Author's Note:
Like most Olicity fans, I was happy to see Oliver owning up to his feelings for Felicity in the third season of "Arrow." However, I was disappointed that we didn't get to see how he came to realize that he loves her. For the entire second season, Oliver was either oblivious to his feelings or determined to deny them. Then, he was lobbing out "I love you's" in season 3. It felt...abrupt (and a little unexplained). I wanted to explore how he might come to understand and admit that he loves Felicity - and so this story was born as a bridge between seasons 2 and 3. It starts after Team Arrow has defeated Slade Wilson and put him in prison on Lian Yu.
I also enjoyed the CW series "Beauty and the Beast." I saw similarities between the Mirakuru soldiers in "Arrow" and the Beasts on "BATB" and felt that the two storylines could work together. Many readers tell me they can follow this story without having watched BATB, so I hope you'll give it a shot even if you're not familiar with that series.
This story was written over an absurdly long period of time. There are probably some inconsistencies in it, despite my efforts to check. I'd eventually like to edit it as a whole. It's the first thing I've written of novel length and it would be good practice.
Finally, thanks for reading, particularly to those folks who've stuck with the story over the long haul. If you're still reading this, you've gone above and beyond.
J.T. Forbes didn't know what on earth made him think attending the hacking convention in mid-town Manhattan was a good idea. Sure it was New York City, just a few blocks away from home and, yes, he was spending more time these days trying to patch into city surveillance cameras and police alerts. When your best friend is wanted by an evil secret agency turning men into super-soldiers, you do whatever you can to stay one step ahead. But he was a biochemist, not a computer scientist. All this talk of bumper keys and botnets was over his head - a far cry from cells, molecules and ions.
The geek factor at the convention, too, was unbelievably high, even for J.T.'s taste. He would be the first to admit that he was something of a geek himself. You don't get to be a professor lecturing about the carbon atom double bond without having a few nerdy traits. But computer hackers apparently took geek to a whole new level. The auditorium was packed with an audience that was ninety-five percent male and seemed to fall into two groups; pale and painfully skinny, or pale and soft and doughy. J.T. figured the universal pallor was the result of spending every waking moment in front of a keyboard. The weight difference was probably just a matter of how much they snacked as they typed.
And was there anyone who wasn't wearing glasses?
Of course, he was wearing them himself, but his at least looked like they'd been purchased in the twenty-first century and weren't held together by tape. And on the physical spectrum, he was neither painfully skinny nor soft and doughy, even if he wasn't the epitome of fitness. He was tall, dammit, and he was seeing an equally tall, hot NYPD detective who, on a good day, might admit to being his girlfriend. He had left her only that morning, stretched out in his bed in a blissful stupor. He was pretty sure no one else in the room had been laid in the last five years.
Yup, J.T. thought, he was definitely out of his element. He was glad he had secured a seat near the back of the auditorium. If the conference didn't get more comprehensible in the next five minutes, he was leaving - attendance fee be damned. There were too many better ways to be spending his time; sorting his socks, for example, or cleaning the bathroom. As if to mock him, the speaker starting spouting some new gibberish about AES encryption, the Rijndael cipher and the vulnerabilities of symmetric-key algorithms. J.T. shrugged, gathered his notepad and began to rise from his seat. As he turned to leave, however, one of the rear doors opened and a new attendee slipped quietly inside.
J.T. sat back down.
His first thought was that she must have entered the wrong conference, and it would be worth hanging around just to observe her reaction to the high concentration of geeks threatening to dispel NYC's reputation as a cool city. She certainly didn't fit in with this crowd.
First of all, she was undoubtedly a she – from the top of her long, blonde ponytail to the tips of her brightly painted toes encased in spiky, sexy sandals. She also was neither skinny nor doughy, but instead was trim, slightly curvy, and toned without being bulky. A tennis player, perhaps, or a regular in a recreational soccer league. Her complexion was beautiful; on the fair side without the sickly paleness of most of the geeks in the room. Okay, she was wearing glasses too, but on her they were a fashion accessory and not a badge of nerdiness. And those legs…well, her short, stylish dress exposed a pair that would make the heart of any heterosexual male beat faster.
And the males in the room were definitely watching, despite her efforts to make a quiet entrance. Every head in the last five rows turned to observe her as she paused to scan the room for an empty chair, and there was a collective, almost audible, intake of breath. J.T. was sure this was the closest any of the hackers had gotten to a pretty woman in, well, their entire adult lives. The pink flush on her cheeks suggested she was aware of being an object of attention and wasn't entirely happy about it. Even the speaker seemed to lose his place for a minute, giving her a thoughtful glance before returning to his notes.
J.T. expected the woman to make an about-face and a beeline for the door – there was no way she was a computer geek - but instead, she slid quickly into the nearest open seat, a couple of rows up from him. She gave a brief nod to the attendee next to her, then focused her attention on the speaker. The rest of room reluctantly followed suit.
The geek on J.T.'s left emitted a deep sigh. "Wow," he breathed, "do you think that's really her?"
It took J.T. a minute to figure out that the guy was talking to him. He'd originally come to the conference hoping to hook up with someone who might help him improve his hacking skills. After the first hour, however, he'd abandoned that idea and switched to doing his best to avoid eye contact. For starters, the attendees all seemed more competitive than helpful. And second, if there were any who were inclined to assist, he couldn't see himself hanging out with them for beers after hours. Even he had his standards.
Now that the guy next to him was actually speaking, however, J.T. figured it couldn't hurt to at least acknowledge him. The fellow fell into the painfully skinny category and J.T. didn't think he could be more than twenty-five, despite his lank, thinning hair.
"Who?" J.T. asked, "Who do you think she is?"
"Felicity Smoak." The name was said with the same reverence New Yorkers usually reserved for Derek Jeter.
"Who's Felicity Smoak?"
The guy looked at him and shook his head. "I knew you didn't belong here. You don't know much about hacking do you? Felicity Smoak was a legend at MIT – she broke almost every hacking record at the school. She developed brand new encryption algorithms that took everyone years to figure out. There were even rumors she broke into Stub Hub in '07 to score World Series tickets for her dorm. She's pretty much a genius."
The geek on the other side of him, who was on the doughy side of the spectrum, added, "I hear she's with one of the agencies now. My roommate told me it was either the NSA or the CIA." He paused. "Or maybe it was the FBI? It was one of those three-letter places."
Skinny Geek nodded knowingly.
J.T. frowned. The blonde girl was a hacking genius? That beautiful young woman? Intrigued, he took another look at her, searching closely for signs she was a computer geek. But nope – she still appeared attractive and amazingly normal.
And more than that, J.T. thought as he continued to study her, she looked kind; not naïve, but not exactly sophisticated either. The sort of person who, if she really was an accomplished hacker, might share her expertise with an enthusiastic novice without making him feel like a complete moron. Someone not at all like the other geeks in the room.
J.T. cleared his throat. "She's a hacker?"
"Yeah," his neighbor nodded. "One of the best. We all expected to see more of her after graduation but she dropped out of sight two or three years ago – left the east coast for Starling City. Like Randy said," he nodded to the doughy geek, "we all think she took a job with the NSA or the CIA and had to keep a low profile. For a while she went to Def Con in Vegas. But then she just stopped showing up. It's funny that she'd come to New York. I mean, this is okay, but it really is one of the smaller conferences. Most of the big stuff is out west. I wonder what brought her back east?"
Doughy Geek shrugged and turned his attention back to the speaker. The presentation had moved onto a new indecipherable topic. J.T.'s head spun.
Nevertheless, he decided it was worth sticking around a little longer, if only for the chance to meet Felicity Smoak.
Felicity Smoak was only a little less surprised than J.T. Forbes to find herself at a hacking convention in New York. It was the farthest she had been away from Starling City and Oliver Queen, aka The Arrow, since he'd crammed his bleeding body in her Mini Cooper two years ago – not including, of course, the weeks he had run away to his deserted island off the coast of China, practicing avoidance (something he was very good at). The distance felt odd; both liberating and a little empty. It was so long since she'd done anything on her own, she wasn't sure she remembered how to have a life outside of Oliver.
As if to prove to herself that she could, Felicity had recklessly opted for a full week in NYC; first at the hacking convention, and then sightseeing. She really hoped she could stick to her plan because the urge to head back to Starling was strong, despite the awkwardness that had recently taken over her relationship with Oliver. After all the dangers they'd been through (not to mention all the disagreements), three little words had managed to mess them up better than any of the villains they'd encountered. Of course, they were the three little words, but they'd been uttered in the midst of a crisis and they'd both known that Oliver hadn't meant them. Still, they were the proverbial elephant in the room and things hadn't been the same since.
The trip was also, she realized, the farthest she had been away from John Diggle in the last couple of years, with no exceptions. Digg - her friend, her protector, and the only man who never seemed to lie to her – was the one who had encouraged her to take time away from Team Arrow duties. He'd been worried about her for a while now, ever since she'd been offered up as bait to trap and bring down a madman named Slade Wilson. Slade had been bent on destroying Starling and had brought in an army of drug-enhanced soldiers to do it. Oliver's plan to defeat him had led to Slade capturing Felicity and holding a blade to her throat, all the while ranting that he would take away everything Oliver loved. It had been frightening in the extreme, but in the end they had prevailed and Slade was captured and in prison.
With three tours of duty in Afghanistan behind him, Digg knew more than most about the toll battle could take on the human psyche. In the days following the take-down, he'd looked at the circles under Felicity's eyes and repeatedly asked whether she was sleeping, whether she had nightmares and if she wanted to talk. Felicity had debated opening up to him, but in the end thought it would be too humiliating. How could she explain that it wasn't the iron grip of Slade's hands upon her arms that haunted her; it was the words Oliver had used to set the whole thing up. Hell, normally Oliver Queen couldn't lie worth a damn, but he'd managed to give an Academy Award winning performance when he'd delivered his I love you in strategic proximity to Slade's hidden microphones. He'd been so believable that she'd been on the verge of saying it back, when Oliver had pushed the injection arrow into her hand and she'd realized it was a plan to drug Slade and render him vulnerable.
Later, when she had tried to talk to Oliver about it, he'd given her a cryptic smile and offered no explanation.
Digg wasn't happy with Oliver for letting Slade take her, although he conceded that the plan had worked. Felicity didn't have the nerve to tell him the rest. So instead, she let him fuss over her and nodded her head when he suggested taking a little time off, never intending to actually follow through. Without her job at Queen Consolidated, she wasn't sure what she would do with the time, anyway.
In the end it was Laurel who changed Felicity's mind, although Laurel probably had no idea she was convincing Felicity of anything. Laurel Lance –gorgeous Laurel—the former girlfriend that Oliver had loved for half his life, now knew about his secret identity and was most definitely part of his inner circle. As always, Oliver worried about the dangers of anyone he cared about getting involved in his quest to save Starling City. But his relief at no longer having to keep his secret from her was also evident. The addition of Laurel on the team, coupled with the new awkwardness that Felicity felt on the few occasions she locked eyes with Oliver, had completely changed the atmosphere below Verdant for her. The easy camaraderie and inside jokes that she, Digg, Oliver and even Roy had shared had been replaced by long silences or lengthy explanations, mainly for Laurel's benefit.
It had all come to a head for Felicity less than twenty-four hours ago. It was a late afternoon in the foundry and she had been testing her rebuilt computing network, tracing some suspicious financial transactions in an effort to find something Oliver could bring to the board of directors to regain control of Queen Consolidated. Digg was winding down from a grueling workout and Oliver and Laurel were buried in contracts, looking for a legal way to get him reinstated as CEO. Paperwork was not Oliver's strong suit and he looked tired and frustrated, occasionally running his fingers through his cropped hair as he puzzled over a page. Laurel, on the other hand, was in her element, her eyes focused as she made notes on a legal pad. There was a neat stack of contracts highlighted in yellow and annotated in the margins placed beside her.
"Felicity…Digg," Oliver had sounded exhausted. "It's been a long day and I don't expect much will be going on in the city tonight. Why don't you guys head home? We can start fresh again tomorrow."
And Digg had agreed, "Sounds good to me. Let me just get cleaned up, and I'll walk Felicity to her car." He smiled at her from across the room, but the smile was tinged with concern and Felicity wondered whether he was planning another one of his kind but perceptive talks. She wasn't sure she could take it – the urge to break down and sob on Digg's shoulder had been steadily increasing.
So, as she often did, she took refuge in her computers. "Actually, guys, I've traced a funny exchange of money between one of Queen Consolidated's directors and Stelmoor that I'd like to look into a little further. It suggests that Isabel Rochev was using her company to make improper contacts with the director. My search only needs to run another half hour or so. Digg, you don't have to wait on me – you probably need something to eat after burning so many calories. Oliver, there could be something useful here for you." She gave him a tentative smile.
Oliver didn't smile back. Instead he gave her the long, thoughtful look that seemed to be their norm these days, before turning to Laurel, his eyebrows raised in question. To Felicity's surprise, the attorney gently, almost imperceptibly, shook her head.
And in that instant, Felicity knew the conversation was not going to go her way.
"Felicity…," Oliver began, speaking softly but with an edge, "I appreciate the help." She could hear the but coming - he was planning to dismiss her offer. She knew right then that the wisest thing would be to shut down her computers and leave with Digg.
Still, it just wasn't in her to give up. She had to try.
"Oliver," she interrupted, "this money transfer to the QC director has to mean something. Isabel could have offered him a bribe. A visit from the Arrow will force the man to cough up information a lot quicker than pouring over hundreds of pages of contracts." She gestured toward the paperwork piled on the table. Laurel frowned but Felicity chose to ignore it. "If the payment was made before the board kicked you out we might be able to prove that …."
"Felicity," Oliver interjected, this time in the exasperated tone she knew all too well. "Like I said, I appreciate the help, but at this point I think I need a lawyer more than I need a hacker. I'd like to get my position back without alienating the entire board and Laurel's the person who can help with that. Please…just go home and get some rest. We have a long night of," he held up a contract, "work ahead of us. I'll be able to focus better without distractions."
Distractions? Had she just been downgraded from partner to distraction? Were things so uncomfortable now that she was a liability and not an asset? Felicity had frowned and looked across the room at Digg, trying to get his read on the situation. Digg's face was annoyingly neutral. There were days when Felicity thought he would make an excellent therapist.
It was Laurel who broke the stalemate. "Oliver," Laurel had chided him gently, "Felicity's just trying to help. You could be a little nicer about it." And she had smiled at Felicity, the smile of a woman who was confident she knew her man. "Don't mind him, Felicity. He gets cranky when confronted with paperwork. He'll be better company tomorrow."
There was pause while Felicity looked at the floor and counted down from three to regain her composure.
It didn't help. That Laurel – Laurel – who had been entirely in the dark about Oliver's vigilante activities for the last two years, who had more than once tried to trap the Arrow – that Laurel felt she could explain Oliver's behavior really hurt. To Felicity, it spoke volumes about her confidence in her long-standing relationship with him –she still believed she knew him better than anyone and that he would listen to her before anyone. A couple of months ago, Felicity would have laughed at the notion. Now she wasn't so sure.
If she were honest with herself, when Oliver had said "I love you" she had always believed that - deep down - he had meant it. Even if he never admitted it, even if she rarely admitted it to herself, she had always thought that there was a faint possibility that Oliver would wake up someday and realize that the two of them made sense. But in that moment in the foundry, with Oliver glaring and Laurel smiling, it dawned on Felicity that she might be destined to remain nothing more than Oliver's faithful technical support for years. That the situation she had experienced with Oliver and Sara was going to repeat itself over and over. It was like having a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.
Across the room, Diggle was watching her closely, his eyes sympathetic. Damn the man – he always seemed to see inside her. Why couldn't Oliver be that perceptive?
"Felicity….." Oliver had started again, his voice softer this time.
And she knew something had to change. She couldn't do anything about Oliver, but she could do something about herself – starting now.
"No," Felicity had shaken her head, "you're right, Oliver. I think I will call it a night. If the money trail isn't helpful then there's not much I can do here. Digg, you ready to go?" And, feeling grateful for his presence, she'd walked over and tucked her hand under Digg's arm. Oliver's face had registered a curious mixture of surprise and relief; he'd clearly been gearing up for an argument.
When Felicity had gotten home she'd gone immediately on-line, booked herself into the hacker conference, and bought a ticket on a red-eye to NYC. The conference started the next morning and technically was closed, but what good were hacking skills if you couldn't use them to manoeuver around a few obstacles now and then? She'd emailed her itinerary to Digg, telling him where she was going and when she'd be back.
Then she quickly threw some clothes in a carry-on bag and headed to the airport