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[DECEMBER 2001]
When the movie is over, Felicity stretches her arms out above her head.
She's somewhere in the middle of the theater (she never sits in the back because some tall giant of a creature always ends up sitting in front of her and then she can't see the entire screen, and she never sits up front if the movie is longer than ninety-minutes because she ends up with a kink in her neck) with her legs crossed at the ankle, the heels of her boots resting on the seat in front of her.
Chatter fills the room the moment the end credits start to roll and the lights flicker on, all the other patrons climbing to their feet as they talk happily about the parts that they loved while the few who had read the books debate about the writer's decision to cut out certain scenes whilst adding others. Felicity has several opinions on the matter (she's read her own copy of The Lord of the Rings trilogy so often that the titles are worn on the spine from being opened and closed repeatedly, and she'd just finished rereading her copy of The Hobbit for the millionth time the night before) but she doesn't have anyone to talk to.
She came to the movie alone.
Felicity purses her lips at the thought and deliberately wipes her expression clean. She climbs to her feet, her pajama blue UGG boots scuffing against the worn wood floor, and pulls on her black winter coat before reaching under her seat to retrieve her coin purse (it's the face of a panda and her Uncle Jacob and Aunt Gabi gave it to her for her 12th birthday and she loves it), all the while trying not to think of the reason she had to attend the movie alone.
She flicks the purse open and checks the time on her new cell phone before she calls Alfred to let him know that the movie is over, promising that she'll wait at the front entrance of the theater until she sees the familiar black town car, and it's so totally okay that he has one last stop to make first, and no she doesn't mind waiting, honest, and then she's stuffing her cell into her pocket. She makes her way towards the exit, throwing out her remaining half bag of popcorn along the way (she's always ordered a medium popcorn in the past because she's always shared with Bruce, it's habit at this point, but next time she'll adjust accordingly because Bruce left) because leftover movie popcorn is gross, so gross.
Felicity weaves through the crowd until she's at the front entrance of the theater, and then she sits on the ledge of one of the bay windows, her wrists resting on her knees while holiday lights (red, green, and white) flicker across her features as they blink in the windows. It's December 19th; less than a week until Christmas. The last night of Hanukkah was two days ago and her Uncle Nathan and Aunt Margaret had called last week to invite her and Bruce, and then called again the day of, offering to drive down to pick Felicity up since Bruce left Gotham, again, but Felicity declined.
She hasn't been in a festive mood, not since Bruce left.
Blue, blue eyes stare up at the sky and Felicity frowns. It's early in the day -- Alfred, the worrywart that he is, insisted that she go to the afternoon showing because the roads are icy and slick at night -- but the sun is low in the sky and the clouds are a dark, heavy shade of grey, dragging over the city. It's probably going to snow later.
Felicity rolls her eyes and reaches into her pocket for her iPod. It was released a couple months ago when iTunes was launched (what Felicity wouldn't give to be able to poke around at their systems because there are so many improvements that could be made that sometimes her mind just whirls) and she's thankful that she no longer has to carry around the Walkman that never really fit in any of her pockets.
She always has music on now, and it never fails to earn her a long-suffering sigh from Alfred.
Even when she isn't listening to music, more often than not she has her ear buds down around her shoulders while some song faintly plays. Alfred says it's rude, but Felicity doesn't particularly care about coming across as rude. She wears her attitude like armor, all practiced insolence with a heavy dose of disrespect for authority.
Felicity scrolls through her music until something catches her eye and then puts in one ear bud (Alfred all but ordered her to leave only one bud in when she's alone in public so she can hear if anybody's coming up on her) and turns it up on blast. "Drop your glasses, shake your asses, face screwed up like you having hot flashes," Eve blares from her black ear buds, "Which one, pick one, this one, classic. Red from blonde, yeah bitch I'm drastic--"
She lifts her eyes at the sound of light, happy laughter and her gaze immediately lands on the duo heading her way.
One is a pale, pretty woman with auburn hair. She's wearing a soft-looking grey military coat and amazing boots (Felicity's still unconvinced about the whole high-heels thing because they look painful, despite what her Aunt Donna says to the contrary, but even she has to admit the woman's boots look pretty bad ass) and she's smiling, wide and bright, her arm thrown around a girl about Felicity's age with fire engine red hair that Felicity so totally envies.
"All I'm saying is you could have invited Sam to sit with us," the older woman smiles, considering the younger redhead (her daughter? her niece?) before her mouth curves into a playful, teasing smirk. "I mean, as far as candidates for a future son-in-law..."
"Aunt Sarah," the girl warns, eyes narrowed, "Don't even."
"He's a nice boy," the woman, Sarah, continues, her teasing smirk turning a little evil.
"You're a terrible person, I hope you know that."
"Really, Barbara, you should invite him over to the apartment sometime."
Barbara snorts, "Yeah, I'm sure Uncle Jim would love that. He'd treat Sam like a common criminal."
"Worst than a common criminal," Sarah admits, giving Barbara's shoulder a nudge, "Especially if he keeps making heart-eyes at you."
"He wasn't making heart-eyes at me," Barbara yelps, throwing a glare over her shoulder as she pulls the exit door open, blue eyes wide and scandalized as she stares at Sarah. "You are literally the worst, Aunt Sar. And I mean the real literally, not the fake literally where people mean figuratively. This is the worst conversation I've ever had in my life and that includes a few weeks ago when Jamie came home from health class and had a million questions about my menstrual cycle."
Sarah's lips purse, amusement twinkling in her green-grey eyes as she fights a laugh. "Barbara Anne..."
Felicity listens as their banter dies on the wind once they disappear out into the winter chill, arm in arm, and she feels barbed wire coil itself around the ache that had formed in her chest when Bruce left Gotham, left her, and squeeze. It hits her harder than she expects and she sits alone and a little broken in the quiet of the theatre, people shifting around her while snowflakes swirl outside.
It's been three days since Bruce left.
She'd wanted to ask him to see The Fellowship of the Ring with her (Bruce loves the series as much as she does, and he's the one who bought Felicity her very own box set when she kept borrowing his) and she had planned to ask him after Joe Chill's parole hearing. It's why she had been waiting in his room, so sure he'd need some comfort and cheering up. But then he left and she hadn't bothered to ask anyone else.
She knows she could have asked her friend Eddie, but he was busy with family-things because it's the holidays and that's what you're supposed to do.
And, as much as she loves them, Felicity knows that Louisa and Alfred are too busy to spend an entire afternoon entertaining her. Louisa, she knows, is at home making gingerbread men for the children's ward at the hospital where her father once worked and Alfred (strong, gentle Alfred) is busy running errands in the city before everything shut down for Christmas.
But now she's alone and her heart is a dead weight in her chest and tears are stinging her eyes.
Bruce left, again, but this time it feels like he left her.
And she misses him so, so much that a few tears spill over and run down her face as it crumples.
She tucks her face into her coat and sobs for a long time, careless about the people that are surely watching, because her heart feels raw and exposed like a nerve and it hurts too much to even worry about anything else.
She misses Bruce, she's missed him since he'd left Gotham the first time to study abroad, but he'd still been her big brother. He called and emailed and asked her about school, about her friends, about Eddie when she developed a crush and told him all about the boy with dark eyes and dark hair whom she thought was so totally cute. He talked to her for hours, and sometimes he sent care packages from the different countries he visited, but this time it feels different.
Bruce hadn't even said goodbye this time. He just left her.
She just wishes she knew why, wishes she knew what was so wrong with her, that he would leave.
By the time Alfred pulls up to the curb, Felicity's settled a little and her sobs have lessened to something more like hiccups, and she rubs at her tear-streaked face before she climbs to her feet and darts out to the town car. Alfred's eyes widen and Felicity knows she looks a mess, she always does when she cries, with her red nose and her red-rimmed eyes that seem a little too blue.
Alfred looks like he wants to comfort her, that he'd do anything to ease the hurt he sees in her blue eyes, but this isn't something he can fix.
Alfred cannot bring her brother back, so Felicity isn't going to ask him to.
Still, Felicity hates to see him so distressed, so her mouth curves into a small smile she knows doesn't quite reach her eyes, and she lies, "Boromir's death was so much more heartbreaking than I thought it'd be." Alfred doesn't seem to believe her, so she slumps back against the leather seats and babbles about the movie, tells him about what was added and taken out, and it takes everything she has to stop her face from crumpling again. "But, seriously, completely heartbreaking, Alfred. I haven't cried that much since the first time I watched Flubber and Weebo died."
Alfred's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Well, young miss, if the loss was of Weebo proportions, then surely only ice-cream will be able to heal your hurt. Perhaps we should stop for some mint chip?"
Felicity's mouth curves into a smile because she really, really loves Alfred. "I somehow doubt it will manage to numb the pain, but it wouldn't hurt to try." She teases, and then she curls into the soft leather and sticks her ears buds in her ears while Alfred sings along with whatever Christmas song is playing on the radio.
"Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star? One without a permanent scar," Train blares from her iPod, "And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?"
[JUNE 2002]
Felicity's thirteenth birthday passes without so much as a card or an email from Bruce.
She isn't surprised, not really, Bruce has been gone for months now, but she is hurt.
Alfred and Louisa spend the entire day apologizing, a mixture of sorry and fury warring for dominance on their features when she waits by the phone for hours waiting for a call that doesn't come, but Felicity knows it's not their fault. It's not their fault that Bruce doesn't care about their little family, and it's not like she needs Bruce. She has Alfred and Louisa, she has Eddie, and she doesn't need Bruce.
Bruce doesn't miss her, clearly, so she won't miss him.
She'll harden her heart against giving a damn if it's the last thing she does.
Besides, Felicity has more important things to worry about than her absentee brother.
After the holidays following the Parole-Hearing-that-shall-not-be-mentioned, her teachers came to her with their concerns that she wasn’t learning in class, that she wasn’t being challenged, and had decided that it would be in her best interest to be skipped ahead in math and science and computers. For the entire semester, she had to split her time between the middle school and the high school, which was annoying, but it was whatever.
Now in the Fall, they want her to transfer to Brentwood Academy. She’ll be further ahead than the rest of her classmates (which isn’t anything new, not really, because she’s always been top of the class) and she’ll be in class with juniors when she’s a freshman. She'll be fifteen when she graduates and sixteen when she heads to university (she hasn't told anyone yet, but she has her heart set on attending MIT).
Felicity isn't worried because Alfred is still her legal guardian, and she knows he won't agree.
But Alfred, the traitor that he is, does agree with her teachers.
"Your education is something I take very seriously, young miss, as should you." Alfred insists stubbornly when she rants and raves. "If you're no longer being challenged in your classes," He says, "Then that is something we must address."
Felicity decides that Alfred is ruining her life and slams her bedroom door a few times because of the injustice of it all. She flings herself across her bed and cuddles her beloved stuffed panda. Alfred knocks on her door, but she doesn't answer. Louisa knocks a few hours later to let her know she's prepared her supper, but Felicity shouts that she isn't hungry and reaches for her iPod. Punk Rock slams from her headphones, completely erasing the sound of their knocking and gentle coaxing.
Darkness washes over Felicity's bedroom and she quietly slinks out of her bedroom and makes her way to the servants' stairs behind the wall on the third floor (Bruce showed it to her when she was little and it's one of her favourite things about the house, all the hidden passageways, there's so many she's sure they still haven't found them all) and makes her way down to the kitchen.
Felicity steps into the kitchen for a midnight snack (Louisa loves to bake and as a result, the counter is always lined with baked bread and fresh muffins and more cookies than even Felicity, who has the biggest sweet tooth ever, can eat) and startles when she finds that Louisa is still awake.
Louisa's room in the mansion is on the second floor, and she has a habit of making herself scarce in the late hours of the night and it's clear that Louisa has already tried to retire for the night. She's wearing the fluffy rose-coloured housecoat Alfred helped Felicity pick out for Louisa's last birthday and her short hair is tousled and ticking off in every direction.
Felicity thinks this is the first time she's ever seen Louisa looking dishevelled.
Louisa smiles at Felicity as she slides off the stool and digs out the plate of pasta al forno she'd put away at dinner for Felicity. "You never could resist Italian," Louisa smiles fondly as she crosses the room to put the plate in the microwave before she ushers Felicity over to the kitchen island to sit on one of the wooden stools. "Now," she continues, cupping Felicity's cheek, "You tell Louisa what's wrong, Piccola."
Felicity scoffs, screwing up her face, but the attitude doesn't last long because she's never been able to hide anything from Louisa. "I don't want to transfer to Brentwood Academy, Lou," Felicity whimpers, using the name she'd used as a small child and Louisa was too difficult to say, staring down at her panda-patterned socks.
She talks about how confusing it is to be so good at something and then resent it because she's so good at it. She talks about how she doesn't fit in with her peers and how it seems like her teachers are the only ones that seem to think her intellect is a good thing. She admits that maybe, possibly, transferring to Brentwood is the best thing for her education but she'll be alone. At least, in her current situation, splitting her time between two schools, she still has Eddie.
If she transfers to Brentwood, she'll be alone.
She’ll be alone and she won't have anything in common with her classmates. Not even her age.
"No one wants to be friends with a know-it-all that can't control her mouth or her frizzy hair," Felicity finishes, and it's true. Eddie is her only friend. She doesn't have anything in common with the rest of her peers; she'd rather take apart the toaster or read a book about the history of the telegraph than huddle around a gossip magazine and talk about how cute some teenage celebrity is. Felicity's tried to fit in, has tried to control her babble and the way her mind whirls, but she just can't help tinkering with electronics, she can’t stop seeing the patterns and the connections in her head, and some part of her just refuses to hide it.
Wrinkled hands reach out to cup her face, Louisa's thumb brushing her cheek. "You have always caught on so quick, like a sponge Alfred used to say, soaking up all the knowledge you can, that I sometimes think we forget how young you are. But I want you to listen to me, Piccola. You do not have to hide that you are good at something," Louisa insists firmly, holding Felicity easily when the girl sinks heavily into her arms, brushing a hand down her back in a soothing motion. "Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent."
Felicity smiles, the tears pooled in her eyes falling as her eyes flutter closed. "Eleanor Roosevelt said that."
"Yes," Louisa says, and her voice is warm with affection when she continues, "Another special lady like yourself."
Felicity's smile widens and she tightens her hold on Louisa, squeezing as tight as she dares. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment.
Louisa leans back, her mouth curved into a confused frown, face creased lightly in concern. "For what, Piccola?"
"For the whole moody teenager thing. You and Alfred were only trying to help," Felicity winces. "And I'm just really, really sorry."
“I forgive you,” Louisa says, and then she presses a half dozen kisses across the girl's face, and Felicity knows if Louisa were wearing her usual wine-red lipstick, her face would be absolutely covered in lipstick by now, but she doesn't care, simply basks in the affection. “You silly, silly girl.”
[OCTOBER 2002]
Felicity listens to reason, she listens to her teachers and Alfred, and she attends Brentwood Academy.
Her teachers are thrilled to have her (they praise her for her intellect and her work, how young she is, and marvel at how well she does in her AP classes) and her guidance counselor is just as invested in her academic career (Felicity has a scheduled appointment with Mrs. Cunning once a week during her free period so they can talk about how she's adjusting to Brentwood, and Mrs. Cunning reminds her at the end of each appointment that her door is always open) and her classmates mock her (she's called a know-it-all, the rich genius bitch that can't control the shit that comes out of her mouth, a freak) but Felicity doesn't care.
Louisa told her they couldn't make her feel inferior without her permission, and she doesn't let them.
Felicity finds solace in the mathletes (math has always made sense to her because math is math, much like wires are wires, and it's comforting to know that math is always the same even when she feels off-kilter) and, instead of home economics, which Alfred and Louisa both think she should take, because she's hopeless in the kitchen and could probably burn water, Felicity opts out and decides to join shop class.
The class is filled with mostly juniors but, once she helps them when they can't seem to get their engine to work, they kinda-sorta warm up to her and she ends up splitting her time between the library and loitering in the shop. Felicity picks up a frightening amount of attitude and vocabulary from her older classmates, which Alfred despairs at, but she uses it to build her armour.
Felicity trades in her curls for sleek, straightened hair with purple highlights. She pierces her nose, and then she gets an industrial piercing (technically she's not old enough to get one without parental consent, but she argues she doesn't have parents, and, when that doesn't work, she realizes how quickly that stops being an issue when she offers a $100 tip and mentions she's a Wayne). Her sneakers and loafers are replaced by comfortable, practical combat boots. Her wardrobe is completely overhauled when she turns in her bright pinks and sunshine yellows for purples and blacks and dark blues and forest greens. She trades in her glasses for contacts, and she lines her eyes with thick black eyeliner and paints her lips a dark purple.
It's all a part of her armour.
Someday, she'll be untouchable.
Louisa said they couldn't make her feel inferior without her permission, and she doesn't let them.
Felicity slides into her usual seat in history, headphones hanging around her neck, punk rock playing faintly as the rest of her classmates file in, and she settles into the usual routine of notes and lectures. It's a little over a month into the semester and they have a midterm in two weeks, which is clearly why the teacher chooses that day to announce their first big assignment, a paper, because sometimes teachers so totally suck.
Scribbling down notes as the teacher explains the different aspects required of the paper, Felicity feels dread settle in the pit of her stomach when Mr. Brake announces that they'll be working in pairs. "And don't think of this as an excuse to mess around with your friends," Brake continues, adding to Felicity's horror with his next words, "Because your partners will be assigned."
Groans fill the room, and Felicity's in agreement.
At least if she could pick her partner, she wouldn't have to worry about ending up with someone who will saddle her with all of the work because they don't see the point in worrying about academics when their parents can donate enough money to get them into an Ivy League college despite their GPA. That's happened to her in the past, it had been a group project for English, and Felicity's amazed to this day that she didn't end up in Arkham Asylum.
"Partners are as follows: Regina Smith and Nathan Taylor, Jake Fancy and William Ward, Clarissa Kean and Abigail Cameron..." Brake rattles off the assigned pairs and Felicity doodles in the corner of her notebook until she hears her own name. "Felicity Wayne and Barbara Gordon..."
Felicity's brows furrow as she looks around the room searching for whomever the name belongs to.
She sees a girl across the room glance over at her, and she assumes she's Barbara. Felicity's heard the name mentioned around the school a few times -- she doesn't really pay attention to the gossip that circulates around the school, but Barbara Gordon is all anyone has been talking about for weeks now and it's refreshing to not be the center of gossip for once -- and Felicity knows all about Barbara Gordon.
Barbara's in most of Felicity's AP classes, younger than most of the juniors in their year, but still a year older than Felicity, and she moved to Gotham a few years ago. She knows that Barbara's originally from Chicago but, after her parents died in a car accident, a result of her father's alcoholism rather than the snow and icy roads, Barbara moved to Gotham to live with her only remaining family. Like Felicity, it’s her first year at Brentwood Academy. Barbara’s on an academic scholarship, which Felicity thinks is impressive, while the rest of the student body thinks that's scandalous because most of the other students come from old money.
Not that any of that's the sort of thing you bring up in polite conversation.
Which means Felicity probably will, because not even a lifetime of etiquette classes has rid her of her tendency to babble.
Gathering her things, Felicity exhales before she crosses the room to join her partner, her mind already whirling as she tries to think of potential topics for the paper.
Immediately she notices the stark differences between them: Felicity's all hard lines and practiced insolence while Barbara’s warm with her rosy-red cheeks and bright red hair that’s like fire. Barbara’s also following the policy about the school uniform. She’s wearing the standard black loafers and tights, the matching navy tie and jacket, whereas Felicity’s chosen to ditch the tie and opted to wear her combat boots and a pair of thigh-high sun and moon tights she’d found in a cool store in Gotham Heights.
"Hey," Felicity sits next to Barbara, only hesitating for a moment because they can't make her feel inferior without her permission, and then she introduces herself because, despite what her classmates think, she wasn't raised by wolves on the grounds of Wayne Manor. "I'm Felicity. Wayne."
Barbara doesn't so much at blink at the familiar name, simply returns with her own introduction, "Barbara Gordon."
Barbara bounces her pen against the side of her notebook as she reads over her own notes, and then she suggests that they go to the library. "It'll be quieter there," she says, nose scrunched up as she watches the rest of their classmates joke and gossip instead of work, "And they should have some newspapers and books that will help."
Felicity has no problem with the library and she climbs to her feet to follow Barbara. They have to pick an important event from at least fifty years ago and then explain how it’s still impacting Gotham today, and Felicity's mind is already whirling as she tries to figure out how to trace that kind of influence.
Gus, the librarian, smiles when he sees Felicity.
Felicity offers a small wave in return before she leads Barbara to her usual spot in the farthest corner of the library, drops her stuff on the table, and then they start their research on the industrial revolution. Barbara's scouring the shelves for textbooks while Felicity enlists Gus' help to search through the old newspapers and journal articles.
Felicity rolls the sleeves of her forest green cardigan up to her elbows when she returns to the table, and then she turns on her laptop, head bouncing to the music playing from her iPod as her fingers masterfully dance on the keyboard. Barbara's bouncing her pen on the side of the book she's reading, splitting her focus between reading the textbook and writing up notes on her own laptop.
Their conversation circles around their paper and the industrial revolution, which Felicity's just fine with because she's never been one for small talk. Social cues still baffle her more often than not and the less they talk, the less likely she is to babble. For the longest time, the only sound is Felicity's fingers dancing across the keyboard and Barbara's pen click-clicking against her books, until Barbara mutters a curse under her breath, her fingers angrily jabbing the keys on her own laptop.
"Everything okay?" Felicity asks skeptically, brows furrowed, and a pang in her heart because she doubts the poor computer deserves this abuse.
"No," Barbara growls as she runs her fingers through her hair in aggravation before she tucks it behind her ears, scowling at her laptop with hatred. "My laptop froze up and I can't remember the last time I saved," She jabs at the keyboard again, angrily pressing different buttons in an attempt for something to happen. "It's only a couple of weeks old, I don't understand why it's being such a pain in the ass."
Felicity sighs before pushes her own laptop out of the way, and then she's wiggling her fingers at Barbara. "Gimme."
Barbara blinks. "I don't think the computer's going to care who is beating the keyboard in righteous fury."
Felicity purses her lips, her head tilted to the side. "I'm not going to beat the keyboard in righteous fury because that precious baby hasn't done anything wrong." Barbara's face twists in a mixture of confusion and amusement and Felicity loses her patience and simply takes the laptop from Barbara. "Relax, Elmo," Felicity says when Barbara tries to make a grab for it, her purple lips curving into a smirk as her gaze darts up to Barbara's fiery red hair, "I've been building computers since I was seven. Wires are wires."
Barbara tips her head to the side, her lips pursed in thought as she watches Felicity's fingers dance across the keyboard. She's completely in her element and her entire focus is on the laptop in front of her and, when she talks, simply to ask questions about how the computer's been running lately, she barely takes her eyes off what she is typing. Every once in a while, she starts chewing on her bottom lip, her purple lips making her mouth pop, and Barbara's fascinated by the way Felicity's hands move across the keys.
"You're kind of a nerd, huh?" She asks.
Felicity pauses in her typing and she knows that even Barbara will notice the tension that's crept into her small frame, but she returns to her typing and refuses to answer the question. No one can make her feel inferior without her permission, and isn't going to give Barbara the chance. She knows where this conversation is going anyway, she knows Barbara's moments from coming to the same conclusion the rest of their classmates, that Felicity's a know-it-all genius that can't control her mouth or her frizzy hair or the way her minds whirls. No one wants to be friends with that girl, and Felicity tries to smother the hope that started to blossom in her chest.
But Barbara smiles, reaching out to curl her delicate fingers around Felicity's wrist, and then she says, "I can work with that."
It's hardly friendship at first sight, but it's something, and Felicity finds herself repeating Barbara's words in her head, I can work with that.
[NOVEMBER 2002]
Felicity convinces Alfred that she needs a bus pass for getting around Gotham during the day. She tells him she's okay with him dropping her off in the morning and picking her up in the evening when she's ready to return to the manor for the night (she's not, not really, wishes that she could be a normal teenager) because she knows she'll have to compromise somewhere, but she insists on the bus pass, saying that she needs an easier way to get around the city when she wants to see her friends. Alfred looks like he wants to fight her, but Louisa sides with Felicity.
So Felicity gets a bus pass, which makes it easier after school when she travels from Brentwood Academy to the Public Library, or when she wants to meet up with Eddie at the cheap 24-hour diner in Gotham Heights down the street from the arcade he spends so much time at, or when she wants to go to the mall after school with Barbara.
Suddenly Felicity has two friends, and her social circle has effectively doubled.
Felicity had expected her and Barbara to go their separate ways after they finished the paper, but Barbara had been waiting at her locker the next day so they could go to the meal hall together to eat. Her heart felt so full it could burst when Barbara looped their arms together, and she hasn't been able to wipe the smile off her mouth since.
(
Barbara's hasn't filled the void Bruce left in her life and heart, Felicity's not sure anyone ever could, as much as she hates to admit it.
Bruce is her brother, and even though she refuses to miss him, she loves him.
But she hasn't been nearly as lonely since she met Barbara.
)
Felicity returns the books she checked out last week before she takes out another half-dozen books, arranging them carefully in her panda backpack before she leaves the Public Library, and then she's walking towards Eddie's house before she even has time to process what she's doing. She hasn't seen him in almost two weeks because their schedules haven't lined up, and she misses him.
It's surprisingly warm outside today, so warm that she's wearing a simple denim vest instead of a jacket, and Eddie only lives a couple of blocks from Gotham City's Public Library so she opts for walking instead of calling a cab (but she's already decided to never ever tell Alfred that she walked to Eddie's house alone because he's a worrywart and he'd take back her bus pass before she could begin to protest).
Eddie's outside in his yard when she gets there, raking leaves, and Felicity pauses a few feet away from his property and she shoves her hands into her pockets because suddenly she feels frumpy in her white skinny jeans, red Henley beneath her frayed denim vest, and lilac low top Chucks. It's nothing she hasn't worn around Eddie a million times before, but suddenly she can't help but think the dark locks that blow past her face in the wind are a little too frizzy, and she reaches up to try and smooth her hair down, before she snorts at how ridiculous she's being.
It's Eddie, for heaven's sake.
Why should she care what she looks like?
It's not like he's her boyfriend or anything, he's her friend.
Watching him struggle to shove a pile that's at least twice the size of his black Hefty garbage bag into said garbage bag, and Felicity sighs before she takes a step towards him. "You know, I'm no expert when it comes to yard work, but I'm pretty sure you're not going to defy the laws of physics and make those leaves fit." Felicity teases, her voice startling him to the point where he drops his rake, and her mouth curves into a wide smile. "Relax," She chuckles as she approaches him slowly, "I come in peace."
Eddie laughs breathless and picks the rake up again. "Hey, Lis," He greets her. He's always called her Lis, ever since the moment they first met, and she'd hated it at first, partial to Bruce's chosen nickname of Fee, but now it fills her heart with warmth as it sinks down, down, down into her stomach where she can feel those ever-present butterflies.
Felicity takes the rake from his hands, claiming his pile of leaves for herself as she fixes up his original pile. "You know I hate that nickname," She protests, because she always does, but Eddie's all-knowing smile tells her that he knows she's protesting for the sake of protesting. "You know, I was going to walk on past," She continues as she bends over to sweep the leaves into another bag, "But what I saw looked so sad I knew I had to sweep in and show you how this yard work is really done."
"Oh, really?" Eddie smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest in challenge, "And what do you know about yard work, Wayne?"
Felicity snorts. "Plenty, it's not like it's computer science, which I'm an actual genius at, by the way." Felicity points out as she climbs back up to her feet with the bag full, tied, and ready to be set aside. "Where...?" She trails off, her brows furrowed as she looks around for a spot to set the load of leaves.
"Oh," Eddie snaps back to attention and takes the bag away from her, dragging it over to put on the sidewalk to be picked up when the garbage is collected in the morning. "Thanks, Lis," He smiles, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels.
"No problem," She smiles, ignoring the way her stomach flips when his mouth curves into a crooked smile. Clearing her throat, because she's being ridiculous, she wipes her hands on the backside of her white jeans before she hands him back his rake. "So, what do you say I help you finish this up and then I kick your ass at Mario Kart?"
"As if," Eddie snorts before he can help himself, but then he clears his throat and absently moves his rake back and forth over the grass. "But you don't have to do that, Lis. I can do it while you keep me company; that'll make the time pass quickly."
"What? And miss out on all the fun?" Felicity scoffs, and then she quickly scoops up a handful of leaves and tosses them into his face.
"Hey," Eddie gasps, but her laugh and smile are hard to resist, and then he's grabbing a bunch of leaves and smashing them into her dark hair (she's left her hair curly for once, and it makes his heart skip a beat because it makes her look like the too-smart, happy girl he had met a few years ago) and Felicity shrieks in response, fighting to free herself so she can grab her own ammo and retaliate.
"Eddie Raymond," Felicity huffs, breathless, when he grabs a hold of her wrist to pull her away from the mounds of red, yellow, and orange leaves that litter the yard and crunch beneath their shoes. "Cheater," She scolds when he dodges the handful of leaves she throws at his face, but then she's distracted and she watches as a shower of different colours fall around them like a scene from one of those cheesy movies Louisa loves so much.
Eddie lets go of her wrist, and steps away from her, tripping over his own feet, and his eyes widen just before she face plants right into the ground. "Lis," He yelps, "Oh, Felicity! Fuck," He swears as he tries to reach for her as she stumbles, but he lands just beside her, "I am so sorry, Lis."
Felicity gasps for the air that's been robbed from her lungs as she rolls over to her back, blue eyes staring up at the sky while the chill from the ground seeps into her skin. "Eddie, you..." Felicity gasp and clutches one hand to her chest as she struggles to catch her breath while the other brushes away the hair and leaves that stick to her cheeks, "You swore. I'm telling your mom."
Breathless, Eddie turns to look at her incredulously, then roars with laughter. "I just tripped and tackled you to the ground and all you have to say is--"
Felicity roars with laughter, the sound of it cutting off the rest of his words as tears run down her cheeks, and when she finally settles, Eddie's staring at her with a soft expression. Clearing her throat, still stretched out on the ground, she raises a hand to end their leaf-war. "Let's call it a draw," She suggests.
"Deal," Eddie shakes her hand and exhales a long breath as he smiles at her, "You're a worthy opponent, Wayne."
"Likewise, Raymond." Felicity nods before she jerks forward and sits up, her eyes widening when she sees the mess that they made. "Oops," she murmurs.
Eddie winces when he sees the mess. "So, uh..." He chuckles and moves to stands then moves to hold out a hand to help Felicity to her feet as well. "Since you've completely massacred any progress that I made with this lawn, I'm going to take you up on your offer to help me finish."
"Is that so?" Felicity challenges, eyebrow arched.
Eddie nods, "Yeah, it's only fair."
She nods and picks up a rake.
His smile widens as he moves to grab another rake, "There's pizza and Mario Kart on the table if we finish before my mom gets home."
Felicity's smile is blinding when she nods, and the two of them immediately set to work, and she listens as Eddie switches between singing off-tune and humming as he works. "If you could be my punk rock princess I would be your garage band king," He sings, winking at Felicity as he does so, and to her horror, she feels a pink stain spread over her cheeks. "You could tell me why you just don't fit in, and how your gonna be something. If I could be your first real heartache I would do it over again..."
Felicity stares at him, a smile etched into her face.
"If you could be my punk rock princess," Eddie continues, practically shouting the lyrics, "I would be your heroin."
[DECEMBER 2002]
Felicity stares into her locker, not really looking for anything, as the punk rock slams from her headphones, completely erasing the bustling of her surroundings.
She’s been in a mood for weeks now, and she hates how much this still bothers her.
It’s been a year, almost to the day, since Bruce left Gotham. He hasn’t contacted them once, and her heart is torn in two between anger that he’s gone so long without even an email and concern because what if the reason he hasn’t contacted them is that he can’t.
Felicity’s not sure which outcome she’d prefer, and most days she tries not to think of Bruce at all.
He doesn’t miss her, so she won’t miss him.
“Hey, loser!” Barbara shouts, tugging one of Felicity’s headphones out by the cord.
“Hey back, jerk.” Felicity returns, shaking her morose thoughts from her head and using her friend as a reminder that there’s a real world she needs to get back to. “You’re cheery,” She accuses, eyes narrowed because there’s no way Barbara should be that excited when they have an exam next period.
Barbara gasps, a hand flying to her chest in shock. “You’re right, I am. If only I had some sort of outlet for it,” Barbara teases, joking of her new status as a member of the cheer-squad and student council. Barbara's so bad for her street cred that Felicity isn't even sure why she bothers, except she does because Barbara's the best friend she's ever had. It's as daunting as it thrilling.
“If only,” Felicity murmurs, obviously not as into their banter as usual, something Barbara notices immediately even though they’ve only been friends for a couple of months.
Barbara’s brows furrow in concern, and then she’s stepping closer and leaning back against the locker next to Felicity’s so she can focus on her friend more fully. “Hey,” She murmurs, reaching out to nudge Felicity’s shoulder, “What’s up, buttercup?”
Felicity flinches at the use of buttercup and exhales shakily as the familiar loss of Bruce coils around her heart, the one that once thrummed with the warmth of Bruce’s love, now gone numb, like a limb fallen asleep, a useless hunk of flesh. “Sorry,” Felicity huffs, turning to face Barbara, something akin to a small smile etched into her face, “It’s not a good time of year for me,” Felicity admits.
Barbara looks like she wants to ask, but in the end, she doesn’t, instead, she reaches out to shut Felicity’s locker for her before they start walking up the corridor. “Well, as your new best friend, I have just the thing to perk you up. Two Towers is playing tomorrow and Uncle Jim bought us both advanced tickets, which means we need to rewatch Fellowship of the Ring, so you should totally come over to Casa de Best Friend tonight.”
Felicity’s feels a mixture of affection and fear wash over her, affection because she doesn’t know what she’d do without Barbara, despite her attempts to not get attached because there’s no guarantee Barbara won’t leave just like Bruce, and fear because she’s never been over to the Gordons' apartment before. “I don’t think I can,” Felicity says, her usual scowl etched into her face as they walk into the classroom, “I have to help Louisa make gingerbread men tonight.”
Helping Louisa make gingerbread men for the children’s ward at the hospital where Thomas Wayne once worked was always something that Bruce had done, but this year Felicity’s offered to step in and take his place even though she's completely useless in the kitchen. She’s not the only one that feels the void Bruce left behind, she knows.
Barbara’s not so easily swayed, though, and she’s never been intimidated by Felicity’s attitude and scowl and general screw-the-world worldview. “That’s fine. You can do that after school, I help Jamie with his homework anyway, and you can come over after supper.”
“The movie wouldn’t be over ‘til late, and Alfred doesn’t like being on the road at night during the winter.” It’s at least a thirty-minute drive from Gotham City out to Wayne Manor, and Alfred always complains about how slick and icy the road is this time of year.
“So, stay at Casa de Best Friend tonight,” Barbara suggests reasonably as they slide into their seats. “Tomorrow’s the weekend, and Uncle Jim always makes scrambled eggs and waffles on Saturdays.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Barbara waves her hand, “You wouldn’t. He always makes too much anyway.”
Felicity huffs, slumping down in her chair, admitting defeat just as the teacher walks in. “Fine,” She relents, ignoring the way Barbara’s mouth curves into a wide, victorious smile. “I’ll ask Alfred to drop me off after we finish the cookies.”
Barbara winks, “Don’t forget the red vines.”
Felicity rolls her eyes at Barbara, but, later that night, she finds herself walking up the stairs to the Gordons apartment after Barbara buzzes her in. Alfred and Louisa had both stared at her in surprise when she’d asked to spend the night at her friend’s house, and then they’d practically ushered her out the door. Felicity would be offended if their faces hadn’t been so hilarious.
Standing in front of the door to apartment 304, Felicity chews on her bottom lip as she raises her hand to knock, red vines and Cheetos and the biggest bag of m&ms she’d been able to find in her hand, looking more casual than Barbara’s ever seen her.
She’d come straight from the Manor, and Barbara’s her friend.
She doesn’t need her armour, not with Barbara, but her mouth is still painted a vibrant purple. Felicity’s found that she feels naked and exposed when her lips aren’t painted, and she feels like that’s not going to go away any time soon.
Barbara swings the door open, blinking in surprise as she looks at her friend, “Felicity?” She asks, taking in the brunette’s dark jeans and plaid shirt under a grey cardigan. She’s still wearing her purple lipstick, but she’s wearing flats with cat faces on them instead of her usual combat boots, and the sight makes Barbara’s happiness soar. “I see you remembered the red vines,” She teases when she sees Felicity chew on her bottom lip, tension creeping into her shoulders.
Felicity shrugs and tosses the red vines to Barbara before she follows her into the apartment, her eyes roaming over everything as they make their way to the living room, and something akin to envy settles in Felicity’s heart when she notices how warm the apartment is. The living room isn’t even half the size of Felicity’s bedroom, but, unlike the empty mausoleum that Felicity lives in, the apartment feels like a home.
Barbara ushers Felicity to the worn, lumpy beige couch before she rushes over to pop in the VHS. After that, the movie passes in a blur, and Felicity splits her attention between watching the movie and Barbara’s face, trying to gauge her enthusiasm level.
Every once in a while, Barbara recites the lines in time with the actors, and Felicity’s mouth curves into a smile and she turns back around to watch the screen for a while, until eventually something big is about to happen, and she looks back to see how Barbara reacts. The Lord of the Rings is very dear to her heart, and Felicity refuses to call Barbara her best friend until she knows the redhead has the appropriate responses.
“You know,” Felicity says finally when Pippin asks about second breakfast, tossing another handful of m&ms into her mouth. “I wish I could say that we’re Sam and Frodo, but something tells me we’re the hungry, lazy ones. We’re Pip and Merry.”
“Everyone wants to be Frodo and Sam.” Barbara nods sagely, plucking another red vine from the bag on her leg and biting off the end. “Sam’s the hero of heroes.”
Felicity snorts in agreement, and then she turns back to focus on the screen for a while, reciting the lines alongside the characters and Barbara. Her friend laughs the first time she does so, but then they share a smile and proceed to recite the lines until they reach the end of the first tape.
Barbara hops to her feet and walks over to put the second tape in, waving a hand towards the end table beside Felicity. “There’s take-out menus in the drawer, Aunt Sarah told us to order something because she won’t be home until late, and Uncle Jim had to go to Jamie’s parent-teacher conference.” She waits until part-two starts rewinding before she walks back over to Felicity, settling back against the couch, “We can have whatever you want, as long it’s not Big Belly. We’ve eaten it so much in the past month that I never want to see another burger again.”
Felicity frowns. “Blasphemy,” She gasps, eyes wide and mouth curved into a frown because she loves Big Belly and their strawberry milkshakes. “There’s no such thing as too much Big Belly,” Felicity sniffs, a haughty tilt to her chin.
Barbara’s mouth turns up in what can only be described as a smirk, reaching out to poke Felicity in the stomach. “You say that now,” She sighs, shaking her head, “We’ll see what you say ten-years from now when all this Big Belly has given you a big belly.”
The front door swings open then and Felicity looks up to see a man and a younger boy walking down the hall towards them, bags of Big Belly in their hands. She figures this must be Uncle Jim and Jamie, and she tries to reconcile the stern looking man in front of her with the image she’d built of Barbara’s soft-hearted, worrywart uncle.
“Uncle Jim, hey,” Barbara greets, looking up just as she presses play for part-two. “We’re watching Fellowship of the Ring.”
Jim tosses his car keys in the basket by the front door, handing the bags of food to his son before he starts pulling off his jacket. “Lord of the Rings? Again, Barbara? Between you and your aunt I’ll have that entire movie memorized…” He pauses when he walks into the living room and spots Felicity on the couch. “And you must be the friend that Barbara’s been talking about.”
"Felicity," she introduces with a half-smile as she resists the urge to scowl and present herself with her usual heavy disrespect for authority, instead pointing a thumb to the TV. “Barbara wanted to rewatch it before we go see the new one tomorrow.” She looks up at Jim, then. “We were about to order food, if you’re interested.”
Jim’s face breaks out into a smile, “No need. Jamie and I stopped to pick up Big Belly on the way home,” He says, arching an eyebrow when Barbara groans and Felicity’s mouth curves into a small smile. “I figured Barbara wouldn’t have enough manners to feed her guest,” He teases.
“She’s not a plant, Uncle Jim,” Barbara huffs when Jamie comes running into the room, launching himself onto the couch between Barbara and Felicity. “She’s not going to wilt and die if I don’t water her.”
“Says you,” Felicity huffs, earning a snort from the three Gordons.
She feels her cheeks darken with the force of her blush, but then Jim’s telling Jamie to grab the food, and the two of them are joining them to watch the rest of Fellowship of the Ring. “What’s wrong with you,” Jamie asks when Barbara half-heartedly dunks her fries in her vanilla milkshake, sighing.
“She said she’s sick of Big Belly,” Felicity answers around a mouth full of food, reaching for her chocolate milkshake (it's not as good as their strawberry, but you can never go wrong with chocolate) and her eyes widen at her lack of manners, knowing Alfred and Louisa both would scold her for it, but no one bats an eyelash.
Jamie looks over at her, eyes wide, “What,” He demands, voice pitched high. “It’s impossible to get sick of Big Belly.”
Felicity looks over at him, brow raised. “I know, right?"
Barbara sighs from the other end of the couch.
[DECEMBER 2003]
It becomes something of a tradition after that. Next year, almost a year to the day, Felicity curls up on that same couch with the Gordon family, and this time Sarah’s there too, and they all watch Fellowship of the Ring and Two Towers before they go see the final installment of the trilogy at the theatre the next day. Sitting around the couch, watching movies with them, eating scrambled eggs and waffles on Saturdays, Felicity almost feels like she has a family.
She has Alfred and Louisa, and she loves them, and they’re her family, but it’s different and not the norm.
She’s never had a traditional, normal family to watch movies with, not since Bruce left.
With the Gordons, she has a taste of what it’s like to have parents.
She spends more and more time at the Gordons’ apartment and, in the weeks leading up to the holidays, they invite her over when they decide to decorate the apartment for Christmas. Felicity has plans to celebrate Hanukkah with her mother's side of the family, the same as last year, but there's a part of her that misses the Christmas traditions she used to share with Bruce. Maybe, celebrating with the Gordons will help her not miss him so much.
Felicity doesn’t even bother knocking anymore, just walks in, and she immediately notices the various totes filled to the brim with decorations as she makes her way towards the living room when Jim calls out to her. "I wouldn't go in there just yet, if I were you." Jim says, "Sarah's trying to untangle the lights and it's an all-out war zone in there."
Felicity smothers a smile as she walks into the kitchen, arching an eyebrow, "How did you escape?"
"I almost didn't. Barely made it out of there with my life," Jim teases from where he's sitting at the island, elbows resting on the counter as he picks at a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. "Was starting to think you weren't going to show up. You have better plans or something, kid?" He asks, his eyes narrowed.
"Where else would I be?" Felicity snorts, brows furrowed.
"Barbara mentioned that you had plans with a boy earlier," Jim says, lip curled in disgust. "And that you have plans again with the same boy on Sunday."
"Barbara's a nosey matchmaker,” Felicity refutes, and then her brows furrow as she climbs onto the stool beside Jim, peering into his bowl. “I thought Sarah said she wasn’t going to buy those sugary cereals anymore? Y’know, something about setting a good example for Jaime, because all that sugar is going to rot the teeth out of his skull or whatever…”
“She did and she doesn't,” Jim nods. “This is from my secret stash.”
Felicity’s eyes widen, scandalized. “Jim Gordon,” She gasps, lip twitching.
He presses the milky spoon to his lips. “What Sarah doesn’t know won’t hurt her or me.” Then Jim’s eyes narrow, and he points his spoon at her. “But don’t think you’re going to distract me… since when do you like boys?”
Felicity blinks at him. “Is this your attempt at interrogation?”
“If I was interrogating you, you’d know,” Jim says dismissively. "Since when do you like boys?"
Resting her arms on the island, Felicity reaches over and takes a handful of cereal from the box on the island and pops it into her mouth. “Since I was four-years-old and laid eyes on Shawn Hunter for the first time,” She answers, shrugging.
Jim grumbles, his mouth pinched up sourly. “And this Sunday…” He starts, eating another bite of his cereal before asking her, “Any plans with a member of the male gender?”
“You mean aside from marathoning Christmas movies with Alfred?” She asks, brows hiked.
Jim gives a long-suffering sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nice try, but Barbara's been going on about being your Maid of Honor and destination weddings for over a week now,” He stares at her thoughtfully. “And I was wondering if there was a reason for it. You got something you want to tell me, kid?”
Rolling her eyes, Felicity pushes off the island and walks over to the fridge, digging around until she finds the pint of mint-chip ice cream that the Gordons’ have started keeping on hand especially for her, knowing it’s her go-to comfort food. “Today I went to the mall with Eddie, who I have known for years, because he said he needed help picking out a Christmas gift for his mom. And on Sunday we're going skating,” Felicity says, grabbing a spoon, and digging out a healthy bite before she continues. “Because he says it’s unacceptable that I've never learned. But it’s not a date, no matter what Barbara says.”
Jim shakes his head, looking thoroughly amused by her, and then he stands from his stool and circles around the island, reaching over with his spoon to steal a bite of her ice cream. “Well, as long as Barbara’s invested in your dating life, she’s not focusing on hers,” Jim says, his overprotective side coming out. “But, if this thing with Eddie ever becomes something, you let me know, and I’ll clean my guns in front of him when you bring him over to introduce him… provided nothing comes back on the background check Sarah and I are absolutely not going to run on Mr. Raymond.”
With that, he presses a kiss to her hair, places his empty cereal bowl in the sink before hiding the cereal with the rest of his sugar stash, and then he leaves the kitchen.
Taking one last bite of her ice cream, Felicity places it back in the freezer before she washes her spoon and Jim’s bowl (destroying the evidence, she chuckles), and then she makes her way back to the living room where Barbara and Sarah are decorating, with Sarah unsuccessfully attempting to untangle the Christmas lights for the tree like Jim said she was.
Barbara looks up from where she’s putting batteries in a small, ugly looking tree that plays Christmas carols. “Oh, look, if it isn’t the future Mrs. Eddie Raymond,” Barbara teases, looking ridiculous in a red Christmas sweater that matches her hair and says HO HO HO. “Eddie and Fee, sitting in a tree,” She sings when Felicity scowls at her.
“You’re hilarious,” Felicity drawls, sitting on the floor beside Barbara, mouth quirked into a smile when she sees the stockings hung on the bottom of the TV, then she looks up at the tree, “How're the lights going, Sarah?”
A light smattering of curses is the answer she receives, and Felicity and Barbara erupt in a fit of giggles when Sarah leans around the tree to glare.“Either of you want to do this?” The police captain demands, eyes narrowed.
“No, ma’am,” Barbara snickers.
Sarah rolls her eyes before she abandons the light strand, wiping her hands on the front of her pants as she climbs out from behind the tree, “I admit defeat. Jim can sort out the lights,” She huffs, “This is why lights fall into the men’s portion of decorating, just like hauling the boxes out of storage.”
“How Independent Women of you, Aunt Sar,” Barbara snorts, leaning back against the couch.
“Barbara Anne, stop with the commentary and be useful.” Sarah orders as she goes about hanging four ornaments on the tree, silly little snowmen that say Jim, Sarah, Barbara, and Jamie. "Show Felicity what we bought earlier."
Barbara climbs to her feet and picks up a shopping back over by the doorway, digging through it until she finds a silly, snowman ornament that says Felicity is curly handwriting, handing it to Felicity with a bright smile, “Congratulations, you’re now an honorary Gordon.”
Felicity blinks down at the ornament, and tears fill her eyes as she looks up at the tree, but she doesn’t miss the way Sarah’s eyes narrow as she meets Barbara’s gaze, and then she tilts her head towards the hallway, saying, “Barbara, go tell your uncle to come fix the lights.”
Barbara nods and leaves the room, winking at Felicity as she goes, and then Sarah’s sinking down to Barbara’s spot beside Felicity. “What’s wrong, Felicity?” Sarah asks, soft hands cupping the girl’s face as she stares down at the ornament. “If you don’t like it, if you don’t want to hang it on the tree, that’s fine, Barbara mentioned that you celebrate Hanukkah with your aunt and uncle, but I just thought it’d be nice for you to have an ornament on the tree, too, since you’ll be here for Christmas.”
“But he isn’t,” Felicity croaks, sniffling, and her heart shatters in her chest because she’s never been fond of this time of year. As a child, Bruce had always been sullen and morose around the anniversary of their parents’ deaths, and then, years later, Felicity’s own love of the holidays died when Bruce abandoned her a week before Christmas. “I don’t even know why I’m upset. It isn’t like this is my first Christmas without him,” Felicity says, sniffling.
“Because he’s still your brother,” Sarah answers, pulling Felicity into her side, running her fingers through the girl’s hair. “And you love him. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since you've seen him, it doesn’t matter how angry you are with him, he’s still your brother and you love him and you miss him.”
Felicity sniffles again, tears clinging to her lashes, and then Sarah’s kissing the top of her head. “Oh, honey, you’re not alone.” She promises, “You have Alfred and Louisa and Eddie, who I will be running a background check on, just so you know,” She vows, earning a watery chuckle from Felicity. “And you have us. You’re an honorary Gordon,” Sarah insists, gesturing down to the ornament Felicity holds in her hands, “We’re all here for you. Always.”
Felicity nods and climbs to her feet, then she walks over to the tree and hangs her ornament on the branch in between Barbara and Jamie’s, a soft smile etched into her face which only widens when Barbara walks back in with Jim, Jamie draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “It’s funny how this whole equality thing gets thrown right out the window when it’s something you women don’t want to do,” Jim teases, tossing Jamie down onto the couch before he makes his way over to the tree, his face breaking out into a wide smile when he sees Felicity’s ornament hung on the tree with the rest of the family’s.
[APRIL 2004]
Felicity talks Barbara into going to Amusement Mile with her opening weekend when the park opens after being closed all winter, and her smile is wide when they receive their bracelets, and she excitedly drags Barbara behind her. There are few places in Gotham she loves more than Amusement Mile. She still remembers when Bruce brought her to Amusement Mile one Felicity Friday and won her beloved stuffed panda for her.
“No,” Barbara insists firmly when Felicity drags her towards the Ferris Wheel, blue eyes wide. “Absolutely not, Felicity. I am not getting on that thing.”
Rolling her eyes, Felicity shoots her a look. “Why did you agree to come to an amusement park if you’re not going to get on the rides?” She challenges, eyes narrowed, chin tilted defiantly.
“I agreed because I want a candy apple and a corn dog,” Barbara admits, arms crossed over her chest, “Not because I want to get on that death trap.” Her pale pink cell phone is held tightly in her hand as if she’s prepared to call the GCPD and Jim to have Felicity arrested if she even tries to force the redhead onto the Ferris Wheel.
Felicity gives her a rueful smile. “C’mon, don’t be a wimp, Gordon.”
Barbara chews on the inside of her lips and stares at Felicity for a long moment, eyes darting between Felicity and the Ferris Wheel. “Okay, fine, we can go on the Ferris Wheel, but I draw the line at Sky Master. And after I want cotton candy, nachos, a candy apple and a corn dog so I can eat stress-eat my way through this trauma.”
Felicity leans forward and grabs one of Barbara’s twitching hands, dragging her towards the Ferris Wheel. “Deal. I’ll even spring for some carnival games,” She offers, pointing over to the ring toss and darts and shooting range as they get in line for the Ferris Wheel. “You’d like a stuffed huskie, wouldn’t you, Babs?”
“Don’t get cheap on me now, Wayne, I want the dragon,” Barbara mutters and Felicity's laughter is loud and bright.
[SEPTEMBER 2004]
Felicity's favourite part of being an honorary Gordon is when they’re all together. Family dinners at an actual dining room table, hearing about their days, being asked about her own, watching Jeopardy afterwards with Barbara, seeing who knows the most answers, while Jamie does his homework at the coffee table, Jim and Sarah’s laughter, so free and open, coming from the kitchen as they do the dishes.
Barbara flicks through the channels looking for something to watch once Jeopardy is over, crinkling her nose when she pauses at the news, rolling her eyes when she realizes they’re once again talking about one of the many stunts of Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen. “They stole a taxi,” Barbara murmurs, disbelief in her voice, eyes wide in horror, “Then Oliver Queen peed on a cop.”
Felicity snorts from where she’s stretched out beside Barbara, curling further into the couch as she listens to the news, reaching out to ruffle Jamie’s hair when he looks up and exclaims how cool that is before she reaches for the bag of skittles on the coffee table. “He’s lucky he’s cute,” She adds when they bring up a picture of Oliver Queen.
“Cute?” Barbara scoffs, rolling her head on the back of the couch so she can stare at Felicity. “You might have to switch back to your glasses if you think Queen’s cute. That haircut makes him look like a d-o-u-c-h-e b-a-g.”
Jamie snorts, “You know I can spell, right, Babs?”
She waves dismissively. “Just don’t repeat it, otherwise Aunt Sar will murder me dead.”
Felicity's cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
Which is when everything comes tumbling down around her when Viki Gale appears on the TV, eyes wide as she listens to whatever she’s being told, and then suddenly they're showing a picture of her brother at the airport. “Bruce Wayne is back.”
Felicity nearly chokes on her skittles as she forces herself to sit up, all of her focus on the television as she grabs the remote from the Barbara, turning the volume up until it’s nearly deafening.
“The Gotham City resident was seen arriving at Gotham International Airport earlier this afternoon, three years after he left Gotham following the parole hearing of Joe Chill. Joe Chill is the convicted murderer of Wayne’s parents, billionaires Thomas and Martha Wayne.” Her parents flash across the screen, but Felicity feels numb, doesn’t react, because if it weren’t for photographs she wouldn’t even know what her parents look like. “Wayne, alongside his sister, is the heir to Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Fortune—“
Felicity turns the television off, aware that she’s as pale as a ghost.
Barbara takes the remote from her, then curls her fingers around Felicity’s wrist, a comforting gesture that has Felicity looking at her best friend with tears clinging to her lashes. “You’re staying here tonight,” Barbara says firmly.
Felicity nods, numb to the world, because oh god.
He’s back.
Bruce is back
THE END.