It rained all summer.
Channel 52's veteran meteorologist died during the earthquake – a heart attack, the number three most common cause of death from the night the Glades fell – and his replacement was a mass of quivering nerves and shiny teeth.
"I hate the new kid." Felicity slumped farther into the couch in her apartment, tugging so tightly on the strings of her hooded sweatshirt that only her nose and cheeks could be seen. She was wearing two pairs of socks and three layers everywhere else, and still she was cold.
"I hear you," Digg muttered from where he sat on the floor, leaning against the couch.
Felicity impatiently flung off the hood, "It's been almost a month, and I swear, if he explains our current weather front one more time by saying 'El Niña!' with his stupid jazz hands, well – I mean first, that isn't scientifically possible, and second, that isn't even grammatically correct! I mean, I guess there could be contexts when it would be correct, or rather, who am I to get into the gender politics of - " Felicity caught Digg's faint smile. "Whatever, the point stands. And the point is that guy," she waved dismissively toward the TV, "is useless."
"Well said, Ms. Smoak."
"Why thank you, Mr. Diggle." She made a halfhearted curtsy-like gesture, but without actually moving from where she was sprawled on the couch.
The wind and rain began to pick up, and the power flickered, turning the television off in the process. From outside came the sounds of glass shattering and an air siren going off in the distance, matched in pitch by the howls of the Jacobson's baby downstairs.
When Digg spoke again, his voice was quieter, deeper. "So, how would you explain it, all of this?"
She stared back at him for a long moment. Her best guess was that the earthquake machine had released an excessive amount of sulfur dioxide, methane, and nitrogen in a contained space, triggering changes to the local atmosphere and ecosystem. But despite all of her remarkability, environmental science wasn't really her thing. At MIT she only took two semesters of related coursework and that was only because it was the major of one Andrew Warren, of the really dreamy eyes and the full body lean, who had a unique ability to make flora and fauna sound like words worth blushing over.
But here and now, no one seemed able to explain the exact science behind the Starling City weather phenomena – no one seemed to want to try. Most of the best scientists had already fled to Central City, either to get work on the particle accelerator, or to avoid lab break-ins from the burgeoning criminal population. The city remained in a state of emergency, with most businesses and schools closed indefinitely. Queen Consolidated was being scrutinized by three different government agencies, and no one knew whether there would be jobs to return to when the state of emergency was lifted. There was a constant murmur that the company was going to fail - that at best, the city's fourth largest employer was going to fire half of its employees before the summer was out. But the political elites were content to point and shriek at Moira Queen rather than acknowledge that the city was rotting below their feet.
Yet the city clearly was in decay. Subterranean rivers had appeared seemingly from nowhere, running with water a shade too green and iridescent. Pets were dropping dead all over the city. And sometimes the rain burned, leaving tiny scars on people and concrete alike.
Felicity was staring out the window considering her answer when Digg threw her another blanket from the basket on the floor. She wrapped it around herself gratefully, unaware that she'd been shivering.
"This," she gestured expansively while peering down at him, "this is just my chance to finally take that semester abroad in London."
Digg raised his eyebrow.
"I mean, I always wanted a semester abroad in London. Who wouldn't? Men with accents, Doctor Who, again, those accents… But my family couldn't afford it. So here we are," she ticked off with her fingers, "It rains all the time, it's cold most of the time, and sometimes, it's even foggy. I just need to find a comic con of sorts, and we'll be all set. London semester abroad, check." She did a fist pump into the air and let out a halfhearted, "woo!"
Digg grinned, tapping his fingers on his thighs. "Yeah, we're going to need to get you to London for real. I bet Oliver could come up with a work-related reason."
The smiles on their faces faded slightly at the mention of Oliver.
He'd been gone for more than three weeks. Felicity woke up from another nightmare to find his phone on top of the pillow next to her. Right below it was her favorite of his sweatshirts, and in its front pocket were the five GPS chips she thought she had covertly slid into different pairs of his shoes.
No note, just the slightest indentation on her bed where she could almost make out his shape.
Digg cleared his throat. "I went to a lot of places while I served. But I rarely had the chance to see any of them."
"No?" Felicity asked.
Digg shook his head.
"So where would you go if you could have a semester abroad?"
Digg stared pensively at the coffee table, "I don't know, maybe Morocco? I had a friend, a close friend, well, she saved my life in Morocco once. Never felt like I gave it a fair shot."
"Oooh, a close friend, like a girlfriend?" Felicity teased.
Digg gave her an exasperated smirk, before pointedly looking at her topmost layer - Oliver's sweatshirt.
Felicity could feel a blush racing up her neck so she pulled the blankets up over her shoulders with an imperious sigh.
"I'm just saying," he snorted, "I didn't get any parting gifts. And Queen's got some nice ties…"
"Yeah, I'm sure you would have loved to wake up to your entire apartment decorated in Oliver's $200 ties. What exactly would you have done with all that Gucci? And besides, with Oliver, who knows where they've been. Fifty/fifty chance that his average tie has been used either recently as a lethal weapon or previously as a sex toy. Possibly involving Russian triplets - in either scenario."
"Well, hey..." Digg shrugged, looking amused.
Then she abruptly blurted, "I didn't really want to go to London."
Digg glanced up at her in surprise.
She continued quietly, "Before, I said I wanted to go study abroad in London. I didn't. Total lie. I hate the rain. It makes me sad and sullen and my hair frizzy, and what I really wanted was to go to Spain and basically have a life like L'auberge Espagnole. Except I wanted to wear bright red bikinis all the time. And tell people my name was Nadia. I think I probably can't ramble as much in a foreign language. I mean, I guess I could, but it would just be random nouns strung together, without verbs or adjectives, which somehow seems like it would be less embarrassing."
"That logic is completely sound," he gently teased.
Felicity fixed him with a mock glare that quickly faded into a smile.
The power flickered again, and this time when it came back on, the television roared back to life.
On Channel 52, the new meteorologist was doing emphatic jazz hands as he tried to explain away some kind of glow cloud hovering over the Harbor Bridge.
"Alright, why don't you show me one of your Doctor Who episodes before you get all Hood on the television."
"You don't have to get back to Carly?"
Digg scratched the back of his neck. "No. Not tonight."
Felicity waited but he avoided her gaze.
"So? Doctor Who?" he prompted, "Let's go. I'll give you one episode to convert me, so pick a good one."
Felicity queued up the DVD while Digg grabbed a bowl of pretzels from the kitchen and settled in the chair next to the sofa.
"A blue police box, in Utah, in an alien museum, in 2012. Man, this is really pressing all my buttons."
"Hush!" Felicity snapped.
The watched quietly for a few moments before Digg started chuckling.
"Felicity, c'mon. That's a villain? It looks like a pepper shaker, or a door knob, or at worst, a spiky metallic mushroom."
Felicity threw a pillow at him.
"Digg, sometimes the worst villains are the ones you underestimate." She reached up and determinedly tightened her ponytail. "And the scariest villains are the ones who can make their villainy seem like it's your fault. Because you helped created them, you and your choices. Or you just failed to stop them, when you could have. Or you do stop them, and it isn't enough. So it's like they have a piece of you. I don't know, maybe somehow-"
"Hey, Felicity," Digg interrupted, staring at her with a level gaze, "things are going to get better. I promise."
She nodded slowly.
"I know," she said. "That's because we're going to fix them."
Digg studied her face intently before leaning back with an easy smile. "Well, yes ma'am."
She beamed in response, giving him a mock salute before reaching over to grab the bowl of snacks on the table.
"Hey, Digg?" Her voice was soft, more hesitant than it had been only minutes earlier.
He glanced over at Felicity. She was looking out the window with a faint frown on her face, the snack bowl still resting in her lap.
"Do you think he's okay?"
Digg reached over and gave her arm a light squeeze. "I do, Felicity. I really do. I just think he's dealing with this the best way he knows how."
"And that couldn't involve board games and Doctor Who marathons?" she asked lightly.
"Poor guy has no idea what he's missing."
"I mean, you don't even know what he's missing since you keep talking through everything. So I call a mulligan - you have to watch one more episode after this one. Or maybe just this one again from the start. It's a really good one."
Digg shrugged. "Whatever, for tonight I've got nowhere to be. Do your worst. But this does not set a precedent for the future."
Felicity did a tiny victory dance as they both turned back to the television.
Outside, the rain sizzled.