Chapter 2: Unlikely Allies

"My name is Oliver Queen. After five years on a hellish island, I have come home with only one goal. To save my city. But I have lost everything important to me, and I am no longer the Arrow I have strived to become. Things have changed; and I have to deal with the ramifications that have shifted my life and the lives of the people I love."

Laurel sat by her father's hospital bed, feeling drowsy still from just having awakened five minutes ago. She glanced down at her worn jeans and old sweater with a hole on the right sleeve and an emblem of a unicorn printed on the front. It had been passed down to her from her mother when she had been young, something she had always dreamed of owning since she was six. It was supposed to have been given to Sara after Laurel graduated high school, but that opportunity had been lost when the youngest Lance decided to join Oliver on the Queen's Gambit. Laurel hadn't really minded, though, for the thought parting with the sweater made her sick. Because the truth was, despite it being rather childish – given it had a unicorn on it – she still couldn't shake the warm and fuzzy feeling that came with wearing it. It was a connection to her mother that she had managed to keep despite everything she had lost since the divorce.

Now, as she looked over at Quentin Lance's still, sleeping form, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly she had with him that was as potent as the sweater. It certainly wasn't their love for old films. That had always been a passion shared between her and Sara. Sure, Laurel's struggling addiction to drugs and alcohol was something she had in common with the man, but that was a thing to forget. Not to remember. She rubbed an impatient hand through her light brown hair and reached forward to squeeze her father's hand, noticing for the first time how thin he'd gotten since she had checked him in almost a month ago. She tried not to think about the moment when she'd first seen him collapse, blood protruding from his lips as he coughed.

All her life he had been a kind of hero to her. That probably made her the stereotyped "Daddy's little girl", but she never cared. All that mattered was that no matter what, he loved her and tried very hard to keep her innocence intact, to make sure that no matter what happened, that her morals stay true and she become the kind of person who would fight for the innocent. Which come to think of it, Laurel was just that. Since graduating from college as a full-fledged attorney, she had busted her tail defending all the people in which she felt were wrongly accused, and refused to relent until she came out on top.

Tears dribbled down her cheek and stopped at her chin as the memory flashbacks of her father flicked through her brain like an aged film, slowing down on all the moments Quentin had picked her up and swirled her around as a child.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered, moving her thumb slowly down his wrist.

As she continued to stroke his hand, she barely noticed as a figure entered the room and pulled up a chair beside her, not uttering a word, only honoring the heavy silence as she stared upon Quentin's motionless face, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. When she finally decided to end the silence, though, she looked to her right, expecting to see Oliver. If she had expected anyone to come by the hospital to visit her Quentin Lance, it would be him, right? But to her honest shock, she saw instead the face of Felicity Smoak.

Laurel had always admired the young woman; though she would never admit it out loud, under any circumstances. Especially to Oliver or Felicity. She loved the way her long blonde hair was always tied back into a neat ponytail and the way her glasses deemed her as incredibly clever. In fact, Laurel wondered just what exactly it was that made Oliver like her. At first, she thought maybe it was because of the hair. Sara was blonde, after all, and he had chosen her over Laurel. So maybe, the same went for Felicity. Blonde equaled affection from Oliver Queen.

What is it about you? Laurel thought intensely, studying the woman's features.

"How is he?"

"Huh?" Laurel mumbled, being shaken from her own thoughts.

Felicity nodded in the direction of Quentin, a small crease forming between her eyes. She was worried. A tight sensation started at the base of Laurel's chest, and she knew what would come next. She bit the inside of her cheek as soon as she felt the first sign of tears, praying that it would whisk them away. She wouldn't respond if she knew the tears would spill midsentence.

"Laurel?"

As she felt the sadness ebb, she forced a smile on her face and faced the other woman, careful to not look her directly in the eyes, picking a spot on the wall slightly above her ear. "Oh, the nurse said he's been in pain the last few days, so she gave him morphine to dull it. He's been asleep for the past two hours."

"And you've been here all this time?"

She shrugged, unwilling to answer. The truth was, since her dad had been admitted, she had rarely gone home. Why should she? It wasn't like there was anything for her there; what with her mother living in Central City, and Sara having gone back to the League of Assassins with Nyssa, she had nothing. And with Tommy being dead, and Thea and Oliver dealing with the ramifications due to Queen Consolidated going bankrupt, Laurel really only had her father, and he was unconscious.

A tickle began in her throat and she choked on a sob, trying to hide it by moving her face so her mouth pressed up against her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Felicity asked, concern obvious in her voice.

Laurel waited a beat before saying, "I'll be fine."

"I just…I know how it feels to have almost no one left, you know? My father, he…he left when I was young, and a couple years later my mom spiraled into a depression that pushed her to drinking and she could only get jobs in Las Vegas where we owned a low-end apartment which we could barely afford. Even then, though, she hardly ever came home. So I was basically stuck raising myself from the time I was twelve to, well, now."

Laurel looked up, tears having dried on her face. She looked at Felicity now, a slight surprise entering her expression. "I'm sorry."

Felicity shrugged. "I know it's a lot to dump on you, but I figure that seeing as you've gone through so much, maybe talking with someone who's gone through equally as much might lessen the pain."

Then, without even thinking twice, Laurel leaned over and gave the other woman a tight squeeze, her hand tightening on her shoulder as if she were a lifeline keeping her from drowning in the pain of her past. That was almost exactly it, though. Felicity Smoak had managed to take away some of the heavier pain that had been weighing on Laurel for the past month, and maybe even longer. Hearing that this seemingly quirky, if slightly socially awkward, young woman was dealing with the emotional baggage that Laurel had to, made her feel almost…lighter.

And for the first time ever, she could actually consider Felicity a friend.

An honest to God friend.

As the two women pulled apart from their awkward hug, Felicity was the first one to speak. "So? Sara's back with the league, huh?"

A look of pain flickered it's away across Laurel's face. Felicity caught it though, and her eyes widened, starting to ramble out apologies like a record on spin. "I mean, I know she had to go back, not that she wanted to…or anything. Obviously, if she could she totally would come back, I mean, if I had a sister, I would totally come back for her if I were in the same position…I mean…uh," she reached behind her and nervously scratched a spot on her neck, "sorry, I'll just…shut up now."

Laurel pressed her lips into a tight line and looked back over at her father, reaching out to take up his hand again. "It's fine, Felicity. I know you didn't mean anything by it. All that matters is that you came by."

"Is that a thank you?"

Laurel couldn't help but smile. "I guess it is."

Felicity smiled and sat on in silence. And Laurel couldn't help but relish in the feeling of positive change staining the atmosphere.

OoO

Isla Smoak stepped off the bus in Starling City, taking a good long look around. She was a pretty thing, with long blonde hair, bleached slightly by the sun (due the fact that she had lived in Florida nearly her whole life) almost always pulled into a French twist, and she had a pale complexion, giving her a subtle glow beneath the bright sunlight. She was only sixteen, but could easily pass for an adult due the fact that she was five-foot-eleven and had developed early. Now, she was finally here in Starling, where she knew her half-sister, Felicity, now lived. She checked her phone, and blanched at the time. She was at least two hours behind schedule! Okay, maybe no one really knew she was here yet, not even her mother, let alone the sister that still had no idea Isla existed. But ever since she had discovered that she even had a half-sister, all she had ever wanted was to travel to Starling and meet her.

She had gotten this far, and she wasn't about to give up.

OoO

"Alright, I've narrowed down all the possible jobs that I think you can handle." Felicity announced, coming into her living room, balancing a stack of files in her arms. Oliver sat on the couch, leaned back casually with his arm thrown behind the cushions, lazily flipping through the channels on her TV. Ever since losing his family's company, not to mention his club (okay, Thea's) living situations were tricky. So Oliver had spent the past month and a half staying with Felicity or Dig, depending on either of their stress levels and whether or not they felt like dealing with his crap. In a way, it was almost as if Felicity and Dig were his personal caretakers, each of them trading shifts.

That or he was like a baseball card.

Felicity plopped herself beside him, slamming the stack of files on the coffee table, then got up again and ran back to the kitchen, her long braid wagging behind her like a parody of a cat's tail. Oliver watched her for a few seconds before letting his mind drift off to last night. It had been nothing but a spontaneous little outing he and Dig had decided to take Felicity on and, well, it was mostly Oliver's idea. And he couldn't stop thinking about it. Obviously, the entire outing had been slight because they had gone to Big Belly Burger and gotten ice cream after (with Dig paying), but it really was no big deal.

Except that halfway through the night, Dig had gotten a rather inconvenient call from his ex-wife/current girlfriend and claimed having to skip out early. Then, without even blinking an eye, Oliver and Felicity had been left alone, sitting uncomfortably close at the waterfront, watching silently as the stars glittered on the water and the sailboats floated and competed with each other on who could blast the most obnoxious music.

"Some dumb asses in Starling," Oliver had said, in a hasty attempt to break the awkward silence. He normally never minded when there was a lack in conversation, but this particular night, with Felicity Smoak – a girl with which he had formed a tight bond - the silence made him rather…nervous. And Oliver Queen didn't often acquaint himself with nervousness. Not with women, anyway.

Then, Felicity looked up at him, her blue eyes curious and widely innocent behind her thick frames. She looked tiny wearing her puffy purple down jacket, and Oliver all of a sudden got the uncontrollable urge to put his arms around her and hold her tight.

Stop it! She's your friend, Ollie! He silently scolded himself as he fought the urge, forcing his eyes to look back out at the water, pushing his sweaty palms along his pants, a hasty effort to hide the fact that his palms were shaking. His eyes traveled back to her as he continued to wipe his hands, then shook his head stubbornly, forcing his line of sight back on a large white sailboat blasting some particularly annoying pop number. He focused on the music, allowing the reckless beat to thump-tha-thump its way into his distracted Felicity-infected-mind. It seemed to work well, because just as the last trickling thought of the woman evaporated from his head, her voice pierced the bubble he'd created like a needle.

"So, Dig sure left in a rush," she said, the nerves in her voice setting his ablaze. Nervousness was a strange thing; in the way that it was almost like a brush fire in the wild. Just the tiniest trace of a nerve could set someone else's off, and then before you knew it, it created it's very own chain reaction of awkward chuckling and sweaty palms.

Oliver laughed, making it sound as natural as he could. "Yeah. Weird." Weird? Dude, you are freakin' lame. That island, I swear, it sucked the cool right out of you. Like a vacuum. He cleared his throat nervously and then subconsciously scooted closer to her, making it seem as if he were just being friendly. Which he was; kind of. They were friends. He was her personal Robin Hood and she was his…um, IT girl? She called herself that, right?

Don't ask her, you idiot. If she doesn't consider herself your IT girl you're totally screwed. So…whatever you do, keep – your mouth – shut!

Felicity turned her face toward him and gave him a genuine smile, her blue eyes shining. "I like this."

"You do?" No shit, Sherlock.

She laughed gently, reaching out to grip his fingers, warming them between her own. It felt nice, and although Oliver knew he shouldn't be thinking this, he really didn't want her to stop. Just the connection between their fingers set off an odd little tingling sensation that vibrated throughout him like a live wire. He felt like every nerve ending in his entire being was on fire, made only possible because Felicity Smoak was touching him.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she said back, resting her head against his shoulder; making his breath catch in his throat.

WHAT was going ON? He was beginning to panic, and he didn't know why. All of this was normal. He and Felicity were close, ever since they had begun working together, their friendship had become rock solid. Hardly anything could break it – check that, nothing could break it. When he had first found out about Malcom Merlyn fathering Thea, and the fact that his own mother hadn't told either of her children, he had heard the news from Felicity. Someone who clearly didn't have to say anything, seeing as it was not her business, but told him anyway, because she was aware that not knowing this information was hurting him even more. He had always loved her for that. Her courage amazed him.

He had smiled to himself and squeezed her hand back, resting his cheek on her head, gazing out at the water with the strange tingly sensation still singing in his veins.

And now, sitting in Felicity's quaint little apartment, watching her reenter the kitchen, Oliver began to get that feeling again, and this time, he really didn't want it to stop. He liked the way the singing nerve endings made him feel alive, made him feel as if he weren't just Oliver Queen. Ex Billionaire, but just a man, having strange feelings for a woman whom he thought was his friend but somehow felt something more.

"Alright, I have our coffee and fresh chocolate chip scones – which smell and taste amazing, if I do say so myself. And so now, we can tackle these job applications." Felicity chattered off without missing a beat, setting down two steaming mugs of coffee and a single napkin with two rather large scones beside. She sat down next to Oliver, and tucked one leg beneath her, picking up the top folder and opening it to the first sheet.

Oliver narrowed his eyes and peered at the second application. "'Big Belly Burger'? You've got to be kidding me, Fel."

She blinked at him. "What's wrong?"

"I can't apply for Big Belly. It's too humiliating."

Felicity barked out a laugh, starting to fill out the first form. The title said "Men's Warehouse". That one definitely made him gag, but at the risk of her doing that annoying barking laugh again, he gritted his teeth and began to fill out information on the humiliating Big Belly application. Whilst filling out the special skills portion, he debated on scribbling out "Oliver Queen" and putting down a false name, possibly a ridiculous one, so the place would know not to hire him. But decided against it, because Felicity, being the humorless type when it came to practical jokes, would kick his ass for it.

"How far are you?" she asked, breaking him out of his reverie.

He looked up, blinking. "Huh?"

"Still on your first one?"

"Uh, yes? Aren't you?"

"Please, I'm on my fifth application."

"Which is for what, may I ask?"

She bit her lip nervously, and then turned her eyes back down, putting up one hand as if shielding the tile. Scratch that, because she was hiding the title. Oliver reached out with lightning speed and snatched the paper away from her, holding it out of reach when she tried to snatch it back, but he was far faster than she was. He rolled off the couch and kept the paper held up as he read the title, a feeling of dread coating his gut like molasses.

"'SCPD'? No, that's…Felicity. Do you have any idea how that would make being the Arrow completely worthless? Besides, you know how much I hate the police. They stick to the law…like glue. I don't do that, remember?

Felicity sighed. "I just saw the flyer and, you know, figured it was worth a shot."

Oliver shook his head, and tore the sheet in half, letting the pieces flutter to the carpet. "Absolutely not. I'd rather take a job at Big Belly or…Men's Warehouse. Even though that is the most ridiculous sounding job ever. As if anyone could imagine me, Oliver Queen, selling suits."

The room fell into silence for a second and then they both burst into laughter, Oliver falling back onto the couch, holding his side for support. Felicity wiped her eyes in the middle of a giggle and then leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You're right, I'm sorry. That is just too funny to picture."

"Shut up," he joked, but pressed his lips to her hair, ignoring the tingling feeling once again as it settled on his nerves.