Title: White Blank Page
Author: Bunny
Rating: T
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this 'verse, this would be happening come end of March. But alas, I don't.
Summary: Helena comes back to town to finally finish business with her father, demanding Oliver's assistance once more. However, her end goal is one that Felicity cannot allow to come to pass. Post 2x10.
Do you ever have those days where lines from a show/movie filter into your brain, but then you suddenly realize; 'Hey wait, that's not actually from said show/movie.' And if not, well then, enjoy the fruits of my insanity!
And can you kneel before the king; And say I'm clean – Mumford & Sons
"So, how does one actually get into your tight leather pants?" Oliver paused in placing his bow back in the holder, head tilting slightly waiting for the inevitable follow up statement. He had returned from patrol, feeling Felicity's eyes on him as he had descended the stairs, somehow knowing she was going to have something to say. Though not that exact sentence per se. "Not like that… particularly…"
"Saying there's a platonic circumstance to that question?" he asked, clearly attempting to keep the amusement out of his voice. He moved to where Felicity sat in her chair, at ease to tease her when they were one on one like this. Using her fingers to help her speak, she attempted to dig herself out of the verbal hole she created.
"You just… seem to switch from suit to suit quickly. And speaking from an uncomfortable personal Halloween experience years back, leather pants are not easy to get in or out of." He didn't answer, instead taking up the space just off to her side, waiting for her to continue. She flushed lightly at his proximity and expectant gaze, but as usual refused to back down.
"So which proved more difficult on your end, getting in or out of your pants?"
"Hey, I asked you first. You don't share, then neither do I," she countered, a hint of pink flushing her chest.
"Then I suppose some things will remain a mystery. At least for now." The implications in the comment lingered between them as the pink on her skin became more defined. His ability to so strongly affect Felicity with a single comment did not go unnoticed by him. Since their argument and reconciliation following her return from Central City, he had been sure to take more time to express his appreciation for her. This appreciation inadvertently led him to be more playful with her awkward foot in mouth occasions. Tearing himself away from the moment, Oliver stepped back unzipping his hood. "You should go home, sleep in. It's the weekend."
"Actually there's a few things at QC that I want to take care of in the morning. Just waiting to make sure you got back alright," she stated, slipping into her coat and swinging on her purse. Her flow of words stopped suddenly. "You are alright? Right?"
He paused briefly in his movements, touched by her forethought. Finally removing the garment he gestured to indicate the lack of injury. Feeling guilt at watching her stifle a yawn, he offered, "Don't go in tomorrow. I'm serious, it's the weekend and you've earned a little relax time. I'll stop by and see what I can do."
"Positive you can manage to answer a phone call or two without me?" Felicity teased, pulling her ponytail out of her coat.
"Almost," he admitted back in their light banter. Turning to a more genuine tone, he insisted, "You didn't have to do this. Wait up for me. There hasn't been a lot of trouble lately."
"I didn't mind," she shrugged. "Plus with the amount of trouble there hasn't been, it's probably time for some to rear its head. Wanted to make sure you didn't need any stitching tonight."
"Thank you for your confidence," he replied with gracious amusement, eliciting a small smile from her.
Felicity stopped her exit just in front of him, absent mindedly touching the bullet scar by his collar bone. The same one that brought them together. His skin heated under her touch, the odd way she seemed to hold a claim over this spot caused his stomach to drop. Oliver's own hand covered her fingers, but found himself unable to remove them from their place. A beep from her computer station brought them back to their senses. Felicity pushed her lips together as she dropped her arm, but not before stroking the skin one last time he noticed. "Just trying to stay realistic."
To stop himself from doing anything overly hasty, he merely nodded, taking a step back from her inherent warmth. "Good night, Felicity."
"Good night, Oliver."
X~X~X~X~X
The elevator binged indicating its arrival to the top floor of Queen Consolidated. Oliver sighed stepping off, Diggle shortly behind him. "You didn't have to come in either, Diggle. You should take the day off too. Go for a walk, take in a show, do something that isn't this for once."
"And the fact I could tell you the same thing is just the reason I am here." Oliver grimaced at the inevitable turn around he knew to come, he just thought he could postpone it awhile. His friend continue to implore him as they entered the windowed foyer to his office. "I'm serious, man, you're here for an hour, two tops, then I am making sure you have a do nothing day as well."
"Pretty sure your dance card just filled up, boys"
Helena Bertinelli, donned in a purple and with a satisfied smirk, sat in his office chair with designer shoes propped up on the desk. Oliver had expected her return for some time now, but seeing her form with his own eyes served as a surprise. He steeled his muscles, feet discretely sliding into a fight position for anything she may throw at them; literally of metaphorically.
"Hello, lover."
Diggle drew his sidearm, safety clicked off the moment it was aimed. Her only response to the weapon on her was a bored tick of an eyebrow. "How did you get in here?" asked Oliver in a harsh whisper.
"Security let me in," she replied with a head tilt. With obvious motions due to the gun on her, she reached to the large desk sliding off a plastic visitors pass. Displaying it between fingers, she flung it at the two men to land on the floor. "Even with my disgraced family name; it's still a recognizable family name. Something you're utterly familiar with, no doubt."
His eyes ticked to the legitimate pass, then back to her. Emotional surges battled within his chest; tearing between anger at her arrival, concern at her intent, frustration at that little feeling that he still cared about her. None of which he allowed to penetrate his facial features. "Why are you here, Helena?"
"My father."
Set jaw, Oliver shook his head firmly. "No. We are not playing this game again. He's back in jail, the plea deal fell through –"
Her feet slipped off the desk, slamming to the ground to interrupt his sentence. Standing, she smoothed the invisible wrinkles of her sleek dress before stepping deliberately towards him. "Well there's been another. And I know for a fact he's not being held on prison grounds currently –"
"I said no. We've been down this road, I will not help you murder him."
"That's not why I'm here, not initially at least," Helena reflected, stopping at the admission. Intrigued by the afterthought of the statement, he gestured for her to proceed. Through hooded eyes as though letting him in on a secret, she continued. "There's been a contract taken out on him, a professional hit. I want you to help me stop it."
Diggle groaned, still at the ready at his back, "You've got to be kidding."
"Do you seriously expect me to believe you returned to Starling to save your father's life?" Oliver asked with a disbelieving laugh.
"What you should believe is that when he dies, I will be the one who pulls the trigger." The conviction in her voice would have made his blood run cold had he not anticipated the response.
"Then forgive me for asking; what's the point of lending our help?"
"Because, point of interest, the man that's been hired is one code name; Deadshot." Her gaze shifted to Diggle's not so subtly by the end of her point. "If you know where to look, it's not terribly hard to find a pressure point on even you."
Oliver's stomach dropped at the revelation. He saw as his partner lowered his fire arm, coming closer. One look at the man showed the weariness and hope that this news brought. There was every likelihood she was lying to them, but the sake of his friend they had to look into it.
Clearly sensing she had them trapped, Helena offered a harrowing million watt smile. "Shall we get to work?"
X~X~X~X~X
Felicity folded her coat over her arm as she descended the stairs to the Arrow Cave, the noise level of the arguing voices covering her footsteps. "What hot mess of a debate did I come in late on?" she chastised rounding the pillar. She stopped short to find Oliver and Diggle standing cross armed and rigid with Helena Bertinelli mere feet away. "Ah."
For a moment it seemed as if the room was deafened by silence while she nervously ticked her gaze from person to person to person wondering what would come next. Diggle faced her, turning his back to the other woman. To her, the drop in his guard indicated his distraction. "What are you doing here? We didn't call you."
"Followed the advice to relax a little, then decided on a whim to ping your cell phones, noticed both of you were here, thought 'hmm, probably not a good sign,' then came over," she rushed out. Side eyeing the huntress in the room, she purposefully began to walk to her computer set up across the way. "Looks like I was right."
When she walked past the trio of individuals Oliver gripped her arm, pulling her slightly towards him. "Go home. You can't be here."
"What? This is a 'private thing'? Notice how well that worked last time." A little put off by his dismissal she tugged her arm back, turning to jab a pointed finger at Helena. "Do not tie me up again."
She smirked in response. "Only if you ask nicely."
The painfully unmoving quiet filtered back into the room before Diggle once again broke it. "Somebody hired Lawton to kill Frank Bertinelli. We need to find out who that someone was."
Sorrow filled her chest, as she looked to her friend. Whenever this ghost from his past returned a cloud seemed to surround everything in his personality, and it just wasn't fair. Diggle nodded in appreciation for her unspoken support. Resuming her approach to the desk, she affirmed, "I'm on it."
"No, forget them," snapped Helena in an impatient tone. "You need to focus on where they're hiding my father."
"Of course that's what you'd want," observed Oliver, moving himself by Felicity's side to be between her and Helena. As she began typing she felt warm comfort by the gesture, idly wondering if it was something he was consciously doing.
"Seems like you'd want to find them and send them a gift basket," Felicity commented setting up search algorithms. "Not a problem to do both. I do have the ability to multitask."
"With how long it took you to find my father last time, that will take you forever," huffed Helena, crossing her arms in agitation.
Felicity spun her chair around to see the other woman literally curling her lips in furious disapproval. She couldn't help but grin at the lack of confidence. "You honestly think it takes me over 30 minutes to hack into the FBI database? Please," she scoffed. "That was stalling."
Helena's eyes narrowed in reappraisal, as if in the look she could glean everything she needed from her. "You definitely are worth the second look."
Mildly unnerved by the statement, she was about to say more when Oliver's heavy hand met her shoulder. Looking up at him, it was clear he begged her to say no more. Biting her tongue Felicity covered his hand with hers offering a tight smile, which he briefly returned.
"So what do we do with her in the meantime?" questioned Diggle, interrupting the moment. Both looked down; with he dropping physical contact to step back to the conversation and she spinning back to her monitors. Though Felicity couldn't actually see behind her, she could still feel his familiar nearness. Given the seriousness of the business at hand, she struggled to ignore the flutter in her chest that hadn't subsided since the night before.