Shadow of the Quiet Man; Cat's Cradle
A Starling Supplemental
Part of the Starling Mysteries Universe
By JA Ingram
"No."
"You know, most people just answer the phone with a simple, 'hello'," Felicity said in exasperation.
"Most people aren't me," Thea said sarcastically.
"Listen, I know we don't know each other that well…"
"No, we don't know each other *at all*," the other woman corrected her a bit harshly. "I know why you're calling and the answer is 'no'. As far as I'm concerned, Ollie can go to hell and so can the rest of you."
"He's already in hell," she said, her own anger beginning to boil under the surface of her words.
"Good!" The other girl snorted, "He lied to me."
"He saved your life and then you shot him," she retorted.
"No, he-!"
"He saved your life!" Felicity snapped, finally at the end of her patience with both Queen siblings and their unrelenting carnival of angst. "Despite all the crap you pulled, he saved your life and the lives of everyone in this city countless times and, while I don't expect you to be grateful for that, I do expect you to at least show compassion for the fact that your brother is suffering right now and you're partly to blame for it!"
"That's bullshit!" The other woman responded angrily, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, lady! Screw this, I'm hanging up!"
"Go ahead," Felicity told her, "Doesn't make any difference to me because I'm right outside your door and I'm not leaving until you talk to me."
The phone clicked off and a few seconds later a bedraggled and bruised Thea opened the door to her hotel room with a hostile expression, "How the hell did you find me?"
"It's what I do," Felicity told her and pushed her way inside without even bothering to wait to be welcomed inside.
"What do you do for Oliver anyway?" Thea asked belligerently as she slammed the door behind her.
"We work together. I'm his EA."
"His EA? Right," she said, sweeping her eyes down her outfit, "Tory Burch, Jimmy Choo's, and if those aren't Jamie Wolf earrings then I'm not Moira Queen's daughter," she said sarcastically. "Either you are the world's most overpaid secretary or you're working Ollie better than he's ever been worked before because he's never bought any of his girlfriends clothes unless you count edible underwear. Even if he did, he wouldn't have picked that," she said, indicating the very tasteful black and white polka dot sleeveless shift dress with the boatneck collar and strappy calfskin pumps.
"First off, it's 'executive assistant', secondly, it would be impossible for your brother to overpay me considering all the crap I do for him, and third, the only thing I work for your brother is his coms. Lastly, what's wrong with what I have on?" Felicity asked, looking down at herself.
"It's too cute," Thea said in a way that wasn't meant to be complimentary yet somehow was anyway. "If my brother was ever going to buy a girl a dress, it wouldn't be 'cute'; it would be easy access." She narrowed her eyes dangerously, "You can't fake that kind of taste; I know a fellow label whore when I see one. That's the kind of outfit a rich girl would buy herself for when she wants to play at being 'normal'. Who are you?"
"I'm your brother's friend," she said honestly.
"Ollie doesn't have 'friends', he has people he either uses or lies to," she said tersely. "I, for one, don't like being lied to so I'd really appreciate it if you could just get the hell out of my hotel room now, thanks."
"You don't like being lied to?" Felicity challenged, finally at the end of her patience, "Fine; ask me anything and I'll tell you the truth."
"How long did Ollie know Malcolm Merlyn was my father?" She demanded.
Felicity didn't even hesitate, "A couple of weeks before you found out and, before you ask, I'm the one who told him. I found out, confronted your mother, asked her to tell you both the truth, she threatened me, then I went to your brother. He wanted to tell you but your mother did her whole 'I'm the world's scariest mom' bit and guilted him into keeping his mouth shut even though it nearly killed him."
Thea blanched, "You don't know anything about my mother-!"
"Oh honey, please," she snorted, quickly deciding that the tough love approach she used with Oliver was the only way she was getting through to the younger Queen sibling, "I knew your mother a hell of a lot better than most people, including you and your brother, because I have been up to my eyeteeth in her bullshit since day one! You want the truth? Your mother kidnapped Walter, tried to kidnap your brother, shot him, hid the wreckage of the Queen's Gambit in a private warehouse rather than let the authorities examine it and find out it was deliberately scuttled, covered up Malcolm's crimes, covered up her own crimes, threatened me, hid the fact that Malcom was still alive from everyone even though she knew he was gunning for Oliver because, as it so happens, she also knew he was the Arrow, and now, just to round things off, we got to find out that she paid Sandra Hawke to fake a miscarriage and hid your brother's son from him deliberately!"
"You don't know that!" Thea shouted back, her body language becoming threatening.
"I know everything," Felicity said, standing her ground then paused, "On second thought, no, I don't know everything. Saying 'I know everything' about your mother at this point is like being the girl who gets naked first in the horror movie; just when your think it's safe to get back in the water!" She made a slashing gesture across her throat.
"My mother is dead!" The other woman said, balling up her fists.
"So's mine, now get over it!" She told her then dodged when she swung on her. She caught her by the arm, swung her around using her own momentum, and kicked her feet apart to take away her leverage before slamming her into the wall and isolating both her elbows so she couldn't move without hurting herself.
"Let me go!" Thea said struggling against her.
"No!" Felicity snapped, long past playing with kid gloves. "You want to hear the truth, then here's the truth; your brother has been killing himself for months looking for you. He finally finds you and, guess what? You shoot him and take off with the man who stranded him on that island in the first place then tried to kill him and half this city!" She pulled back on her arms until she grunted in pain to stop her from struggling. "Even after that, he still tries to save you, gets you away from Merlyn, only to have you turn around and throw a temper tantrum! You take off just in time for your daddy dearest to kidnap his son; his *son*, your nephew!" She said pointedly, "The one he didn't even know he had because Moira kept that from both of you! Not to speak ill of the dead here, but Jesus Christ! If this was a contest for Queen Bitch Goddess of the entire fucking universe your mother would definitely be wearing the crown and headed for center stage right about now!"
"Merlyn's gone," Thea snapped defiantly. "He's gone, my mom's gone, my dad's gone, Tommy's gone, Roy's moved on, and Ollie has his own little ready-made family now, so why the hell are you here bothering me?"
"God, you are so selfish; both of you," Felicity said, unable to stop herself as she released the girl and stepped back. She shook her head in profound disappointment as she watched Thea rub the circulation back into her arms. "Your brother doesn't *have* anything, that's why I'm here!"
"Sure he does," she sneered. "I saw them; he was kissing Sandra and they were talking about her moving back to Starling with their kid. He's probably going to move them into the mansion and then-"
"They're gone," Felicity said flatly.
The other woman paused before snorting derisively, "What are you talking about? No they aren't; I heard him ask her-"
"He called Waller and asked her to relocate them," she said coolly. "When I left he was signing the papers terminating his parental rights."
Thea looked at her uncertainly before schooling her features into a look of careless disregard, "Typical. He probably just didn't want to be saddled with the responsibility of having a family anymore."
"You don't know him at all, do you?" She asked, suddenly feeling nothing but pity for the girl in front of her.
"Not really, no. That's kind of been the whole problem from the start," Thea said curtly.
Felicity took a deep breath, "You know, your mother made a lot of mistakes, but I think her greatest sin was raising the two of you with this idea that the entire world somehow revolves around you."
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," she said pinning her with a look of cold fury.
"Oh, I know exactly what I'm talking about," she said with a humorless chuckle.
"Do you think this is fun for me? That I'm being 'selfish' right now?" The other woman bit out, her features contorting in rage as hot angry tears ran down her cheeks, "I lost everything! I lost my entire family, so fuck you! You don't know me or anything I've been through!"
"You didn't lose your entire family," Felicity said, stepping forward, her eyes locked on the younger woman. "You have a brother who needs you."
"He doesn't need me! All he needs is the Arrow!"
"Do you think he's the Arrow because he wants to be?" She asked. "Do you think it's a choice? Well, it's not," she tilted her head slightly and looked her up and down then gave her a withering look, "The two of you frustrate me so much. I just want to reach out and shake you until your teeth rattle." She tightened her mouth into a grimace, "None of this was his choice, Thea. From day one your brother has had no choice but to react; he hasn't had time to so much as take a breath because…you know what? I'm done," she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I am too pissed at your brother to be making excuses for him and you don't want to hear them anyway so, instead, I'm just going to say this; you have a right to your pain. You have a right to rage, and be pissed, and to break some dishes and run away-!"
"Thank you," she said sarcastically.
"—but you don't have the right to assume that you're the only person suffering here and you don't have the right to condemn your brother for his actions when you've been just as selfish as he has. In fact, what you're doing is even worse."
"Okay, I'm curious; how is what I'm doing any worse than what he's done?" She said defiantly as she angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"Because while you're here asking 'why me' and expecting the entire world to stop in its tracks so that you can throw a pity party, your brother is sitting in the middle of his club mourning the loss of his child, a child his own mother kept from him," Felicity said coldly. "A child he never got to hold, never got to watch grow up, a child who will never call him 'Dad'."
"How is that my fault?" She said, flushing a deep crimson as she furrowed her brow, "Besides, he didn't even want a kid in the first place! He didn't think I knew, but I did; I remember when he told mom about the miscarriage. I was standing on the other end of the landing listening in. He was so relieved, he spent the next two weeks celebrating with Tommy afterwards."
"Like I said, I'm not making any excuses for the person your brother used to be, I'm not even making excuses for the man he is now," she told her. "I do a lot of stuff for your brother, but none of my duties include pretending he's anything more than what he is."
"And what is he? A hero?" She asked roundly.
"Yes," she said simply, "A terribly flawed, terribly human hero who makes mistakes and screws up a lot. He's a man who, when he's in pain, pushes everyone who loves him away because he can only see the destruction left in his wake and he tries to protect the people he loves by kicking them out of his life. Kind of like you."
"I'm nothing like him," she denied vehemently.
"You're exactly like him," Felicity told her. "Selfish, stubborn, idiotic-!"
"How am I being selfish?" She demanded. "All I want is to be left alone!"
"That's why you're selfish!" She gave her a hard look, "Just because you're hurting doesn't mean the people around you aren't hurting just as much or even more! Being family, having a home, means you don't just get to leave when things get hard! You don't get to make that decision on your own. Being family means sharing those burdens and supporting each other, and then getting through them together. It means putting aside your own pain and anger and helping that other person even when they don't want you there. Besides, being alone isn't all it's cracked up to be, trust me."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Thea said sulkily. "Maybe in the gingerbread house you grew up in everything was all Hallmark commercials and long talks in the rain about what feminine hygiene products you should use but it wasn't like that for us, okay?"
"Fine, I'm done trying to reason with a brick wall," she said, reaching into her pocket and holding out a card and a piece of paper, "Here, take it."
"What is this?" Thea asked her, taking them reluctantly.
"ARGUS is all over Merlyn and froze as many of his accounts as they could find after they got their hands on his laptop including the one you used to pay for this room," she told her. "That's the number to an offshore bank account along with a working debit card."
"I don't want anything from Ollie," she said, trying to hand them back.
"Those aren't from Oliver," she told her. "I got to Merlyn's accounts before he even called Waller and drained several of them then relocated and deposited them into a separate offshore account. I figured Merlyn owed you so that," she said, nodding at the card and paper, "and this," she said pulling a file out of her bag and handed it to her as well, "are for you. Consider it your new lease on life."
"Mia Deardon," she said in confusion as she opened the file to a full dossier including a birth certificate, social security card, and driver's license with her picture.
"It's untraceable," Felicity assured her. "I also scrubbed your internet footprint and found an unclaimed Jane Doe in Gotham matching your description. If you want to start over then I can give you a head start to a new life with just a keystroke."
She looked at her skeptically, "You'd do that?"
"Yes."
"Until Ollie decides to come looking for me again, right?" She said knowingly.
"Your brother will never find you," she assured her. "No one will. Amanda Waller isn't the only person who can make someone disappear."
"If that's true then why did Ollie have to go to ARGUS to relocate Sandy and Connor?" She challenged.
"Because he wasn't sure I could or would agree to do it," she shrugged. "And also because I yelled at him after I found out that he called them without coming to me first." She shifted slightly and looked at the other woman steadily, "I want to be clear about something here; this is a one way ticket I'm giving you. I won't lie to Oliver but I won't tell him where you are unless he asks me directly so I figure you have a day, maybe two before he sobers up enough to start looking. In the packet are the names of half a dozen contacts I know for sure don't do business with ARGUS, the League, or the Bratva which means, chances are, your brother doesn't know about them. Pick one, get some cash, and have them create you a new identity. I suggest you call them the minute you land because when I leave this room the clock starts ticking," Thea opened her mouth but she shook her head, cutting her off, "The identity I created for you is temporary at best; it's designed to get you out of Starling and onto a plane to Europe. There's a flight confirmation in the packet and you have," she glanced at the clock on the wall, "about an hour to pack and get on the plane if you want to make it past security in time. It's coach," she said wryly, "First and business class would attract too much attention, sorry. After you land in Paris, you're on your own. You need to drain the account I set up and open a new one under whatever identity you come up with then stay out of Starling City; don't come back here. Don't call, don't write, and don't try asking for more favors because this is it."
"Why are you doing this?" She asked in bewilderment.
"Because as angry as I am at your brother right now, he deserves to have people in his life who love him no matter what," she told her before reaching into her bag and pulling out three stacks of hundred dollar bills, "That's thirty thousand dollars; try not to blow it because you need to keep a minimum of twenty grand set aside. It won't be enough to buy the papers you need, and you'll still have to go to the Banque à Paris to set up a new account, but the forgers on that list will expect you to leave a sizable cash deposit in the meantime. Start at the top of the list and work your way down. If they ask you for a reference, tell them Mr. Fledermaus sent you. That'll get you through the door but you only get to use that name once," she warned her. "After that, Oliver coming after you will be the least of your worries, trust me."
Thea looked at her in stunned disbelief before scowling at her, "You know, despite what you might think I love my family."
"I'm sure you do," Felicity said, reaching for the door handle before turning towards her, "Goodbye Thea, and good luck."
*\?/*\?/*\?/*
As soon as she was in her car and well on her way to the club, she scrolled through her favorites list and dialed.
"I stuck around long enough to get him his kid back, that's all I promised I'd do," Roy said grouchily.
"I just love the way no one answers the phone with a simple 'hello' or 'Hi Felicity, how can I help you?' anymore," she returned.
"Hello Felicity," he said with false cheer, "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go find Thea and then get the hell out of this shithole of a city once and for all."
"I already found her."
"Where?" He asked sharply, "Is she okay?"
"She's fine; she has her head firmly jammed up her ass just like the rest of you, but she's fine," she sighed.
"Tell me where she is and I'll be right there."
"I can tell you where she's going to be but you have to do something for me first."
"Damn it, Blondie-!"
"You do my thing first Harper or you can figure it out on your own," she told him in an uncompromising tone. "However, since we both know you can't do it without me…"
"Fine, what do you want?" He grumbled.
"I need you to suit up and help Dig."
"Why?"
"Because Oliver is going to either be drunk or hung-over for the next several days and I need someone I can trust out there watching Dig's back while he's in the field."
"That's some kind of example he's setting for his kid already, huh?" He said sarcastically.
"ARGUS came and took Connor and his mom into protective custody," she told him.
"What does that mean, 'protective custody'?" He asked with a slight growl.
"They didn't arrest them or anything; Oliver talked Waller into relocating them with new identities."
"But…if they're going into witness protection, then how…?"
"He gave up his parental rights," she said quietly. "He didn't want them to have to worry about looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives and he felt it was the only way for Connor to have a chance at normal childhood."
"After all that, after spending all that time tracking Merlyn and going through all that bullshit, he's just going to give him up?" Roy asked incredulously and with a hint of the same anger she had felt when she found out.
"It's his kid, Roy," she said with a sigh. "I don't like it either but it was his decision to make. In the meantime he can't be in the field and we need you."
"What about Thea?" He asked reluctantly.
"I told her what was happening and told her where her brother would be. She'll either come home or she won't; her choice."
"Fine," he agreed, "but not for that son of a bitch; I'm only doing this for you and Dig then I'm out of here."
"Got it," she said before hanging up and pulling into Verdant.
*\?/*\?/*\?/*
The club was empty but that wasn't new. Oliver shut it down right after the thing with Slade and the Blood Army. After Thea left, he just didn't see any point to reopening it. Instead of going in the back way to the foundry, she went through the front doors, locking them behind her and resetting the alarm. Sure enough, he was right where she left him…
…almost.
"And the cat's in the…cradle and the silver spoo-oooooh-n! Little boy blue-ooooooh!" he sang drunkenly from behind the bar, drawing out the vowels, "and the man on the moo-ooooh-n!"
Her heels echoed hollowly on the dance floor as she crossed over to the bar, avoiding the broken glass as she went. The closer she came, the worse his singing got. There were at least half a dozen broken bottles of expensive liquor on the floor, the contents settling into glassy puddles, and several broken chairs and barstools along with at least one table that had been turned on its side and stuck with several dozen arrows. She tossed her bag over one of the few remaining upright barstools and walked behind the bar to assess the damage.
"When you comin' home, Dad? I don't know when, but we'll get together then, son! You know we'll have a good time then!" He sang before taking another swig of vodka directly from the bottle, "Good times!" He greeted her drunkenly then grimaced, "What the fuck is this shit?" He slurred.
"Vodka," she told him then looked over her shoulder at the pile of rubble and squinted, "And more vodka, and some scotch, and, if I'm not mistaken, gin and tequila." She turned to him, "God, you are going to be really sick when you sober up and, I've got news for you, pal, I'm not cleaning that up."
He belched rudely and squinted at the label on the bottle, "This vodka doesn't taste right," he told her. "Says…Root Beer Float—Gah!" He said in distaste and flung it by the neck across the bar where it landed with a crash but not before splattering everywhere. "Tha's bullshit! Bullshit flavored vodka!"
Felicity moved back quickly to avoid being bathed in it and teetered precariously on her heels before righting herself, "Damn it, Oliver!"
"That was bullshit vodka, F'lissy!" He said angrily pointing after it. "Vodka s'posed to taste like-like vodka!" He blinked up at her, "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she grumbled, slipping off her heels and placing them on the bar.
"C'n you give me another bottle?" He asked her with a 'gimme' gesture as he reached up toward her. "I'm all out down here."
She stepped over the many tipped over and spilled bottles littering the floor around him. "How much have you had?"
"Fuck if I know," he told her with a pout, "I drink some then…" he picked up a nearly empty bottle and threw it only to cackle madly when it landed with a crash, "BOOM! Now that's a party! Rock and roll, motherfuckers!"
"I think that's enough. As it is you've probably pickled your liver," she said dryly. "Oh, and by the way, in addition to not cleaning up after you, I'm also not driving you to the hospital if you get alcohol poisoning. It's a lease so there is no way in hell I'm letting you anywhere near my upholstery. I barely got out of paying for the blood stains you left in my backseat and I don't think they'll buy the 'my dog did it' excuse this time since most dogs don't drink flavored vodka."
"Tha's cause it's bullshit!" He said loudly, "Tha's bullshit!" He shouted happily as his voice echoed off the walls.
"You are so, so drunk right now," she muttered shaking her head. "How you are still even conscious is beyond me."
"Please," he snorted, "I've been way drunker than this before plenty o' times, jus' ask Tommy," he said gesturing to the empty space beside him.
"There's no one there, Oliver; Tommy's dead, remember?" She reminded him quietly.
"Yep, dead! Dead as a doornail!" He said with a sloppy grin as he leaned his head back against the cabinets. "Tommy Merlyn is dead! I wish he wasn't dead though, wish he was here drinkin' bullshit flavored vodka with me."
"I know you do," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at him.
"If Tommy was alive he'd be here; right here," he told her matter of factly as he patted the floor beside him. "That's what we did the first time I lost my kid; we broke into his old man's good liquor and got really fuckin' drunk. Not just drunk but fuckin' drunk," he said with emphasis, "then we went to a bunch of bars and got even more fuckin' drunker." He paused with a frown, "Is that a word? Fuckin' drunker?" He snorted, "Better 'n drunker fuckin'; tha's how I got into this mess to begin with!" He said, laughing uproariously.
"Oliver…" she began.
"I got so drunk once I pissed on a cop, did you know that?" He asked, staring up at her with a rakish grin.
"I'd heard," she nodded.
"Right after I found out about Sandy losin' the baby I got so drunk I peed all over the son of a bitch's leg like a goddamn dog pissin' up a tree!" He continued. "Motherfucker," he spat out. "He called me a drunken disgrace so I whipped out my dick and peed right on him; how's that for a 'go fuck yourself'?" He snorted then brought his curled fingers to his mouth as if expecting a bottle to be there. He stared at his empty hand in confusion before looking up at her, "Hey F'lissy, can you hand me another bottle? I'm still thirs'y."
"How about some water or coffee instead?" She asked him.
"No! I still got more drinkin' to do!" He said, furrowing his brow. "Got to—got to get really fuckin' drunk 'n I'm only this much fuckin' drunk," he said, holding his fingers apart in a pinching gesture.
"Fine, what do you want?" She asked him wearily.
"Vodka!" He said happily, "But none of that bullshit pussy vodka; real vodka!"
"I'm pretty sure you drank all the real vodka," she muttered. "Okay, they have lemon, mango, cherry, espresso," she paused long enough to put that one aside for herself, "apple, cranberry, cake-"
"Cake?"
"Says 'Iced Cake'," she told him.
"Gimme some cake," he gestured for her to hand it down which she did so reluctantly. He eyed the bottle's label, "I'll be damned, they got cake flavored vodka now, did you know that?"
She nodded with a grimace, "I'm the one who handed you the bottle."
"Cake flavored vodka!" He said then gripped it by the neck and flung it over the bar, cackling drunkenly as it crashed against the floor, "Happy Birthday, motherfucker; here's some cake!" He looked at her blearily, "Gimme 'nother."
"Not if you're just going to keep breaking them," she said firmly.
"I'll stop, I promise," he told her with a look of wide-eyed innocence, "Gimme 'nother one."
"Fine," she said, handing him one marked 'Cinna-Sugar Twist', "but that's the last one and if you break it I'm leaving."
"You're no fun," he grumbled then opened it up and took a generous swig before grimacing, "Gah! This shit tastes like…shit. Thea has shitty taste in booze!" He looked up at her, "You wan' some?" He asked holding out the bottle.
"No. As lovely as you make it sound, I think at least one of us should be sober enough to drive, don't you?" She asked him.
"You said I wadn't 'llowed in your car, 'member?" He reminded her, swaying slightly.
"I can always hang your head out of the car like a dog if I have to," she said grimly.
He reached up and tugged on her skirt like a child, "F'lissy, come sit down and drink with me; a man shouldn't have to drink alone." He took another swing of the vodka and pulled a face at the taste, "Tommy never let me drink alone."
She felt her resolve begin to crumble and reluctantly sat beside him on the floor, tucking her skirt underneath her, "I'll sit with you but I'm not drinking anything, okay?"
"'Kay," he said, taking another swallow. He turned to her with a childlike smile, "Can you sing? Tommy could sing," he turned to stare blankly in front of him. "He knew a million songs. We used to—we used to have a game," he said, swallowing some more of the liquor before continuing, "He had songs for any kind of fuck up you could imagine."
"I'll bet," she said wryly.
"He hated me," he said, darkness creeping into his tone. "Before he died, Tommy hated me."
"No, he didn't," she said quietly, placing her hand on his forearm.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, "Merlyn said I killed him; said a child for a child. Tha's why he went after Connor, 'cause I killed Tommy."
"Malcolm killed Tommy," she reminded him. "You tried to save him, remember?"
"He hates me," he told her. "Everybody hates me."
"That's not true."
He lifted his head and bumped it softly against the cabinet without opening his eyes, "Tommy hated me, Malcolm hates me, Laurel-," he snorted, "Oh man, she really hates me! She was pissed! Man, 's been awhile since she's been that pissed at me, lemme tell you! Las' time she was that pissed at me she brought along a fuckload of cops with guns to shoot my ass!"
"She's angry right now but she doesn't hate you," she told him gently. "You just have to give her some time to process."
He shook his head, "Nope, the chickens have come home to roost!" He frowned and looked at her, "Wha's that mean anyway; chickens comin' home to roost? Don't they live in little chicken houses?"
"I'm not sure, the only chickens I know live in the grocery store," she told him.
He grunted noncommittally and took another drink, "Laurel hates me, Sandy hates me, Diggle hates me—"
"Diggle doesn't hate you; he's just disappointed in you right now," she said firmly.
"Roy hates me," he said rolling his head against the cabinet door.
"Yeah, well, Roy's busy being kind of an asshole right now," she told him. "You two are birds of a feather in that way."
He snorted, "Thea hates me."
"Thea's…confused," she said closing her eyes and shifting uncomfortably.
"Confused," he repeated before taking another swig. "I know what that's like." He opened his eyes and looked at her, "You hate me."
She met his accusing stare, "I don't hate you."
"Yes, you do," he said glowering at her. "You yelled at me and told me to get my head out of my ass."
"I tell you that all the time; it doesn't mean I hate you, it just means that you're an idiot."
He rolled his eyes and shrugged then scowled again, "Amanda shouldn't have talked to you like that; she shouldn't have threatened you."
"She didn't threaten me exactly," she said, leaning back against the cabinets as well. "She just offered me a job and didn't want to take no for an answer."
"I nearly…" he brought up his hand in a squeezing gesture, "I was gonna hurt her for threatening you. I was gonna wring her damn neck like one of them chickens in the little chicken houses but you stopped me. Is that why you left?" He asked her. At her confused look he added, "'Cause I tol' her to leave you alone; did you want to say yes to the job she was offering you?"
"You know why I left," she told him.
"Because you didn't want me to sign the papers for Connor."
She nodded, "But, for the record, ARGUS is the last place I'd want to work even if they do have really nice toys to play with." She looked at him curiously, "Which reminds me, since you're all drunk and pliable right now…"
He gave her a filthy grin, "You wanna play with me?"
She flushed, "No!"
"You sure?" He asked with a drunken leer. "'Cause it's okay if you do; I don' mind."
"I'm sure," she said rolling her eyes, "I just wanted to ask you something about Amanda."
"What?"
"I was wondering what the deal is with the two of you?" She asked him, "When you went after her and told her to back off or else, she almost looked scared for a second there. So what is it; what's this big secret you have on her?"
"You really want to know the secret?" He asked her in a low tone.
"Yes."
He motioned for her to come closer, "Secret is she's a stone-cold bitch," he told her with drunken vehemence causing her to snort rudely. "No, really, tha's her secret! She don' want anybody to find out just how much of a fuckin' bitch she is."
"That's not a secret; she might as well have 'bitch' tattooed to her forehead next to the three sixes she already had done in invisible ink." He chuckled at that and she continued, "I mean, you two didn't sleep together or anything, right?"
He gave her a look of repugnance and shuddered, "Hell, no!" He said then paused, "Well, once. One time almost, but that's it an' it whatn't even all that good. Hell, compared to 'Manda, Isabel was almost downright cuddly afterwards."
She grimaced in disgust, "Do you have to sleep with absolutely every woman you work with?"
"I never slept with you," he pointed out with a hooded look.
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm in a pretty exclusive club then, huh?" She said, her cheeks on fire.
"Yup," he agreed. "You're one in a million, F'lissy Smoak. 'Course, if we had slept together then you really would hate me right now," he said taking another drink, this time without flinching at the taste. "You should hate me; everybody should hate me. Connor hates me."
"Connor doesn't hate you," she objected.
"Tha's right," he agreed, "he doesn't even know me. I'm a stranger so he's jus' afraid of me. I made him cry."
"He's just a little boy, Oliver," she said, remembering the hurt look in his eyes when he tried to talk to the little boy who had taken one look at him before hiding behind his mother and her boyfriend in tears. "He'd been through a traumatic experience, that's all. He didn't mean it."
"Did you hear what he called me?" He asked her, swaying slightly, "Mr. Queen. My son called me, 'Mr. Queen'."
"He'd only just met you," she said reasonably. "He was being polite; he doesn't know you're his dad, remember?"
"Tha's right! He called that Milo guy, 'Daddy', instead."
"That's because he and Sandy have been together awhile. Even Sandy told you he'd never done that before; he only ran to Milo like that because he didn't know who you were and he was scared. He's only seven, Oliver."
"I saw him coming toward me and saying 'daddy'," he said quietly. "I thought he was calling me 'daddy', but he ran right past me and ran up to that other guy. Milo," he said with a sneer before taking another drink. "What the fuck kind of name is 'Milo' anyway? Sounds like something you'd name a cat."
"It kind of does actually," she admitted.
"Fuckin' asshole with his stupid fuckin' cat name," he grumbled, taking another drink. He looked at her, "That was pretty stupid, huh?"
"What was?"
"Me expecting him to call me 'daddy' like that?" He asked her with a haunted look, then frowned and put the bottle down so he could reach into his back pocket.
"What are you doing?" She asked him.
He pulled out his wallet and opened it, "Look."
"Look at what?" She asked with a frown as she looked at the leather wallet filled with colorful credit cards.
He stared at the wallet intently, cradling it between his hands in his lap, "Whenever I go to meetings, people always pull out their wallets and show me pictures of their kids doing stuff like soccer or whatever. They always have a ton of these stupid pictures in these little plastic accordion sleeves and they say, 'Do you want to see a picture of my son?'" He looked up at her, "I don't have any," he said helplessly, "I forgot to ask Sandy for one so I can't show them his picture now. If I'm his dad then I should have a picture for my wallet to show people."
She felt her heart break in her chest as tears stung the corners of her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a centering breath, "I can…I can get you a picture. I'll look around and see if there's one online or we can call Waller-"
"What kind of father doesn't have a picture of his kid?" He muttered, not hearing her as he continued to stare at his empty wallet. "I never even got to see any pictures of him. I don't even know what he looked like when he was a baby or when he lost his first tooth. I don't even know what his first word was."
"Well, he grew up in an artist's commune so chances are it was 'tofu' or 'peace'," she joked with a sniffle.
"My mother had lots of pictures, but she didn't have any of Connor either. Do you think that means she hated me?" He asked her suddenly.
"No," she said automatically. "Your mother was a complicated woman but she loved you."
"She hid him from me; do you think she did that because she knew I'd be a bad father like my dad was?" He asked her, his vulnerable expression reminding her of a child's.
"No," she assured him. "I think she thought she was protecting you."
"My dad wasn't that bad," he told her as if not hearing her. "He was fun, he just wasn't around a whole lot because of the company and because he was too busy sleeping around on my mom."
"I'm so sorry," she said softly.
He shrugged, "It's no big deal. She didn't care. She jus' let him keep doin' it 'cause she…" His voice trailed off and he seemed to lose his focus for a moment. "If my mother didn't hate me then why didn't she try to find him after she thought I was dead? If she missed me then why didn't she try to find her grandson?" He turned to her, "You'd think that if she really missed me she'd want to keep some part of me with her, right?"
God, I wish I could kill that woman all over again, Felicity thought as she rubbed her fingers over her forehead and shut her eyes, "I don't know. I don't know why Moira did anything frankly."
"Maybe that was the problem," he said suddenly. "Maybe she thought he was like me; that he was gonna to be a screw up like me and my dad were and she didn' wan' to be embarrassed anymore."
"You're not a screw up. You made a mistake when you were younger but you aren't that guy anymore," she said firmly. "Your mother loved you; she was a…" she tightened her lips and bit back what she really wanted to say. Instead she tried to let go of her anger and said, "She wanted what was best for you and your son and when she thought you were dead she probably didn't go find Connor because she was embarrassed." He gave a harsh bark of laughter and she hurriedly explained, "Not about you or Connor; about the fact that she paid Sandra off in the first place. She probably thought she'd say 'no' if she asked for visitation."
"Yeah, right; that's why, sure," he snorted again before taking his wallet and flinging it over the bar where it landed somewhere in the distance, "'Cause Moira was always so shy about gettin' people to do whatever she wanted 'em to." He took another swig of vodka then turned to her with a wide grin, "We should sing a song for Tommy! Do you want to sing a song with me? Tommy would play this game where we would fuck up and then we'd drink and sing songs about it. The only rules were that you couldn't sing the same song the other guy picked and if you couldn't think of another song then you had to drink until you could. I'll go first; ready? Oh the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue-!"
She sighed, "You already sang that one."
"Oh yeah," he said, taking a drink from the bottle which was, by then, half gone. "Wha's a 'cat's cradle' anyway? I never understood that part. Cat's don' have cradles, do they?"
"I think it's an old kid's game you play with a piece of string."
"That sounds really stupid," he snorted. "That's like the stupidest game ever; talk about lame! Okay, whatever; then how does that song go about the mockin'bird?"
Her brow furrowed in confusion, "What song about the mockingbird?"
"You know!" He told her, the vodka in his hand sloshing slightly before he put it down with a thump, "It goes, uh," he squinted at the ceiling, "Wait, wait; don' tell me. Shh! Hang on. Oh, uh, 'Hush, little baby, don't say a word, daddy's gonna buy you…a mockin'bird," he warbled drunkenly. "If that mockin'bird won't sing, daddy's gonna buy you…" his eyes were awash in misery as he stumbled through the lyrics, "Daddy's gonna buy-!" His shoulders began to shake as he brought his hands up to cover his eyes.
"Oh Oliver…" she whispered as she reached out to touch him then jumped as his hands balled into fists and he let out a roar of agonized rage before gripping the bottle and throwing it across the bar like all the others.
He leapt to his feet and began grabbing the remaining bottles off the shelves, throwing them across the room, one right after the other, screaming incoherently the entire time. It was just a cacophony of rage and anger, of pain and filthy curses strung together in an incomprehensible mess.
For a moment there, for just the briefest of seconds, Felicity felt a trickle of fear run down her spine as she watched this man who was usually so in control completely lose it. She shook it off almost as quickly as it came before scrabbling to her feet and grabbing his arm, "Oliver! Oliver, stop!"
He snapped his neck around to face her, his expression one of pure animalistic rage then, as suddenly as it began, he stopped. His face crumpled in pain as his head dropped and he leaned against her heavily, pulling her close. He laid his head on her shoulder and began to cry. His chest heaved with sobs as she ran her hands down his back and made a comforting noise through her own tears, "It's okay, it's going to be okay…"
His knees gave and he pulled her down with him on the floor then clutched at her waist before burrowing his face in her lap like a child. She took a shuddering breath, unsure of what to do and feeling utterly helpless. His fingers dug into her skin painfully and she bit back a whimper even though she knew there would be bruises later. With trembling hands she continued to stroke down his back with one hand while scratching his head soothingly. She wasn't sure how long they sat there together, it may have been twenty minutes or an hour, but she held him and murmured the same words over and over again until the worst of his tears subsided and then continued to stroke his hair as he finally quietened down.
His grip began relax around her waist and his breathing evened out shortly thereafter making her wonder if he'd passed out or if he had merely fallen asleep instead. Her legs had begun to go numb and the floor was uncomfortably hard and cold. Not only that but they were both sitting in an awkward position. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, shaking him gently, "Oliver? Maybe we should get you downstairs where you can lay down and be more comfortable, okay?"
He inhaled sharply and sat up, blinking hazily before turning to look at her. She looked at his red and blotchy cheeks and his eyes that were puffy and bruised from tears and the battle with Merlyn. She laid her hand on his cheek, stroking his now well overgrown stubble soothingly, "Let's go get you into bed, okay?"
He nodded against her hand, his stubble tickling her palm before laying a gentle kiss against it. He looked at her, his eyes bright from alcohol and pain, and reached up to caress her face as well. He leaned forward until his lips rested against her temple before running them over her forehead with small, gentle kisses. The breath stilled in her lungs and she froze as his mouth trailed over her cheekbones, pausing at the tip of her nose, before he pulled away slightly to stare at her lips.
His fingers coasted over her cheek to tease the sensitive curve of her neck, then traced her collarbones, his eyes following his touch. He tilted her chin up, stroking her jawline with his fingertips, then began to lean in.
"What the hell happened in here?"
They broke away from each other with a start as Thea's voice echoed throughout the club before she walked around the bar to find them.
"Jesus Christ, Ollie," she breathed, taking in his appearance.
"Thea?" He said in a low gravelly voice as he swayed slightly.
"Yeah," she said quietly as she reached down to help him to his feet.
He staggered, nearly knocking her over, and Felicity shook off her stupor so she could get up to help her, "Okay, we need to get him downstairs to the Lair to sleep this off," she said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and self-loathing over what she would have allowed to happen if Thea had not shown up when she did.
What kind of person takes advantage of someone who's drunk and half out of their mind with grief, she thought cursing herself.
"Is that safe?" She asked, "Frankly, he can barely even stand much less manage the stairs."
"We'll take the freight elevator just to be safe," she said, helping her half lead, half drag a drunken Oliver between them as they struggled past the bar towards the storeroom.
"Does that thing even work?" Thea huffed.
"It works," she assured her.
"I could never get the doors to open," the other woman said as she stumbled slightly. "The keypad doesn't work."
"It works," Felicity said breathlessly, "It just takes a…" she repositioned Oliver's hand from her breast and glared at his toothy leer, "seven digit passcode," she bit out, shooting him a warning look.
"By the way, why are you here?" Oliver asked blearily as he turned to his sister.
"Oh god," she said in disgust as she held her breath, "You really need to shower and brush your teeth."
He ignored her, "Why are you here? You hate me; you shot me, 'member?"
"I don't hate you," she said guiltily as they all squeezed through the door awkwardly and tried to maneuver a drunken Oliver around the racks of extra glasses and alcohol without knocking everything over in some kind of nightmarish domino effect. "And I didn't really shoot you…I just, you know, winged you a little."
"You shot me," he glowered, "With an arrow."
"I know."
"I'm the only one s'posed to shoot people with arrows," he said sulkily.
"I'm sorry," she said sincerely.
"S'kay," he said gruffly as they stumbled towards the freight elevator in the back. "I's a fam'ly tradition almost. Do you know that mom shot me once. Right…" he poked himself in the upper left side of his chest just below his collarbone, "there."
"Yeah, I heard," she chuckled breathlessly. "Mom could be a real bitch sometimes, huh?"
He snorted and they nearly wiped out before Felicity finished entering the passcode causing the doors to open. They stumbled inside of the elevator with him between them and, as soon as she slapped the down button, the elevator lurched then began its slow descent into the foundry.
"Do you still want to shoot me?" He asked his sister who turned her head quickly to avoid his breath as he leaned in. "'Cause you can if you want to; you can borrow my bow even."
"No, that's okay." She took in a gulp of air, "Oh God, what did you drink?"
"What didn't he drink?" Felicity muttered. "Oh wait, I take that back," she said grunting then shifting her hip so she could better balance his weight against her, "he drank everything that he didn't toss across the room first."
"By the way, you have really shitty taste in vodka, even F'lissy thinks so," he told her blinking owlishly.
"Flissy?" Thea repeated in wry amusement.
"Fel-ic-it-y," he said, drawing out the syllables. "It's a pretty name." He swung his head toward her, "You're pretty. My Fl'issy; you're still my girl."
The sickly sweet smell of alcohol, bile, and body odor hit her and she gasped, "Oh yeah, you definitely need to shower and brush your teeth."
"You could take a shower with me," he leered suggestively. "Pretty, pretty Fel-ic-it-y."
"Alrighty then," Thea said roundly.
"He's drunk," Felicity reminded her as the elevator stopped, her cheeks betraying her embarrassment.
"Not that drunk," he snickered. "Trus' me, I can still get it up! Jus'…jus' gimme a minute…"
"I so do not need to hear this," Thea huffed as they carried him over to the futon he kept made up in the corner of the foundry.
Both women dumped him on the bed where he landed face first with a bounce.
"Ow," Felicity breathed, rubbing her shoulder.
"Holy shit," Thea said, rubbing her shoulder as well. "This is the super secret Arrow hideout?"
"Yeah," she said, rolling her shoulder uncomfortably.
"And it was under my club this entire time?"
"Yep."
"It's…well, actually, it's kind of a dump," she said wrinkling her nose. "I mean, it's cool, don't get me wrong! The whole…lighted glass cases and weapons and stuff, but guess I was kind of expecting something less," she looked around at the damp walls and exposed pipes, "basement-like."
"Watch it," Oliver muttered before rolling over onto his back with his eyes closed. "'Sides, F'lissy likes it, don't you F'lissy?"
"It has its moments," she said with a sigh.
"Tha's right," he said sleepily, "She's my girl, aren't you, F'lissy? She loves me."
Felicity felt her whole body go beet red with humiliation as she cupped her cool hands against her cheeks to try and tamp down the flames.
"So…" Thea began awkwardly as she glanced at her from the corner of her eye.
"So," she echoed as she cleared her throat in an attempt to regain some sense of normalcy, "Does this mean you might be sticking around after all?"
"Yeah," she shifted uncomfortably. "Um, I don't suppose there's another bed in this place, is there? I kind of don't have a place to stay and I don't really want to go back to the mansion."
"Oliver has been staying at your family's penthouse in The Marchioness," she offered.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste, "Yeah, no; that's where our dad used to take his 'secretaries' for 'dictation', if you know what I mean. No offense," she added.
"None taken," she said flatly. "Executive assistant, remember? And, for the record, apart from your brother's drunken flirting there is not now, nor has there ever been, any kind of 'dictation' going on here. He's with Laurel."
"No, I'm not," he said morosely, his eyes still closed as a small trail of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth onto the pillow. "Laurel hates me, 'member? She called me a…I don' remember what but it was bad."
"Go to sleep, Oliver," she told him. "And she doesn't hate you."
"Can you sleep with me, F'lissy?" He asked her in a whine. "'M lonely an' I want you to rub me again like you did upstairs. That felt really good; Laurel used to rub me like that sometimes…"
"His head," she clarified for the other woman.
"Right," she said flushing.
"Not-!" She took a breath, "Not his…" she looked down at her lap pointedly, "*head* but his-" she gestured upwards to her own hair, "head."
Oliver began to snicker on the bed, "You're so dirty! Dirty, dirty, flirty F'lissy…"
"Yeah, I…got that," Thea said, clearing her throat and avoiding eye contact while they both attempted to ignore her brother who began to snort drunkenly and reposition the pillow underneath him.
"Somebody needs to take off my pants…" he slurred. "I'm too tired to do it. F'lissy, come take off my pants…"
"I'm not taking off your pants," she said, trying very hard to resist slapping him into sobriety.
"Thea…" he mumbled.
"Oh, hell to the no," she said, backing away and looking slightly green around the gills. "You know, maybe I'll just use that card you gave me or some of the cash and get a hotel room."
"Look, if you want to you can stay at my place," she offered reluctantly.
"Are you sure?" Thea asked.
"Yeah," she said, easing up slightly towards the other woman, "Just don't shoot an arrow at me, okay?"
She grimaced, "Hey, I totally missed you on purpose, I swear."
"You shot me," Oliver slurred drunkenly, waking up from his light slumber, "In the shoulder and it hurt."
"It was a graze!" Thea said, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "It was like a scratch."
"I had to get stiches! 'S gonna leave a scar," he bitched.
"Oliver, you have plenty of scars, one more won't make a difference, so shut up and go to sleep!" Felicity ordered impatiently.
"She likes my scars…she thinks they're sexy…" he said in a drunken giggle before relaxing and letting out a loud snore.
"God, I wish I was recording this," Thea muttered.
"I'll make you a copy after I go through the feeds later," Felicity promised shooting the now snoring man on the futon a dirty look. She glanced up at the other woman and sighed, "Come on; let me go get my keys then I'll drive you to my place."
"No!" Oliver said, waking up suddenly and reaching out to grab Felicity's wrist.
"Oliver," she began irritably.
"No, don' leave me," he said pleadingly, his eyes still shut tight, "Stay. I don' wan' to be alone."
She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't. She looked over to Thea and bit her lip, "Okay, uh, tell you what; it's almost sun up and I still have a ton of stuff to do, plus I need to cancel everything on Oliver's schedule for the next couple of days. Upstairs in my purse are the keys to my house and the Mini parked out front. Do you know where Adam Heights is?"
"Yeah," she said looking uncertainly between her and Oliver.
"My house is the brick one on the corner nearest the caretaker's place and my name is on the mailbox," she told her. "You might want to pick something up if you're hungry though because I don't really trust anything in my fridge right now."
"Thanks," she said, but didn't move from where she was standing, "Look, are you sure? Because…?" She looked at Oliver pointedly, "I can stay; I mean, he is my brother and…"
"I've got it," she said with a nod. "He's going to need someone to take care of him and if I leave him here all by himself," she sighed, "let's just say that projectile vomit and computers don't mix."
Even so, Thea stood there looking down at her brother who, despite still clinging to Felicity's hand, began to snore once again, this time even louder, "I don't know what to do," she admitted in a small voice.
"It'll be okay," she said with a weary smile.
"Everything is so fucked up," she said looking as lost as her brother had earlier. "I've never had to be the person who fixed stuff before; my mom always did that, then Ollie, but now she's gone and he's…" she bit her lip, "What do I do?"
The weight of Oliver's hand in hers was beginning to make her shoulder sore so she sat on the corner of the futon beside him before answering her, "What do you see when you look around this place?"
"What do you mean?" She asked in confusion. "A basement, what else?"
"That's it?"
Her eyes scanned the space, "Uh, I don't know; a basement with lots of computers and weapons and stuff?"
"When I look around this place, do you know what I see?" She asked her. "I see my home. This," she gestured around them with her free hand, "this place is where I live, where all of us live and not just because we spend most of our time down here even though we do. It's our home because your brother, Dig, and Roy are my family and, because you're Oliver's family that makes you my family, too."
"They hate me," she said shaking her head. "I mean, I left with Malcolm and—"
"You messed up," she said, cutting her off. "You messed up a lot and they are, yeah, they're going to be pretty pissed off for a while and, chances are, Diggle will give you the stink eye and Roy is going to pout and be a total baby, but home is where people love and accept you no matter what."
"Not where I'm from," she chuckled humorlessly. "Besides, I'm not really family, am I? I'm…I'm Malcolm Merlyn's daughter…"
"You and your brother…" she grimaced, "It amazes me how alike you can be sometimes." She took a centering breath, "Thea, home is where you make it, not where you're from. It's also not about blood because you can't choose who you're related to but you can choose who you love and who loves you back."
"So you're saying you love me?" She said sarcastically, arching an eyebrow in her direction, "You don't even know me."
"I don't need to; he does," she said, her hand still in Oliver's. "That makes you my family just as much as Sara, or Laurel, or Lance, or any of the rest of them, and family sticks together even when they don't like each other very much. I'll be honest with you," she looked down their clasped hands, "there's no fixing this. You can't fix this, I can't fix this; no one can fix this kind of wound. The only person who can fix this is Oliver but, knowing him, he's not going to. He's going to just let it bleed and pick at it the second it begins to scab over then add it to all the rest of his scars and, in the meantime, we're going to have to deal with his pissy ass moods and all of the fallout but we'll do it because that's what family does." She met her eyes steadily, "No one has to bear that weight alone, Thea; no one can. No matter how strong you are, or how brave, one man can't carry the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, not even Oliver, so we each lend our strength and share the burden together because that's what family and home are all about."
"Would you have really let me go?" She asked timidly, staring down at their hands.
"If that was your choice, then yes," she nodded. "Just because he loves you it doesn't give anyone the right to stop you from leaving if that's really what you wanted to do."
"And you wouldn't have lied to him if he asked you? Even if you knew he might never forgive you for it?" She asked.
"I've never lied to your brother, not even when it would have been in my own best interest," she told her. "But, you're right; helping you get out of the country probably would have been the straw that broke the camel's back."
"But you would have done it anyway." It wasn't a question.
"Home is where people don't lie to each other," she said swallowing. "They-I don't like keeping secrets unless I have to or unless it's to protect someone like this mission and your brother, but I would never lie about something like that, not even to him. If your brother had asked me, I would have told him everything he needed to know even if it meant that he hated me for it afterwards."
"God, if that's really what you think families are like then I would have loved to grow up in your house," she laughed with a hint of bitterness before sniffling as tears began to track down her cheeks.
"It's not about where you come from, it's about the journey and where you decide to go from here." She stroked her fingers over Oliver's as his grip began to loosen slightly, "This is your home if you want it. You don't have to have all the answers, or even any of the answers; he never does," she said with a teasing smirk causing the other girl's mouth to twitch upwards slightly.
"God, he's such an idiot," she sniffled.
"He really is," she agreed.
"But he's our idiot," Thea said quietly. Her posture straightened and her jaw tightened in resolve, "You know what? On second thought, I think I'll stay here with Ollie."
"Thea, I can watch him-"
"No," she said moving to sit beside her and laying her hand on his leg, "you should go home and get some rest. I'm kind of used to dealing with drunk and hung-over Ollie. Besides, I kind of owe him," she said ruefully. "The last time I got really wasted he took care of me and I guess I did kind of shoot him."
"Yeah, but he kind of deserved to get shot," Felicity said, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Maybe not at that exact moment but there have been times when he's really lucky that I didn't have a bow or a gun in my hands."
"I'll bet," she grinned then looked at their clasped hands mischievously, "Are you sure my brother isn't slipping you his dictation? Because he kind of acts like he wants to see your shorthand in action, if you know what I mean?"
She flushed, "He's in love with Laurel."
"I thought he said she broke it off?" She asked, looking at her curiously.
"She was…angry when she found out about Connor," she sighed. "Hell, we all were but she'll get past it. After all, in case you haven't noticed, the star-crossed lovers' thing is kind of their jam."
"Yeah, well, she's not the one holding his hand right now, is she?"
"You've been here all of five minutes and you're already matchmaking," Felicity muttered. "Peggy Ann would love you."
"Who's Peggy Ann?" She asked curiously.
"She's kind of my grandmother," she said with a soft smile. "It's a long story."
"You call your grandma 'Peggy Ann'?" She said, furrowing her brow in confusion.
"Like I said, it's a long story," she yawned, "Okay," she said, blinking owlishly, "Wow, I am really tired so I'm going to go home because if you're not going to sleep in my bed then I am." She pointed towards the door to her right, "Bathroom's over there and there's a bunch of cleaning stuff under the sink, a bucket and mop in the supply closet, and there are aspirins, anti-nausea meds, and other stuff in the rolling cart with the medical supplies although he'll refuse to take them even if he's doubled up in pain and puking his guts out because, yeah, he's an idiot. Instead there's a tin of loose herbs that smell like wet dog and feet next to the coffee pot with a little measuring spoon inside. Just put about two heaping scoops in a cup and pour some hot water over them then hand it to him. Do yourself a favor though, don't drink it unless you absolutely have to because it actually smells better than it tastes."
"Gross," she said with a moue of disgust.
"Welcome to Team Arrow," she said dryly as she got off the bed and gently disengaged her hand from Oliver's before laying it on his chest.
"Do you guys really call it 'Team Arrow'?" She called out as Felicity began to climb the stairs to get her purse and shoes.
"All the time," she told her.
"And Ollie is okay with that?" She asked dubiously.
"He hates it," she admitted.
Thea offered her a grin, "I think I'm going to really like being on Team Arrow."
"Goodnight Thea," Felicity said with a weary chuckle as she made her way to the door.
"Goodnight, and thanks," she said sincerely. "You know, for everything."
She just nodded before giving them one last look and shutting the door behind her.