Moira's heart skipped a beat.

Literally.

She felt her steady ticker miss its first beat in her entire lifetime as her brain processed what Doctor Rosenthal had just informed her of. "If you're lying to me I will destroy you." Moira's scathing threat sent ice through the telephone signal and into the receiver's ear.

"This is no joke Mrs. Queen." Doctor Rosenthal insisted. "Oliver is alive."

Her hands wobbled and the phone dropped to the floor like a sinking stone.

The sincerity etched in the doctor's tone cut through Moira like an arrow. A flood of emotions pumped out of her heart and into her veins. All of them were driven by shock, but joy flourished above them all. Oliver - her oldest child, her only son, her Oliver - was alive.

With quivering hands, Moira grasped for the phone. "H-how is he?"

"You'll want to see him for yourself." Doctor Rosenthal said, with a pause in his voice.

Some natural instinct, a maternal need, snapped inside Moira, pushing her to act. Oliver needed her. "I'll be there in five minutes."


The hospital walls were unbearably white. That was the first thing Moira noticed. Hospitals were nasty places; always filled with death, sorrow, and germs. The white walls were without a doubt meant to calm patients, assure them of the hospital's cleanliness and competence. Instead, they filled Moira with dread. They were too sterile. One knew that the only kind of scrubbing and cleaning that could produce such a white was one meant to erase Death. They were a reminder of Death's constant presence.

At the end of the white hall stood a man in a hospital coat.

Moira hurried over to him. "Dr. Rosenthal?"

The man turned and nodded. Short in height, the Doctor only just reached Moira's chin. He held a clipboard firmly under his right underarm and a pen perched atop his left ear. "I'm glad you're here."

"How is he?"

Dr. Rosenthal shook his head in dismay. "20% of his body is covered with scar tissue. 2nd degree burns across his back and arms. X-rays revealed at least 12 fractures."

Moira held back the tears that threatened to spring forth at the thought of her son in pain. Her eyes were already red with the tears she had shed on the way. She had known, of course, that the past five years had not been filled with the rich pleasures and carefree worries of the Queen fortune. But Moira had hoped - prayed - that he had not been too hurt; that he had not had to face the same impossible situations forced upon her every day. Now she knew that he had faced much worse.

"Is he in there?" Moira asked, staring at the hospital door closest to them. "Has he said anything about what happened?"

Doctor Rosenthal nodded. "No. He hasn't said much about anything." He answered. "I want you to prepare yourself Mrs. Queen. The Oliver you lost may not be the Oliver they found."

"Of course." Moira moved to look inside the window but Dr. Rosenthal moved to block her view as best he could. He even stood up on his tiptoes. She glared down at the doctor.

"There's something you need to know first."

Moira's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"There were more people who were lost on the Gambit than your husband and son. I-I'm not sure how it happened but-"

"I am well aware Doctor." Moira snapped. "Skip to the point."

"Your son didn't escape the Gambit alone." The words escaped Dr. Rosenthal's mouth in a hurried rush and blew Moira over.

"Excuse me?"

"Oliver didn't return alone." He repeated. "She said they made it to the island together. Well, at different times, but they met up and-"

"Wait," Moira interrupted. It wasn't enough that her son was alive, but to know that someone was with him. "She?"

Dr. Rosenthal nodded. "Felicity Smoak. She was brought aboard as a Queen Consolidated employee. Technical assistant to be exact."

A thousand possibilities and questions pounded through Moira's head, all demanding her attention at once. "What is their..." Moira struggled to find the right word, "relationship?"

He shook his head. "You'll have to talk to them yourself. I can't say for certain."

"She's not pregnant is she?" As hard as Moira tried, the words couldn't help but spill out. Oliver had already gotten one woman pregnant before in an environment that provided shelter and contraceptives. Alone? On an island that threatened death every day, without any of society's pressures?

Again, Dr. Rosenthal shook his head and Moira found herself releasing a breath she had not known she had been holding. "They're quite close, but I don't want to say anymore than-"

Moira pushed past the doctor, shoving him aside and twisting open the door handle. She couldn't stand being so close to Oliver and being unable to see or touch him, all consequences of an abrupt entrance be damned.

Oliver stood with his back to her, facing the window with the city skyline painted across its glass. She was surprised to see that his hair had been cut short. The clean, professional style indicated that he had had someone cut it for him. A cheap, tight fitting white shirt clung to his skin, accentuating the hard muscle Moira never imagined her son possessing. The Oliver of five years ago had worked out, but he had never desired to work to the point of looking like a WWE star.

A petite woman as fit as Oliver was tucked into his side. She also wore an ill-fitting white shirt and loose fitting pants. Her blonde curls spread across Oliver's shoulder and spilled down their backs. Even though she only had a back view, Moira could not recall ever seeing the woman before.

They seemed content standing there. Moira was almost sorry when they whipped around, their moment interrupted by the sudden sound of the door opening. It was as though a danger switched had been flicked on. A stormy and threatening look encased both of their eyes. Oliver stepped in front of the woman, who in turn took an offensive position.

The small consolation in Oliver's death had been that he was not suffering. But seeing the pure determination and expectation of a fight in Oliver's entire being ripped away Moira's hope that he had not been hurt. Oliver exhibited the same flight of fight paranoia Moira herself faced every day when she saw Malcolm Merlyn.

"Oliver," She breathed the word like a prayer, hoping to reach out to the boy she loved. This time, she didn't push back her tears.

The fighting stance Oliver adopted melted away, the tension lines in his face disappearing. "Mom."

Moira rushed to embrace him and he met her halfway. She hugged him tight, taking in the physical entity that was her son. Again the lithe, muscular build surprised her. She pulled away, her wide eyes inspecting Oliver for wounds she could only imagine, for injuries she couldn't heal. "My beautiful boy."

A ghost of a smile painted Oliver's face at her nickname for him.

Moira pressed her hand into his cheek. It was as though if she stopped touching him, he would vanish once more. "You're home now Oliver." She hugged him again, a sad, watery smile on her face. As she took a few steps back, she pushed away the tears threatening to build. She needed to be strong. For Oliver.

"How are you?"

Moira covered her mouth at the touching gesture. Everything he had been through and he was asking how she was. "The past few years have been hard. They're nothing like I wanted. So much has changed-" She cut herself off before she said something that couldn't be unspoken. Malcolm had taught her how to keep secrets well.

"And Thea?"

Moira's brow crinkled at the mention of her other child, the only child she had had. All of the partying, the drugs, the boys. Moira had turned a blind eye because she couldn't bear to lose the last of her family, couldn't risk losing Thea as well. "She's hurting," was all she could say.

Oliver nodded and Moira noticed a spark of determination in his eye. "Everything's going to be okay now."

He was so much like his father, always trying to do the right thing, always looking after his family first. Moira touched Oliver's cheek. "Yes. It will be."

Oliver glanced at the blonde and she walked back over, following his unspoken request. "Mom, this is Felicity. She was on the Gambit with me."

Moira forced herself to turn to the woman, resentment building at the reminder of the stranger intruding on her reunion with her son. She smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too Mrs. Queen." Felicity said, sticking out a hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

Moira hummed in response. "I'm sure. Will your parents be coming to Starling?"

She nodded. "My Mom's flight should land sometime tomorrow morning."

"Felicity's going to be going to be staying with us when we leave the hospital." Oliver announced.

Moira thought she hid her displeasure quite well, save for the slight furrow in her brow. "Of course." The last thing she wanted to do was argue, but she couldn't help but ask, "May I ask how long?"

Oliver sighed. The question was innocent enough of course, but he saw through the passive aggressive stunts Moira pulled. He should have expected such a reaction from his uptight mother. "Mom,"

Felicity placed her hand up on Oliver's bicep. "It's fine." Turning to Moira, she replied, "It'll only be for a week or two. Just until I get back on my feet. I don't have any family living in Starling, and I doubt that my landlord liked me enough to reserve the house for five years while I was away, so most likely my old house is occupied by someone else. It may be a family of five or maybe a little old lady with a dozen cats or an old man living alone. In any scenario though, it isn't me." Felicity snorted.

Moira merely nodded, curious and skeptical of the blonde's babble. She eyed Felicity's hand, which still lingered across Oliver's arm. There were two separate beds in the room, but that didn't mean anything. The two were obviously close. But then, so would any two refugees on an abandoned island. The Oliver before he was definitely not the one she had known and Moira didn't know what that Oliver was like around women.

"Well, we're going to hold you both overnight, run a few more tests. But after that, you'll be free to return home tomorrow. Mrs. Queen, there's a room prepared for you in another wing of the hospital." Dr. Rosenthal stated. "Sound good?"

All three occupants nodded their heads.

"Good. Mrs. Queen, if you'd follow me. I believe these two need their sleep."

Moira followed Dr. Rosenthal out. She turned around and stared through the window before turning the hall corner in time to see Oliver and Felicity slipping out of view. It looked like they were headed for opposite beds.

Moira shook her head. She would know soon enough what Oliver knew about the true cause for the sinking of the Gambit. Malcolm would see to that. And it wouldn't hurt if she had Malcolm's hit men ask a few questions about his relationship to Felicity Smoak as well.


I know I should be working on my Locker Room Shenanigans, but I couldn't help myself and start another story. It'll be short- just a few chapters to explore the possibility of if Felicity was on the Gambit.

Please review and tell me your thoughts good and bad - they're better than crack!