Chapter Text
Felicity sits on the couch in Oliver’s office, completely stunned.
She had come in to install some upgrades on her computers in the lair, and ran into a harried Alex Davis right outside of the Queen for Mayor campaign headquarters.
Photos are spread out across the coffee table in front of her, featuring a little boy who looks just like Oliver did when he was that age. Felicity is familiar with that crooked smile; she has a snapshot of Oliver that was taken when he was ten years old hanging on the fridge in the loft. One night when she and Thea both had little too much wine, Thea dragged out one of the Queen family photo albums.
Felicity had asked if she could keep that one.
This boy—William—has Oliver’s bright blue, expressive eyes. Felicity doesn’t need to see the results of a DNA test to know that he’s Oliver’s son.
Oliver’s son.
She’s honestly surprised she never saw this coming. Oliver was an irresponsible hedonist before he stepped on the Gambit that fateful day; that he only has the one child should be what surprises Felicity the most. Once the shock wears off, she’ll probably realize that this day was always inevitable.
She can’t think about that now, though, as she stares at the groups of photos, each set taken on a different date.
In Central City.
One set of pictures has December 15th stamped in bright orange on the bottom righthand corner. Felicity closes her eyes, and thinks back to what happened that morning. She remembers she had a meeting with the CFO to discuss the barely rebounding stock prices, and was wearing her favorite purple dress. Oliver had complimented her on it when he showed up at her office with a hot cup of coffee, and a basket full of her favorite homemade scones. He told her he was going to be out late Christmas shopping, and that he’d left her dinner in the fridge.
The pictures show that Oliver was actually at a park playing catch with William. Oliver smiles as he watches the boy run after a ball that grazed the tip of his glove, and is skittering across the grass.
Early in the morning on January 11th, Felicity poured steaming hot coffee into a travel thermos. She handed it to Oliver after he gave her a soft kiss goodbye and headed out the door on his way to visit a friend for the day in Coast City.
The pictures place him outside a quaint suburban house that day. William is wrapped in layers and tucked against Oliver’s side as they walk up the steps to the front porch, where a woman bundled up in a cozy looking sweater—Samantha—greets William with a wide smile and open arms.
On the night of January 22nd—a rare night off—Oliver was draped across the couch with his head in Felicity’s lap as the two of them watched a movie. Felicity ran her fingertips across the stubble on Oliver’s jawline, down his neck, and laughed when she found a kernel of popcorn beneath his collar.
“Looks like your aim’s getting a little rusty,” she teased.
Oliver laughed. “I spent hours doing speech prep this afternoon, and took a snack break. Looks like I had a little left over.”
The pictures confirm that wasn’t the only movie Oliver saw that day. She picks up a snapshot of Oliver and William standing together in front of a cineplex, the boy completely dwarfed by his father as he purchases their tickets.
This morning, Oliver lingered as he spooned her body against his, sliding his hands over her skin, making her shiver as he pressed soft kisses along the back of her neck. He reluctantly slipped out of bed, telling her he had to spend all day in meetings with constituents, and that Alex would be with him.
Alex, who is sitting right next to her, with his elbows resting on his knees and a worried crinkle between his brows.
Short bolts of panic shoot through Felicity’s veins; she wants to get up and run out the side door, to bend over and rest her palms on her thighs, and learn how to breathe again.
She can’t believe this is happening.
Felicity tamps down the panic. She swallows and closes her eyes, puts her finger on her pulse and counts the steady beats until she calms down. She has to hang on just a little while longer, and then she can fall apart.
A long silence stretches across the room as Felicity’s eyes flit from photo after photo of the love of her life—the man she thought she knew better than anyone on this earth—spending time with a son she didn’t know he had, during trips to Central City that she never knew he took.
Even through her heartbreak she sees that fatherhood looks as good on Oliver as she always imagined it would. The sight of Oliver with his son, the complete joy and happiness etched across his face—a face that has worn far too little of both things—well…it nearly leaves her breathless.
“Felicity?” Alex asks quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
She’s really not. Oliver having a son—god, she can’t wrap her brain around it yet, Oliver has a son—makes her feel nothing but happiness for him. It’s the stack of lies he’s built to keep that relationship from her that are making her nauseous.
This was what he’d been struggling with when they want to Central City going on three months ago.
Three months.
When she and Oliver came home to their apartment in shambles, Felicity told Oliver she wanted to be a good teammate. She never considered that he wasn’t being one himself.
Felicity knows Oliver is capable of telling lies and keeping secrets; she’s seen him do it countless times when he thinks he’s protecting the very small group of people he loves. What baffles her is that secrets and lies are the reasons that group of people has grown smaller over the years, and Felicity isn’t sure why Oliver feels like he needs to protect her from something like this.
She focuses on taking long, deep breaths. She has to hang on just a little while longer…
“Felicity?” Alex’s voice is soft and full of pity, and for the first time in her life, Felicity hates the sound of her own name. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I was going to call Oliver, but I saw you, and it was urgent. I never considered that you didn’t know.”
Felicity sniffles despite herself. “I’m glad I was here,” she replies, giving him a weak smile. She’s not sure when or if Oliver would’ve told her if it had been up to him.
“The person who took these, what did they want?” If they want to harm William or somehow use him against Oliver, then Felicity’s going to need to take care of that, and soon. She’ll need a clear head to do it.
“They wanted what they always want,” Alex replies, with the practiced ease of someone who has dealt with blackmail countless times before. “Money.”
“This person came straight to you?” Felicity asks, confused.
“No. I got to him before he got to Oliver. I have eyes and ears everywhere, it’s kind of a necessary part of the job. I got word that someone was tailing him and planning on releasing these if Oliver didn’t meet his demands.”
“What was his name?”
“Pete McLachlan.”
“He was compiling quite the photo album,” she says, looking at the photos that span a whole three months. “I guess a random visit doesn’t mean much, and there probably wasn’t a paper trail to follow.”
“No paper trail. I checked. And you know, repeated visits make the scandal an easier sell. No one’s going to buy a one-off visit as anything worth buying.”
Felicity raises her brow. “You’ve seen these pictures. No one would need a full spread to be convinced that this is Oliver’s kid.”
“I used a chunk of the discretionary fund to pay Pete off in exchange for these hard copies and a memory card.” He motions to an envelope on the table. “I had a lawyer draw up some papers to make sure that these never get out. He signed them. I don’t know if he’s dumb enough to test me, but I thought it’d be good to be aware in case we need to get ahead of anything.”
After Felicity flexes her hacking muscles, there’s no way Mr. McLachlan will be dumb enough to release any of these pictures, or breathe a word about what they show. With shaking hands, she reaches for her tablet. There’s something else she needs to take care of first.
She clicks on the program that she uses to keep track of media postings about Oliver, and adds two more names to her list for alerts: Samantha and William Clayton. After considering it for a second, she decides to add a third: William Queen.
She stares at the name for what feels like an eternity.
“I’ll get an alert the second I get a hit on their names. I’ll make sure you get one too, so you can be prepared to do damage control.”
“I appreciate that,” Alex replies, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Oliver probably never thought of this, but-”
“If it was easy for one person to tail him, it’ll be easy for others. I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Okay. Good.” Alex looks around awkwardly.
“Is it okay if I keep these?” Felicity asks, as she points at the photos.
“Of course.” Alex of all people probably knows the value of having photographic evidence when you catch a politician in a lie.
“Thanks,” Felicity replies as she stands and gathers the photos and memory card. “I’d appreciate it if you let me talk to Oliver about this before you do.”
“Absolutely. You’re my client.”
Yeah, she thinks, sadly. She is.
“I’ll have him call you later.”
“Okay. Do you need me to drive you home?”
Felicity shakes her head. “No, I’ll be all right.”
And she is, until she gets to the loft.
She barely manages to close the door behind her before she starts crying.