Well, I went and did it. I started that promised prequel to my Bratva!Olicity one-shot "don't care if he's guilty…" I'm VERY excited to be returning to this world and playing in it for a good while to come! I have a LOT planned: This multi-chapter story and several one-shots. I hope that it lives up to expectations. The title comes from the Civil Wars song "Devil's Backbone".

Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or anything therein, it is the property of DC Comics, CW, Marc Guggenheim, Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisberg, and anyone else who has a legal claim to it. Devil's Backbone is the property of The Civil Wars and anyone else who has legal claim to it. No profit is being made off the production of this story.

Thanks beyond thanks to my BEYOND amazing beta, SassySnow1988! For first inspiring this world and encouraging me to take the plunge and build it, and for the time, care and effort put into editing this for me and saving me for quite often embarrassing mistakes. You're brilliant, hon!

-Arrow-

Chapter 1: Edge of the Devil's Backbone

What the hell am I doing here? Felicity wondered for probably the dozenth time that night.

She let her eyes scan the room, the flashing lights even more distracting with her glasses—she just didn't have the money lately to keep up with contacts—and the pulsing bass hammering away at her eardrums to the point she was almost surprised that her ears weren't bleeding—ear fatigue was totally a thing, right?—as she sipped her cosmopolitan, grimacing at the too-sweet flavor combined with the burn of alcohol down her throat. Mixed drinks weren't really Felicity's cup of tea, she preferred a nice red, or even a white, and if she was going to drink liquor for it to be whiskey or brandy, and on very rare occasions tequila, but always straight up. However, Iris had insisted on the cosmos and Caitlin, who was actually cutting loose for once—she was an even bigger workaholic than Felicity and that said something—was all for the mixed drinks so Felicity had acquiesced…she'd just forgotten how much she hated cosmos in particular. She sighed, taking another sip and fighting the urge to just toss the drink, but that felt wasteful after already spending money on it.

Just then her two friends caught her eye from the dance floor, emphatically waving her over, but Felicity held up her unfinished drink as an excuse not to go out there; dancing was not her thing on a normal day, but combining the sky-high heels Iris had somehow convinced her were a fantastic idea with even the relatively minimal amount of alcohol she'd ingested from the one tequila shot over two hours ago and less than half the cosmo was a likely recipe for a broken ankle. They rolled their eyes at her knowingly and resumed dancing, whispering amongst themselves, likely plotting how to get her out on the dance floor, Iris ever the instigator and Caitlin too drunk at this point to do anything but go along.

Felicity stared into her drink as she swirled it around the glass. She loved the two of them dearly; their friendship, along with Barry's and later Cisco's, was probably the only thing that got her through the last semester and a half of MIT after what happened to Cooper. Caitlin's quiet, gentle understanding; Iris' brash, vivacious determination; Barry's ready ear and infinite hopefulness; and Cisco's excited babbles and curiosity that only amplified her own—the eclectic assortment of personalities that comprised her group of friends shouldn't have blended together as well as they did, but they somehow just fit. Even through various personal tragedies, and for some the hundreds of miles that separated them, they still remained close as ever.

Maybe that was why when she'd made it home from work at a reasonable hour for the first time in months, only for her friends to appear at her door demanding a girls' night at the hottest club in town, Verdant, that she hadn't put up a real fight. That or she was too stunned by the sight of Barry and Cisco plopped on her couch, one on either side of her mom, the trio pouring over a pile of DVDs on the coffee table while Cisco practically inhaled the popcorn—but somehow still managed to voice his opinions of what pizza they should order—to think straight. She understood why they'd dragged her out tonight—her mother oh-so-helpfully pushing her out and locking the door after them—even Felicity could admit that the stress had been getting to her and she really should take a night off to cut loose, and seeing her mom chattering so much like her old self to the XY members of their troop brought a watery smile to Felicity's face, but a club really wasn't her scene and she just couldn't shut down her brain and the worries circling round and round in it with the lights and music wreaking havoc on her senses.

Wanting to find somewhere a bit quieter without venturing out into the borderline warzone known colloquially as the Glades, the blonde scanned the room, looking for a place where the music wouldn't hit her poor, abused ear drums as hard. Eyes alighting on the stairs leading to the sparsely populated upper level balcony, she slipped through the crowd and began climbing up, and just as she'd hoped, the pounding bass mercifully eased with each step. By the balcony, it had reached a much more manageable threshold and Felicity couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her as she began weaving through the thinner crowd.

Up here seemed to be where people fled the noise below in favor of holding a conversation without shouting or to find a dark corner for a good snog—yes, she was a complete and utter BBC and Harry Potter addict and wasn't ashamed to admit it. She followed the narrow walkways between tables and couches to an unpopulated corner of the building.

It was almost like she'd stepped over an invisible boundary line, there were no signs forbidding patrons past this point but there also wasn't a soul to be seen, and no tables or chairs lined the rail like it had up to here. There were a few doors along the wall, probably offices, but Felicity had no interest in snooping anywhere she didn't belong, so she hoped that she might be able to take sanctuary in this blissfully crowd-free area just for a little while. She finally stopped at a corner of the balcony far from anyone else and leaned her elbows on the railing, drink cradled between her hands, watching the writhing crush of bodies below, not one of them seeming to have a care greater than the next round or if they should go home with the person pressing against them.

When had Felicity last felt so carefree herself? It felt like years.

"No, no, no! You did not just do that to me!"

Felicity spun around, nearly spilling her drink in the process—she wouldn't have cared that much if it hadn't been for the fact that it would've spilt all over her dress, and she really liked the bright magenta dress she was wearing—at the panicked, annoyed voice behind her. One of the doors, this one actually with a sign on it that declared in bold, block lettering "Office: Authorized Personnel Only" was open a crack, allowing the harsh curses of what sounded like a man from within to escape. It wasn't any of Felicity's business, and what she should do, and normally would do, was silently slip away…however the all-too-painfully-recognizable pounding of fingers on computer keys had her cringing, and she just couldn't turn her back on such abuse of tech.

Cautiously, she tapped on the door.

"Yeah?" a harried voice called out.

She pushed the door open, slowly easing around it. Felicity wasn't sure what or whom she'd been expecting to find, but she had to admit it certainly hadn't been the manager and part owner of Verdant, partially-reformed—according to the tabloids—playboy, and wayward heir—according to the views of the judgmental upper-crust of Starling society—to the Merlyn fortune, Thomas "Tommy" Merlyn. He looked up, black hair thoroughly mussed from obviously running his fingers through it in frustration, and his wild eyes further betraying his distress before a frown overtook his features.

"You don't work here." For all the statement should've been an accusation it came out as more of a perplexed observation.

Felicity gripped the door frame with her free hand, biting her lip. "No, I just heard you," she gestured behind her to the balcony, "and it sounded like you could use some hel—" she broke off with a choked gasp of horror, nearly shattering her glass as she slammed it down on a table by the door and scurried over to the desk, aghast gaze on the…she couldn't even really dignify that by calling it a computer setup. "What the hell have you done to these poor, precious babies?!" Unable to think of anything other than rescuing the tech before her, she started swatting and shoving Merlyn away before he could inflict further harm. "Move!"

Gaping at her, he scrambled automatically out of the chair, moving away as quickly as he could. "'Poor, precious babies?'" Merlyn repeated slowly, still looking at her like she was from another planet, something Felicity was more than used to.

Muttering darkly under her breath, she slid into the rolling chair, hands gently caressing over the monitor and keyboard. "Poor babies, mean people have been abusing you, but don't worry I'll get you set up and running just fine, then punish him for being so mean to you," she cooed at the tech.

Merlyn's eyebrows shot up, eyes alight as that notorious grin spread across his face. "You're going to punish me? Do I get to pick my punishment? Because I'm rather partial to spanking."

Felicity's head flew up, eyes nearly bugging out of her head. "Oh, God! I did not mean it like that! Not that there's anything wrong with enjoying that," she quickly added. "And not that I'd think of you like tha—I mean, not that you aren't handsome—not that I was ogling—"

Merlyn burst out laughing, expression downright gleeful.

The sound finally cut through Felicity's epic babble, prompting her to squeeze her eyes shut, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow her right then. "3, 2, 1…"

"God," he guffawed, "who are you and where the hell did you come from?"

Rather than the derisive tone Felicity was used to and entirely expecting, Merlyn sounded truly delighted, which was the only reason she cracked open one eye.

The billionaire heir was positively beaming down at her, eyes dancing with laughter as he stuck his hand out. "Tommy Merlyn, manager and the better looking co-owner of Verdant."

Felicity took a moment to swallow back the babble that wanted to fly out of her mouth about how she already knew who he was, which would probably end with her praying for a sudden ground-swallowing hole again. Her lips twitched and she raised an eyebrow at his cocky assertion, but accepted his handshake; while doggedly flirty he seemed to be pretty harmless. "Felicity Smoak, QC I.T. gremlin."

His eyebrows shot up again. "You work at Queen Consolidated?"

"Yeah," she nodded as they each withdrew their hands, "in the I.T. department, working on the computers."

An amused smirk curved his mouth. "Thus the threats of 'punishment' for 'abusing' this computer?" Merlyn tilted his chin in the direction of the monitor, voice rife with teasing.

Felicity blushed a little, fingers self-consciously stroking the edge of the keyboard as she shrugged. "What can I say, seeing a system as poorly put together, and I'm sure maintained, as this one hurts me in my soul."

He chuckled, dragging the chair in front of the desk over to her side and flopping into it. "Well, then, Ms. Smoak, please show me the error of my ways," he insisted in a mock serious tone.

Rolling her eyes at his antics, she still couldn't help offering, "Just Felicity is fine."

He nodded, telling her with a broad grin, "And you can call me Tommy."

"Tommy," she agreed, turning back to the computer. "Now where to start with everything wrong with this…"

-Arrow-

"When was the last time you ran updates on this poor thing?! The Renaissance?!" Felicity shot Tommy a glare, to which he just grinned sheepishly, shrugging. She let out an exasperated huff, fingers flying over the keys. "And you were wondering why your computer kept freezing up on you…" she muttered, sticking the pen she'd been using to write a list of things that were needed for their system in her mouth.

Her cell buzzed on the desk next to her, and she swiped the screen, pulling up the text to see a picture of her two friends giving her their best serious faces—while under the influence—with a caption saying, "We're judging you." She snorted under her breath, replying, "Why are we friends again? XP" They'd started texting a few minutes ago, worried because they couldn't find her and Felicity explained that she'd run into an employee—neglecting to mention who that "employee" was—with a technical emergency. And they'd been giving her hell ever since.

"Friends worrying that you've been kidnapped?" Tommy asked.

"Nope," she mumbled around the pen before pulling it out to take notes again. "Just taking the mickey out of me for burying myself in computers rather than being down there dancing. Though I honestly don't know what they expected. They know that I'd rather work on computers than party, and they can't really talk since they both tend to be as bad as I am about their own jobs. Caitlin carries around vacuum tubes in her purse and she was talking about taking our blood samples to test our BAC before we went home. Iris was going on about possibly doing a piece about Verdant and its impact on the neighborhood—mind you that is probably more the alcohol talking than anything. Biochemists and journalists…" She rolled her eyes as she returned the pen to between her lips.

"What's going on here?"

Both their heads snapped up at that voice, Felicity having to half-rise in her chair to see over the top of the monitor.

And that was how Felicity Smoak met Oliver Queen for the first time: Glasses slipping down her nose, hair hastily pulled back in a messy bun and a red pen hanging out of her mouth. Frack, she thought desperately, yanking the pen from between her lips, wide eyes on the man who was her boss' boss' boss' boss; the Queen family scion, CEO of Queen Consolidated, head of the Queen family, returned from the presumed-dead, golden son of Starling City…and, according to whispers in the darker corners of Starling society, a member of the Bratva, and not just a member but a ranking member.

And Felicity was just sitting there, her mouth hanging wide open, and this was her boss' boss' boss' boss' first impression of her… Oh God, why couldn't she say anything?! Wait, on second thought, it was probably best that she couldn't get her mouth to work because good God she didn't want to think about what might come out of it.

Oliver Queen was gorgeous. She'd seen pictures of him, of course, and distant glimpses around the company, but up close and in person… He was tall, like head and shoulders above her tall, and said shoulders were set wide with an equally broad chest; his perfectly tailored suit doing little to hide his obviously well-muscled physique. Since returning three years earlier, his previously longer hairstyle had been traded for a close-cropped, almost military cut—Felicity could quite willingly admit that she liked this style much better on him than how he'd worn his hair before his five year disappearance, not that she thought he'd care about her opinion on the subject—and while he looked ever-professional at QC and even here at Verdant—he could truly rock the professional but sexy, tieless club owner look. The stubble that now covered his jaw gave an edge to his appearance, while his shockingly blue eyes watched her with an intensity that had her heart tripping in her chest—from nerves and fear, she told herself, not for any other reason, because that would be dumb on her part.

All of this lent him an air of power and control, and that aura around him was only a small part of the reason why she fully believed the rumors about him being in the mob that she may or may not have heard during a less-than-legal card game she may or may not have been playing in—the larger reason she believed them Felicity wouldn't say because it would likely land her either at the bottom of the harbor, in prison, or in witness protection for the rest of her life, none of which appealed to her.

Tommy rose from his chair, still grinning and relaxed. "Hey, Ollie! I was just having some computer issues until Felicity here decided to descend from the technological heavens and fix the ails of us lowly computer illiterate, while scolding me for mistreatment of tech, and writing up quite the list of necessary improvements for our systems." He placed a supportive hand on her shoulder. "Did you know that you had such a valuable gem hiding in QC's I.T. department?"

What appeared to be surprise flickered through Oliver's eyes before they settled back into their original unreadable state. "Felicity Smoak?"

Her eyebrows shot up, eyes going even wider at him knowing who she was just from her first name. "Yeah. Yes, that—that's me."

He nodded slowly, expression still inscrutable. "Oliver Queen."

"I know who you are," she quickly assured him, "you're Mr. Queen."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Queen was my father."

"Right, but he's dead—" Felicity nearly choked on her own tongue. "I mean, he drowned—Oh, God!" Instantly, she buried her face in her hands. "But you didn't." She took a deep breath. "Which means that you can come to this office, in your club, and listen to me babble… Which will most definitely end in 3…2…1." She lifted her head and blurted out so quickly that her words ran together, "Pleasedon'tfireme!"

Well, at least he didn't look offended, actually he seemed mostly bewildered…and was that just possibly some amusement in his eyes?

"I don't think I'd be fool enough to fire the woman Walter declared the greatest hire QC has made in the last decade, Ms. Smoak." It certainly sounded like there was a touch of amusement in his voice now.

Her jaw dropped. "Felicity," she absently corrected him. "Mr. Steele really said that?"

Oliver slid his hands into his pockets, watching her closely still. "He considered it quite the coup that he managed to recruit you straight from MIT before Wayne Enterprises could get their hooks into you."

A blush heated her cheeks that the company's CFO and one-time CEO not only remembered her, but had spoken so highly of her that he'd left such an impression on the current-CEO and majority shareholder. "I'm—I'm honored that he thinks so highly of me."

"Hmm," he wordlessly acknowledged. "Now, may I ask how you ended up working on my club's computer system?"

Tommy, surprisingly silent this entire time, chose that moment to jump in. "Well, she was here with her friends and then she happened to hear me in here yelling at the computer as it froze up again."

Felicity automatically muttered darkly under her breath about lacking updates since the Dark Ages and blocked fans.

The dark-haired man tossed her a sheepish grin before turning back to his friend. "And she decided to lend a hand in fixing the problem and also make suggestions for improvements." He glanced at the notepad by her hand, really looking at the list for the first time, and his eyebrows shot up. "A lot of improvements apparently."

She shrugged, shifting in her seat and fidgeting with the pen under both men's gazes. "Seeing a system as poorly put-together as this one is just wrong, and don't get me started on your network and security system!" Felicity shook her head with an exasperated huff, looking back at the computer screen. "Top-of-the-line security system and the level to which you're not utilizing it is practically a crime!" The two men tensing had her mouth snapping shut, and she forced her gaze back to the computer screen, trying very hard to pretend that she didn't know what she knew about some of their less-than-legal activities and ties.

Oliver's hand reaching past the monitor to pick up the notepad caught her eye, and she couldn't not to study it. Large and strong, like the rest of him—his build! Ugh! She hoped her not-so-reliable brain filter hadn't let that out—with scars littering the back of his hand and knuckles along with a healing cut on his middle finger's second knuckle. The brief glimpse she got of his palm before his fingers closed over the pad revealed callouses lining it: this was a man who, unlike how the tabloids portrayed him, knew hard work and physical labor…one who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, and most likely in more ways than one.

"There's a lot here."

Felicity finally lifted her eyes to him, watching his face as closely as he was hers. "Well, there's a lot that needs work." She kept her tone even, matter-of-fact. "If you want your network safe and running better, your computers running properly and a security system that a 12-year-old with a cellphone can't hack."

"And who do you recommend to do all this work?" His eyes were intent on her, reading every shift in expression.

She stilled; honestly she hadn't thought about that, she'd been so focused on simply listing everything needed, her brain just working out necessary improvements, that she hadn't taken that mental step yet. Felicity bit her lip. "Well…I can do it."

Oliver cocked an eyebrow. "You're volunteering to do it? Why?" His tone was so cautious, so guarded, not that Felicity blamed him after the five years he disappeared for, and that no one seemed to be able to find anything about. But whatever had changed him from a spoiled rich kid into a Fortune 500 CEO and possible mob boss clearly hadn't been pleasant.

Felicity twisted the pen between her fingers, warring with her pride before finally throwing it aside; she needed this. "Because not only does it hurt me to see how badly this is set up is, but…I really need the money." There, there it was. At both of their inquiring glances, she further swallowed her pride and innate desire to keep this private.

"My mom…she was diagnosed with breast cancer three months ago and…I'm," drowning, her brain provided, "having trouble covering all the expenses right now."

God, she'd had no idea how much insurance companies could and would wiggle out of paying for and how so very expensive medical bills were. Her mother still had her insurance, but she hadn't been able to continue working and had had to give up her apartment in Vegas and move to Starling with Felicity, both out of financial need and because she needed someone to help care for her during treatment. And now Felicity had to admit that she was having trouble taking care of her mother and herself. And not only was she asking for more work from her boss' boss'—whatever—boss, but from a man who committed illegal activities while in a location she was fairly certain was central to those activities. She stared determinedly down at the desk, unable to look at what she was sure would be pitying looks on Oliver and Tommy's faces.

The silence stretched out.

"When can you start?"

-Arrow-

Oliver pushed the door to his office below the club closed, letting out a breath. The way Felicity's face had lit up when he'd asked her when she could start working was seared into his mind, bringing warmth to his chest with just the memory of it, fingers still itching to tuck that stubborn little curl that kept falling in her eyes behind her ear and to trace the silver bar piercing the shell there. He pressed his forehead to the heavy wood, exhaling heavily.

What the hell was going on with him?

-Arrow-

So, there we have it. The first chapter of Devil's Backbone. I hope that it was a good start! I'm having a FANTASTIC time in this universe already! Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!