it. Software Felicity could personally keep an eye on, seeing as she'd put it there. More often than not, they used it to find which bizarre place Andi had lost her phone recently. One time, she'd found it in the freezer, in between a bag of peas and a box of Eggo waffles. That wasn't why Felicity had put it on the phone, though. No, six years ago, Andi had been partying at a friend of a friend of a friend's loft, where her drink had been roofied. Someone had seen it happen and had helped, thankfully, but the close call was enough for both of them to be a little warier of the world at large. Hence, tracking software. On top of that, however, they had agreed to always let each other know where they were, who they were with, and when either of those things changed. They came up with a safe word too, just in case. The peanut emoji meant something was wrong; a reminder of when Felicity had a pot brownie with peanuts in it and had to be rushed to the hospital due to an allergic reaction. The peach emoji, however, meant everything was peachy-keen.

Somehow, despite the awful reasons for putting the tracking software on Andi's phone, Felicity hadn't expected to be using it for this purpose. Finding Andi's phone, tucked inside the linen closet in Felicity's spare bathroom for the third time, sure. But, not this. She was glad, don't get her wrong. Glad that she now had a way to find her friends and to put these assholes in their place. It just felt so unreal to be doing this. But, here she was, sleuthing her way into a creepy, abandoned-looking church in the middle of The Glades.

Five minutes ago, her tablet had dinged to let her know that it had a hit on the man with the amputated fingers. Jeff Deveau. African-American, late-thirties, ex-Marine. He'd lost three of his fingers and part of his hand in the earthquake. He and his wife Alyssa were trying to make it across the 52nd Street bridge when it collapsed. Alyssa hadn't made it. Felicity regretted that. She regretted every life that was lost or changed by The Undertaking, by her father's hand. But, that didn't make this any better. It didn't excuse the things they'd done. Did it? Did the adage 'an eye for an eye' fit here? Since her father couldn't be that eye, was she destined to stand in its place? Or maybe Tommy? Would Thea and Oliver lay their necks on the chopping block and pay for their mother's sins? Would that be enough for The Hoods, or would they find someone else to pay for their pain?

She wasn't sure.

What she was sure of was that Thea and Andi were innocent in this, and she wasn't going to let them be another name on the list of those lost because her father was a sociopathic terrorist.

According to Deveau's phone records, he made a lot of calls to the exact church the tracking device put Andi's phone at. Standing Strong was a support group for those who'd lost loves ones in the quake, which was where Felicity was guessing he found the other three people who dressed up in masks and took on whoever made their hit list.

Drawing the hood up and over her head, she tucked her hair inside and took a deep breath. Her nerves were shot and her stomach was doing somersaults, but this wasn't the time to start retching. She needed to stay focused. Andi and Thea were counting on her to come through. Laurel had already texted her to say she was in position, so Felicity texted The Hoods that she was there and waiting, even as she'd scurried down an alleyway, slipping up behind the church. An unmarked white van left a few minutes later, taking two of the four Hoods with it. That should've been a comfort. Now she only had to deal with half the number of attackers she would have faced otherwise. Unfortunately, one of them was an ex-Marine, and while she didn't know the other one, she was going to lay odds that he was still a serious threat.

Felicity didn't have combat training, obviously. Yes, she did kick boxing, but that mostly to keep in shape and to get out some of her aggression. After Malcolm pulled his absentee-dad routine, she'd bottled up how she felt. For too long, she took that blame unto herself. And then Andi invited her to a yoga class. A really terrible, sweaty, not-at-all soothing yoga class. And on the way out, she'd seen a kick-boxing class going on in the same gym. Deciding that might be more her speed, she'd joined up, and she didn't regret it. But, as much as kick-boxing kept her somewhere in the area of 'toned,' it wasn't going to make her any kind of match for a Marine. Which was why she had to come at this problem the way only she and those of her ilk could.

With their brains.

Oliver cursed to himself as the phone continued to ring through, over and over again. While Felicity wasn't answering, his computer was running a search for anyone fitting the description that Earl had given. It was a slow process, however, hindered some by the fact that both Oliver and Diggle were uncomfortable using QC computers for Hood work. With Isabel already out for blood, Oliver didn't want to give her more ammo. More often than not, he felt like he was under a microscope, and given the gravity of the situation, this was not the right time to be limiting himself. But, he was, using everything at his disposal to hide his tracks while he ran his search.

Eventually, the computer dinged, offering up a short list of people with prosthetic fingers living in Starling. Oliver sighed. "Between the ARMY and The Undertaking, there are a few too many names here..."

"How do we narrow it down?" Diggle wondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ethnicity and age, neither of which we know."

"We can guess."

"Three lives hang in the balance, Diggle, I want to do a little more than guess."

"We have to do something."

A knock at the glass door drew their attention then, and Oliver turned, frowning at Peter. "This isn't a good time right now. Whatever you need—"

"Laurel Lance is on the phone. She said she has information on Miss Smoak."

Oliver cut a look toward Diggle and then reached for his phone. "Laurel?"

"She's going after The Hoods," she answered. "It's a long story, but they have Thea and Andi. We were able to get two of them out of the way, but there are two left."

"How do you know this?"

"We don't have time for this. Look, I want to help her, and my dad is standing here, ready to go, but she's not answering her phone—"

Oliver paused. "Her phone."

"Yes. That's why I'm calling... Pretend for a second that I'm not the ADA, is there a way for you to track her phone and get us the location? I know it's not exactly ethical, but I have a feeling she wouldn't mind, and you have resources at your disposal that I—"

"Laurel, I have to call you back."

"Are you serious? Oliver—"

"I'm sorry. I can't explain right now." Oliver hung the phone up and then turned to Diggle. "Felicity's phone. We can track it."

"You think she has her location on?"

"Years ago, she had tracking software put on her and Andi's phone. There was a roofie-incident." He grimaced. "She told Tommy about it, so he'd always be able to find her." With a deep sigh, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. It rang twice before Tommy picked up. "I need your help."

"What is going on? Felicity texted me looking for Laurel's address and won't tell me why. I'm feeling a little left out here."

"I'll explain later," Oliver dismissed. "You remember that tracking software Felicity put on her phone...?"

"Yeah, of course. But—"

"How do you access it?"

"There's an app on my phone; it tells me where she is. I'm only allowed to access it under special circumstances, for privacy reasons. Why?"

"I need you to tell me where she is right now."

"Oliver," Tommy gritted out. "Are you telling me that my sister is in danger again? Because I was just getting over the near-heart attack I had when I found out she'd been shot at for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, while she was supposed to be safely tucked away inside Queen Consolidated."

Oliver closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "I will explain all of this later. Right now, I need you to—"

"I've got it. She's at a church in The Glades. I'll text you the address now." He paused. "When you see her..."

"I'll have her call you, I promise."

"Oliver?" he added, before he could hang up. "Whatever this is, whatever's happened... You need to protect her."

"I'm doing everything I can."

"I know."

Oliver frowned to himself. "This morning..."

"This thing with The Hoods. I shouldn't've blamed you for that. I've been stressed out with everything that's happened. But, I know how much you care about her. I know you'd never put her in danger on purpose. I'm just... I don't know, maybe it's paranoia. But, every time she's out of sight, I'm scared that something could happen to her. So, whatever you need to do to bring her home... Whatever lengths you have to go to... I support you."

Oliver felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Silently, he nodded.

"Bring her back," Tommy said.

With that, the call ended, and Oliver lowered his phone, feeling it buzz as Tommy sent him the address to the church.

"Well?" Diggle asked.

"We've got a location." Oliver stood from his desk. "Let's go."

Ten minutes after Colton and Baker left, Aglin was still taunting Thea Queen with the uncertainty of her mortality.

"This game's getting old," Deveau muttered, as Aglin flicked the safety off and used the barrel of the gun to push some of Thea's hair off her face.

"You telling me to take the shot, soldier?"

Deveau scoffed. "I'm saying that playing with her like this is cold."

"You suddenly grow a heart since we picked the little Princess up?" Aglin asked, turning to frown at him.

"I signed up for this, same as you. But, I signed up for action, not torture."

"You don't think the Queens deserve to stew a little bit? They should feel what we did, stuck out here, trapped like animals."

"An enemy is an enemy. You put 'em down. You don't play with them." Deveau shook his head. "You're like a cat with a mouse."

Aglin's lip curled, but before he could respond—

BANG!

The noise startled both him and Deveau as well as their two captives. Aglin turned his attention to the hallway leading into the main room and frowned. Assuming it was Colton and Baker, he called out, "You guys forget something?"

Nobody answered.

"I'll check it out," Jeff offered, leaning against a pew, his arms crossed.

"No." Aglin shook his head. "We don't split up."

"You wanna hold my hand?" Jeff rolled his eyes and walked toward the opening of the hallway. "It's an old church. They probably didn't shut the door right. It bangs if it's not locked."

"Yeah, or what if that Merlyn bitch is pulling a fast one on us? She's some kind of tech genius, isn't she?"

"You think she rigged the damn door? She's a nerd, Aglin. She's got early-onset carpel tunnel, not a background in martial arts." With a scoff, he walked further down the hall, his footsteps echoing around the cavernous walls.

Aglin watched him go, mouth set in a strained line, his gut twisting and turning. "Well? Was it the door or what?"

He could see Jeff's broad-shouldered figure at the end of the hall, where he paused and cursed.

"What?" Aglin was getting antsy, his hand squeezing the grip of his gun.

"Nothing. Think I stepped on a damn nail..." He continued forward then, until he was just short of the door. The bang noise echoed down the hall again. Jeff looked down, bent, and plucked something up from the ground. "It's a tablet with a noise app. It's a tra—"

He started shaking abruptly, his head thrown back and his body twitching. A crackling blue energy popped along the floor around him, eerie in the shadowed hallway. With a grunt, he fell sideways and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Aglin raised his gun. "I told you, bitch! If you play games with me, they die!"

He cast his gaze from the hallway to above, where a balcony overlooked the church hall. There was no sound but his own breathing and the occasional twitch of Jeff's body, slapping against the puddle of water he laid in on the pavement floor.

"You think I'm kidding? I'll put a bullet between their eyes and then yours, too!" Aglin yelled.

Suddenly, a crackling noise echoed from an old PA system rigged along the moldings of the church. Rock music poured out the speakers, loud enough that Aglin reached a hand up to press to his ear, gritting his teeth against it. A cochlear injury in the war meant that anything over a certain pitch felt like his eardrum was rupturing. The pain was enough to nearly bring him to his knees. Revenge and rage kept him going. He started shooting at the speakers he could see, one after the other, until they were nothing but dangling wires and chunks of battered wood.

Replacing an empty clip with a new one, he marched forward pressed the barrel of his gun against the posh foreigner's forehead. The press was enough that she cried out and reared back, her neck straining. "You have five seconds to show your face or I'll blow her brains out all over these pews. Do you hear me?" he screamed.

A creak sounded from his left, and Aglin whirled to meet it, pulling the trigger, loosing two bullets into nothing. Frowning, he crept forward, gaze sharp and body on alert. Near the end of the aisle, he heard the noise again, and turned. There, he caught sight of a phone laying on the floor, the screen lit up. Cursing, he whirled around, spittle flying from his lips.

Felicity Merlyn was standing just short of the two tied up girls, dressed in black, a hood pulled up over her hair. Her face was flushed, mouth tilted in defiance, and her eyes spat fire.

Aglin let out a scoff of a laugh and cocked his gun. "Looks like you're out of tricks... And time."

If Felicity was honest, she was hoping they would both go to investigate the tablet and she would be able to slip ahead, grab Thea and Andi, and sneak right out the back, unseen. Wishful thinking, obviously. But, even with just Deveau investigating the tablet, that removed one more obstacle. There was exposed wiring all over the place and a puddle right where he was standing. The nail worked as a conductor, just in case. And then, well, one and one makes two. While she wasn't exactly hoping she'd killed him, she was hoping it would keep him down a while.

Deveau's phone records offered another piece of information. He got a lot of calls from Doug Baker (mid-40's, white, ex-military), Colton James (mid-30's, white, ex-military), and Aglin Hamilton. The majority of the calls were from Aglin, suggesting he was probably the group leader and so, would've tasked the others with the pick-up. Still, she wasn't sure until she saw him. He was white, early 40's, an ex-soldier with a cochlear injury and a chip on his shoulder the size of the house he'd once owned that had, sadly, killed his wife during The Undertaking. She felt sorry for him, she did. But, she had to curb that in order to do this right. The music was, oddly enough, just something she found while looking around the PA system's office. Someone must've left the tape behind whenever the church took a turn for the worst. It was old and dusty, but it worked. With Aglin distracted, she pulled her next move. She left her phone with another app on the floor, circled around the pews, and made her way toward the girls.

And she'd almost made it too, if it wasn't for the crazy guy with the gun.

Felicity's heart hammered in her chest and a cold sweat broke out across her skin, but she refused to let him see her fear. She glared back at him, her mouth set in a line.

He laughed at her. Like this was amusing. Like any of this was funny. "Looks like you're out of tricks..." he said. "And time."

Just as his finger squeezed the trigger, an arrow sliced through the air and penetrated his shoulder, sending him lurching forward in surprise. A burning sensation bursting across her right arm knocked Felicity off balance, but she caught her footing and closed her mouth around a shout of pain.

"Felicity!" Andi cried, worried.

Aglin pulled himself up from the floor and scrambled for his gun.

"The next one goes through your neck," a deep, growling voice called down from the balcony above.

Felicity looked up, surprised to see a hooded man standing there, staring down ominously.

"You think he means me or him?" Felicity wondered, glancing at the girls.

"Him," Thea said, directing her wide eyes toward Aglin, who had lifted up on his knees and was raising his gun again.

Felicity let out a very uncool and panicked "eep" right before she folded her fingers down and slammed her first into his cheek. Which was exactly nothing like hitting a punching bag, especially without the boxing gloves she usually wore. Wringing out her hand, she cursed, and took a step back as Aglin took the punch but didn't go down.

With a grin, he lifted the gun again, only to have an arrow pierce through his forearm. He cried out, dropping the gun in the process.

"Grab it!" Thea shouted.

Felicity ducked down and grabbed up the gun, holding the handle with two fingers.

"Don't just stand there all willy-nilly!" Andi said. "Aim it at him, tell him not to move or you'll put another hole in him to match the one in the arm."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "I'm not a gun person."

"This not the time for an anti-gun PSA, he is getting away."

Aglin wasn't getting away though, he was simply turning to grab up a different gun from one of the pews. A machine gun, to be exact, which to Felicity's thinking narrowed down to 'a lot more bullets.'

Instead of aiming for the girls, Aglin raised it toward the platform above, shooting wildly as he yelled, "You're trying to save them? There was no justice for people like the Queens and Merlyns 'till you showed us how to get it."

The Hood—the real Hood? It was confusing when they had similar names, Felicity decided. Good Hood, or at least good enough to come here in an effort to help, ducked down out of sight. But, Aglin kept shooting, mottling the wood banister of the balcony.

"You showed us!"

Felicity dug a disc out of her pocket, flipped the switch on the back, and lunged forward. She hooked it onto the strap along Aglin's back and then turned, grabbing at Thea and Andi's bound arms until they toppled, landing hard on their sides.

"Are you bloody crazy?" Andi shouted.

Ignoring her, Felicity climbed over and covered their bodies, counting down in her head. ...5...4...3...2..1

The boom was somehow loud and completely silent. It rendered everything else soundless. There was just an hollow bubble that seemed to fill Felicity's ears, drowning out everything else. For a moment, she thought time itself had stopped or paused or at least slowed down. There were waves, rippling across the air, one after the other, until finally sound crashed back in, seeming loud and strange, leaving a buzzing noise behind in her ears.

Aglin slumped to the ground, unconscious, while all the windows in a 30-meter radius had crumbled, leaving shattered glass across the floor, spread far and wide.

Felicity sat up slowly. She glanced at Aglin, her heart still beating wildly, hoping he wouldn't move. When he didn't, she breathed out a sigh of relief, and then turned her attention to Thea and Andi. "Are you okay?"

"Are we okay?" Andi stared up at her, wide-eyed. "Are you?"

"I'm fine."

Felicity reached down to untie the ropes around their wrists. As soon as Thea was unbound, she rolled off her chair and onto her knees, planting her hands on the floor while she tried to catch her breath. Meanwhile, Andi pushed onto her knees and sat back on her heels, rubbing at her sore wrists. "Did that just happen, or am I having an utterly terrible acid trip?"

"Have you taken acid lately?"

"Define 'lately.'"

Felicity rolled her eyes and pulled her best friend into a tight hug, squeezing her arms around her and rubbing her back. "You're fine."

"Of course I am." Still, Andi hugged her back, rocking them side to side for a moment. "I hardly needed saving. Clearly, I had everything under control."

Snorting, Felicity leaned back to see her face, raising a hand to brush some of Andi's mussed hair off her cheek, damp with tears she would never admit to crying. "Yeah. Clearly."

Andi reached up, pinched Felicity's chin, and gave it a little shake. "But, I appreciate the effort anyway."

"You're welcome." With a grin, Felicity stood and made her way to Thea, who was sitting on the floor now, leaned back against a pew. Crouching, Felicity dropped a hand on Thea's shoulder. "How about you?"

Thea smiled wobblily and nodded. "Yeah, totally fine. I mean, I need a drink, a bubble bath, and... maybe a visit to Iron Heights. But otherwise, totally fine."

Felicity brushed an affectionate hand over Thea's hair. "I think we can arrange that. Well, maybe without the drink. Unless hot chocolate counts...? In which case, yes, definitely."

Thea's smile widened briefly, but then her eyes moved past Felicity, toward the opening at the hallway.

Catching it, Felicity whirled abruptly, expecting Deveau to be awake and ready to fight. Instead, she found a different Hood. A good Hood... A better Hood... Whatever.

With one last concerned look back at her friends, she cautiously walked toward him, her brow furrowed. "I guess you're expecting a thank you."

He ducked his head down, keeping his face in shadows. "What you did was risky," he replied, his voice somehow, impossibly deeper than it had been before.

"Seriously? That's what you have to say to me?" She scoffed. "You killed my father, you know?"

He jerked and raised his head a little. She still couldn't see much more than a stubbled chin.

"I know he wasn't winning any prizes for Father of the Year—"

"You can say that again," Andi called out.

"—but, he was still mine." Felicity swallowed tightly and shifted her feet.

The Hood's hand flexed on his bow, and she wondered if this made him uncomfortable. If he wanted to defend his actions. If he ever felt bad about those he put down. Did Malcolm Merlyn haunt him the way he haunted her? It was different for her, of course. Her father's ghost was chained to her through rejection and absence. The Hood didn't have that same burden to bear. To him, what he did was probably right. But, then again, the same could be said for The Hoods. They, however, had taken innocent people hostage. She wasn't sure what that meant, what kind of differences that highlighted. It did, however, remind her of something.

"You also saved my brother."

The Hood tipped his head to the side.

"If it wasn't for you, Tommy might've died shish-kabobbed on a piece of rebar." She licked her lips. "Not to mention, my dad was a few screws loose, meaning he wouldn't have just stopped there. But... He's dead. I mean, I'm literally orphaned right now because of you... Wait, can you even be orphaned if you're not a kid?" She shook her head. "Not the point."

"What is the point?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot the other.

"I don't know. I don't know if you're any better than these guys." She shook her head. "I do know that they hurt a lot of people. Killed people. And that they were going to kill my friends. Maybe even me. In fact, I think that's exactly what they were going to do before you got here."

"Is that a thank you then?"

Her mouth kicked up faintly at the corner. "I thought heroes didn't need praise."

"I'm no hero."

She frowned. "So, what do you call yourself then?"

He had no answer to that, and instead took a step back, into the shadows of the hallway. "The police will be here soon. Quentin Lance can help you with all of this."

Felicity raised an eyebrow. "You don't want credit?"

"You did most of the hard work."

"Still..."

"The police don't like me around here."

"But, Lance does?"

"Not exactly." If she wasn't mistake, he sounded amused. "But, he's someone you can trust."

Felicity stared at him. "Are you?"

The Hood paused, and took a step forward. He reached a leather-covered hand forward, and though her heart jumped, she didn't pull away. His fingers gently touched her arm. "You were grazed. You should get it looked at."

She glanced down at her arm, and watched his gloved hand slowly return to his side, where it folded up into a fist. "It could be worse," she said. "If you hadn't shot him, I might not be walking around at all."

He flinched, and turned away. "You risked your life today... Don't do it again."

Felicity's eyes narrowed. "If it comes down to me or my friends, I'll do whatever I have to do."

"You had no back up, no plan—"

"I had parts of a plan, which mostly worked out. I didn't exactly have a lot of time or resources to get this kind of thing done. Some of us aren't vigilantes who do this every other day."

"Some of us should stay that way."

"You know, I don't like mysteries..." She frowned at him. "The longer you stand around here patronizing me, the more I want to figure out who's under the hood."

He stepped back, deeper into the hallway. "A threat?"

"A warning."

"Not to patronize you?"

She put a hand on her hip. "It's a good start."

He chuckled lowly. "I'll keep that in mind, Miss Smoak."

"Do that."

He nodded shortly and disappeared down the hall.

Felicity turned around and made her way back to Thea and Andi, who were sitting on a pair of pews, tired and irritated. "So, about that drink..."

The door of the church burst open then. "SCPD! Put your hands where I can see them!"

Felicity grimaced. Raising her hands, she sighed. "No offense, but I'm getting really tired of meeting you guys like this..."

Felicity was getting restless. After getting her arm looked at by a familiar paramedic ("You again?" "Hey, are tabs a thing outside of bars? I might need to open one..."), Felicity had been placed at Officer Lance's desk to give her statement on what, exactly, happened in the church.

"So, you took these two guys out yourself... That's what you're going with?" Lance asked, again, for the third time. He'd abandoned his hat and was scrubbing his fingers over his head with something akin to exasperation.

Felicity squinted at him, somewhat offended. "Are you suggesting a woman can't fight as well as a man?"

"No." He scoffed, sitting back in his chair and shaking his head. "No, I'm saying anybody, man, woman, or otherwise would have a hard time taking down two ex-soldiers. One, I might add, was a damn Marine."

"I'm sure our country's proud." She rolled her eyes. "Look, I already explained this. A lot of it was just distraction. It's not like I took them on in hand-to-hand combat. I got one hit in and trust me, my hand is desperate for a nice bag of cold peas."

"Uh-huh. What was it you said you do? Kickboxing a few nights a week, right?"

"Try not to sound like you think I just stand at the back of the room and gossip about boys instead of working out." She frowned at him. "I spend most of my time at a computer. Hence, boxing. Good for stress relief, not exactly stylized enough that I can wipe out a Marine. That was a little high school science. Water plus electricity means ouch."

"I got that part." Lance pursed his lips at her. "And the gun shots up on the balcony. What was that?"

"There were a lot of gunshots. He didn't like my choice in music."

He stared at her a long beat, before finally tossing down his pen. "You know what I can't get, Miss Smoak?"

"You can call me Felicity."

He ignored that. "The Hood killed your dad. I'm not gonna pretend and say Malcolm Merlyn was an upstanding citizen, but blood is blood. So, what I don't get, is why you'd be keeping quiet about the fact that he was there."

"What makes you think I am?"

"The loud-mouthed idiot I got in a cell back there, raging about how The Hood is a turncoat..." He stared at her searchingly. "Which brings me to another question... Why in the hell would The Hood want to save you or Thea damn Queen?"

"Maybe he has standards. Like, the children shouldn't pay for the sins of the father and all that." Felicity shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know him and I don't know what his motivations are. I do know that the jerk in the cell back there kidnapped two of my closest friends. I know that you helped Laurel put away two more. I know that The Hoods are officially off the streets tonight. And I know that Thea and Andi have been put through enough for one day, and more than deserve to go home." She stood then, staring down at him. "Any more questions?"

He tipped his head back to see her. The faint tilt to his mouth said he was more amused than annoyed. "Just one. You three got a ride home?"

As if in answer, the doors to the precinct flew open, and a worried Oliver Queen swept inside.

Lance sighed. "Should've expected that..."

Felicity watched for a moment as Thea raced across the room and threw herself into her brother's arms. Oliver gathered her up, a hand folding behind her head. Even from a distance, she could see the sigh of relief that went through him, his eyes closed. Not for the first time, she regretted not calling him. Not telling him what had happened. What if Thea had died and she'd known what was happening? Not only would Oliver never forgive her, but she wouldn't forgive herself. Today was a risk from beginning to end.

"When'd you decide to do it?" Lance asked, drawing Felicity's gaze back to him.

"I'm sorry...?"

"You said these copycat Hoods called you, told you to meet them and trade your life for the girls. When'd you decide you were going to take them down instead?"

Her brow knit. "The second I heard his voice on the phone instead of Andi's."

"You didn't for one second think you should call the SCPD? Let us handle it?"

She stared at him. "You were the only one that came to the church. You didn't call in for back up, didn't tell anyone you knew what was happening—"

"And I'm gonna get chewed out for that later," he muttered.

"But, you knew it was the right thing. You knew what the risks were."

He frowned, tipping his head thoughtfully. "You think I don't trust my unit?"

"I think you expected to see The Hood there today. For whatever reason, you trust him to some degree, to help people and do what he can... But, you also know that the rest of your unit doesn't think that. Which means you showed up at the church expecting bodies and still gave him some room to get away."

"You're making a lotta assumptions here, Smoak."

"You know, when my dad sent me off to boarding school, he did everything he could not to be around me. He didn't show up for meetings, he avoided my calls, and he even managed to skip my graduation. But Andi... She was there for all of it. Every day, good and bad. The Hoods wanted to punish me for everything my dad did wrong. Like somehow that would be revenge against him. But, the truth is, my dad couldn't care less about me. Dead or alive." Felicity shook her head. "Andi is my family. Tommy is my family. If they didn't stop with Andi or me, they would've come for my brother, too. So, yes, I made the split-second decision to destroy whatever plan or safety or mission they had, and I'd do it all over again."

Lance hummed, and then nodded, short and quick. "It was brave, Felicity. Stupid, short-sighted, reckless, and dangerous... But, pretty damn brave."

She let out a scoff of a laugh and smiled faintly. "Thanks, I think."

He sat forward in his seat then, grabbed up his pain and pulled some paperwork toward him. "We're done here. You're free to go. If I have any follow up questions, I'll call first."

"Okay. Thank you." She took a step away and then paused. "Oh, uh, tell Laurel I'll drop her things off for her tomorrow."

He half-smiled and nodded. "Will do."

Felicity crossed the police station then. Oliver and Thea were talking in the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears, his hand resting on her shoulder as she nodded along to something he was saying.

"Sibling love at its finest, hey?" Andi joined her, hooking their arms together. "I'm glad you're okay, you know. He said you'd agreed to exchange yourself for us and I about had a fit right then and there."

"I would have," Felicity said, turning to look at her. "If it came down to that. If I couldn't find a way out... I'd trade myself for you in a heartbeat."

Andi let out a sigh and shook her head. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not—"

"You think for one second I'd let you trade your life for mine? Absolutely not!" She squeezed Felicity's arm. "Wherever you go, I go. And that includes whatever higher platform of mental superiority death has in store for us."

Felicity snorted. "That's a positive way of looking at becoming worm food."

Andi grinned. "To which I would be quite delicious, I'm sure."

With a laugh, Felicity turned her arm down and tangled her hand in Andi's. "I don't know what I'd do without my fabulous, irreplaceable, fashion-forward best friend."

"Well then, let's never find out."

"Deal."

"Hey, are you two ready to go?" Thea called out, looking between them. "I need to wash this entire day off."

"Ooh, this is the perfect time for a facial." Pulling Felicity along, she only let go of her when they were just short of Oliver. Then she marched ahead and hooked her arm around Thea's waist. "And I think I promised you a spa day, didn't I?"

"I think you did," Thea agreed, letting herself be towed toward the door.

Felicity shifted her feet and looked toward Oliver, a nervous cluster of butterflies building up in her stomach.

Oliver looked at her and then beyond, to the police station. He reached out, his hand wrapped around her forearm, and pulled her across the hallway.

Her heart hammered in her chest, waiting for him to stay listing all the ways she'd messed this up.

There was something about his face, a grimace or a frown mixed with the knot at his eyebrows that screamed confusion and uncertainty. She wondered if he was trying to figure out if yelling in a police station was the right move or if he should wait for later. She probably deserved it. Yes, she did end up helping in the end, but the risk overall was huge. Phenomenal. Way too much for anybody to overlook. And sure, while it was happening, it had made sense to do things the way she had, now that the fear and adrenaline was wearing off, she was going over all the mistakes she made. The things she didn't account for. All the ways it could have gone terrible, inescapably wrong...

And then Oliver sighed.

Much like with Thea, his body sagged a little, shoulders falling a notch. He reached for her, hands cupping her face, thumbs dragging along the hills of her cheeks, and then—

He was there. Forehead pressed to hers, eyes closed, just breathing. A whoosh of warm air against her lips.

Felicity abruptly realized that her hands were gripping the lapels of his jacket, drawing him closer, until they were nearly chest to chest. She was up on the tips of her toes, biting her lip, focused on the gentle back and forth of his thumbs. It hit her, suddenly, just what had happened. While she'd known, logically, everything she had planned and done, there was another part of her that felt like that was someone else. Like she had seen herself doing it from a distance. But, it was really her setting it all up. Sending Laurel out to meet two potentially murderous kidnappers. Breaking into a church. Electrocuting one man and using an un-regulated science project with enough power behind it that it probably could have done permanent, if not lethal, damage to another perpetrator. Not to mention stealing said prototype from a woman that trusted and admired her enough to show it to her in the first place. And oh god, she took that property off site, after Oliver trusted her to have such open access to his business. What the hell was she thinking? And that wasn't even touching on—

"You could have died today."

Felicity's heart froze in her chest. She moved her hands from the lapels of his jacket around to his sides, fingers stretched beyond to his back. "I own you an apology, Oliver. A huge one. What happened today... After I got that phone call..."

"We can talk about it later." He slid a hand away from her cheek, threading his fingers through her hair and cupping his palm around the nape of her neck. "I just need a second."

"A second to...?"

"To convince myself you're still here."

She swallowed tightly, the tips of her fingers pressing down hard as she pushed her chest forward, flattening her body against his. "We're okay. All of us. I promise."

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb stroking her neck, and then drew back an inch to press a kiss to her forehead. He stayed there for a few seconds, the faint scrape of his stubble tickling her skin, before he pulled back enough to meet her eyes properly. And she knew this look—this open-book with wrinkled pages and smudged ink, read and re-read in the late hours of the night look. This was 'I love you.' The same look he'd been giving her since they were kids. And she didn't mean that in a romantic way. Or at least, she'd never thought it was romantic before. It was just... how he looked at her. With raw, naked emotion clear in his eyes, steady atop the foundation they'd built together all their lives. A love she could always depend on. Friendship and trust and support. Lifelines when either of their worlds were topsy-turvy. Only now there was something else, something ever deeper, swimming around the edges.

"I think I'm ready to go home," he said. "How about you?"

With a groan, she nodded. "I want my best pajamas, a bottle of wine, some mint chip ice cream, and anything to distract my mind. Movie, TV, old footage of Tommy when he was a tow-headed kid, running face first into furniture. Whatever I can find!"

Oliver's mouth turned up in a grin. "I'm sure we can find something." He stepped to the side, his arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his side. "Roy's already picking up food. I think he's trying to thank you for what you did."

"According to Officer Lance, I pulled a risky, dangerous, stupid stunt, but I was brave doing it, so it maybe, kind of balances out a little... I'm not sure."

"It was risky. And in future, I think I'd like to know if you or Thea or anyone close to us is in danger..." He squeezed her side. "I want you to be able to trust me with these things."

"I do trust you." She looked up at him, her brows raised. "'Later' didn't last long... Do you want to talk about this here?"

Oliver licked his lips and shook his head. "No. Not with an audience."

"Okay." She bit her lip. "You'll be okay until later?"

"I'm more worried than angry."

"But, still angry."

He frowned, but admitted, "That I couldn't help more... That I almost lost both of you."

"That I didn't tell you what I was doing."

He tipped his head. "That, too."

Felicity nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Valid reasons to be upset," she said. "If I could do it over, there's some things I would change, but when it was happening... A lot of it was just instinct. They were in trouble and I had to do something. So, I did."

He stared down at her searchingly, a knot forming at his brow. "Felicity... I need to tell you something."

Before she could say anything, the front door of the precinct swung open and Tommy was there. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then started to burn. Seeing her, he let out a sigh of relief, and then crossed the distance between them, his arms out.

Felicity felt a coil of emotion unfurl in her throat as she met him half way, sinking into his hug.

"You're okay." Tommy nodded, holding onto her a little tighter. That was all he said, "You're okay, you're okay."

Felicity sighed and whispered thickly, "I'm sorry." Sorry she risked her life. Sorry she scared him. Sorry that their dad was the root of all of this. She was just so, so sorry.

Oliver watched them, anchored to each other, and was reminded of when they were all kids. Wherever Tommy, there was Felicity, right at his heels. Tommy used to complain sometimes, that she was a shadow he could never get rid of, but he never meant it. He said it, sure, but he was always gloomy when she wasn't around, and heartbroken when she was sent away to London. Oliver didn't think Tommy ever really forgave Malcolm for that. Father or not, he'd shipped away what was left of Tommy's family, and nothing could fill that void. Even from a distance though, they stayed close. Which was why Oliver understood Tommy's reticence when it came to him and Felicity. After everything that happened, with everything he was entangled in, it made sense to keep his distance. The last thing Felicity needed was to get close to The Hood. And yet...

Tommy looked up, his eyes bloodshot and his arms still wound tight around his sister. He stared at Oliver for a beat, and then he mouthed, "Thank you."

Oliver felt his shoulders lighten just a little. He nodded back.

"Hey," Thea's voice called out. "I don't want to rush your reunion, but can you pick this up in the car? I want to go home. I'm allergic to church, kidnapping, and police stations, so it's kind of been a rough day..."

Felicity laughed and stepped back from Tommy, scrubbing at her face. "Me, too." She rubbed Tommy's shoulder and then pushed past him, walking toward Thea. Over her shoulder, she asked, "Coming?"

Oliver stared at her, a little in awe. Today, she'd taken on The Hoods and won. It was dangerous, and he wasn't sure he'd ever really get over the fear he'd felt in knowing that not only was his sister but his... Felicity was also in danger, possibly already dead, but she'd come through. She'd masterminded a crazy plan and in the end, it worked.

As she ducked out the door, he glanced at Tommy, who was already shaking his head.

"I know that look..."

Oliver feigned confusion. "What look?"

"That's your 'I have a plan' face. Equal parts 'terrible' and 'epic.'"

He snorted. "I don't have a face for that."

"Uh..." Tommy knocked the back of his hand against Oliver's chest, his brows hiked. "As someone who was dragged into his fair share of mostly terrible, sometimes epic plans, I'm gonna have to argue that."

Smothering a grin, Oliver shook his head and started for the door. "Which category do you think this one will fall in?"

Tommy followed after him. "I want to say 'terrible,' just to save myself a headache."

"Really?" They stepped outside to find the girls waiting by an idling town car. Felicity smiled up at him and Oliver felt it right down to his toes. "I'm leaning more toward 'epic.'"