Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Felicity?”

“Absolutely.”

“I know you’re disappointed about the implant, but it’s experimental. Just because it hasn’t worked yet, doesn’t mean it won’t ever. In the meantime-”

“In the meantime, I want to focus on my reality instead of waiting around for magic.”

“Curtis would call it science.”

Felicity smiles up at her friend’s husband, the man who has led her rehab team since her release from Starling City General. “I know he would.”

“But sometimes, when it’s your own life, you’ve got to manage expectations.”

Rather than agreeing, she gestures to his face. “Nope, don’t look at me like that, Paul. I saw that flash of pity in your eyes. You know I like you best when you’re yelling at me like an angry middle school P.E. teacher.”

“That is not what you were saying two hours ago, Ms. Smoak.” Paul surveys the parking garage and gives Felicity a slightly suspicious look.

“What?”

“Where is he?”

Felicity adjust so she sits a little straighter in her wheelchair and starts studying her bright teal nails with what she hopes translates into nonchalance. “Who?”

Paul rolls his eyes. “Mr. Hot, Growly and Overprotective. Where is he? Or at least one member of your Entourage of Beautiful People. No way they’re all missing this.”

Felicity gives up and grins. “Just me today. Everyone else occupied.” Or, you know, on a flight to Nanda Parbat in hopes of learning more about Damien Darhk’s history with the League of Assassins and the reason why Thea’s pit madness screws with his magic...but that’s not therapy talk. At least not physical therapy. The whole team could probably use some therapy therapy, but that’s a thought for another day.

“Felicity Smoak, does Mr. HGO know what you’re planning to do today while everyone is occupied?”

Felicity’s grin widens. “I want it to be a surprise. Besides, you just said I’m ready. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Fine,” Paul walks her over to the brand new, cherry-red mini van. “But when he storms in here on Monday, demanding to know what the hell I was thinking-” he holds up a hand to cut off Felicity’s protest. “Which we both know he’ll do. Do not think I’m letting you throw me under this particular bus. This is all on you.”

“Come on, Paul.” Felicity uses the lift and gets herself locked into place at the steering wheel. “You know deep down, he’s just as afraid of you as I am.”

“Uh-huh, well just remember that Monday is underwater treadmill day, so if your fiancee takes his anger out on me, you’ll be the one to pay.” He watches Felicity get oriented to the hand controls, notices the flash of nervousness in her eyes. “Stop doubting yourself,” he barks. He’s proud when he sees his favorite patient wage war with insecurity and win, just as she’s done time and time again over the last few months. “Safe driving,” he says as he slams the car door.

She’s doing it. She’s driving again. That means she’s one step closer to independence, to getting her life back to as close as before as possible. She’s one step closer to no longer being sidelined at both her day and night jobs. Rehabilitation has become her only job and yes, everyone's right to to insist that’s all she focus on right now. She wants to regain as much movement as possible. To walk again, she thinks firmly. Everyone’s been great, encouraging, helpful...but they’ve all also had to go on with their lives. Sure, the brakes got slammed on hers, but Palmer Tech still has to run, and Team Arrow still has to fight the bad guys. And so they have. Without her. She won’t say anything to the friends and colleagues who’ve been so good about it all and who’ve been watching her so closely for any sign of anything less than absolute optimism, but it’s killing her. All the other stuff, having to relearn how to navigate the world, the sometimes excruciating rehabilitation, the thousand tiny humiliations that have accompanied her injury- she can deal with them all. But the thought that she might be losing her purpose? It’s crushing her.

Felicity’s not one to just let herself be crushed, though. She is a woman of action. So she’s been doing what she’s always done when it comes to reaching the near-impossible goals she tends to set for herself. She’s put her head down and worked fucking hard. The only way out is through, right? And here she is, driving herself home, long before anyone would’ve thought possible. Home, to a blessedly empty loft. As much as she loves her friends (and her mother), she was starting to fear they might never leave her alone again (especially her mother). So she’ll try not to focus on the fact that she’s getting a little Felicity time because her people (except for her mother, who finally got a plane to Vegas two weeks ago) are off to the place Felicity hates most in the world to see a man who definitely ranks in the top 5 of people she hates most in the world (there’s a little competition these days- thanks for the spinal cord injury, Damien Darhk). Or the fact that they’re going without her, and that Curtis (who is supposed to be her person) is the one they’re turning to for tech support. She’ll get there. No way out but through.

She will most definitely not spend time mourning the loss of her Mini, which she loved with all of her heart and soul. And will not at all be upset that she has had to replace it with a minivan. Nope. Not bitter. Not Felicity.

“It was way past time to get rid of the Mini anyway,” Oliver had said. “It was weird how you just kept driving it around, even with the blood stains.”

“The blood stains that you put there. Plus, your former billionaire is showing. The rest of us don’t run around dumping perfectly good cars just because someone nearly bled out in the back seat.”

Oliver had wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “A minivan is a good family car. It’s a practical choice.”

If he’d said something like that to her before the accident, she would’ve choked at the implications, but that night she was flooded with so much relief it left her shaking. He was still imagining a future with her, a family with her. Despite his reassurances in the hospital, sometimes doubt still snuck in, especially after Curtis’s implant hadn’t been the deus ex machina she’d hoped it would be. She hadn’t corrected him when he’d gotten her a blanket because he mistook her shivers for a sign that she was cold.

There’s a lot Felicity isn’t saying these days. But she’s getting there.

In the end, Felicity gets just over 48 hours of relative peace. The first night in the loft is pure heaven. She hasn’t been alone overnight since the shooting. She orders in some pad thai, puts on her softest, most outlandish pajamas and snuggles into the bed they’ve moved downstairs with her tablet, Netflix and the latest season of Jessica Jones. Right now, she needs some fictional villains in her life. She’s had enough of the real ones. Of course, she notices that they’ve hidden all but her most mundane tech. Maybe “hidden” is a bit unfair. They’ve taken it to Curtis. For safe keeping, they said. As if she isn’t well aware that they’re trying to keep her from getting up to anything exciting. They’d say stressful. She’d disagree. But she’ll watch Netflix and let Oliver and Co. win this one, because she’ll never forget the wild fear in his eyes in the days before she was moved from the hospital to the rehab center. She could tell he was on the verge of losing it- a suspicion that was later confirmed by Dig when he confessed just how far off the edge Oliver had gone during that time. Felicity knows that feeling. She remembers that same time last year, the same mix of fear, devastation and utterly helpless rage she felt when Oliver went to meet Ra’s Al Ghul and then didn’t come back. So, despite her rush to get back to normal, she cuts him a little slack on this one and agrees to stick to Netflix.

On other issues, she’s not so willing to compromise. Like selling this loft. Nope, not happening. Oliver had wanted to get rid of it before she was even released from inpatient rehab, find something with just one level, something more wheelchair-ready. That had been their first big argument AI (after injury). Oliver had reasoned and pleaded and even cried, but eventually Felicity won the day. It’s still a sore point for him, she can see it any time he looks at the stairs, like their mere existence is an insult to her. What he doesn’t understand, and what she won’t tell him for fear of seeing pity in his eyes, is that she still plans to go up those stairs again. She plans to stand on her own two feet and lean against the railing of that balcony and talk about her day with him again. She knows what the doctors have said, and she knows that the failure of Curtis’s longshot means her plans fall slightly out of the “best case scenario” realm and into “effing miracle” world, but Felicity has always set the curve, and she plans to do it again.

She ignores the small whisper in her head that reminds her that they’re only even in this loft as a matter of convenience and that it’s really Thea’s and that modern industrial isn’t actually her favorite aesthetic. None of that matters. All that matters is that this has been her place and no one is taking it from her just because she’s now living AI.

Her mom calls just as Felicity is dozing off and characteristically freaks out when she’s told no, she can’t speak to Oliver because Oliver is actually out of town and is unreachable by cell. Donna threatens to buy a plane ticket, but settles for having Quentin Lance call for reassurance that Felicity is in fact okay and capable of spending the night on her own. It then takes two more hours for Felicity to fall asleep because she can’t stop worrying about the fact that Lance and her mother are still together, which has to be some sort of record for Donna Smoak. What if this isn’t just the fling Oliver insists it is? As disgusting as the thought of her mother having a fling with anyone is, it’s something Felicity can handle. Living in shitty apartments with paper-thin walls forced her to reconcile herself to her mother’s sex life early on. The idea that it could be more, though? Just, no. That would make Laurel and Sara her stepsisters. She loves both of the other women, but they’ve all decided that this is the relationship that must not be named, not least of all because it going too far would mean that her fiance had slept with both of her stepsisters. Even worse is the possibility that her mother would move to Star City. Felicity groans. She needs to get ahead of this, maybe talk to Lance about all the crime solving he could do in Las Vegas.

Anyway, these thoughts are enough to keep anyone up at night.

She takes her time getting up on Saturday, lingers over her coffee, and drives herself to the grocery store like a badass. Or, you know, like her normal self BI (before injury). So she’s lowered the bar on badass a little? So what?

She’s wheeling herself out of the elevator with her groceries (mostly ice cream and several different varieties of chips and salsa, because without Oliver she immediately regresses to her old ways) when she hears a little belly laugh down the hall in the direction of her door. She knows that laugh, so she’s not surprised when she turns the corner to find Lyla and a little, laughing Sara Diggle waiting for her.

Lyla smiles sheepishly and waves. “You didn’t really think they were going to let you be alone for more than a day, right?”

Felicity holds up a bag full of pints of ice cream in response. “I got your favorite- cookies n’ cream.” Her life AI has been full of Lyla and Sara Diggle, and Felicity counts this as the one good thing that’s come out of her current situation.

Over ice cream (and steamed carrots for Sara because she’s still little and has a chance of developing good eating habits), Lyla updates Felicity on the team’s status. Someday, Felicity knows, the other woman will run out of favors to call in from ARGUS contacts, but that day doesn’t seem to be approaching any time soon. For now, Felicity appreciates the way Lyla offers up the information immediately and without having to be asked, knowing that Felicity might pretend to be unfazed about the trip to Nanda Parbat, might even be legitimately happy to have a little space, but that she will never be completely at ease with Oliver being anywhere in the vicinity of the Hindu Kush.

After assuring her that everyone arrived safely and that no one is dead yet, Lyla says, “Dig didn’t mention that you were driving.”

“It’s kind of a new development.”

“That’s got to feel good.”

“It really does.”

Then Lyla simply moves on, puts Sara down for a nap, and asks Felicity what they’re watching. This is why she’s starting to think of Lyla as her best friend. Turns out Lyla knows a lot about being sidelined and even more about just being normal. Sometimes Felicity feels like Lyla’s the only person who just lets her be, who doesn’t demand a show- Look how absolutely fine I am with having my world shattered around me, look how cool I am with being in a wheelchair, look how fracking half full my glass is! Felicity makes herself stop. Those thoughts aren’t helpful and they’re definitely not fair. She balances on a slippery slope, knowing that there’s no right way for people to act around her, that she could find fault with anything, because the truth is, she has her own rage. And unlike Oliver, she hasn’t really had the chance to find an outlet for it.

Lila comes over with another update the next day- everyone’s still alive, no one’s been imprisoned in a dungeon- and then they finish off the rest of the ice cream. When she leaves, she promises to bring more the next day, and everything is what passes for fine in Felicity’s world right now.

It’s 1:17 AM when it all falls apart again. The pounding on the door jolts her awake and leaves her heart racing. She fumbles for the phone on the table by her bed and can breathe a little once she sees that no one has been texting or trying to reach her. Maybe whoever it is has the wrong door?

“Oliver! Oliver, open up right now! Now!”

The panicked female voice accompanying the knocking steals away the little hope she has that whatever is going to hell on the other side of the door is meant for someone other than her. The woman’s screams are getting louder, and Felicity is sure someone’s going to call the police.

“Just a minute! I’m coming!” She calls, then beats her head on the pillow a couple of times, because this isn’t going to be easy. It’s not going to be just a minute. She’s got to get herself from her bed to her chair, and getting up in the middle of the night is just one more thing that’s about twenty times harder now than it used to be. The pounding and yelling doesn’t stop and Felicity doesn’t even try to make herself more presentable as she goes to open the door.

She doesn’t know what she expected to find on the other side, but it’s definitely not the pretty brunette stranger with a tear streaked face who pushes past her and barks “Where is Oliver? Where is he?”

Felicity goes ice cold. Whatever this is, whatever is about to happen, she doesn’t want any part of it. She knows that much for sure.

No way out but through.

“What?” The woman asks, and Felicity realizes she’d said that last part aloud.

“Oliver is out of town. Can I help you?”

“Can you call him? He won’t answer my calls.” The woman was pacing and her voice was growing increasingly shrill with every word.

Felicity tries to push away all of her questions about who this woman is and how she knows Oliver and why she needs him so badly. She tries to see the obviously desperate woman before her as someone who needs her help. “He’s unreachable right now, but maybe I can help you? Miss….”

The woman stops pacing and really looks at Felicity for the first time. Felicity can feel her taking in the wheelchair, sees the mixture of wariness and pity that fills her eyes. She wonders if there’s any bracing herself for what she’s about to hear.

“You...you must be Felicity. Oliver says you’re great,” the woman’s voice cracks and she dissolves once again into tears. “He says you’re really wonderful.”

“I’m sorry. I’m at a disadvantage here. You seem to know all about me, but I have no idea who you are.” And she doesn’t want to know. Felicity is so sure she doesn’t want to know.

“It’s my fault.” The woman crumbles onto the sofa and buries her head in her hands. “But don’t you see, this is why! This is exactly why no one could know! I told Oliver, I warned him, and now look at what’s happened. Look, at....my baby...he’s gone. He’s gone, and it is Oliver’s fault.”

“I...you’re not making any sense...look, I’m going to call the police, okay? I’ll get someone who can help.”

“No!” The woman’s hand flies out to still Felicity’s chair. “You can’t. Look, God this isn’t how this should be happening. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for this, but my name is Samantha and Oliver and I have a son. His name is William, and he’s eight-years-old, and they took him. That man, Damien Darhk, the one who shot you, who Oliver has been antagonizing, he took my little boy.” The woman’s voice cracks, and Felicity’s world races right off its axis. “You have to help me. Okay, Felicity? You have to get Oliver back here, and we have to get my William back.”

Chapter Text

Oliver had known that coming to Nanda Parbat was a bad idea. Nothing good ever came from anyone’s visit to this godforsaken place, but he had been desperate. He had needed some information, anything to give him an edge on Darhk because as things stand right now, he’s fucked. All they’ve got is Thea and her apparent ability to repel Darhk’s magic, but they don’t know how it works, don’t understand its limits, and there is no chance in hell that Oliver is going to risk his sister’s life on so little information.

Oliver throws back the sheets on his bed in the cell-like room and starts pacing the cold floor. He drops and does some push-ups, trying to push away memories of the last time he was in a room like this. It doesn’t work and those memories mix with flashes of Felicity bleeding in the street, flatlining on a gurney, fighting back tears when they brought in her new wheelchair. Darhk did that. He did that to her, and Oliver hasn’t been able to do a fucking thing about it, and it is killing him. He watches the way Felicity, his Felicity, fights to make everything okay for everyone around her while she is the one sorting through the ruins Darhk made of her life. He sees how when he walks into the rehab center, she plasters a smile over the pain that shows all over her face. And Oliver knows that if it weren’t for him...Felicity won’t let him say it, will snap at him if she even catches him thinking it, but Oliver knows and he is fraying at the edges. Stopping Damien Darhk is his only play.

So here he is in this fucking place he’d promised himself he’d never have to see again, and all it’s doing is making clear just how frayed everyone else is too. Diggle has barely spoken to him since they arrived and Oliver sees the way his jaw clenches in Malcolm’s presence. It’s reopening old wounds, and Oliver knows that loyalty to Felicity and a desire to finish Darhk that mirrors Oliver’s own is all that’s keeping him here. Laurel looks like a zombie, and Thea’s anger burns red hot in this place. They aren’t allowed to see Nyssa, and Malcolm has been...uncooperative. Oliver can’t tell if the man truly doesn’t have the information he needs or if he’s holding back, and he’s pissed that he’s back in this place of needing to depend on Malcolm. He doesn’t have time for his games. He’s been here two days, and he wants Malcolm to talk so he can go home. He needs to go home. He needs to be back with Felicity. Whatever deal Malcolm wants to make, Oliver is ready to settle.

He’s just standing to go tell him so when a knock echos through the room. Dig doesn’t wait for permission to come in.

“We have to go home, Oliver. Now.”

“Did you get a message from Lyla? Is it Felicity?” Oliver can hear his voice rise in panic, but can’t do anything to control it. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, man. All it said was that we have to come home. Plane leaves in thirty.”

The flight back to the Star City is excruciating. Oliver can’t stay in his seat, and he can’t stop himself from asking Dig the same questions over and over.

“But how did she sound? Did she say it was Felicity?”

Dig doesn’t snap at him, just looks at him with pity and gives him the same answers he’s been giving for hours. “It was just a message, man. I didn’t get to talk to her. She just said to come home.” He motions for Oliver to sit down. “Look, I promise Lyla and I will have a talk about the downfalls of vague messages when we get back, okay?”

His friend’s attempt to lighten the mood falls flat, because, yeah, they are sure as hell going to have a talk about this when they get back. Oliver wants to be furious with Lyla, but there’s no room in head. It’s too full of Felicity, of what might have happened to her- a fall, an infection, Darhk returning to finish what he started, there are too many possibilities and Oliver is going to be sick. He is actually heaving, and he barely makes it to the tiny bathroom on the Palmer Technologies jet. He finishes and rinses out his mouth, splashing water on his face, but he can’t stay upright. His knees give out, and he’s scrunched up on the floor against the toilet.

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

It’s his refrain from the limo, the street, the hospital.

Please.

He wills the universe, whatever gods are listening, anyone. He’ll never leave her again.

Please.

“Ollie? Are you okay in there? Open up.”

He stands to face his sister, trying to look more pulled together than he feels. He knows from the way Thea flinches when he opens the door that he’s failed on that front. She pulls him out and onto one of the chairs. She pulls up the leather armrest and curls into him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders the way she used to do when they were younger and were watching a movie alone at night while their parents were away at one of their endless function. She tucks her head under his chin and whispers, “Lyla said come home. Not, ‘Go to the hospital,’ or ‘Meet me at the morgue.’” Oliver chokes at that last line, and Thea smiles up at him apologetically. “Too far? Sorry, big brother. But you know what I mean. If Felicity were hurt, she would’ve said. She would’ve.”

Oliver nods, takes a few breaths and tries not to hate how his voice waivers when he asks, “But what is it?”

“Maybe Felicity snapped and turned on that crazy little physical therapist. Maybe Lyla needs you there to calm her down or bail her out,” Laurel says from across from them. Oliver hadn’t even noticed her coming over to sit with them.

Despite himself, Oliver grins. “Felicity likes Paul.”

Laurel crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “It’s a love/hate relationship at best.”

“The point is, man,” Dig adds, “whatever it is, we’re going to deal with it. We can’t do anything now, but we’ll be home soon, and we’ll take care of it. Together.”

“And it’s not like we’ve lost anything by cutting our little spa trip short. My father was never going to help us.”

Laurel squeezes Thea’s shoulder. “And we’ll figure that out too. We’ll take care of Felicity, and we’ll get rid of Darhk. We’ll find another way.”

Night is falling when they touch down in Star City. Oliver and Dig had tried calling both Lyla and Felicity from the air several times, but never got a response. Oliver tries again before the plane finishes taxiing the runway. When he hears Felicity’s stilted “Oliver?”, his knees nearly fail him again.

The team, each of whom had been grabbing their bags and preparing to exit the plane, stills when they realize he’s got her on the line.

“Felicity, we just landed. What’s going on. Are you okay?”

There’s a pause, and Oliver dies a million times in the space of it.

“You need to get home now.”

He’s listening intently for signs of distress, clues that someone is there and preventing her from talking, a hint of pain, but if anything, Felicity sounds...cold. His blood turns to ice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not hurt. Just, Oliver...hurry.”

Oliver stares at the phone in his hand after she hangs up, feeling everyone else’s eyes on him.

“Ollie?”

“Something’s...Felicity, she didn’t sound right.”

“Is she hurt?” Dig’s voice tightens and his fists clench.

“No, I don’t think so. We have to go. Now.”

They go straight to the loft. Oliver pauses at the door, fumbles over his keys. It’s not like him, this uncertainty. It’s just that the idea of what’s behind that door scares him. He can admit that. Your life can only fall apart so many time before the idea of what’s around any given corner becomes a constant source of dread. He’s still worrying his keys when the door yanks open to reveal Lyla, with baby Sara on her hip. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days, and he swears he sees pure disgust when her eyes meet his.

He’s himself again, and he doesn’t care to take the time to figure out what Lyla might have against him. He has to see Felicity. He’s calling her name as he weaves around Lyla and the baby to enter the apartment. He finds her immediately, in her chair with Curtis at her side, both hunched over laptops that had been taken out of the apartment to keep Felicity from getting into too much trouble during her recovery. His eyes sweep over her, looking for places where she hurts. Her hair is wild and their are dark circles under her eyes. She looks thinner, but that can’t be possible, it’s only been a handful of days. He waits for her to look up at him, to smile and let him know that everything is okay, but it never happens. Instead, she cuts her eyes to the couch, and like always, he follows where she leads him.

And his world tips a little further off its axis. Because of all the trouble he expected to find, this was a possibility he hadn’t imagined.

“Samantha?” The brunette raises her tear-streaked face to his. There are lines across her cheeks like she fell asleep on the throw pillows on the couch, her hair is matted, her clothes are wrinkled. And Oliver just cannot process this. Because this scene? Means that everything is wrong.

“Where’s WIlliam?” He whispers. Samantha sobs and launches herself at him, and everyone else takes sides. Dig, Laurel and Thea step back from him, all questions, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Curtis, Lyla, and by default, baby Sara, huddle around Felicity.

Like they’re protecting her.

From him.

And that’s when Felicity finally meets his eyes, and he sees everything swirling in them- pain, confusion, fury...but first and foremost, the steely determination he’s learned to never doubt. “He’s been taken. But we’re going to get him back.”

To Oliver, it feels like everything that comes next happens both all at once and in slow motion. They all take in the news that Oliver has a son. A son he’d kept a secret from them all, but there’s not really time for anyone to react, because his son is missing, and nothing else can matter. There will be hell to pay later, Oliver knows, but it’s going to have to wait.

Dig starts talking about the FBI, the local police and ARGUS contacts, which sends Samantha flying out of Oliver’s arms to shriek at John.

“No police! They’re working with him, they won’t help.”

Oliver is trying to catch up, but it’s not until Felicity quietly says, “Samantha believes Darhk is the one who took William,” that he fully understands.

“It’s him. I woke up in the middle of the night to check on him, like I always do, and he was gone, Oliver. He was just gone, right from his bed. And I knew. He couldn’t get to you through her,” she gestures toward Felicity, “so he came after my son. Oliver. This is why. This why I wanted you away from us.” She’s pounding on his chest now, and Oliver just takes it. All of it.

“I’ve spoken to Lance, and he’s started searching quietly. Barry and friends are tearing Central City apart, Lyla has called in yet another favor, and Curtis and I are running every possible search. Wherever he is, whoever has him, we’ll find him.” Felicity’s voice is frighteningly calm, and Oliver can’t take any comfort in it.

“But none of it has worked yet! Oliver, what are you going to do? You have to get him back. He is my entire world, and I trusted you. What are you going to do?” Samantha is all frantic motion and desperation.

Oliver needs his bow. He will find Darhk this time. He will get his son, and he will end this.

“I told her you’re the Green Arrow.” Oliver whirls around to stare open-mouthed at Felicity who just shrugs in response.

“It seemed relevant.”

“It is relevant, Oliver,” Samantha jumps in. “Extremely relevant. You’re the Star City vigilante, and you didn’t think this was something that should’ve come up when you showed up at my door wanting to play a part in my son’s life?”

“Our son’s-”

“Yes, fine, our son, who as we speak is being held by a madman who wants to get revenge on a father William doesn’t even know exists. You brought this into our lives, Oliver. You brought this into William’s life.” Samantha sobs. “God, I should’ve trusted my instincts on this.”

Her words hit their mark. The biggest danger to the people he loves is Oliver himself. He can’t defend himself to Samantha, and he’s surprised when Felicity speaks up.

“Perhaps he who has not been holding onto giant bombshell secrets should cast the first stone. Besides, William doesn’t need us blaming each other right now, and if you won’t involve the police, then it’s a good thing Oliver is the Green Arrow. There’s a whole team of us, Samantha,” Felicity comes over to rub circles on the other woman’s back, and Oliver knows with certainty that he doesn’t deserve her. “And we’re going to find your little boy.”

Felicity is looking at him when he says this, and he clings to her promise, to her strength. And then he’s barking orders, because they have wasted enough time. He needs to get his son back. He needs to kill Damien Darhk, and he cannot fail this time. No one else will pay for Oliver’s failures.

His team, though the shock at his secret is written all over each of their faces, falls into place. They go where Oliver sends them without hesitation, and he will never be able to be thankful enough.

“I’m going with you,” Samantha is following him,

“You’re not,” he answers in a voice he wishes weren’t so harsh. “I can’t find William and keep you safe. Stay here. Felicity will keep you updated and Lyla will make sure nothing happens to you. You have trust me, Samantha. Just this once.” The answering look in her eye says she will never trust him, but she takes a seat next to Lyla.

“Oliver, Oliver wait.” Felicity takes him aside just as he’s leaving the loft. “What are you going to do?”

“Find Darkh.”

“Look-”

But he can’t do this right now. “Felicity, I know we have to talk, and I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am about...all of this, but it can’t be now, okay? I have to go.”

“Wait, listen.” There’s a urgency to her voice he can’t ignore, even though he is practically vibrating with the need to get out there, to do something. “What I was going to say is that we have no real proof that Darhk is behind this.” She must see the skepticism in his eyes. “We don’t. Samantha came over here certain that it’s him, but she didn’t even call the police.” He starts to interrupt, but she pulls on his shirt to make her face him. “Who else knows about William being yours?”

“No one.” But that’s not entirely true. “Barry.”

He watches her collapse in on herself, and he wants die. He has fucked up so bad, but she looks up at the ceiling and blinks a few times, puts herself back together. “He’s the only one?”

“Yes.”

“Then, Oliver, how would Darhk even know? Did you run a paternity test, is there a record somewhere?” He shakes his head and she continues. “If it were Darhk, don’t you think he’d be throwing it in your face? I mean, come on, obviously he loves the drama.” She takes a deep breath. “Look, how well do you know Samantha?”

And no, no way. “Are you implying that she-”

“No, Oliver, what I’m saying is, maybe this has nothing to do with you or Darhk. Maybe we should at least explore other possibilities before-”

“There’s no time, Felicity. It’s been too long already. You want to explore possibilities, fine. Do that. But I’m going to actually find my son.”

This time he doesn’t look back to see how he crushed her.

Chapter Text

Shoulders slumped, Felicity stares at the door Oliver just slammed shut. She bites down on her lip to keep it from trembling. Barry. Oliver. She grips the armrests on her chair, trying to steady herself. Barry. Oliver. They’re liars. They both lied to her, when she thought she could be sure of them. Her face is on fire with hurt and humiliation. She’s done a good job of compartmentalizing since Samantha arrived, but now she feels the weight of all the things that have gone wrong in the past few months pressing down on her. She wonders if she might actually stop breathing. Hysteria is bubbling up in her chest, but she can hear Lyla and Samantha talking on her couch and little Sara playing with robot puppy Felicity asked Curtis to build just for her.

Baby Sara. William was a baby once too. At eight, he’s still a baby, really. He’s in trouble, and Felicity is not going stand here...okay, sit here...and fall apart while someone’s baby, Oliver’s baby, is in danger. She straightens her shoulders and forces herself to think of one good thing. He didn’t say John. Dig didn’t know. He didn’t lie to me. It would have to be enough. She forces a smile on her face, because she hasn’t cried once AI, and she isn’t going to start now. This isn’t about her, it’s about William.

She goes to the computer station Curtis set-up in the living room. He went with the team to run coms, and for once Felicity is happy to be replaced. She can’t do what she needs to do with Oliver’s voice in her head. She checks in on the searches she’d started last night and gets to work expanding her parameters. Oliver is certain William is in Star City with Darhk, but Felicity isn’t. Barry, she tries not to cringe thinking of him, hasn’t found any sign of him in Central CIty, and he’s now been missing for close to 24 hours. Too long. Too long for a little boy to be away from the people who love him.

“What is all that?”

Felicity hadn’t noticed Samantha come up behind her. Lyla is having a hushed conversation on the phone with someone Felicity assumes is one of her contacts, or maybe she’s getting an update from John. Felicity turns to the woman crouching behind her, taking in her wild eyes, the way she’s biting her nails down past the quick. She feels a flash of guilt for any time she’s spent wondering about what this means for her own life.

“Facial recognition software. I’m using programs from several different agencies, plus one I custom-developed to search for any sign of William or Darhk.”

“But nothing yet?’

“No, Samantha. Nothing yet.”

“But you’re doing everything you can, right?”

“Of course.”

“Because I know you’re angry, and I know you probably want to kill Oliver and me, but William is just a little boy-”

Lyla puts her hand over her phone and moves towards the other two women, eyeing them warily. Does she think they’re going to argue? Does everyone think Felicity is so bitter that she would try to attack a woman whose son has been kidnapped?

“Samantha,” Felicity breaks in calmly, “I’m doing everything I can. I will keep doing everything I can. I promise.” She really does feel for this woman. Her child is missing, presumably with a sociopath (though Felicity still has her doubts about Darhk), and here she is surrounded by strangers, having to trust them with her whole world. Felicity reaches over to take Samantha’s hand, rubs her thumb across her knuckles. She looks the other woman in the eyes and says, “I’m...yeah, I’m pretty pissed at Oliver. Maybe more hurt, or...just embarrassed because, I mean, wow, it seems like something I should’ve seen coming-” She’s rambling and she can tell it’s just upsetting Samantha more when she really is trying to reassure her. She takes a deep breath and counts to five in her head. “Look, I’m just saying that I get why you might have your doubts about me. You don’t know me. But you shouldn’t, because all those feelings, I’m putting them off until later, until William is back with you where he belongs. Safe and sound, okay? If the internet can help us find WIlliam, I will figure out how.”

“She’s a genius,” Lyla adds. “The internet is her bitch.”

“More like my beloved partner, but you’ve got the general idea. I will do anything in my power. And Oliver? Samantha, here’s the one thing I know for sure, Oliver does not leave the people he loves behind.” Felicity closes her eyes and grounds herself in this truth. No matter how badly her trust in Oliver Queen has been shaken, she has no doubt about this. “He won’t rest, and neither will any of us, until William is home.”

There’s a pause, but Samantha eventually squeezes Felicity’s hand. “Safe and sound?”

“You can count on it. You can count on us.”

“Felicity, how do you do this?”

She has Curtis pulled up on video stream from the lair. “Curtis-”

“No, I mean it. These people are impossible. They’re running all over the place, repelling off rooftops, NOT listening to me when I warn them, or ask them to report in. Your boy has gone completely off script, and-”

“Curtis! You need to take a breath. You kind of have a crazy-eyed thing happening here, and your hair is all...smushed.” She sees him pull at his curls. “Yeah, it’s not good. I’m starting to worry about you. Do you need a break? There’s a bed in the lair, okay? If you want to get some sleep, I can remote in, and-”

“Do YOU need a break? I mean, you’ve been doing at this longer than me, and with it being your fiancee's secret kid…” Felicity pulls a face, and Curtis must notice because he trails off. “Sorry. I’m just, sorry. No, I don’t need a break. I’m just wondering how you’ve been doing it all these years with these...I mean, I’m having a hard time thinking up a word other than lunatics to describe them right now. Maybe heroic lunatics, but you have to admit that they do some pretty insane shit. I guess all I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry for all those times I secretly judged you for getting to the office at 8:10 instead of 8:00 on the nose. I really, really didn’t understand what you were dealing with all night long.”

“Curtis?”

“Yes?”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to take over over there?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then. I’ll keep getting you and the team the locations on the ghosts, but nothing we’re doing seems to be drawing Darhk out. Still no hit on William in any of my facial recognition searches, but I’ll let you know if anything changes on that front, or if any of my attempts to hack into H.I.V.E’s systems yield anything about other possible locations on Darhk.”

“Yes, okay.”

“And Curtis, you have to be stern with them. Raise your voice if you need to. You’re their eyes, and let’s be honest, their brains...not that they are stupid, because they’re not, but comparatively….Okay, that’s an example of what not to do. What I mean is, be confident, be forceful. They need you. And so does William.”

“Okay.” Curtis nods. “Be confident. Good talk, boss.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Felicity gives him one last smile as she signs off, then takes a moment to roll her shoulders and stretch her neck.

“You really should take that break.”

Felicity startles at the sound of Lyla’s voice. “Do you all take secret classes on how to sneak up on people? Is that part of the ARGUS training program?”

“It’s a gift.” Lyla hands her a steaming mug, which Felicity accepts eagerly. She growls when she realizes it’s tea and not coffee, but Lyla is unaffected. “Do you know what is part of the ARGUS training curriculum? The physical and mental effects of various amounts of sleep deprivation.” She checks her watch. “By my count you’ve been awake now for 29 hours. Do you want me to tell you what’s happening to your brain functioning?”

“No?” Felicity answers hopefully.

“Sara will be asleep for a few more hours still, and I’ve had a solid four hours, which is enough in an emergency. I snuck Samantha two of your muscle relaxers,” she flashes Felicity a sheepish grin, “so she’s finally out. That leaves you.”

“Glad I didn’t drink the tea, since you’re running around drugging everyone.”

“Felicity,” Lyla is using her best mom voice. Although, maybe it’s her wife voice, since it seems like she’s usually using it on Dig, not Sara. “Hand over the computers. I’m not Johnny or Oliver or Thea. I can manage this stuff while you get a couple of hours of sleep.”

“Is John sleeping? Is Oliver?”

“You know the answer to that, and you also know that they are not the role models you need right now.”

But Felicity can hear the resignation in the other woman’s voice. She knows there’s no way Felicity will sleep while they are still out there. While William is still out there. “I know my breaking point, and I’m not there yet. And, you know, if this tea were to magically turn into an espresso from the super fancy machine Oliver gave me as an early Christmakkuh gift, you know before I was almost killed, well, that would help push off point break even a little further.” Felicity smiles as Lyla takes her cup with a huff. “And don’t even think about dissolving muscle relaxers in there! They don’t make me sleepy, they just give me delusions of grandeur. The doctor actually made me stop taking them once I started outlining a plan to run for President. In my defense, though, given our current candidates, I don’t see how that makes me a megalomaniac. Really, it’s the age requirement in the Constitution that’s the biggest barrier-” Lyla puts an espresso in front of her, Felicity smiles sweetly. “Thank you.”

“Have you spoken to Oliver?”

Felicity turns back to her monitors and takes a slow sip of her espresso. “Curtis is keeping me updated.”

“Johnny says he’s like he was before.”

“Before?” She doesn’t dare look the other woman in the face.

“Before. When you were in the hospital. He’s...not holding back.”

Felicity takes a few deep breaths in and out. Those first couple of weeks, during all the surgeries, are mostly a blur in her mind. She was on so many meds. She remembers that Oliver wasn’t there. She hadn’t blamed him, but she had worried about him. She worries about him now, about how easily he can still lose himself. Even though she should want to kill him. Probably would want to kill him, would she allow her mind to go there, which she absolutely will not. Not yet.

“It’s his child.”

Lyla settles into the armchair across from her, the overstuffed teal one that Felicity had bought once she’d realized that life in the loft was more permanent than temporary. Oliver had tried to give it the side-eye, but had backed off quickly once Felicity told him that he either had to let her inject some color into the place, or she was going to start looking for her own apartment. Lately she’d been catching him sleeping in it, wrapped in her fluffy plum throw blanket.

It felt like a million years ago.

“Oliver being a father. That’s a shock.”

“Well, when you consider his past….”

But her attempt at flippant doesn’t land. Lyla’s voice is heavy when she asks, “Felicity. Are you okay?”

Tears well up in her eyes, because she can hear the concern in the question...and also because she is so frustrated by having to hear that question so often these days. “I’m okay.” She sees that Lyla is about to object, so she holds up a hand to stop her. “I have to be okay right now. Lyla, please. I can’t.”

“Fine. But when we’re done here, you and I are having a proper girl’s night, understood?” Felicity smiles at her gratefully, and she continues. “Debrief me. Where do we stand, and what are you working on?”

Felicity loves when Lyla goes into ARGUS agent mode. She knows ARGUS is evil, or maybe not evil, but morally ambiguous at best...anyway Felicity enjoys watching people at their most competent, which is why she’s always enjoyed watching Oliver on the salmon ladder and nnnnnnnnope, not going there. She forces her mind into safer territory. “Well, I’ve been responding to all requests from the team. Following up on Darhk and H.I.V.E. and any leads they’ve been able to get from the Ghosts, which as you can imagine are few and far between. Then, of course there’s the facial recognition. I’m covering Star City as well as Central City-”

“Cut the crap Felicity. We both know all of that is going nowhere. Tell me what you’re really working on.”

She grins. “Well, we’re all so certain that it’s Darhk that has William.”

“Right. Because Darhk has been very open about his vendetta against Oliver.”

“I think ‘open’ is the key word there. He likes taking credit.” Felicity is feeling Lyla out.

“He does. I’ve been thinking about that myself.”

“I don’t want to offend anyone by suggesting other avenues of investigation.”

“Of course not,” Lyla says. “We both know how easily everyone offends.”

“But there’s a little boy’s life in the balance, so it would be completely irresponsible to not explore every possibility.”

Felicity and Lyla look at each other and when they speak, it’s in unison.

“I”ve been looking into Samantha.”

They smile at each other, but before they can say more, one of Felicity’s searches sets of an alarm. She whirls around to the computer and pulls up an alert, motioning for the other woman to join her. They read together, and everything starts to click.

“Call John and Oliver.”

But Lyla is already dialing. “On it.”

Chapter Text

While Oliver is a man who believes, who needs to believe, that people change, he acknowledges that on some level we are all who we’ve always been, himself included. And Oliver Queen may be well-versed in self-flagellation, but he is not someone who has ever spent much time on self-reflection. Truthfully, it’s always been a point of pride; he likes that he’s a man of action. But now, dangling yet another bad guy over an overpass, knowing it will yield nothing, he’s starting to feel his life is one long, inescapable episode of deja vu.

“Where is Darhk?” He pulls the Ghost up over the edge and forces him down on the pavement. “Where is the boy?”

The man smiles at him, and Oliver has been here before, already knows how this ends. He is going to get nothing. He will be able to stop nothing. He wraps his hands around the man’s neck, digs his fingers in to cut off the air supply. He watches the smile fade, and he feels nothing.

“Where is the boy?” He slams the man’s head into the pavement. “Where is boy?” He asks over and over again until he’s flying backwards.

The Ghost is stumbling away, and he’s fucking laughing as he goes. Oliver turns on the man who yanked him back. “What the hell, John? He’s gone? He gave us nothing, and you let him get away?”

“I stopped you from killing a man who had no information to give, Oliver. Who, even if he had anything, would die before giving it up.”

“I am trying to save my my son,” Oliver rages.

“And I’m trying to save you. Look, I get it. If it were Sara, I would want to burn the world to ground-”

“And I would help you.”

Dig grabs his arm. “No, man, you would be there to ground me, to give me perspective. Burning the world the to ground isn’t working, Oliver. It feels good, but it’s not how we get WIlliam back. We get William back by fighting smart.”

Oliver stalks away, but isn’t surprised when his friend follows. He knows Dig is right, he knows they need to regroup, but the idea that he might have to do anything that isn’t actively looking for WIlliam kills him.

“Curtis noticed you’ve turned off your comms. He’s been calling us back. C’mon, man. Let’s go.”

Oliver slides into the car beside Dig. He can’t even say for sure where he left the Ducati. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. He rakes his hands through his hair, remembering the last time he’d gone to visit WIlliam. It had only been two weeks ago, which feels like yesterday and like too long ago all at the same time. Felicity had been in occupational therapy all day. He’d used a stopover at Star Labs to see Cisco for some adjustments on his suit as an excuse. He’d felt sick with guilt on the train home, but his time with WIlliam, it had been good. It had felt more comfortable, more natural than his other visits.

“He likes baseball. And anything ‘red’ flavored. The Flash is his hero.” Oliver chokes out a laugh.

“Of course.” Diggle laughs too. “How long have you known about him?”

Oliver doesn’t hear any of the judgement he was expecting in the question. “Not long. It was when we were in Central City helping Kendra. It was….complicated.”

“Yeah. It always is.”

Oliver keeps expecting the anger, is looking forward to it, in fact. He wouldn’t mind a fight right now, but Dig is just talking to him like he always does, like a friend. “Samantha, she said I couldn’t tell Felicity. That it was a condition of getting to be a part of William’s life. She said no one could know.”

Dig lets out a low whistle.

“I held up my part of the deal. I kept this huge thing from the most important person in my life, and I decided it was worth it because he’s my son, Dig. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t protect him from me. It’s like just by being in his orbit, even a tiny bit, I put him in the line of fire. He’s just a kid. He’s just a little kid.” Oliver puts his head between his knees, trying to find his breath. He absolutely cannot fall apart right now. Dig’s hand is on his shoulder, but Oliver still can’t shake the feeling that he’s on his own.

Laurel and Thea are already at the lair with Curtis when he and Dig arrive. He guesses he was the only one muting his comms. Curtis turns to the computers as he walks in, but not before Oliver sees a flash of anger on the other man’s face. Whether it’s for Felicity or because he went MIA, he isn’t sure. Either way, Oliver can’t blame him.

If Oliver is wanting a fight, he finds it in Thea. He doesn’t get a chance to open his mouth before his sister is flying at him, bow drawn.

“I should shoot you right now.”

“Thea-” Laurel starts easing toward her.

“No, he’s an asshole. Where did you disappear to, Oliver? No one could get in touch with you.”

“Not now, Thea,” he growls.

“What if one of us had found something? What if one of us had found my nephew, the nephew I didn’t know existed until he was kidnapped? What then, Oliver? How would we have told you?”

“That didn’t happen, did it?”

Thea shoves him, and he grabs her wrist, but she doesn’t back down. He sees the rage in her eyes, and he doesn’t know how much of it is the situation and how much is the bloodlust, but he’s willing to take this fight.

“And you don’t think it will, do you? You don’t think any of us could really help find William, right? You think it’s all up to you, that it will only ever be all up to you?”

The fight ebbs out of him and suddenly he’s just tired. “Thea-”

“No, you talk a big game about a team, but you don’t believe any of it, do you? When everything gets real, you’re on your own, right? Screw the rest of us, right?”

“Thea,” his voice is a plea, and it is weak, and he doesn’t care. He is weak, and it doesn’t matter who knows it.

“A secret kid, Ollie? Because I’m assuming that I wasn’t the only one clued into the fact that I’m an auntie. I’m assuming Felicity got a hell of a shock when baby mama-”

“Her name is Samantha,” he grounds out.

“I don’t care what her name is, Oliver! All of that stuff before about no more secrets and living in the light, that was just bullshit, right? You just meant until it was inconvenient for you, yeah? Same old Oliver.”

The rage is back and he embraces it, because it is so much better than weakness. “This is not the time. A child is missing, Darhk has him, and so you’re just going to wait to process your feelings. Is that understood?” He’s yelling, and he sounds like such a dick, but his words hit their mark. Thea backs down.

“You’re a lot like your parents. I guess some people never learn.”

He bites his tongue to keep himself from making a remark about Thea and the Merlyn blood. He’s barely holding on, but he can’t afford to do one more thing he’ll never be able to take back. He turns to Curtis. “The Ghosts are getting us nowhere. What else have we got?”

Curtis doesn’t look at him. “Well, I’ve spent most of my time tracking you down. Felicity hasn’t been able to locate Darhk or William using facial recognition. Lance took a vacation day, went down to Central City. Once Barry finished searching warehouses and wooded areas, he and Lance spent some time talking to Samantha’s neighbors on the DL. One of them remembers being awakened by the sound of a car backfiring around the same time we believe William was taken.”

“A car backfiring? What is this, the 70’s?”

“You make a point, Ms. Lance,” Curtis says. “It’s hard to imagine someone as fussy as Damien Darhk driving a clunker, even to a kidnapping. So, the car thing could be unrelated….”

“Or?” Oliver demands.

“Or, it could be someone other than Damien Darhk.”

“Meaning we have spent a lot of time looking in all the wrong places,” Laurel says, crossing her arms.

Curtis nods at her.

“Darhk has William.” Oliver is certain. He remembers when he saved the man’s wife and daughter, the promise they’d parted on. Enjoy your time with your family. Oliver should’ve realized then that the man had known.

“Felicity and Lyla are scanning traffic cam footage in the vicinity of Samantha’s house. Hopefully we’ll have more information soon.”

“Oliver, maybe it’s time to consider the possibility that we’ve read this all wrong?”

“And what does that even look like, Dig? Tell me. What is a single viable alternative here? Someone else just happens to kidnap my son, and it’s completely unrelated to the madman who wants to destroy me? One with a history of going after the children of his opposition?”

“Felicity has located all known and suspected sex offenders in a twenty mile radius. She did some digging on the dark net too, identifying anyone with...um...search histories that might indicate…”

Oliver sends the chair in front of him flying. He’s still certain it’s Darhk, but those men on the list? When this was over, they’d be getting a visit from the Green Arrow.

“She has Barry checking them out now.”

“And still no sign of William?”

Curtis nods.

WIlliam with a sex offender is not something Oliver is even willing to consider. “Other thoughts, then?’

“You have other enemies, Oliver,” Dig says. “It doesn’t have to be Darhk to be related to the Green Arrow.”

“Yeah...Felicity is on that too. She’s kind of the MVP of your little group, huh?” Curtis gives Oliver a tight smile.

Any other time Oliver wouldn’t begrudge him his loyalty, but this is about his son, dammit. “And?’ He grinds out.

“You have a colorful cast of enemies, Mr- Queen-slash-Green-Arrow. Just...you’ve made some weird choices. Right. Not the time. Anyway, I’ve been helping her with remote surveillance and Lyla seems to have a unique level of access to some of these folks. Have we talked about how illegal all of this probably is? Because I feel like I’m exposing myself to some real liability here, and I hope Felicity is prepared to give me some serious compensation in the form of vacation leave...but, right, again, not the time. Um, yeah, they’re still working on it, but as of last check-in, no one has William.”

Oliver holds out his hand. “So this is what you’ve pulled me away from the search for Darhk for? To tell me everyone else you’ve eliminated as possible suspects?”

Curtis laughs bitterly. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell you over comms, but you turned those off, so….”

“So we’re back where we started. With Darhk as the only possible suspect.” Oliver doesn’t have time for this anymore. Every second he’s here is a second he is spending not looking for William.

“Oliver, man, we still need to talk about a new plan. We’ve run out of places to search for Darhk.”

“And of course there’s another possibility that we haven’t considered.” Laurel speaks so quietly that Oliver almost doesn’t hear her.

“And what’s that, Laurel?”

“Maybe this isn’t connected to you at all.” Oliver starts to protest, but Laurel cuts him off. “What if we’re focused on you, when we should be focused on William’s mother?”

“Samantha?”

“Yes. Samantha. How much did you know about her before you impregnated her, Oliver?”

More confirmation for his deja vu theory. Because how many times had he had this conversation with Laurel Lance? Okay, minus the impregnating part. There would be plenty of time for an Oliver Queen Is A Colossal Fuck Up roundtable when it wouldn’t be at the expense of his son. “Laurel, do you really want to go down this road again right now?”

“It’s a fair question, Ollie,” Thea says.

“I’m not trying to play the role of the woman scorned while your kid is missing, Oliver. Give me a tiny amount of credit. Look, you’re certain of Darhk because you’re looking for the most obvious answer, and that’s the right instinct, okay? The most obvious answer is usually the right one. I’m just saying maybe we’re missing a more obvious answer. Samantha is William’s only parent of record. We’d be negligent to not even consider the possibility that this is connected her. So what do you know about her?”

Oliver barely knows anything. He met her at a party, spent one night with her, then had a couple of fraught follow-up conversations. He burns with shame. He really is a fuck-up. “I don’t know much. She was on her own. I think her parents are dead.”

Laurel tries not to give anything away, but Oliver has known her for far too long to not know exactly how she looks when she’s fighting hard not to roll her eyes. He does give her credit for effort. “Oookay, well, what about when you’ve talked to William? Does he mention the people in his life? Is there anything he’s said-”

“No.” Oliver can sense Laurel, all of them really, waiting for him to elaborate, but he’s not going to. His relationship with William is still so new, and it exists in this sort of bubble, where the outside world isn’t a factor...or at least it wasn’t until now. Until Darhk decided to take it from him. “I’m done here. No more standing around. We’ve explored other possibilities and come up empty. Barry’s checking out other possible threats on the off-chance it’s not Darhk. It’s time to get back out there.” Oliver sees Diggle start to protest, but he cuts him off. “I know we’re getting nowhere with Ghosts, so forget them, okay? Let’s go back over every location known to be associated with Darhk. We’ll find him, or we’ll find clues-”

“Before you rush off, you might want to hear what Felicity and Lyla found.” Curtis gestures to the computer where Felicity and Lyla are on videofeed. He clicks a button. “Okay ladies, you are live with Team Arrow.”

And even with his world rapidly collapsing around him, just the sight of Felicity is enough to make it easier for him to breathe. She looks as worn and worried as he feels, but she’s still right there, and he is not in this alone. If he could only steal a moment and lose himself in her he’s certain it would be enough to reassure him that everything will be okay. But stealing time isn’t one of his options. For now he has to ignore the dread creeping in, telling him that even after he finds William, he still stands to lose everything. He can’t acknowledge that and keep on. He has to keep William at the forefront of his mind, which means he has to push her out.

“Where is Samantha?” He asks.

“Sleeping. Lyla gave her something.” He huffs and even though she’s not actually in the room Felicity obviously senses his irritation. “Don’t give us that look, Oliver. She’d been up for over twenty-four hours. Her child is missing. She needs to rest.”

He wants to say that William is his child too and that no one, no one anywhere, should get to rest until he is back where he belongs.

“As we were saying, we’ve been able to put together the reasons why Samantha has been estranged from her parents all these years-”

“I thought her parents were dead.”

“They are very much alive, Oliver,” Lyla says.

“Samantha spent her early years in one of those communes with all the sad hippies who didn’t quite know when to let go. Which, kind of makes basically growing up in a casino not so bad, when you think about it….” Felicity catches herself rambling and gives herself a little shake to snap her out of it. It’s adorable, and Oliver can’t help but allow himself a small smile. “So, yeah, teenage Samantha bolted as soon as she could, found her way to the then-Starling City University, where somewhere around 8-years-ago, she apparently had the good luck to run into billionaire playboy Oliver Queen.”

And there it is again, the gut punch.

“But that is beside the point. Well, except not really, since that meeting resulted in little William who is now missing, but again my relevant point, which I absolutely have, is that there is no record of Samantha ever responding to any of her parents’ attempts to contact her, of which there have been many over the years. And, even more relevant, is that the former hippie commune took a dark turn. The way communes often do. I really think “Communes never end well” is as good a guiding life principle as any, but, right, my point is, they morphed into something of a cult. Obsessed with purity and healing-slash-purging the sickness infecting the human race. Creep factor is high in this one, friends. I would guess kidnapping would be right in their wheelhouse.”

Everyone is talking at once, but Oliver is shaking his head. It’s a distraction. A tempting one. A cult full of former hippies would be no match for his team, but Oliver knows better than to trust anything that comes that easy. “And why would these people take William now? Why would they take him at all? So Samantha has a fucked up family, who doesn’t?”

Felicity smiles back at him, but there is fire in her eyes. “Well, Oliver, A. I think your sample is a bit skewed because despite the company you keep, most of the world doesn’t have quite this level of dysfunction in their families and B. Did you hear anything I just told you?”

“Yes, I heard it, and none of it convinces me that they are better suspects than Darhk.”

“That is only if you believe that William’s kidnapping is about you and, as hard as I know this is for you to accept, Oliver, not everything is about you.”

“Felicity,” his voice is pleading, “what kind of person takes a little boy from his bed? Who does that? A pair of old hippies? Or the kind of man who tries to massacre a woman in a limo to punish the man who just proposed to her? How can you ask me to believe this isn’t Darhk? You, of all people, after everything?”

The certainty that had been written all over Felicity’s face begins to melt away, and Oliver catches Lyla’s hand as it moves to squeeze her shoulder.

“Maybe it’s time you start thinking a bit more objectively-”

“Lyla, we’re continuing our pursuit of Darhk.”

“Fine. Felicity and I are going to speak with Samantha, and we’re going to continue exploring this angle.”

Oliver doesn’t have the energy to fight them on this. He just wants to get back out there. “Sure. Okay, if you really believe that’s the right thing to do.”

Felicity starts to respond, but Lyla reaches over her and the connection goes dark. Oliver turns to Dig, expecting a fight.

There is annoyance on his friend’s face, but he surprises Oliver by simply asking “Where to next, man?”

Oliver gives instructions, and his team falls in line- Curtis is back on comms, pulling up maps and devising routes, and Dig and Thea are following him out. He almost doesn’t notice that Laurel isn’t moving.

“Are you coming?”

She doesn’t look at him. “I’m going to meet up with Lyla and Felicity. See what I can do to help them.”

It feels like she’s choosing sides, and it hurts more than Oliver expects. He doesn’t know if it’s because Laurel isn’t choosing him, or if it’s because there are sides and he and Felicity are on opposing ones.

Laurel’s face softens. “I just want to give us the best chance of finding William.”

“If you’d been in that limo, Laurel….Felicity doesn’t remember it, but if she did. If you were there, if she remembered, you’d both know why I can’t let this go. This man, there isn’t a line he wouldn’t cross.” Oliver shuts down all thoughts of that limo ride because he knows from experience that the memory of those few minutes is enough to send him spinning for days.

“Then go, Ollie. Felicity and Lyla and I are just making sure we hedge our bets.”

He nods. “Stay in touch with Curtis. I promise I won’t go offline again. Good luck.”

“You too.”

Chapter Text

Lyla reaches over and cuts the connection with Team Arrow. “There’s no point in trying to talk to him about this. He can’t see anything but Darhk.”

Felicity nods. “He has his reasons.” She catches herself tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair the way she knows drives everyone else crazy and forces herself to stop. “Lyla, do you think we’re grasping? I’ve been awake for nearly 30 hours, and I know I said it was no biggie, but now I’m not entirely sure I’m firing on all cylinders. With everything that’s happened I don’t even know if I can trust my own judgement-”

“Felicity, we’re not wrong to consider this. Look, maybe it’s a good thing that Oliver stays focused on Darhk. He’ll do his thing, we’ll do ours, and we’ll cover all of our bases.”

“Not really used to my thing being different from Oliver’s thing. Usually we do our things together.”

Lyla leans down and kisses the top of her head, and Felicity gapes.

“What? I can be affectionate. I have a baby. I have maternal instincts, dammit.”

That gets a laugh and Lyla smiles in response, then gestures to the stairs. “So let’s go with our thing. If we’re on the right track and this somehow involves Samantha’s parents, do you think she has any idea?”

“No.” Felicity scrolls through everything she’s been able to dig up on the commune-turned-cult, which isn’t much. Former hippies aren’t really the internet’s strongest constituency. “She seems genuinely terrified. I think if it had even occurred to her that this could be about anything other than Damien Darhk and his vendetta against Oliver, she would’ve mentioned it. She obviously knew about the shooting and that made up her mind. It was a reasonable assumption.”

“Good, we’re on the same page. I’m going to go see if I can wake her up and get her down here to see what she can tell us about her family.”

“Bet you’re wishing you’d reigned in Operation Sleeping Beauty a little.” She easily dodges the pillow Lyla tosses at her on her way upstairs. “Missed me! I’m way more nimble in this thing than I ever was on my own two feet!”

She won’t admit it, but Felicity knows that deep down Lyla knows she was right. Sneaking Samantha two of those muscle relaxers was way too much and now she’s here answering their questions through heavy eyelids and slurred words. Felicity raises her eyebrow pointedly at her friend, but the other woman ignores her. When they’re done here, Felicity is going to flush those pills down the toilet for the greater good.

Samantha starts swaying from her spot on the chair and before Lyla or Felicity can do anything to stop her, she sort of tips over and lands on the floor with a thud. It’s a little comical, especially when you consider all the sleep deprivation, but then she’s sobbing- the big, snotty, gasping kind- and nothing is funny anymore. She’s a mom whose child is missing. Nothing could be worse.

“We will find William. I promise, I promise, we’ll find him.”

Lyla nods her agreement and sinks down on the floor next to Samantha, wrapping her arms around the other woman.

Samantha brushes the hair out of her eyes and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Fel...Fuh…”

“Felicity?” Felicity prods, she can tell from Lyla’s face that the she feels really bad about drugging Samantha now.”

“Felishuty, I’m shorry. I told, told Oliver...he wanted to tell you. I sh-shaid no. I was the one...I wouldn’t let.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Don’t think about it, okay?” And Felicity tries not to think about it either because if she lets herself, she could spend hours trying to work out whether this information makes things better or worse. “So, if, and we admit it’s a big if, your parents have William, you really don’t think they would hurt him?

Samantha shakes her head. “No, they...they’re whole th-thing is to try to shave the kidsh from the world. Not shave like shave...you know what I’m shaying, right?”

“Save,” Lyla supplies. “They think they’re saving the children. By keeping them separate and sheltered.”

Samantha nods, then the sobs are back. “He won’t understand. He’ll be so shcared. We’re never apart...never, never, ever. I can’t believe...m-m-my family....my fault…..”

A sharp knock interrupts and Felicity lets Laurel in.

“Need some help?”

“You’re not out with Oliver?”

“I think I can do more good with you guys.” She cuts her eyes to the heap of Samantha over by the sofa. “I was going to ask how she was holding up, but I’m guessing not so good?”

Felicity shakes her head and leads Laurel over to the other women. Samantha sees them and groans.

“L-l-laurel. I’m sh-shorry….”

Laurel takes her hand and squeezes. “You didn’t owe me anything. It was Oliver who should’ve been sorry. And it was a million years ago. All that matters now is getting William back.” Samantha collapses into her arms, and Laurel meets Felicity’s eyes over her head and mouths “Is she okay?”

“Lyla drugged her,” Felicity says simply, and Laurel cringes.

“But let’s get back to finding William,” Lyla says. “Laurel, Samantha has been talking to us about her parents and the commune. If William is with them, we don’t believe he’s in immediate danger. I have some thoughts on how we get him out, but we need a little time for some of the searches Felicity setup to yield some results. It would be stupid for us to rush in without some idea of the layout, even if it’s old. And we all need sleep-” she holds up a hand to ward off protest. “I’m serious. No one will be able to give William their best at this rate. Oliver might be reckless, but that’s not how we’re going to handle this. Everyone in this room is going straight to bed and staying there for five hours.”

“Baby Sara willing,” Felicity interjects.

“You know my girl is a good sleeper. Set alarms and turn the sound off on your phones. I mean it.”

Lyla can be really scary when she wants to be. Felicity makes a mental note of that particular tone of voice for future reference, then obeys orders, sending Curtis a message about their plans.

“Everyone find a flat surface and close your eyes. We’ll meet back here in five hours and not a minute before.”

In the end they get 4 hours of sleep before Sara Diggle decides it’s time for them to face the world. It’s not a lot, definitely not enough, but it does all of them some good- most of all Samantha, who can now speak without slurring.

“I’ll just go get him. If he’s there, I’ll just walk into that godforsaken place and take him back. What will they do to stop me? Spray me down with patchouli?” Samantha’s face is red with years of pent up fury. “I can’t believe I didn’t even think of them. I knew they were crazy. Believe me, even when I was William’s age it was clear they weren’t all there. It was like they got stuck...it doesn’t even matter now. When I first got pregnant they found out. When I ran away, I went with a couple of other girls. We stayed close, but one of them...she never could completely cut ties with her family. She told, and my parents started with all their crazy bullshit. They showed up at my house a few times...it was why I left Starling, but it’s been years since I’ve heard anything from them….” She looks to the other women as if seeking absolution. “He was just missing, and I was so sure it was related to Oliver, and with everything I’ve read about Damien Darhk, I just assumed….”

“It wasn’t a bad assumption. And we still don’t know for sure that it wasn’t the correct one.”

“Felicity’s right,” Laurel says. “This is still just a lead. We don’t know anything for certain.”

Samantha wraps her hair up into a bun on top of her head. “Well, let’s find out. Let’s go.”

Felicity thinks the other woman looks ready to claw off her own skin. She so clearly wants to be moving, and Felicity knows she’ll have to explain the next part carefully. “I know you think they’re harmless, Samantha, but my research indicates otherwise. Not that I think William is in any immediate danger,” she rushes to add at the panic look on Samantha’s face, “but there have been a few tense stand-offs with local law enforcement. They don’t seem fond of outsiders. We need to find out if William is with them without provoking them in the process.”

Samantha doesn’t look happy, but she nods. “Getting William back safely is the only thing that matters. What do you have in mind?”

Laurel looks to Lyla, “Are you thinking about sending in Barry?”

“I still have him checking out...um...sex offenders,” Felicity looks apologetically at Samantha. “It’s a long list. Longer than anyone wants to really think about. There are so many bad guys in the world it’s, yeah...overwhelming. I’d rather not pull him off of that if there’s another way.”

“So, then are you thinking you and I….”

But Lyla shakes her head. “I’m not sure we need a fighter in this one. I was actually thinking our best bet would be a woman in a wheelchair.”

Lyla offers to let Felicity drive, but Felicity worries that appearing too independent will hurt their cover story- sisters, disillusioned with modern medicine and desperately seeking a cure for the younger one’s paralysis. “So it’s like I have an autoimmune disorder that’s caused my paralysis, and we’re convinced it’s chemicals or something, right?”

“Yes. Try to channel anti-vaxxers.”

“Got it. I don’t like it, disavowing science is blasphemous, but I can do this.” She brushes lint off of her borrowed tunic. “Also not in love with my undercover wardrobe. You actually wore this?”

“Natural fibers and dyes, Felicity. And yes, okay? Back in my Lilith Fair days.”

“I have no idea how to reconcile Lyla Michaels, soldier and secret agent, with this new information.”

Lyla grins. “The key to being a successful operative is to constantly keep people guessing. And for the sake of this mission, you can call me Lilith.”

“Oh, and you can call me Meghan! That’s my undercover name...and my actual middle name. Um, Lyla, do you think they’re really going to buy us as sisters? You’ve got this whole cafe con leche skin tone thing that, to be honest, I’d die for, but I’m over here all blue-eyed and blond, even if it’s not my natural color….”

“Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. We should turn around and get Laurel. She, too, is an unnatural blond. Besides, the two of you being sisters is nearly a reality, right?”

Felicity groans. “Why would you do that? Why would go there? You know we don’t talk about that possibility. Ever.”

“Fair enough. But, you know, as far as sisters go, you could do worse than Laurel. We all have our opinions about what went down last fall, but she fights for her siblings.”

“That she does.” Felicity reaches down to twist her engagement ring- it’s become a sort of nervous habit- but it’s not on her finger. Meghan isn’t engaged; she doesn’t have anyone in her life other than her loyal sister. Taking off that ring, even to play a role, had hurt because it hadn’t exactly felt temporary. But, hey, it would eliminate the awkwardness of her possible step-sister having slept with her future husband. So there’s that.

“There’s what?”

Felicity blinks back tears (and this is why she’s putting her brain on an Oliver moratorium until this all over). “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

Lyla gives her a minute then asks, “Were you able to speak to Oliver?”

“Just Curtis.” She remembers her friend’s strained tone and scenarios of the million different types of danger Oliver could be rushing into at the moment flood her brain. She is so worried for him and angry at him. She wants to keep on doing her own thing, or she wants to find him and scream at him, or she wants to hunt him down and hold him close and tell him how she wishes... No! Moratorium!

“Huh?”

She really needs to work on keeping her thoughts in her mind and out of her mouth. “Nothing.” Then she thinks about the little kid at the center of all of this. “I just...I really want to be right about who has William. No matter what, this is bad for him, but I want him to be with his grandparents, even if they’re crazy, instead of Darhk or one of those people Barry is looking into. I want us to be right.”

Two hours later Lyla and Felicity are turning onto a steep dirt driveway. There’s no gate, which would be surprising for commune/cult, but the schematics and testimony Felicity had been able to pull together from Samantha and various internet sources had made it clear they shouldn’t expect one. As they got further up the ridge, they found themselves headed toward a large farmhouse situated in the center of a circle of smaller cabins. As if on cue, each of the doors opened and the buildings’ occupants came out onto their respective porches.

“Okay, that was spectacularly creepy,” Felicity says under her breath. “And do you notice? No kids.”

Lyla is taking in the people on the porches, trying, Felicity knows, to find anyone who looks like an aged version of the photograph Samantha was able to produce of her parents. “It’s the middle of the day. They could have the kids at some sort of school or something. Don’t look over, but that house, the third on the right. Pretty sure we’ve found the Claytons.” She glances at Felicity. “Ready to begin your quest for a miracle, Meghan?”

The People of the Corn, as Felicity has taken to calling them in her head in order to make their dead-eyed stares seem a little less terrifying, were as wary of newcomers as expected, but Felicity must have really sold her desperation to walk again, because a man who seems to be their leader (Felicity has named him Man Capris) agrees to let them stay on a probational basis and informed them that healing ceremonies were held nightly after dinner. They are assigned a “Spiritual Guide” (Felicity calls her Zombie Eyes) who leads them to a small room with bunk beds in the farmhouse.

They’re unpacking their duffels full of Lyla’s Lilith Fair clothes while Zombie Eyes looks on, smiling dreamily. Felicity wonders if maybe all of these people are on muscle relaxers. She imagines what Samantha’s life growing up here must have been like, and her opinion of the woman rises. Felicity has always respected a woman with a good escape plan.

“So,” Felicity addresses Zombie Eyes, “I notice that there are no ch-” Lyla gives her a sharp look and Felicity get the message. As eager as she is to find William, they can’t say anything that would tip their hand, “chickens. There are no chickens here. I thought there might be. I’m assuming we raise our own food...so, no chickens?”

It’s not one of her best rambles, and Felicity has to sit on her hands to stop herself from smacking her forehead, but Zombie Eyes doesn’t seem bothered. She just blinks a few times, then answers. “We’re vegan here. The act of killing, no matter how humanely, releases negative energy. To eat meat of any kind is to poison yourself.”

“Ah. Yes. Got it.” She exchanges a look with Lyla- if you’ve got to be kidnapped by a cult, probably best to be kidnapped by one with taboos against killing, right?

“We’re so thankful you were willing to have us,” Lyla says. “We’ve tried everything to help my sister. All of those doctors, but they made it worse, didn’t they? Meggie and I are just glad to be here.” She puts a hand on Felicity’s shoulder. “Can you tell us what we should expect tonight?”

“For the healing to begin. But you shouldn’t expect to walk this very evening. You’ve been too long in the world, swallowing everything they gave you. It will take time, but here, with us, you have a chance.”

Donna Smoak wasn’t a strict parent, she didn’t believe in having too many rules. She did, however, believe in offering advice. One of her most repeated pearls of wisdom was “Don’t ever accept an invitation to crazy.” Felicity would usually take her mother’s words with a grain of salt, but not those. Those she’d held onto, and the part of her that spent her life rejecting anyone’s invitation to crazy (...except for Oliver’s, which is something she’s going to have to really think on when she has more time) wants to wheel herself as far away from Zombie Eyes as possible. But she plasters on a smile and stays put. For William.

By dinner, Felicity is worried and though she’s working to keep her face neutral, she can tell just by looking that Lyla is too. They’re seated at a long table with the other residents eating some sort of barely or something, along with a few vegetables. The Claytons are there, looking old and tired at the opposite end of the table, but there are no children. In fact, no one has even mentioned kids, not that anyone here talks much. Apparently the meals are silent so that “the food is not contaminated by poorly spoken words.” This, of course, makes Felicity’s tongue itchy and uncomfortable, and she’s afraid she’ll burst out in giggles and get them thrown out before they can confirm that William is not, in fact, here. She runs her thumb over the secret compartment Lyla had sewn into her chair. Right now it contains a cell phone that will signal Lance to alert local PD should they find William, a photo of William and Samantha that his mom had taken out of the frame before coming to beg for Oliver’s help, and a small Flash action figure. Felicity wants to find the owner of that toy. She wants to give it and the picture to him to hold onto until they get him home where he belongs. She wants him to be here, but she’s starting to feel relieved that Oliver hadn’t listened to her, that he’s still out searching for Darhk. Just in case.

An old fashioned dinner bell breaks her thoughts and everyone else at the table stands as one, Lyla a beat behind. Man Capris addresses the group.

“Sister Serenity Blue will be on dish duty tonight. Offer her your thanks.” Everyone bows to a woman around Lyla’s age who could easily be Zombie Eyes’s sister. “We will now proceed to tonight’s healing ceremony. Please assist our newcomers.”

A middle-aged man with a greasy combover and a look in his eyes that gives Felicity chills (not the good kind) comes up behind her and takes the handles of her wheelchair. Thankfully, Lyla intervenes.

“I’ve got that.”

“The House of Healing is a ways away. Over some pretty rough terrain.”

“I always push my sister. I can handle it.”

The man holds Lyla’s gaze for a moment before shrugging and leering at her. “Suit yourself, Sister. Follow me.”

The terrain is rough, and the ride painful. Felicity doesn’t let herself cry out, but Lyla keeps whispering apologies each time the hit a rock or an unexpected hole. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.

They finally arrive at a log cabin at the end of the property. Several of the men come over and before Lyla can say anything, they lift Felicity’s chair up over the stairs. This time she does cry out. She immediately has two thoughts:
1. This building may be too far into the woods for cell reception, thwarting her plan to signal Lance and call in the cavalry.
2. There is no easy way out of this building, not for her, not in her chair. So that makes their backup plan of grabbing William themselves and running like hell also thwarted.

She catches Lyla’s eye, but the other woman is already silently shutting down Felicity’s backup-backup plan, which is Lyla and William run like hell and leave Felicity behind. She appreciates Lyla’s loyalty, but thinks she might be overselling it. These people have all drunk some serious Kool Aid, but Felicity doubts she’d be in any serious danger.

“No.” Felicity jumps when Lyla whispers the single word in her ear. She adds “Possible Mind Reader” to the list of things she knows about Lyla Michaels.

Fine. They’ll improvise if they have to. Right now Felicity’s biggest worry is that they’ve guessed wrong and taken a trip out to Crazyville for nothing. But then the cabin doors are open, and they hear the sound of children singing. Lyla pushes Felicity in as quickly as she can without drawing undue attention.

And there he is. Standing off to the side, looking slightly dazed, is William Clayton. Felicity can’t hold back her gasp or the tears that start to fall. Because he looks so much like his father. Samantha had told her that Oliver had discovered William was his during the team’s visit to Central City. She said he’d suspected when he saw William in a coffee shop. But Felicity bets he’d more than suspected- he’d had to have known. There’s no way he could’ve seen William and not known. He’s got Oliver’s eyes. Oliver’s jawline. Felicity wants to reunite him with his mother and see him smile a smile she bets will be Oliver’s smile. He looks so small and alone up there, but also completely unharmed.

“It’s not unusual,” Zombie Eyes says, coming over to offer Felicity a handkerchief. “The healing energy here is strong. It can be overwhelming.”

Lyla takes the opportunity presented to her and grabs Zombie Eyes into a hug, subtly turning her away from Felicity and making just enough of a scene to draw the attention of the rest of the room.

“I feel it too! We’ve waited so long. You are the answer to our prayers,” She sobs. “We’ve found our miracle.”

And with everyone focused on Lyla, Felicity pulls herself together and presses the button on the phone to signal Lance. She holds her breath, worried about the cell signal, but it goes through easily. They’re not going to need a backup-backup plan. She catches William’s eye and winks. He gives no response, because he doesn’t know her and certainly has no reason to trust anyone here, and that’s okay. He doesn’t know it yet, but he will soon. The cavalry is coming.

Chapter Text

Oliver doesn’t hesitate. The second he’s through the window he releases four arrows in quick succession. They bounce off their target just like he knew they would, but he doesn’t stop.

“Where’s the boy?”

Damien Darhk rises from his place behind the big desk and smiles as if he’s greeting an old friend. “A visit from my favorite man in green. Always a pleasure. Though I have to say I’m surprised to see you out in the daylight. I was starting to suspect you were at least half vampire.”

“Where is he?”

“Could I offer you a drink? A tour of the grounds, perhaps?”

Oliver fires another useless arrow, and that earns him a chuckle.

“You are feisty today. My ghosts have been reporting that you’re tearing your city apart, looking for a child, which is just so interesting. I keep a close eye on Amber Alerts- good citizenship- but I haven’t seen a single one about a little boy missing in Star City.” Damien sits in one of the overstuffed armchairs in the center of the room and motions for Oliver to do the same. “Now, I don’t know anything about this child- William, is it? That’s what my people have heard. But I have to say, I’m intrigued. Who is William, and why is the Green Arrow so interested in him? Please, share with the class.”

He is playing games, and Oliver is tired of losing to Damien Darhk. With every passing hour he feels their chances of finding William unharmed slipping away, and now he is once again standing in front of this man who has tried to take everything from him, and once again, he can’t do a thing about it.

“Not in the mood for sharing, then? Well, maybe we did start out on the wrong foot. Maybe a little small talk would help break the ice. Tell me, have you spoken to your friend Oliver Queen lately? How was his Christmas?”

It’s not his words that break something in Oliver at that moment. It’s the smirk that accompanies them. The memories of Felicity, they combine with images of William, just playing in his room, talking about baseball, and Oliver can’t form a coherent thought. It’s the only excuse he has for what he does next, which is charge Damien Darhk.

It ends the way it always does, with Oliver on his back, the breath being squeezed out of him. This man is unbeatable, that’s the message Oliver receives every time he faces Darhk, and it is fucking unacceptable. It’s not until Thea appears through the same window Oliver had bashed in that he sees a glimpse of uncertainty in Darhk’s eyes. Then, she is beside him, and he can breathe again.

“And now the little one in red is here. Does that mean I’ll have the pleasure of meeting the man in the intimidating but impractical mask next? How does he see out of that thing? Oh, or the woman with the supersonic scream? She’s always fun at parties. I’m partial to the computer girl, but I’ve heard she doesn’t get around as well as she used to.” He trails off with a shrug, and Oliver is on his feet, ready to lunge again until Thea grips his arm.

“We’re going,” she says. Oliver turns to her, ready for a fight.

“Well, that is too bad. Do keep me posted on little William. I look forward to learning more about him.”

Thea drags Oliver back through the busted window and down the driveway where Dig and the van are waiting. He doesn’t resist because even though his encounter with Darhk was yet another failure, Thea’s appearance has given him an idea.

“You okay, man?”

“I know how we can get an edge on Darhk. I should have thought about it before. There’s an old friend from Detroit who knows about magic. We’ll call her in. She can help us understand why Thea affects Darhk the way she does-”

“Oliver-”

“No listen, I know I’m not in a good place right now. I know I need to play this smarter-”

“But, Ollie-”

“My friend can help us. We can’t keep going after Darhk the way we have been. We have to attack the source of his power-”

“Do you ever listen to anyone?” The annoyed shout is issued over comms, and it surprises Oliver enough that it does actually make him listen. “Lyla and Felicity found William. They were right, it was the grandparents. They worked with Lance and ten minutes ago the local sheriff's department staged a raid and rescued William.”

Oliver is stunned. He can’t...that can’t be it. How could that be it? “It wasn’t Darhk.” He says it to himself, but Curtis takes it as a question.

“No. It was never Darhk. But, look, I’ve got Laurel on the other line. She just spoke with her dad and Felicity. They’re taking William’s statement now, but he’s completely unharmed. They’re in a small town about halfway between here and Central City- hey, Oliver, Laurel says Samantha wants you to come get her. She knows the way to the town, and she’s ready to get William.”

Oliver nods, even though he knows Curtis can’t see him. He’s acting on rote instinct, still not having fully caught up to the change in circumstances. Distantly he can hear Dig and Thea signing off.

“Ollie? We’ve got him. He’s safe.” Thea nudges him. “This is a good thing right?”

It is, but Oliver feels immobilized by how wrong he was. It’s too...it feels like it should have been harder. And the idea that Darhk had nothing to do with it….”Oh fuck.” He meets Dig’s eyes in the rearview mirror and sees that the other man is already a few steps ahead of him. “Darhk had nothing to do with it. He didn’t know about William at all. But he does now. I put William on his radar.”

Dig shakes his head. “That’s a problem for later. At least now, we all know about William, and we can all help protect him. For now, you’ve got to just take the win. It’s time to go get your boy.”

It takes twenty excruciating minutes to return to the loft, change into regular clothes and pick up Samantha. Laurel ushers them in and tells them Samantha is in the bathroom trying to get herself together a little before she sees William.

Oliver can’t help himself. He has to ask. “Can you tell me why anyone thought it was a good idea for Felicity to be the one to go face kidnappers while you stayed behind.”

“Oh, Oliver,” Laurel shakes her head. “I’m not touching that one, and if you’re smart, neither will you.”

“Nothing else can happen to her.”

The fire in Laurel’s eyes diminishes at the broken sound of his voice. “It’s what made the most sense. Lyla was with her. And you know she’ll never stand for the kid gloves treatment anyway.”

Samantha comes back into the living room, so Oliver doesn’t push it. Besides, he knows she’s right.

Laurel and Thea agree to stay back with Sara because Dig is afraid to let either Oliver or Samantha drive. With Samantha sitting up front navigating, Dig makes the 120 mile drive in 78 minutes in Samantha’s minivan. Oliver counts every single one while Samantha perches on the edge of her seat, seatbelt straining, pointing out every turn from memory.

They reach the sheriff’s department, which is so small it resembles a rest stop, and Oliver is out of the car before Dig manages to put it in park. He turns back and sees Samantha still frozen in her seat. Dig nods at him, and Oliver opens her door and crouches beside her.

“Hey,” he squeezes her hand. “We’re here. It’s over.”

Samantha turns to him slowly, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Oliver,” she whispers.

“Stop.”

“I did this. I wasted hours making everyone look in the wrong place. I didn’t even know there was a danger, and I didn’t protect him, I-”

“Samantha. Stop. I know what you’re doing. I am an expert in what you’re doing, but the only people at fault here are the people who took William out of his bed, and they’ve been caught. He’s okay.” He forces a smile for her and is able to take a little comfort in his own words. For now, William is okay. He pulls Samantha out of the car. “I bet he can’t wait to see you.”

She smiles back, and he watches her accept it too. In this moment, everything is fine.

When they get to the station, which is really just one big room, Oliver and Samantha start frantically scanning for William. Dig spots Lance and Lyla and waves to them.

“He’s not here. This place was too crowded,” Lyla gestures to all of the men and women in old t-shirts and worn, linen pants leaning against the walls, looking dazed. Oliver realizes that these are the people who took his son, “A deputy took him over to the elementary school after they finished with his statement. Felicity’s with him,” she says with a smile. “She had the picture of his mom and his Flash toy, so he’s sort of attached to her now.”

Oliver’s heart clenches at that. William and Felicity- he’d wanted that, wanted her to be able to know him. He’d been holding on to the hope that with time Samantha would trust him, would relent and let him tell Felicity. That it had to happen like this...Oliver closes his eyes against a rush of pain. William’s okay. That’s all that matters right now.

“Why?” The anguish in Samantha’s cry is visceral and for a moment Oliver thinks something has gone wrong, that she’s gotten news he missed, but then she is rushing to a man and a woman handcuffed to a desk in the far side of the room. “Why? Why would you do this? Why would you take him?”

Before Oliver can do anything, Lyla is leading Samantha away. The older woman, her mother Oliver assumes, has her head bowed and is crying. The man, however, is shaking with rage and quoting something that sounds vaguely biblical. Oliver can hear Lyla whisper to Samantha in soothing tones, telling her she won’t get any answers from them, that she should just go to William.

Oliver agrees. His rage has all been spent, and all he wants is to see his son. He joins Lyla by Samantha’s side and leads her to the car.

The elementary school is deserted when they arrive, just a lone deputy’s car in the lot. The front door is propped open with a rock, and at first they don’t know where to go. Then they hear a shriek of laughter and a voice that Oliver knows to be Felicity’s shouting, “No fair! You’re cheating!” and they are running in the direction of the gym.

They’re racing. Felicity in her chair, William in a rolling chair that Oliver assumes was stolen from a teacher’s desk, and a deputy who reminds Oliver of Barry Allen with his baby face serving as ref. Felicity and William are taking the race seriously, so they don’t notice when the door bursts open. And William is smiling. His little boy, who just hours ago was missing, is smiling.

Samantha yelps and William sees her then, his whole face lighting up, his race forgotten. They are both running, and he is back in his mother’s arms where he belongs. Then William is calling Oliver’s name, and suddenly Oliver is part of the embrace too. He takes time to savor the realness of this moment, the safety of his little boy. When he opens his eyes, they go straight to Felicity. She’s crying, but she’s also smiling.

William catches Oliver looking. “Do you know Felicity? She says she knows you!” He hops down and drags his mother and Oliver over to her.

“I know Felicity,” Samantha says with a smile. “She helped us find you.”

Oliver tries to speak, but it’s like his throat is blocked. If he says anything in this moment, he’s afraid he’ll fall completely apart.

William is oblivious. “She was so awesome when she came to get me. She and Lyla tricked all those people! And then we came here and she said we could race, but she keeps letting me win-”

“He cheats,” Felicity breaks in with a smile.

Samantha kneels down to give her a hug. “Thank you.” She says it over and over. “I’ll never...I owe you more….”

But Felicity cuts her off. “You owe me nothing. I’m just glad we could get this guy back to the people who love him.”

Oliver still can’t say anything, but he also can’t take his eyes off of her. Samantha clears her throat and says, “Come over here with mommy and Lyla. I want you to tell me everything. I’m so sorry, baby boy….”

They drift over to the bleachers and Oliver and Felicity are left at the finish line. “We did it,” she starts.

Oliver finds his voice then. “You did it. I didn’t listen and made everything worse.”

“You did what you thought you had to do. It doesn’t matter who was right.” She nods to the bleachers where Samantha is blowing raspberries on Williams stomach. “That’s all that matters now. This one was a happy ending.”

“Felicity,” he blows out a breath on her name. He wants nothing more than to collapse beside her, lay his head on her lap and beg her to forgive him. His need to be close to her, to be touching her, is painful but he holds himself back, not knowing where they stand. “I am so, so sorry.”

She looks at him with pity, and he feels himself crumbling.

“I know. But now isn’t the time to talk about it. Take your son home, Oliver. Tuck him into bed. Kiss him goodnight and tell him that no one will ever hurt him again.”

Oliver nods. The tears are falling again, and he doesn’t bother to brush them away. “I will, and then I’ll be home.” He asks the question he has to ask, but is terrified to voice. “Will you be there when I get back?”

Relief slams into him when she nods.

“I’ll be there. Everything can wait tonight. We can talk in the morning.”

It’s after midnight when Oliver returns from Central City. He’d done exactly what Felicity suggested- he’d tucked William into bed, and he’d kissed him goodnight. He’d asked Samantha if they could talk, but she asked him for time. And space. She’d seemed so undone, but Oliver was just so fucking afraid. He’d gotten her to agree to extra security and Barry had agreed to help with that. They’d talk again in a couple of weeks when maybe they were capable of rational thought again. When Oliver left, he’d try to feel the kind of joy or at least relief that should accompany a win. He mostly failed.

The last 48 hours had crushed him and now he stood in his home, still afraid. Afraid he’d open the door to the bedroom and Felicity, the very best part of his life, would be gone. But Oliver’s too tired to stand there waiting in the middle of the living room. He holds his breath and pushes open the door.

And she’s there. Just like she said she would be. The relief steals his breath.

He moves quietly so as not to wake her- he knows the last 48 hours have crushed her too. He pulls off his clothes and climbs carefully into bed. And he just stares at her. Again, he wants to touch her. Again, he doesn’t. It’s enough, he tells himself, just to be here beside her.

Felicity opens her eyes. “Hi,” she says in that sleepy rasp he’s always loved.

“Hi. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She waves her hand like it doesn’t matter. “William okay?”

He nods, tears filling his eyes again. She cups his cheek and rubs her across his jaw, and he it is all crashing down on him. He’s trembling, and it feels like he’s spinning apart. And Felicity, who has every reason to hate him, who is probably planning to leave him in the morning, wraps him in her arms and holds on tight. He clutches at the ridiculous unicorn tshirt she always sleeps in- the one that gets glitter all over the bed- and he doesn’t let go. For the whole night, neither of them lets go.

Chapter Text

The light streaming in through the windows is getting harder to ignore. Felicity adds it to the list of things she doesn’t love about the loft: too many windows. She likes some windows, she’s not a nutjob, but is it really necessary to line entire walls with them? If anyone had asked her BI, she would’ve said that she loved those windows, that the view was her favorite part of the loft. But you know what, no one did ask her, which is just as well because now she won’t sound inconsistent. Now, she can focus on these stupid windows and how much stupid light they light in and how they are thwarting her attempts to sleep late, which she totally deserves because she was just up for nearly two days straight rescuing a kidnapped kid.

But now, with her makeshift bedroom getting brighter by the minute, she’s going to have to stop pretending to be asleep. And she’s going to have to stop pretending not to know that Oliver is pretending to be asleep. She’s going to have to face all of the things she’s been putting off, and she’s going to have to learn how feels to live in yet another new era, AO- After Oliver. She’s quite furious about that actually, and she huffs out a bitter little laugh. She’s still wrapped in his arms, so he feels that laugh and must pick up on the bitterness, because she feels him flinch.

They both know there’s no time left for pretending.

Felicity moves first, since it’s going to take her longer-it’s not like she can just bound out of bed and get ready without a thought anymore- and there’s no way she’s having the conversation she knows she has to have in pajama pants and a t-shirt. She drags herself to the edge of the bed where her chair is waiting, and when she looks back she notices the trail of glitter her unicorn shirt has left behind. It comforts her a little, knowing Oliver will never be able to completely get rid of it. She feels his eyes on her as she gathers her clothes and makes her way to the shower, but she knows he won’t say anything and force her to start before she’s ready. He’s the only one dreading this more than her.

Crying in the shower is such a ridiculous cliche, so Felicity doesn’t do it. She tries taking some of those deep cleansing breathes that one yoga instructor from that one time she tried a yoga class kept going on and on about like they were the best things since ice cream, but they don’t really calm her down so much as make her want ice cream. She will definitely eat ice cream when this is over. All the ice cream. That’s a cliche too, she knows, but it’s unfair to expect her to be too original and, whatever, ice cream is delicious.

She’s focused on thoughts of mint chocolate chip, which is what allows the memory of Oliver’s proposal to float in and catch her off guard. Damn it. It had been her best memory. Even AI, it stood out as the best moment of her life (it probably helped that she had no memory of the limo ride that followed, something she never failed to be grateful to the amygdala and its protective instincts for). But now...now she knows that moment, her very best moment, was a lie. Oliver had stood there asking her to build a life with him, all the while knowing that there was this huge part of his life he was intending to keep from her. That memory is a weapon now, and it feels like it’s carving off parts of her. The pain of it is physical. And the shittiest part of it all is that every instinct is screaming at her to seek comfort from Oliver. Because he is supposed to be her person, the one she goes to when everything hurts.

He doesn’t feel the same way about you.

And okay, if she doesn’t take all of this sad and turn it into mad right now, she is going to give into the shower-crying cliche, which means she’ll have to give up the ice cream cliche, which just isn’t going to happen. Anger it is. It comes easily, and it requires movement. Fury isn’t a fan of sitting still, at least hers isn’t. She gets out of the shower, this time giving in to frustration at how much harder all of these little everyday things are for her. She lets it fan the flames while she gets dressed and shapes her curls and applies makeup (even eyeliner, even with her shaking hands, because she needs all the battle armor she can get).

She is ready to face him. Until she does. He’s sitting at the table with his head in his hands, his hair sticking up in tufts, and he looks at her with those “someone-just-kicked-my-puppy” eyes, and it almost breaks her.

Almost.

She remembers herself at that tree lighting, how she felt so like she was floating...how she was being lied to.

“I can’t do this.” She’d never put the ring back on after they’d found William. It makes it easier to hand it over.

“Felicity.” The way he breathes her name is painful. “I’m sorry.”

She finds herself numb to his apology. He’s always sorry, but he never seems to learn. “You should’ve told me.”

He nods. “I just kept thinking...if I just gave it time, if I just played the rules, Samantha would trust me, and I would be able to tell you. I wanted that Felicity. I wanted that more than anything.”

“You could have trusted me, Oliver. Clearly I’m capable of keeping your secrets.” It’s so obvious and infuriating, and she wishes she had something she could throw right now. Making something shatter would surely help. “You proposed. In the midst of all of it, you proposed. I get you’re a compartmentalizer, but don’t you see how selfish that was? You let me agree to make a lifelong commitment while keeping me in the dark about this huge thing.” He’s still just looking at her with those sad eyes like she’s the one hurting him, and it’s pissing her off. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

Of course he doesn’t. What could he possibly say. He lowers his eyes, and good, that helps her. It’s easier to hold onto her anger when she doesn’t have to look at him.

“I wanted so badly to believe that you meant it. That you were ready for this. I wanted to believe, and I ignored everything that might tell me otherwise. You...you left me in that hospital for weeks. You made me think that maybe you didn’t want me like this,” she gestures to her chair. “How could you let me think that, Oliver?”

His head snaps back up. “Oh Felicity, oh God...if I could go back. I am so, so sorry.”

She shakes her head. “I know. That’s not even my point. I know why you did what you did, and even when it hurt me, I swallowed that hurt because I know you. I know who you are, Oliver and I accept who you are, and I love who you are-”

“I love you too. So much. More than anything.”

She gives him a little smile. She’s crying now, but so is he, and besides, it’s not like she’s in the shower anymore. “I know you do. And I’ve been telling myself that it’s enough, but Oliver, you are the most afraid person I know. Which is funny, right, because you’re also the bravest person I know. But I get it, because we both know, and you especially, how much there is out there to fear. What I’m starting to realize is that you never really believed that you had nothing to fear from me. Oliver, oh wow, I would’ve accepted anything you had told me. I would’ve understood everything. You had nothing to fear from me. But you just...that’s not what you believe.”

“It is.” His words are a plea.

“Well, then, it’s not how you act. And here I am over here not afraid of you, not for a minute. I trust you with every single part of me, and I’m proud of that because that’s the kind of marriage I want, but also I’m really embarrassed about that because I thought…thought….”

“Felicity,” he reaches for her hand, “I’m trying.”

She takes the hand he offers and squeezes as hard as she can. “I know. That’s what’s so sad, Oliver. I know you’re trying, and I know you love me, but I can’t do this. I can’t be in this relationship...marry you when I can’t trust you to trust me.”

He just sits there, broken, and she knows he won’t put up a fight. There’s nothing he could say that would change her mind, but she wants to shake him, to tell him that he’s too young and too good to just so easily lean into loss. She wants to help him, because she loves him. More than anything.

Almost. But not more than she loves herself. His life lessons may have taught him that he doesn’t deserve a win, but her’s have convinced her that she better be prepared to value herself and to not count on anyone to do it for her. It would be nice, she thinks, if maybe they’d both learned happier lessons. At the very least she would’ve liked if they could’ve been each other’s exceptions.

“I can leave,” he offers, proving her right. “I’ll find somewhere else….”

She hates him a little for that. She holds as tightly as she can to her pride. “No. I still have my townhouse. I’m going to go back there.”

Then something occurs to her that feels so cruel it’s almost funny. Ugh, her life. “Oliver?”

There’s still hope in his eyes when he looks at her, so maybe he isn’t leaning in as far as she thought. Maybe later that will make her happy, but right now it’s all she can do to hold together the shreds of her dignity.

“The suitcases are upstairs...can you?”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

His shoulders slump as he goes, and Felicity texts Curtis. No way is she going to ask Oliver to help her carry her bags out. She starts grabbing books, toiletries and clothes in a blur, tossing them without any order into the suitcases Oliver brings down. She gathers her electronics and sneaks in a few of the photos they’d had framed of their vacation. She isn’t ready to let those go yet. She leaves the plum blanket because she knows he secretly loves it.

He watches her as she packs and every once in awhile he sort of starts to help her, but then stops himself. Why doesn’t he just go away? She literally bites her tongue. She will not give in to the power uncomfortable silences have over her. She has already said what she wanted to say, and she won’t give him anything else.

Curtis arrives, and wow is she going to owe him, because this level of awkwardness is basically kryptonite to someone like him. He practically races out the doors with her bags.

She wishes she could channel Sara right now. Sara would have the perfect words to leave on, she knows it. But Felicity has never excelled at finding the right words, so she leaves without saying anything at all.

“Please. I’ll do better. Stay.”

Don’t look back. His anguish is her kryptonite. She wheels herself away as quickly as she can before she can absorb it.

“It was smart of you to hold onto this place,” Curtis says, bringing in the last of her bags.

Felicity doesn’t answer him. Being here feels wrong. She had loved this place. She was so proud when she’d been approved for the mortgage to buy it on her own. The Smoak women were renters, not homeowners, so being able to buy this house had felt so important to Felicity. It meant she was safe, she was successful, she had lived up to her potential and made all of her mother’s sacrifices worth it. She had filled it with things that she loved. She had made it her home.

It isn’t home anymore. Everything about it is the same, but she has changed. She let Oliver become her home, and now it felt like she has nothing left.

Curtis misinterprets her silence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean ‘Hey it was smart of you to keep this place because obviously things aren’t going to work out with Oliver Queen.’ I don’t even know him that well. And it wasn’t obvious. At all. I would’ve bet on the two of you making it. Bet metaphorically, of course, not literally because betting on someone’s relationship is something a monster would do...sort of like letting your mouth get away from you and saying all sorts of not-very-helpful things to your friend-slash-boss when she’s having a really bad day.”

“Curtis,” she decides to put him out of his misery, “it’s okay. We’ve all been there. It turns out it was smart of me to keep it. Even when I didn’t need it, my mom has been able to stay here during her visits, and...no. No, no, no, no, no.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My mom and Captain Lance probably had sex here, didn’t they? In my bed…” Felicity’s eyes trail over to her couch, “in other places….”

Curtis winces. “Well, you know how much I love me some Donna Smoak, but she does seem like the kind of woman who-”

“Who what?”

Curtis has the sense to heed her sharp tone. “Who...you should definitely call while I change the sheets on your bed and maybe burn the old ones.”

Felicity watches him go while admitting he has a point. As much as she doesn’t want to retell this story, she really should call her mother. Donna answers on the first ring and at the sound of her voice Felicity can’t help herself, she bursts into tears.

“Oh no, don’t cry. Baby girl, what’s wrong? Do I need to get on a plane?”

Felicity shakes her head even though she knows her mom can’t see her.

“Felicity, you’re scaring me.”

“I left Oliver,” she bursts out between sobs.

Her mother’s change of tone is immediate. “What did he do? Do you need me to have him killed, because you don’t work in a Vegas casino for as long as I have without getting to know some people.”

This at least makes her laugh a little. “No, mom, I don’t want you to have him killed.”

“Oh baby, what happened?”

Felicity gives her the Cliff’s Notes version and is gratified when her mom is outraged in all the right spots. She’s spent a lot of time being really hard on her mom, but she’s starting to realize how lucky she is to have someone so unfailingly on her side.

“Mom, can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course. Anything. Look, I can get a flight for tomorrow. I just realized that the townhouse isn’t setup to accommodate your chair. Honey, I will be right up there, and we will get this all fixed.”

“No, mom, it’s not that. It’s...this weird, I guess, but could you call Oliver? And maybe just not be too hard on him? Because...I mean, he really loves you,” she’s hiccuping now “and, you know, he d-d-doesn’t really have any-”

“Oh, oh sweetie. Okay. Of course.” Felicity hears the familiar sounds of the casino in the background. “You still really love him?”

“So much, mom. But I hate him too.”

“My baby. Okay, look, I know you’re not ready to hear this, but I have to say it now, because let’s be honest, who knows when you’ll call me again- hold onto that love, okay? I know how you feel now, and you are so right to feel that, but I also know you and Oliver. I know the two of you together, and I know you might not always feel the way you do now.”

Felicity nods again.

“And in the meantime, you be strong, Felicity. You show them what you’re made of, okay? I love you to the moon. And if you change your mind and want me to come to Star City, you call anytime. I’ll be on the next plane.”

“Love you too,” Felicity whispers as she hangs up.

“You okay?” Curtis asks from behind her.

“Yes.” At Curtis’s raised eyebrow, she relents. “I will be.”

He smiles at her and gestures to the garbage bag at his feet. “Your sheet situation is all handled.”

“Right,” she laughs. “You’re a really good friend, Curtis. Have I told you lately how glad I am to have you around.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual.”

He starts to go, but she calls him back. She’s made a decision. “Look, starting tomorrow, you’re off the hook with Team Arrow.”

Curtis’s eyes widen. “You’re not going to help them anymore?”

“No. That’s not what I mean. I meant, you’re off the hook because I’m going back. To both my jobs.” Her relationship might be in ruins, but Oliver Queen being an idiot will not take her purpose from her. “Helping with William made me realize that I’m ready to be back with my team. That’s the one good thing to come out of this.” And if her presence makes Oliver uncomfortable, well, he deserves it. She knows they need her, so she is going to take her silver lining and run with it. This is what she’s made of.

Chapter Text

Oliver can’t help the rush of hope he feels when he shows up at the lair the night after the breakup and Felicity is there in her old spot. A dull, aching desperation had settled on him the moment she left the loft, but she’s here now. She’s here, even though he hurt her. She’s here, even though Curtis had been starting to feel like an all too permanent replacement.

She came back.

He’s staring at her, and he knows it’s with that same wrenching longing from the year before. It makes their new status clear to the rest of the team. He sees it on each of their faces the moment they understand. The way Laurel is thinking that she knew he would screw this up, the way Thea’s eyes fill with pity, the way Dig grows guarded and shifts subtly to put himself between Oliver and Felicity.

But she’s back, and it’s enough to ease the ache so that he can strategize about Darhk. He wants to try to connect with his old friend from Detroit. He tries to catch Felicity’s eye first (which is so much better, he tells himself, than trying to get close enough to smell her hair, which is what he’s dying to do), but she’s deep in conversation with Cisco about extra security protocols for Samantha and William. He faces the rest of his team, unsure where he stands with them, but despite their obvious disappointment, they’re still here too. They get to work.

At the end of the night, they’re all back together and Oliver is hyper-aware of the way Felicity smiles and jokes with everyone- even a little with him- but how she also keeps her distance and is careful never to be alone with him. Dig is clearly her partner in this. It’s expected and deserved, but the ache returns. She leaves without him and with only a general goodbye, and he has no idea how he’s going to go on without her.

He does, of course. It’s the same after every loss, and it never stops taking him by surprise. He keeps losing these people who are so vital to him, and he keeps just going on. It feels like a character flaw, the way he just keeps breathing and living with these huge pieces of himself missing. Unlike so many others, though, she isn’t completely gone. He sees her night after night, and he feels it, the way they're not a team-within-the-team anymore. That’s her and Dig now, the way they were after Oliver ran off to Lian Yu. He’s managed to stumble a million steps back, and it fucking hurts. But she’s still here, and Dig- though he doesn’t try to hide his disappointment- hasn’t turned his back on him, and Oliver still has a chance to make this right.

This is still on his mind two weeks later when Samantha calls to let him know that she and William are ready to see him again. He has a general idea of how William is, keeps in regular touch with the security team they’ve set up, but it’s not the same as seeing him. Oliver is happy and nervous as he makes his travel plans and more than anything, he wants Felicity with him.

He’s never going to get an opportunity to talk to her alone, so he asks her in front of Dig. He says that William and Samantha want to thank her for all she did, which is true, but come on...it’s not like he’s inviting Lyla too.

Felicity isn’t unkind when she shoots him down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says in a way that he can even tell hurts her a little. Dig just stands there beside her with his arms folded and a look that has dumbass written all over it.

Oliver feels like a dumbass too, but the next day at the train station, the crowd around him parts to make way for a blond in a wheelchair, and there’s that hope again.

“I’m not coming with you,” Felicity says. “But Curtis and I put this together for William, and I was hoping you could take it to him.”

She hands over a large box wrapped in white paper with green polka dots. The whole thing is tied with an elaborate system of bright ribbons that scream Felicity. It’s so her, and she did this for his son, and the ache once again goes into remission.

“Thank you,” he says.

The smile she gives is bright and barely tinged with sadness at all. “Have a good day with him, Oliver.”

He remembers how one time she called him a Master of Broodiness, and though there’s a part of him that wants to give into these prime brooding conditions, he’s never been able to do it in the face of one of her smiles. And then there’s the sight waiting for him at the next station- William, holding onto his mother’s hand. Things are not perfect, but he’s getting to spend this day with his little boy and without the weight of guilt from sneaking around. It counts for something.

“Oliver, I’m scared,” Samantha waits until Oliver has tucked William into bed for only the second time in his child’s life to say it.

Just like that the ease and happiness of day spent playing legos with an 8-year-old is yanked away from him. “Has something happened?” Oliver replays all of the conversations he’s had about security, all of the extra measures Felicity put in place. Had Darhk been able to find a way around it all? Oliver would never be able-

“No. Nothing’s happened. Yet. I’m still scared. I talked to the prosecutor, and they’re only charging my parents. No one else, even though I know they were all a part of it. I know they will try again,” Oliver see it now, how beneath the calm Samantha has been trying to project, her eyes are growing wild. He can’t blame her, can only imagine the toll all of this has taken on someone like her, someone just trying to live a normal life. “Plus, I’ve been keeping track of the news from Star City, and I know you say you guys are on it, but it looks to me like things are getting worse instead of better. I appreciate the security team, but William can’t go back to his regular school, I can’t go to work, I had to take him off his soccer team. He doesn’t understand. He’s sad and mopey and scared too, and Oliver, I feel like I’m stealing his childhood.”

The crushing guilt that he knows so well is back. He revealed his child’s identity to a super villain. He’s the one stealing William’s childhood.

“I know what it’s like, not getting to be a normal kid. My parents took that from me too.” Samantha’s voice breaks and her eyes fill with tears. “I swore to myself my child would never know a life like that. I’ve tried so hard to give him a nice childhood. Oliver, it’s killing me.”

Samantha knows what it’s like not to get to be an average kid with a happy family, but Oliver has no idea. As ruined as everything became later on, his childhood was perfect. He was safe and he was loved and he was happy. Like Samantha, he wants those same things for William. So he knows where this going. He just can’t bring himself to be the one to say it outloud, is grateful when Samantha does it for him.

“I’ve been thinking...maybe we should go. I...I’ve done it before...I’m not afraid to start over.” The look she offers him is questioning.

There’s a photo on Samantha’s fridge of William in a soccer jersey, surrounded by friends. He’s so happy in that picture. Oliver doesn’t like admitting it, but that same happiness was missing from the little boy’s eyes today. He doesn’t want it to be gone forever.

He’s going to lose his son. It’s not a new thought. If he’s honest, it’s one he’s had since the very moment he realized William was his, and it is possible this is the actual reason he kept it all a secret. Oliver knew, knew, that the moment it became real, it would be over.

He is so very tired of losing.

Maybe there’s another way. It’s Felicity’s voice running through his mind. He doesn’t see how there could be another way, but that doesn’t stop him from asking Samantha to give him another week. Just in case.

Oliver fidgets through the entire train ride home. The need to see Felicity, to talk to her is visceral. If he could just hear her voice, he would...but they’re not a them anymore. He’s been trying to respect that. But. His mind is full of buts, and he goes to the lair hoping to find her.

He finds Dig.

“It was a slow night. I sent her home.”

“Who?”

The other man rolls his eyes. “Is that how you’re playing this Oliver. Who? Felicity, that’s who. It was a slow night, and she looked tired, so I sent her home. If you’re looking for her, you’ll want to look there.”

Oliver collapses into a chair.

“But of course you’re not going to do that. You’re you, so you’re going to sit here and sulk.”

Oliver is too raw tonight to take anyone’s shit, or pay any more penance. “What’s your problem, Dig?”

“What’s your problem Oliver? What is your fucking problem?”

“She left me, John. We’re not together anymore.”

“You’re not together anymore because you went full Oliver. And now you’re just letting her go when you should be fighting for her, proving to her that you’ve learned and that you’ll stop repeating your goddamned mistakes.”

Oliver throws up his arms. “How I do that? I’m asking seriously. How do I get her to forgive me? Because if you have any thoughts on this, trust me, I’d love to hear them.”

“I can’t fix this for you. All I know is that you don’t fix anything by giving up.” Dig starts to go, but then turns back. “Dammit, Oliver saving your ass has become too much of a habit. Look, I do have one piece of advice- stop thinking so much about what she can offer you, and start thinking about what you can offer her. Instead of focus on getting her forgiveness, why don’t you focus on giving her the truth? There. That’s all I’m saying.”

Before Oliver can respond, Dig’s cell is ringing and his friend answers, dismissing him.

Oliver is preparing to clean his bow when he hears Dig say, “What hospital are they taking her to? Shit, Lyla how did this happen?”

Oliver’s first thought is Sara, and his chest fills with panic. He mouths the little girl’s name to his friend, but when Dig meets his eyes, he knows. Not Sara. Felicity. The world falls away from him again, and grabs the phone.

“What happened?”

Lyla is in soldier mode and she gives him the facts briskly. They ordered takeout from the Thai place on Felicity’s block. They must have used peanut oil. Felicity had a reaction, and now an ambulance is taking her away.

It takes a minute before Oliver can wrap his mind around this. When he does, the knot in his chest loosens a little. “But that place is safe. We go there all the time.”

Little Sara is crying in the background, so Lyla has to raise her voice to be heard. “They changed management.”

“Okay, but you just used her Epi pen, right?” The ambulance was just a precaution.

“No, Oliver, I tore the place apart, but I couldn’t find her pen. She lost consciousness.”

“What are you talking about? She always has her Epi pen. She keeps it in that teal case….FUCK.” The teal case. On her bedside table. At the loft, not the townhouse. How could she have forgotten it? How could he not have realized it and brought it to her? The reality of the situation is finally catching up to him, and he doesn’t have time for talking to Lyla anymore, or for thinking about what it might mean that Felicity actually lost consciousness.

He has to get to the hospital. Now.

Oliver is out of the car before Diggle can get it into park. He rushes through the sliding doors of the ER and spots Lyla right away. She’s holding a screaming Sara and she looks...ashen. Terrified. Oliver has never seen Lyla Michaels look scared. The sight of it paralyzes him.

“She was taken to a resuscitation room. They said we had to stay out here...I have the baby.....”

“Resuscitation room? What the hell is that?” He knows he’s yelling, but he can’t make himself stop. “What does that mean? I mean...how bad was it? She…she was breathing, right?”

Lyla is shaking. “I performed CPR. I...”

This isn’t happening. He is screaming, but this cannot be happening. This is...she is his whole world, and she’s supposed to still be here.

Dig’s hand is on his shoulder, leading him to a chair. He’s talking, but Oliver can’t hear him. Everything just sounds so far away. He’s back in the limo, on the street, in the ER, and no. No. Absolutely not. Felicity doesn’t survive Damien Darhk, then die because they were careless with her Epi pen. That is...no. It’s ridiculous. It’s goddamn, fucking unacceptable.

A doctor comes out and Dig is urging Oliver to stand, to follow the doctor into the little room off the general waiting room, but no. Oliver is not going in there. He knows what happens in those little rooms with their single sofas and boxes of Kleenex. That’s where they tell you it’s over. That’s where they tell you there’s no more hope and that you better not have wasted all your chances, and there is no fucking way Oliver is going in there to talk about Felicity.

Everyone is all soothing tones and calming gestures, but they are not getting him into that room.

“Mr. Queen, she’s been stabilized.”

That gets through. That means there’s still hope. Still chances.

The doctor is talking about something called a nebulizar and observation, and it’s all floating over Oliver’s head, but it doesn’t matter, because they said she was stabilized.

“You can see her when we get her settled into a room.”

They’re putting her in a room. Where they put people who are stabilized. Oliver collapses in relief. The world is coming back into focus.

Diggle and Lyla are having a hushed conversation and Sara is still screaming.

“You guys should take her home. I’ll tell Felicity you waited, and I’ll send you an update.”

He doesn’t miss the hesitation in Lyla’s eyes. Neither does Dig.

“It will be okay. She’ll be okay with Oliver.” Dig gestures to him. “It’s not like we could get him to leave anyway.”

Not a chance.

After eliciting a dozen promises that Oliver will keep them updated and will not, under any circumstances, leave Felicity alone in the hospital (that one stings, but he knows he deserves it, and he knows he’ll do better), Diggle and Lyla take Sara home.

Oliver waits five more minutes and just when he’s ready to search every room in the building until he finds Felicity, a nurse comes out and gives him her room number.

He doesn’t bother with the elevator, instead he takes the stairs two and three at a time. He waits outside her door and takes five breaths. It’s her rule. Always take five breaths to steady yourself so the other person won’t see how scared you are.

He walks in, and she gives him a wry look. She’s wearing a breathing mask, but he can tell her lips are swollen. It’s so silly and stupid. He could have lost her this way. He could have lost her.

He can’t keep his distance. He runs to her side and gathers her in a hug, mindful of the mask. He tries not to hold her too tightly, but all he can think is how close they came this time.

Eventually she pushes him back a little. She’s waggling her eyebrows and doing some adorable winking thing (Felicity is terrible at winking. The worst.) He knows she’s trying to tell him she’s fine, but….

“Don’t make me let you go. Please don’t make me let you go.”

She takes his hand, and he stays.

They discharge her after eight hours. Her breathing and her face are back to normal. So is her babbling. He doesn’t stop her, just lets it wash over him. He wants to take her to the loft, he gives in and takes her to the townhouse. She wants to wheel herself in alone, she gives in and lets him carry her (But only because it’s 3 AM and the paramedics left my chair in the house. Seriously, Oliver don’t get any ideas.). He assures her that he is not getting any ideas. He wants to look into the possibility that Darhk poisoned her pad thai.

“Oliver, you’re crossing a line into Paranoiaville.”

He concedes.

He wants to stay, but she tells him to go.

“Felicity…”

“You have to go, because if I let you stay tonight, I may never make you leave again.”

“And why would that be so bad?” He means for it to sound light and jokey, but it comes out plaintively and heartbroken.

“Oh Oliver. You don’t know. Every night I wrestle with myself. Every single night. I’m so used to being with you, to talking to you right before bed. Every night, I want to call.”

“Me too, Felicity. Me too. Why don’t you call?”

She gives a sad little laugh. “I keep picturing it. Going back to you, starting over. We could still have something. It would be a little less shiny, you know, cracked in places, but it’s still ours...but then I think about who I would be, living a life with a partner who doesn’t trust me.” He starts to cut her off, but she holds up her hand. “Don’t. I can’t trust you to trust me, and that’s it. That’s the winning card. It gets thrown down, and the part of me who wants to try again loses every time, and wow, I really stretched that metaphor, huh?”

He can’t help but laugh. Even when she’s crushing him, she makes him smile. “What can I do to tip the deck back into my favor?”

“Well, you can let that metaphor die for starters.” He helps her settle in the bed, and his heart clenches when she starts burrowing herself into the pillows. “But honestly? I don’t know.”

He crouches down by the side of her bed. “I’m not going to give up.”

“Good.” She smiles. “Oliver, right now I’m angry and sad and humiliated and so, so disappointed.”

He breaks in to apologize, to tell her what she means to him, but she stops him again.

“But I won’t always be. Let me see where I end up when I get through to the other side.”

He can do that. He will do that. Before he goes, he kisses the top of her nose and says, “For the record, you can call. Anytime. I will always pick up.”

Chapter Text

“Felicity! It’s us! We have coffee and ice cream!”

From the bathroom, she can hear Lyla and Sara using the key she’d given them to let themselves in. She searches her face in the mirror, reassuring herself that the swelling has gone down enough that she won’t terrify poor Sara. The past few months have cemented her place as the baby’s favorite, and it’s not a distinction she’s willing to risk. She quickly knots her wet hair on top of her head.

“Hand over the baby and the latte,” she says opening her arms.

Lyla does as she’s told and Felicity immediately begins alternating sips of coffee and cooing at Sara.

“John and I thought you’d still be at the hospital.”

“They released me at 3:00 AM. They only needed to observe me for 8 hours, and I was responding well to the treatments. All better.” Felicity holds her coffee up high so Sara can’t reach it. “Not yet, Little Miss. When you’re older. At least six. You know what this wheelchair needs? A cup holder.” Felicity looks up at Lyla. “I know what you’re going to say, and don’t.”

“I feel awful. I was the one who just had to have pad thai-”

“Stop. I go to that place all the time. I didn’t realize there’d been a management change. If anything I’m lucky we ordered it last night, otherwise I probably would’ve gotten it on a night I was on my own and that would’ve been a lot worse. They would’ve put it on the news- ‘Single Woman Dies of Food Allergy, Eaten by Cats’. They’d quote my mom, ‘If only she had a boyfriend.’”

“Stop making me laugh, I can’t breathe. Besides, that will never happen, because I will never, ever let you get a cat.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

Lyla holds up the grocery bag she brought. “That and helping you avoid dangerous allergens. Everything I’ve got here is nut-free. I called the company. I may even have called in a favor and gotten some surveillance reports from the creamery and the coffee roaster.”

“Lyla, that was a spectacularly bad use of a favor.” Baby Sara bangs on the wheelchair handles and Felicity starts rolling her around the way she likes.

“I don’t think I can be too cautious. Like I said, you scared us. Plus, I’m pretty sure if anything goes wrong when you’re in my vicinity again, I’m going to be getting a middle of the night visit from the Green Arrow. Taking you undercover while you were supposed to be on a rest was one thing- letting you come into contact with peanuts was enough to put Oliver Queen right over the edge.”

Felicity scoffs. “The Green Arrow could try to show up at your place in the middle of the night, but Spartan would kick his ass all the way back to Lian Yu. Wouldn’t he Sar-Bear? Yes, he would.”

“So...speaking of Oliver, I’m assuming you haven’t been online yet this morning?”

Oh god. Felicity groans. “Lyla...why?”

Lyla cringes and hands over her tabet. “I didn’t find out you had been discharged by calling the hospital.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Felicity scrolls through dozens of tweets and blogs speculating that she and Oliver had rekindled their relationship. Truthfully, she had no idea they were that popular. She should have paid more attention to how much attention people were paying to her….or to Oliver really. Apparently interest in his biceps didn’t end with his billionaire playboy days. A few of the posts even contained photographic evidence.

“Noooooo. I knew it was a bad idea to let him carry me. Damn it. I was just so tired, and he offered, and it was the middle of the night, and Oliver can be really convincing when he wants to be. It was a moment of weakness, okay? Who could’ve even gotten that picture.” Felicity peeks out her blinds and glares. “Mrs. Ferdinand. Has to be. She probably has a long-range lens because she’s so convinced someone is stealing her stupid cat. Damn, damn, damn.”

“Damn,” copies Sara. Felicity looks horrified and throws her hands over the little girl’s ears.

“Oh no, I’m corrupting her. Don’t tell John.”

“Trust me, you’re the least of our worries. Teach her all the bad words you want, just make sure she gets into MIT.”

“Well, that’s a given.” Felicity snuggles with Sara. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised what people on the internet care about, but come on. This city is falling apart. You’d think these people would have bigger problems than my relationship with Oliver.”

“So... is there any truth to it? Did you and Oliver talk last night?”

“Yes, we talked. No, we’re not back together. Wait, do you think we should be back together?”

Lyla holds up her hands. “I think you should be doing whatever it is you’re choosing to do. I just wondered.”

“He really loves me.”

“That has never been in doubt.”

“And...I still really love him.”

“Neither has that.”

“But I don’t know if I can do it, Lyla. I know with Oliver there are always going to be ghosts and challenges, and I can handle all of that...as long as we’re partners. Real partners. I thought that’s where Oliver was too, but now….”

Lyla hands her a bowl of ice cream. “You don’t have to figure all out today. Now for a subject change, that thing that we were celebrating with our pad thai of doom...is it still happening?”

Felicity smiles. “Yep.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up….”

“But it’s promising. Have you talked to Paul about it?”

“He’s setting up tests for tomorrow.”

They clink ice cream spoons in a cheers.

Five minutes after Lyla and Sara leave, there’s a knock on the door.

“Did you forget some-?”

But it’s Oliver wheeling a giant cooler.

“Did you really just open the door without checking to see who it was? Felicity, come on.”

“If I let you in, is it going to be a story on TMZ?”

Oliver grins. “You saw that, huh?”

“Yes, and why are you smiling? I’m outraged. You should be outraged.”

Oliver straightens and puts on a terrible approximation of his angry face. “Right. Yes. I will send them a very strongly worded tweet, just as soon as you let me in.”

Felicity rolls her eyes and nods to the cooler. “What, are you looking for a place to store your beer? Or, wait, is that full of ice cream, because if that is ice cream, then Oliver you’ve really brought out the big guns. I mean, Lyla beat you to it, but you can never have too much. At least, I can never have too much.” She lets him in, and sees his surprise that she doesn’t put up more of a fight. She knows him well enough to know he’d probably prepared a whole speech about why she must let him in, and she delights in denying him the opportunity to deliver it. Ha. Felicity 1, Oliver 0.

He doesn’t seem to hold it against her. Just says, “I’m filing that ice cream information away for later. But, no, this is full of dinner. And breakfast. And lunch. Enough to get you through the week.”

“What?”

“I spent the morning cooking.” He starts loading containers from the cooler into her fridge and freezer. “They’re all labeled with specific reheating instructions. You won’t be able to mess it up.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

They both laugh. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“Yes I did. Takeout isn’t safe for you.”

“Oliver-”

“Please. I like cooking. I like cooking for you, specifically. I promise there are no strings attached. It’s such a little thing. Please let me do this for you.” There’s a desperate quality to his words that Felicity doesn’t miss.

“I was just going to say thank you.”

He brightens, just a little. Not enough.

That’s the only justification she can find for what she does next, which is say, “About that ice cream Lyla brought. Want some?”

She’s asking him to stay, and she can tell by the way his shoulders straighten that the significance of the gesture isn’t lost on him.

“Felicity, I would love some ice cream.”

He stays for hours, and it’s comfortable. They avoid relationship landmines. She’s on the couch reviewing proposals for work, and he sits in the chair, reading a book he’d randomly grabbed off her shelf. It’s not like it had been before. Before, he would’ve been on the couch with her, arm around her waist while she leaned her head on his shoulder. Before, they would’ve been constantly interrupting each other’s work with little comments, which would’ve eventually become little kisses, which would then morph into making out like teenagers and inevitably ending in the bedroom.

Today, they’re mostly silent, but it’s not awkward. Felicity can’t say for sure what’s bothering Oliver. Before, she probably would’ve pushed, but now she knows there’s a good chance he would’ve lied and she doesn’t want to give him the opening this time. She knows she’s letting him stay because it comforts him, and even though they are fifty kinds of messed up, she still wants to comfort him. It comforts her too. Oliver is still her home.

She is so screwed. She decides to just give in to it. Even though he’s holding back from her, she has news she wants to tell him, and she doesn’t want to play games. She has never had the stomach for tit-for-tat.

“Hey, Oliver, you want to see something?”

He looks up in surprise. “Sure.”

She motions him over to the end of the couch, and he follows her direction cautiously like maybe she’s playing a prank. He’s in position, and he looks at her questioningly.

“Okay, look at this.” She pulls off her blanket and wiggles her toes.

The smile that spreads across his face is absolutely worth revealing her secret.

“Are you kidding me? Felicity!” He laughs. “When did this start?”

“Yesterday. Before what Lyla is calling the pad thai of doom. We were celebrating.”

“This is....wow...this is amazing. So, the implant is working?”

Yes, is what she wants to shout, but she’s not quite through managing expectations- both Oliver’s and her own. “Maybe. It’s just my toes, but I have an appointment tomorrow.”

Oliver keeps watching her feet, and she can tell by the way he keeps opening and closing his fists that he’s fighting the urge to scoop her up. A weak part of her, a part she’s not exactly proud of, can’t help but wish he’d lose that fight.

“Can-” Oliver swallows, his nervousness written all over his face. “Could I come with you? To the appointment?”

Say no, say no, say no. You know what, actually, fuck that. “Yes. On one condition. You tell me what’s bothering you.”

Oliver flashes her a wry grin. “Well, I made a huge idiotic mistake, hurt the person I love most in the world, lost her, then she went and almost died from an allergy….”

“Oliver. What else is bothering you?”

Oliver sits on the couch, lifting her legs across his. He looks at her to make sure it’s okay, and she nods. He just sits there for five full minutes and Felicity is sure he’s not going to say anything, but then he takes a deep breath and begins.

“Samantha wants to take WIlliam away, somewhere no one can find him. Including me.”

That is not at all what she was expecting hear. A swell of anger rises in Felicity’s chest. “What? No, Oliver, she can’t do that.”

Oliver looks at her, and there’s urgency in his gaze. “But what if it’s the right thing to do?” She shakes her head, not understanding. “I...I mean, I’m finally getting a chance here, to be his father in the open, and it’s all I want. As messed up as everything is right now, Felicity, as much as I regret how I handled this all wrong, I don’t regret finding out about him.”

“Of course you don’t.” Her anger is building. Samantha kept Oliver’s son from him for eight years. She doesn’t get to take him away now. “You should’ve known about him from the start. Why are you even considering that this might be the right thing?”

Then he explains their fears, and the anger fades and is replaced by an ache for this man that she still loves and the little boy who does indeed have his smile and even the woman whose situation must seem impossible.

“It would be different, if…. It would be different if Samantha and I had been in a real relationship, if she had always known, if we’d made the decision together to bring a child into this life….”

And she knows he’s telling her in his own awkward way that it would be different if it were the two of them, if they ever decided to have a child. It’s information she needs, even if now is the wrong time to ask for it. She’s grateful to him for offering it. It feels- and maybe this is her own wishful thinking, because god knows she’s been spending way too much of her time wishing, and maybe she’s just vulnerable because she did actually almost die last night (again, it’s worth noting), so she’s going to proceed carefully with this feeling, but… it feels like he understands that they are really and truly in this together now.

“What do I do, Felicity? What’s the right thing?”

Right. There is an actual urgent problem in front of her that needs a solution. “I don’t know. There’s a part of me that absolutely rejects the notion that WIlliam should lose his dad, even for his own protection. There’s another part of me that thinks about Damien Darhk and wants to tell Samantha to run as far as she can. Huh. I can project my own issues into this situation in every direction.”

Oliver laughs, but it’s a little pitiful. “There are no magic answers here.”

“You know what, Oliver? No. I reject that too. You’ve spent this year showing me that we live a world full of magic and, yeah, so far it’s mostly been working against us. But I just wiggled my toes for you. Damien Darhk and your weird friends aren’t the only ones with magic. I mean, Curtis created something that made it possible for me to wiggle my fracking toes. And I am a genius, something that you have never fully grasped, actually. Not that you’re an idiot. I mean, you can kind of be an idiot, as recent events and pretty much every major decision you’ve ever made on your own proves-”

“Felicity.”

She leans forward and takes his head in her hands (but she does not let her thumb rub against the stubble on his cheek, because she isn’t quite ready to burn it all to the ground). “But you’re not doing this alone.” She means it. “You’ve got me, and I have some thoughts. Maybe even some magic. Together we can work something out. I mean, it may not be ideal, but what if no one has to lose everything?”

Chapter Text

This time he isn’t alone on his way to Central City. Felicity is next to him on the hard plastic bench that, despite the fact that the train is less than a year old, has already become warped and grimy. He’d offered to put his jacket over the seat to protect her dress, but she’d just laughed at him. It’s what he had wanted, the two of them together on this journey, laughing at each other. It’s everything he’s dreamed of since he first found out about William. Like so many of Oliver’s dreams, it comes true in a way that is twisted and cruel. And all his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the woman beside him.

“You’ve already said that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can say it enough.” He turns to her, even though this really isn’t the time or place, because what if he doesn’t get another chance? “Felicity...thank you for this, for everything. And, look, I just…. I just want you to know that I know what I did wrong. Please, please know that. I was stupid and a liar, and I was all of those things because I was scared. You were right about that. I was so scared- of losing you, of never getting to have William.”

She’s not looking at him, but she is listening to him, not telling him to shut up, not pulling away when he takes her hand. He doesn’t want to push. He wants to be content with earning back her friendship, but he also can’t help himself.

“If I hadn’t talked to you, well, this would be a very different kind of trip.” He feels ill even thinking about it. If he’d never talked to her, he knows he would’ve just gone with Samantha’s plan. “You helped us find another way. If you ever decide to give me another chance, I promise, you’ll never have to doubt me because I will never, ever exclude you again.”

“You don’t know how much I want to believe that’s true.”

She hold his gaze then. There’s still doubt there. And it hurts. It really, really hurts, because she used to be the one, the only one, who never had any doubts about him. He’s the one who put them there. She doesn’t trust him right now, not fully, and he tells himself it’s okay. He will spend the rest of his life proving to her that she can.

Barry is waiting for them at the station. He’s there to drive them to an undisclosed location, but Oliver suspects the real reason he’s there instead of Caitlin or Cisco is to try to talk to Felicity. It had sort of...come up, during one of their conversations that not only had Barry known about William, but also that Barry had maybe implied that Felicity and Oliver would be over if Oliver told her the truth. Felicity had been really calm about it and had mostly made him go over the whole time travel thing until she understood it (which was problematic considering that Oliver himself didn’t really understand it), then she’d let it go. She’d turned back to her computers and started clacking away like she does and Oliver hadn’t really thought much about it until Laurel told him that she heard from Cisco that Felicity wasn’t answering Barry’s calls.

It occurs to him that life in Team Arrow occasionally bears a striking resemblance to life in a high school. And if Oliver is going to admit that, then he also might as well confess that he isn’t so completely different from his high school self that it doesn’t make him feel a little better, not being the only one on the outs.

Barry spots them on the crowded platform and he looks so hopeful and so much like a golden retriever puppy that Oliver is mostly surprised Felicity was able to hang onto her anger with him this long. Felicity motions for him to come closer, and Barry’s face lights up in relief as he winds his way through all the people and their luggage. Oliver notes the gleam in Felicity’s eye and has the urge to warn the other man to proceed with caution, but he doesn’t. It’s not his place to meddle, and he’s kind of looking forward to whatever Felicity has in mind.

She keeps getting Barry to come closer and Oliver is sure she’s going to give in and hug him. Instead she kicks him. Barry is stunned, and Oliver can’t help his snort of laughter.

“You kicked me.” He rubs his shin.

“You deserved it. Why did you tell him I would break up with him?”

“You did break up with him!”

“Because he didn’t tell me! In part because you told him I would break up with him! Do not confuse the point Barry Allen.”

“I’m sorry.”

Smart man, Oliver thinks. A quick apology is definitely the way to go.

“You should be. Friends before bros, Barry. You shouldn’t have kept that secret.”

“I’m really sorry.” He’s doing the puppy face again and Oliver knows Felicity is a goner.

“You’re forgiven, but don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.” Felicity pokes his stomach since she can’t reach his chest.

They’re okay again and while Oliver wants to chalk up the twinge in his chest to happiness for them, he’s trying to be more honest with himself, and he knows it’s actually jealousy. He wishes his relationship with Felicity could be repaired that easily. He lets himself feel it, but not for too long. He’s waiting for Barry to realize what just happened.

He doesn’t wait long. A smile spreads over Barry’s face as he puts it together. “Hey, you kicked me! With your leg!”

And then they’re all smiles. “The implant is working,” Oliver says.

“There are some signs that the implant might be working,” Felicity corrects.

He understands her caution, but Oliver was there at her last appointment. It’s going to happen. It’s his turn to be the one without doubts. “The implant is totally working.”

Barry takes them to a nondescript house in a suburb of Central City. There’s a swing in the tree out front and for some reason that detail makes Oliver ache. It’s all so...nice. It’s like it’s mocking him. Fifteen minutes later, Caitlin pulls up with Samantha and William in her back seat. William’s eyes are downcast, but Oliver sees them brighten when he notices Felicity. He goes and grabs William out of the car, tossing him over his shoulder and carrying him into the house. Samantha, he notices, heads straight to Felicity and hugs her.

Once they’re inside, Felicity starts explaining the system she’s set up. They’ve been over it thousands of times, and it is flawless She gives them a folder with their new identities and documents. She has it arranged so that she doesn’t even know their new names or where they’re going. She also delivers the devices she’s developed so that they can check in with Oliver at scheduled times. Finally, she gives Samantha an emergency number and instructions.

“You’ll always be able to find me. And if anything ever happens to me, there’s an extensive backup protocol. Help will never be far away.”

“Wow, Felicity, you’ve really thought of everything.” Samantha is carefully studying the dossier Felicity handed her.

Oliver agrees and for the millionth time he thanks any deities that might want to listen for bringing her into his life. The safeguards Felicity has put in place are beyond anything he could’ve thought of, much less implemented, on his own. He’ll be able to talk to William weekly- more than has been possible up until now. He won’t be with him physically, but he won’t have lost him entirely.

While Felicity, Samantha, Caitlin and Barry go over the tech and backups, Oliver pulls William aside.

“So you’re my dad. I didn’t know I even had a dad,” William says, fiddling with the little duffle bag that Oliver imagines holds all the things an 8-year-old believes he needs when he’s told he has to start a new life.

“Yeah. And I’m sorry I haven’t been there before.”

“My mom told me why.” He shrugs and looks up. “It’s cool that you’re the Green Arrow.”

Oliver grins. “You know that has to be our secret, right buddy?”

William nods. “It’s still pretty cool. But...mom says we have to go away.”

“That’s true. We want you safe, that’s the most important thing. And, hey, Felicity gave you that game that’s also a secret phone, and we’re going to get to talk and see each other over the camera every Saturday.”

William nods again, a little sadder this time. “But we won’t get to play baseball together. Most kids get to play baseball with their dads.”

Oliver’s eyes fill with tears. It’s like his chest is caving in. He seeks out Felicity, looking to her for strength. She nods at him from over Samantha’s head, and it’s enough. “I know. It sucks. One day, William, even if I’m an old, old man we’ll play baseball together. I promise.”

William’s grin returns. “If you’re really old I’ll definitely be able to beat you. I’ll beat the Green Arrow!”

And even though it sounds hollow to his own ears, Oliver forces a laugh and wraps his little boy into a bear hug. “That’s right. I love you, WIlliam. Always remember how much I love you.”

Neither Oliver nor Felicity says a word on the train back to Star City. They watched Samantha and William drive away and it was all Oliver could do not to weep. He doesn’t feel like weeping anymore, though. His mind is already spinning away from this place. The old numbness is back and what he wants is to hurt something. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, itching to hold his bow. It’s over now, and he wants to get back to the lair. He wants to do some damage.

Felicity keeps shooting him worried glances. There’s a quiet voice on the edge of his thoughts whispering that he should turn to her, that he is regressing, that he is undoing all of the progress he’s made in the last month. But for now, the pain is too overwhelming, and he just can’t beat it.

She places a hand on his thigh, and he does turn to her. He’s not his best self right now, but she’s beside him. She’s not yet gone for good.

Felicity says she’ll herself home, and he’s still so proud of her for that. Paul says she learned to drive in a day, like it was nothing. She calls him over before she leaves and Oliver is sure she’s going to ask him to come back with her. She doesn’t, though, and Oliver knows that she can feel his need to be moving. She has to. It’s palpable. She offers him a sad smile and echoes his own words from a couple of weeks ago.

“For the record, you can call. Anytime. I will always pick up.”

Oliver spends the next three hours alone in the lair. He starts with the salmon ladder. He moves onto shooting at tennis balls. He finishes with the training dummy. He’s tempted to go on patrol, but the team is already on it. And honestly, he knows it would just be an excuse to be reckless, and he doesn’t want to be reckless anymore. In the midst of all his personal upheaval, the team has made some solid progress in their fight against Darhk. They’re close now, and he wants to save his fights for the villains that matter.

What he really wants right now, what he needs, is Felicity. He has failed her spectacularly, but he hasn’t lost her, not in the ways that matter. All that’s left is for him to prove that he can be the man she needs him to be. The man she deserves.

He can’t save the world tonight, but maybe he can save his relationship. Even if he can’t….he can at least save himself.

He doesn’t call. He just shows up. It takes her a while to get to the door, but he knows that it’s not because she is unhappy he’s there. It just takes longer with her chair. The chair he doesn’t think she’ll need for much longer. He smiles genuinely for the first time that day. She opens the door, and she’s wearing that damn unicorn t-shirt with the glitter he hates, and it’s the most beautiful goddamned thing he’s ever seen.

“Did you check to see who it was before you opened the door this time?” He manages to say around the lump in his throat.

“I knew it was you.”

He’s flying apart then, falling into her. She cradles his head in his lap for a while before she says, “Come in. Mrs.Ferdinand is probably snapping photos right now, and we can’t have Star City waking up to tweets proving that its future mayor bursts into tears at the sight of a harmless unicorn shirt.”

He chokes out a laugh as he follows her in. “It’s not harmless. I will never be able to get all the glitter out of the bed.” He’d kill for her to still be in his bed, glitter and all.

She stands. She can only manage it briefly- just long enough to transfer to the couch- but he is in awe of her. Then she’s holding out her arms to him, and he’s back where he belongs.

They stay like that for minutes, or hours, or days. Time seems to stop, but one thing becomes clear. She meant it when she said she could take whatever he had to say. She is the strong one.

So he decides not to be afraid anymore.

His hands are trembling, but it doesn’t stop him. “I supervised slave labor in Lian Yu. The second time I was there, when ARGUS forced me to go back. I killed a man. More than one, but I killed one innocent man. I killed more in Russia. Not so innocent.” The next part feels impossible, like it could be the end of him, but he tells her anyway, “I was a party to human trafficking. I didn’t realize...when I did....I killed a lot of people when I found out, but it didn’t take any of it back. Felicity, it didn’t change any of it.” He goes on and on, tells her every horrid detail. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t tell him to stop. She just keeps holding him, offering him comfort he doesn’t deserve.

“You do deserve it, Oliver. You do. You deserve some good stories.”

“Felicity, after everything I’ve done- to you, to other people- how can you believe that?”

She wipes at his tears. “Terrible things happened to you. And you did terrible things in return. But Oliver, as soon as you had the opportunity, you started doing good. You still make incredibly bad decisions-”

“I’m going to do better. From now on, I’m going to do so much better.”

“I know. You’re trying.” She urges him to sit up, to face her. “I want you to understand something Oliver, I don’t love you because I’m overlooking all the bad and choosing to see all the good. I love you because I know who you are and now I know where you’ve been & what you’ve done and because I know that you’re trying. I don’t think you understand how remarkable that is, the way you never stop trying. It’s so much more than most people manage...and it makes me try harder too. You make me better too. That’s why I fell in love with you. It’s why I still love you.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I want you to stay, Oliver. Stay with me tonight.”

Pieces of himself click back into place. “Felci-” she cuts him off with a kiss, and he has missed this, He has missed her. His hands are in her hair, and he is bringing her closer and closer. He eventually forces himself to pull away to tell her he loves her, because it isn’t enough to think it, he has to say it out loud.

She smiles at him and says gently, “Don’t get too excited. We’re not completely there yet, okay? I’m not ready to put the ring back on.”

He can’t help the twinge of disappointment. He knows he’s getting more than he had any right to hope for just in getting to stay, but he can’t resist dreaming big.

“Be patient,” she says. “I happen to think you’re a pretty safe bet. When I’m ready-and I really think we’re talking about when, not if-I’ll let you know. I’ll do the proposing this time around.”

It’s not everything. But it is enough. He leans his forehead to hers. “I will live in constant anticipation of how you’ll manage to top my proposal.”

“Well, for starters, I can guarantee mine won’t end in a massacre.”

It’s not a joke he could normally take, but he’s here with her again, and the light is already setting in. “Promises, promises.”

“Mmmhmm.” She pulls him close again, gently pressing her lips to his.

“I’ll love you forever,” he murmurs, then he loses himself in her.