Chapter 1: First Impressions

Robert Queen, President and CEO of Queen Consolidated, a Fortune 500 company based in Starling City, had decided that he has had enough of his son Oliver's childish, irresponsible, and delinquent behavior. After his son's arrest and arraignment for over-speeding and "driving under the influence," he had given his son an ultimatum: Shape up, or ship out! The Queen patriarch was not going to pay for another semester of college education until his son shows him that he is serious about finishing an honest-to-goodness bachelor's degree in business. It's been seven long years spent either shifting from one degree program to another or being kicked out from one Ivy League school to another. And it wasn't because he didn't have the intellectual capacity to pass his courses. Robert Queen believed that although his son was not a genius, he was not intellectually deprived. He had high hopes for his only son and eldest child, but all he had been getting since the boy hit puberty was one disappointment after another. How could his son show change for the better? He had absolutely no idea. He didn't know what to do anymore, except be firm. Tough love. He was sure that was what his son needed. He'd rather let him suffer now and learn his lesson than waste his life and end up rotting in prison or cutting his life short because of his vices and dangerous, foolish choices.

Not willing that her "beautiful boy" spend even another night in jail, Moira Queen had bargained with her husband to get their lawyer to post bail and to negotiate with the district attorney and the judge that their son's sentence be reduced to probation and community service, since this was the first time he was actually arrested for DUI (although this wasn't the first time he had done it). The judge had agreed to six months probation and community service in an orphanage for boys in the Glades – one of several institutions for indigents that regularly received generous charitable donations from his parents' company – under the supervision of a court-assigned legal counselor who would submit an evaluation of his performance and progress to the judge at the end of the six-month probationary period. As recommended by the Queen family through their lawyer, that supervising legal counselor turned out to be none other than Laurel Lance.

Laurel was Oliver's girlfriend for a number of years since high school. She had given up trying to reform him, and had moved on with her life and finished college and law school before he could figure out what he wanted in life. She had an ambition, a goal in life, and she wasn't going to wait around in the sidelines for him to wake up from a self-induced sleep. When the Queen couple and their lawyer came to her asking for her help, Laurel agreed to do it as a favor because, after all the heartaches he had put her through during their troublesome past, she was still his friend, and she really wanted to see him become a better person.

His arrest was the last straw, and Oliver Queen knew it. He knew he had only one sane choice to make, and it was certainly better than jail time that his father was already willing to allow out of sheer frustration and anger at his foolishness and stupidity, which had lasted far too long. His father had told him, "This is the deal, son, and my decision is final. You either take it or leave it!" He had taken it.

The first month in the orphanage for boys involved kitchen duty – helping the cook prepare the meals of the children, dish-washing, cleaning up - and other stuff that Oliver wasn't used to, like cleaning the bathrooms, vacuum-cleaning the carpeted floors, helping the kids make their beds and do the laundry, and taking out the trash. That was also a period of adjustment, when he vacillated between complaining and whining about all the dirty work he had to put up with for six months, and feeling guilty and ashamed of himself for murmuring about his miseries when the boys around him had no families of their own to speak of and none of the luxuries he had grown up enjoying. Oliver Queen had realized that he had been taking a lot of things for granted. He realized that he had been throwing away opportunities that have been served him on silver platters, opportunities that those orphans would gladly grab without second thoughts if given the same chance. Each night as he headed back to the Queen mansion in his Ducati motorcycle, one thought kept his mind occupied as the rushing wind beat upon his helmet and the loud humming of the bike's engine drowned out all other sounds in his ears. Oliver had recognized that he had not really been offered a deal; he had been given a second chance. And he better not blow it.

On his second month of probation and community service, Oliver was told that every summer a local church in downtown Starling sponsors the tweeners in the orphanage to summer camp just outside of Coast City as their outreach program. The problem was that the church's social worker, who has been sent as the boys' chaperon for the last three years had gotten sick with chicken pox and was not expected to recover in time for the trip to the camp. Oliver had been the second choice. At first, he hesitated. No, he protested. In fact, the idea seemed both repulsive and ridiculous to him. But when his sister Thea had teased him about how running away from responsibility had always been his thing, and how it would take more than community service to change the way he is, Oliver had immediately spoken to Laurel over the phone. He decided he was willing to take on the challenge that could maybe, just maybe, become the turning point he needed in his life. Oliver Queen was going back to summer camp.

So there he was, stepping out of the bus followed by ten male tweeners with raging hormones. Their noisy, rowdy five-hour trip had reminded him of the naughtiness that characterized his own passage into adolescence more than ten years ago. He stood at the door of the bus, making sure they got off safely and helping them with their bags. He looked at the 11, 12, and 13-year-old boys from multicultural backgrounds and felt mixed emotions. He couldn't deny that he was actually starting to care about those boys, but the fact that he alone was responsible for their safety and welfare for the next four weeks scared him half to death.

Oliver led the young ones to the welcome center of the camp site, which had a breath-taking view of the beach front. The reception area had a covered walkway that led to a lovely board walk and a small docking bay for canoes, paddle boats, and jet skis. The other campers and adult chaperons, which had arrived earlier than them, were already sight-seeing at the board walk and enjoying welcome drinks at the kiosk that served free refreshments. Oliver put down his own bags and sighed. "Well, this isn't so bad after all," he said to himself. He looked behind him at the motley crew that he had agreed to babysit, and he saw excitement in their usually lonely, bored, and restless faces. He smiled. "I think we're gonna have some real fun here," he said to the boys. He was going to make sure of it.

Thirty minutes later, the staff of Adventure Camp rounded up all the kids and adult chaperons and led everyone into the main session hall for an orientation to the month-long camp program. Oliver survived his first challenge of having to get his ten tweeners to take their seats – and to stay in them – while enduring an extended recitation of camp rules and guidelines, the camp pledge, and the cabin assignments. He also managed to get them all settled in their cabin, which was quite a trek from the main hall. Oliver had to carry the brown-haired boy Tim piggyback style. Tim was the smallest boy in the group who couldn't handle strenuous activities because of his asthma. The boy started wheezing just fifty meters uphill and needed a puff from his nasal spray.

There was a minor setback, however, when the very talkative and hyperactive half-American, half-Asian Sammy tripped on the topmost step that led up to their cabin. The boy lost his balance, and his huge backpack rolled off his back onto the other boys behind him, who went down like bowling pins, landing on the sandy soil below. That was why the first sight-seeing that Oliver did with four of his boys (who had minor abrasions and bruises) was at the camp clinic. He comforted himself with wishful thinking, because he certainly didn't want to regret his decision. "I hope things don't get any worse than this," he said to himself.

And things didn't. In fact, things were only starting to get better.

Oliver sat in the waiting room of the clinic with three of his boys, waiting for the last one to get patched up. Just as Sammy emerged from behind the curtains with the camp nurse who had tended to their minor injuries, a petite young woman with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail walked into the room. She had an arm around the shoulders of a dark-skinned teenage girl who looked like she was burning up with a fever. The girls approached the cramped triage area of the clinic, expecting to get some assistance, but the nurse was grumpy and nasty.

Oliver and the boys were about to leave the clinic when he heard the nurse muttering. "Camp hasn't even officially started yet, and I have kids walking in one after the other already!" the grouchy-looking, heavy-set nurse hissed. He decided it wouldn't hurt to help out a little with the use of his charm. He told the boys to sit down and be quiet, which, surprisingly, they were able to do – because really, they were more interested in what their official "big brother" intended to do.

Oliver smoothed his V-necked cotton shirt as he walked to the triage area and cleared his throat to speak. He appreciated the lady for what she'd done for his boys earlier and told her that they're already feeling much better, thanks to her. And then he said, "I'm sure this sweet young lady would start feeling better if you could give her a few minutes of your time." He didn't have to say much. His handsome face and the gorgeous smile, which he routinely flashed at women whenever he wanted something from them, did the trick. The nurse blushed and giggled. She leaned over, slapped his arm, and said, "I guess you're right." The nurse stood up and brought the girl inside the examining room.

"I guess I should thank you," the blonde woman said to him. "You… certainly know how to charm your way to a woman's heart." Oliver thought she had the most endearing smile. It wasn't just how the corners of her pretty pink lips turned up and how her cute pair of eyebrows lifted. It was her bright, beautiful, blue eyes that held his gaze. And for a moment, he couldn't speak. He just… looked at her. He wondered what those eyes looked like without the glasses. Sure, the glasses made her look adorably smart, but he still wondered.

Somehow, words finally found their way out of his mouth. "Hi! I'm Oliver Queen. It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended his right hand, hoping she would take it. But as soon as he spoke his last name, the winsome smile on the woman's face began to fade.

"Oh, I know who you are. You're somewhat… famous," the blonde responded. There was a slight change in the tone of her voice. Seconds ago, he could sense warmth and welcome. This time she sounded guarded, and she began to avoid eye contact.

It didn't take long for Oliver to get what she meant by her response. His name. It rang a bell. Normally, girls swooned at the mention of his name. Women readily took his hand even before he offered a handshake. But this woman was unlike most women. For some reason, the mention of his name was an alarm, a warning signal for her to stay away.

"Well, thanks again, and have a nice day," she said, looking at him for just a second, and then turning away to take an empty seat at the far end of the waiting room.

Oliver Queen was not used to being… well… snubbed. Especially not by a beautiful girl. A beautiful girl that he was interested in. As he and the boys walked back to their cabin, he was still processing his first experience at rejection. He felt terrible. It wasn't just because his sincere attempt at making an acquaintance was spurned. It was also because it began to dawn on him how messed up he truly was. He had single-handedly created for himself the image of a self-absorbed, spoiled billionaire-playboy who couldn't be trusted and had absolutely no sense of values or a sense of purpose in life.

"How did I get to be this way?" he wondered, disgusted at himself. He kicked pebbles as he trod the path back to their cabin.

He also could not stop thinking about the blonde. Oliver thought she looked very pretty in her white and yellow sun dress, which complemented her very attractive, slender frame. The sunflower prints on her dress matched her amiable and pleasing personality (before she decided to just be politely civil with him). But it wasn't just the dress, her personality, and her physical appearance. There was something very different about this girl, and Oliver felt drawn to get to know her more. He wasn't going to give up too easily. He was determined to win her over. Hopefully.

It was the second summer Felicity Smoak volunteered to chaperon ten tweeners from the Starling City Home for Girls. When she had learned two years ago that the company where she worked had set up a charitable foundation that supported such an institution, she straightaway spoke with the head of HRD to be enlisted among the employee volunteers for community outreach. It wasn't just because volunteering entitled her to a month-long leave with pay. It was her way of giving back. She was grateful for being raised by wonderful foster parents after her biological parents had abandoned her in the city park when she was five. She was blessed, beyond measure, and she had a lot to be thankful for. She was among the few kids in the system that made it good in life. She made it through public school until twelve grade and graduated with flying colors, not only because she was inherently gifted with brilliant brains, but also because of the loving support of her foster mom and dad, who had raised her with values and morals and had taught her that a good education, hard work, and faith in God were her most precious treasures. With the help of her principal and teachers, she had been granted a scholarship in MIT, from which she graduated at the top of her class. Her parents drove cross-country to be present in her graduation, which by far, has been the most unforgettable experience in her life.

Well… the most unforgettable positive experience, that is. The other most unforgettable experience, so far, was not a very pleasant one.

There was a time during her four years in college that Felicity had struggled with her studies because she was distracted. In her junior year, she fell head-over-heels in-love with a senior who was both a frat boy and the basketball team captain of MIT. He was a rich guy, having come from a high society family in Boston. She started going out with him on dates for a couple of months or so – something that she had successfully kept from her unsuspecting foster parents until now. Felicity was crazy about this guy. She'd cut classes just to spend time with him, and also for him, because he often made her do his schoolwork for him. She knew she was in trouble when her grades began to drop by mid-semester. She knew she was in bigger trouble when he had become unsatisfied with just holding hands and she had given in to making out with him in her room every time her roommate was out late.

One night during a victory party hosted by the fraternity for her boyfriend's basketball team, he had convinced her to follow him to his room upstairs in the frat house while the rest partied wildly downstairs. Within minutes, his hands were all over her. Felicity sensed that he wanted something more than the usual kissing and touching, and though she was a little drunk, she still had enough sense in her to tell him to stop. He didn't. He proceeded to unbutton her blouse and she repeatedly said "No" and "Stop." He wouldn't. At that moment, Felicity knew it was the end of their relationship because she wasn't willing for him to have all of her. Not this way. "Stop it!" she yelled as she lifted her knee hard and fast against his groin. He slapped her hard on the face. He cursed and called her ugly names, and then he left her crying in that room. Alone. She wasn't surprised at all that he didn't want anything to do with her after that. That was perfectly fine. Because she really wanted him to stay away from her, too.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt. Because it hurt her like hell. She thought he sincerely loved her. She thought she loved him. "That wasn't love," she had concluded. Felicity Smoak had, indeed, learned that there was a difference between love and lust. She learned that lust is an insatiable monster, and that although giving in to it does bring pleasure, it's that kind of pleasure that is temporary and fleeting, empty and treacherous, leaving its victims with shattered hearts and broken dreams. And love? She still had a lot to learn about love. She knew what it was, in theory, because she was intelligent, but her only experience connected to what love truly means was being raised by her foster parents.

Felicity did learn from that major milestone in her life, but she got wounded in the process. She wanted to go home to Starling City and drop out of school. She was too depressed to stay in MIT and see him for another semester. But when her roommate had talked some sense into her and forced her to see the guidance counselor, she listened. She stayed on and recovered from a major heartbreak, making a dramatic academic comeback by the end of the semester.

But the harrowing experience had changed something in her. Yes, she became all the wiser, but she also became more afraid, less able to trust people, especially the wealthy, good-looking, and smooth-talking types. She had sworn she would never fall in love with such again.

"Too bad... that guy sure seemed nice," Felicity thought to herself as she sat in the clinic, waiting for Gracey's fever to go down. Oliver had already left the clinic, but she was still thinking about him, and she thought he was very handsome. Her ex-boyfriend at MIT didn't even come close. This was the first time she'd met Oliver Queen in person even if she'd seen him several times on TV and on print media. She didn't recognize him at first, because he used to be clean-shaven and had longer sandy-blonde hair. He was sporting a different look now – shorter hair and a stubble that were definitely making him look more gorgeous than ever. But she recognized his blue eyes, the pair of azure spheres she'd once stared at when she chanced upon a family portrait in the CEO's office one time she was asked to deliver a file there. Felicity also thought that he was a certified hunk, and a really attractive one at that. His cotton shirt clung to his torso as if it were intentionally tempting her to trace his perfectly chiseled upper body. Just thinking about how he looked and how he looked at her made her heart flutter, and she was suddenly aware that she just might to develop a crush on him.

But he was Oliver Queen. Everything she knew about him from the magazines and the tabloids and from office gossip told her that he was bad news. "There's absolutely no way you're falling for the top boss's son, Felicity Megan Smoak!" she scolded herself. She knew she couldn't possibly avoid him in camp for four weeks, so she decided she was going to be the courteous, educated person she was raised to be, but that was it. Oliver Queen was going to be a mere casual acquaintance and nothing more. She could do that. She was good at compartmentalizing things not just in her brain, but also in her heart. She had trained her heart to avoid getting hurt. Not again.

The first three days at camp were problem-free. Oliver and Felicity had somehow managed to stay clear of each other's personal space. Neither had let himself or herself come within ten feet of each other. Felicity was intentionally avoiding any encounter with him. Oliver, on the other hand, was not really avoiding her; he was still figuring out how to get through to her.

He observed her from afar when she wasn't looking, mentally taking down notes about this special girl that had caught his fancy. If Thea were there to observe him, she'd tease him endlessly for stalking her. He noticed she didn't like pickles in her burgers and she removed nuts in her desserts. He noticed she preferred wearing dresses during the day even for outdoor activities and changing to colorful shirts and denim jeans for the afternoon and evening activities. He noticed that it was easy to make her laugh; she'd laugh at the corniest jokes her girls could crack, and each time she did, her cheeks would turn all rosy red. Oliver found that so pleasantly amusing. He also noticed that she wasn't really the sporty, outdoor type of girl; in fact, if he was totally honest, he'd say she's somewhat clumsy, in a cute kind of way. She didn't skip any of the physical activities her girls participated in. She watched and cheered in her quirky sort of way, which Oliver found charming. She didn't join the games where camp counselors were encouraged to join, but she volunteered to keep scores or serve as assistant game official. He noticed she was very intelligent, as she easily caught on to the rules of the games she wasn't familiar with, and as for the ones she was familiar with, she could virtually replace the game officials. He also noticed that she tended to babble when she's excited or nervous or upset, and her ramblings were usually matched by hand gestures, which appeared so aggressively intimidating to whoever she was talking to; ironically, as an observer, Oliver found this totally adorable.

Like when she confronted the official after he made what she thought was a bad call during the table tennis mixed doubles game where one of her girls got paired up with one of his boys in the afternoon of day four. That was just the opportunity that Oliver had been waiting for to make his move. He had let her air her grievance quite eloquently at the referee for a good minute or two, short of screaming angrily at the poor guy, and then he stood up and attempted to intervene. And intervene he did.

"Thanks again," Felicity said to Oliver, as they walked away from the referee, who had decided to count the aced shot that he had previously declared as a service error.

"You're welcome. It was nothing," Oliver replied.

"Oh, it was something! That guy didn't know the first thing about table tennis!" she retorted angrily. And then she bit her lip in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm angry with him, not you. Not that I like you. I mean, I don't have to like you just because I'm not angry with you. Not that you're that difficult to like, because you are kind of easy to like, considering how good-looking you are and how kind you've been to me… and… Oh! I'm doing it again. I'm gonna have to stop talking now before I embarrass myself any further, in three-two-one."

Oliver wanted to laugh out loud, but he basically held it together and just chuckled. "Oh, that's nice to know… that you're not angry with me, I mean," he said, this time holding her gaze for as long as he can. "I somehow get the feeling that you've been avoiding me these past few days since we met at the clinic. I don't even know your name."

"It's Felicity. Felicity Smoak." This time, she was the one who reached out for a handshake, which he readily took.

"Well, Felicity Smoak, once again it's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a grin. "I believe you already know my name."

"Oh, yes," she replied. "And that's actually why our first encounter resulted in me somehow avoiding you all this time," she admitted shyly.

"Oh? And why is that?" he wondered, but was still smiling at her.

"It's not every day you meet your boss's son in summer camp. I work at your father's company. In the IT department."

"Is that so bad?"

"Well, that depends. Are you sure paparazzi didn't follow you here? I wouldn't want to find a picture of us in the lifestyle section of the morning paper with the caption 'Oliver Queen fraternizing with a female QC employee in summer camp at Coast City.' You know what I mean?"

It took Oliver a few seconds before he could think of an answer. Her verbal language didn't quite match with her nonverbal cues. Somehow he perceived that she was just joking, either that or she was offering an alibi to cover up for some other reason. He set that thought aside and thought about how he was going to answer her. He knew that whatever he would say next could make or break his chances of becoming friends with Felicity Smoak.

"I'm pretty sure the press doesn't know I'm here. So, there's really nothing to worry about," Oliver answered. "I guess that means you can stop avoiding me now?"

"Okay, sure," Felicity replied, "as soon as you let go of my hand." She smiled at him, ever so sweetly, that it nearly unlocked his knees and sent him crashing down to the floor.

"I think this is going to be the best summer ever," Oliver thought as he slowly released his grip on Felicity's hand.

A/N: This is just a short piece I wrote after coming home from camp. I was sitting on a tree house watching the young ones struggle through the obstacle course when this idea popped up in my brain. It's something that could have happened before the Gambit sank or anything island-related ever happened. So, of course, it's an alternate universe type of story. I hope you like it, and tell me if it's worth continuing. Thanks!