Ok, so I was thinking about all the spoilers we've been given for the back half of season 3 and also wondering how they were going to keep Olicity apart, cause let's face it, it's TV so they can't get together in the middle of the season. That would be too easy. Then I was out for a run, listening to Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars (thank you for that find Arrow fandom), and this theory hit me like a ton of bricks. So I wrote it out in fic form. I may have also been listening to Work Song... I thought about writing out a huge multi chapter thing, but I knew that wasn't going to happen, especially since I'm already working on one on here. So here are the three scenes that matter. They are supposed to happen around 3x13, 3x18, 3x22 respectively. Here you go!
Malcolm flipped on the light to his apartment and walked into the living room where he found a blonde sitting on his couch.
"Ms. Smoak…" he said, taken aback. He stared at her for a moment and then a faint smile crossed his lips. "I'm impressed. I doubted anyone could find me. I'ver certainly avoided the League for long enough."
"Then maybe you should be more afraid of me," threatened Felicity. She stood, rage in her eyes. She blamed Merlin for Oliver's death, and it was clear she had moved on to the anger part of the grieving process.
Merlin chuckled. "Statements like that usually come with death or a demand. So…" he raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to kill me or do you want something?"
She stood up, walked over to him, and looked him dead in the eyes. "Stay away from Thea."
"Not what I was expecting." He laughed. "Trying to protect the last of the Queen family, are we?"
"Yes." She was staring at him so hard she almost wasn't blinking. "You are responsible for the death of her father-"
Malcolm cut her off. "I'm her father."
Felicity continued, annoyance mixed in with her fury. "-the death of her real father, and both of her brothers. I won't let you do any more damage in that girls life."
"Who says Oliver's dead?"
Felicity stopped for a moment her eyes becoming wet, but then she pushed back her tears, balling her hands into fists.
"Don't. He's dead and you know it. Ra's al Guhl ran him through and pushed him off a cliff. He died."
Malcolm went to a bottle with amber liquid, poured some in a glass, and crossed over to one of his armchairs, sitting down and looking at her.
"Oh yes. He died," stated Malcolm. "I know, I saw." He sipped on his drink. "I'm just saying he might not have to stay as dead as he used to be."
A touch of fear crossed her eyes for the first time since he had walked in the door.
"Where is he?" she demanded. "What did you do?"
"Well, I could tell you, but the real question, Ms. Smoak, is what will you do?"
"Excuse me?"
Malcolm leaned back, that evil smirk still firmly planted on his face.
"You're right. I am afraid of you. Anyone should be." He looked her up and down. "You exist in a world of violence and death and you will stare any one of them down, because in the end, you know you'll win."
Felicity breathed deeply, unsure of what he was doing.
"You're not about to put a bullet," he raised an eyebrow, "or arrow, in someone, but the thing is, you are smarter than everyone. And you know it. While everybody around you is trying to be the fastest or the strongest, you can beat all of them, because you will out think them. No one is on your level, and I'm not even sure if you are playing the same game."
"Is there a point in there?" she questioned.
"Right now, it's true, I need Oliver for my issues with the League, but in the long run, your life is worth infinitely more than his. I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that intellect of yours, and I know that you will be of much more value than another assassin or solider."
Malcolm stood, striding toward her.
"As I said, the real question is what will you do?"
He took his last step, inches away from her, not breaking eye contact for a second.
"Will you sell your soul to the devil for Oliver Queen?