Oliver Queen's kitchen was amazing. Huge, with an antique stove built-in in a chimney, an island and a wonderful vintage fridge - well, not vintage in 1948, she supposed.
Felicity was well aware a refrigerator was not the thing she should focus on right now. She guessed it was like some sort of coping mechanism, so her mind wouldn't have to entertain the fact she had just travelled through time.
She had crossed over to another frakkin' century.
Oliver was sitting across her at his kitchen table, looking at her with a patient expression on his face. He seemed a bit more accommodating since she had puked in his bin. She raised the glass of water he had offered her a bit earlier to her lips, wishing for some aspirin to dim her light headache, but she didn't dare ask him right now. Besides, did they have Ibuprofen in 1948?
At least he hadn't alerted the authorities yes, and for that she was grateful.
She cleared her throat. "So, I guess I should start at the beginning"
"That would be my preference."
She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw an imperceptible smile lift the right corner of his lips. It encouraged her to go on.
"Where I come from, you just died...of old age. And I inherited your house. Don't ask me why, I have no clue."
He frowned. "Old age?"
She nodded. "I was told you were in your late 90's."
"Wait, where do you come from?"
She bit her lower lip. Here we go. "I should have said when...and 2017." She straightened her shoulders, waiting for him to start laughing, roll his eyes or finally call the cops. He didn't though. He crossed his arms - and wow, the man was obviously working out - and sighed softly.
"How do we know each other in 2017?"
"That's the thing. We don't. I've never met you in my life. Until today."
"But why would I leave you my house then?"
"Like I said, I have no clue. But the time travelling mirror in your attic might be a first clue."
"Ok, go on."
"At first, I wasn't going to take it but I thought I should at least look at it, you know? So while I was exploring the house, I went to the attic and found two trunks filled with pictures. Most of them were from your time in the war, and the rest were of friends and family. And there was this woman, who looked exactly like me, on one of those pictures. It freaked me out and I wanted to leave but then I heard the music and thought it came from the mirror - which, as it turned out, I was right - so I put my hand on it and ...here I am."
She cringed slightly at how her explanation sounded more like a babble bordering on hysterical, but hey, if she had one good reason to be hysterical in her life, it was probably this one.
"So you travelled, through the mirror, from 2017." His tone was measured and curious, and less incredulous than it could legitimately be.
"I know how it sounds. I wouldn't believe me either, I just...This whole situation is crazy and I don't know why it's happening to me."
She put her head in her hand, the pounding becoming more pronounced, and she massaged her forehead.
Oliver uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, putting them on the table. "The thing is, you did appear from nowhere." He pointed the kitchen door which led to the back of the property. "That door is locked, and the only other access to the house is the front door. I've been in the living room for the last few hours, with a clear view on the front door and stairs. So unless you climbed the facade all the way to the attic…" he said with a dubious look at her pencil skirt and high heels. "Let's just say I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, even if it goes against my best judgment."
Relief washed over her as her shoulders slumped and a shaky laugh escaped her.
"Thank you. It means a lot you don't think I'm crazy, or a robber, or an alien. And I don't know why you would think I'm an alien, but I'm not. I promise."
"There were rumors of an alien sighting in New Mexico last year though." He deadpanned.
"Oh, you mean Roswell, right? That was a scam, actually. There's no alien in 2017 either, except on TV."
"What's a TV?"
She remained speechless for a minute and he smiled. Which, considering how gorgeous it was, certainly didn't contribute in giving her back her ability to speak. "I'm messing with you. They sell televisions at the hardware store in town."
She laughed, although it sounded more like a sob. The whole ordeal was starting to take its toll on her.
She was still curious about something though. "What day it is?"
He turned and checked the calendar on the wall. "Monday, April 21."
"Ok, it's the same date, just not the same day. It's Friday in 2017. Which reminds me, I'm supposed to meet Caitlin for dinner...or is it tomorrow ?" she sighed, pressing her nose between her fingers, trying to get a coherent thought and failing.
Oliver looked at her dubiously. "I think right now you need to get some rest. No offense but you look pale, and well...not so good."
Felicity was about to argue, she needed to get home and the sooner the better but her head hurt so badly she could hardly form a thought and finally she nodded. "A nap does sound rather nice right now. But just an hour or so. I have to go back after that."
He brought her to one of the rooms upstairs. The difference in the house now compared to her earlier visit was astounding. The ground was covered in a rich, light brown, hardwood floor, and the walls were a deep forest green, giving the atmosphere a warm look. The bedroom he led her into looked cozy and comfortable with corner windows looking down on the garden and a big bed just waiting for her to lay down on it.
He left for a couple of minutes before coming back with a t-shirt. "Here. We'll talk more when you wake up."
Her head hurt so badly all she could manage was a weak 'Thank you' before sitting on the bed to change, not even noticing him leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.
She slid between the fresh sheets, vaguely aware she was about to fall asleep in the house of a complete stranger she knew nothing about, in another time period. She closed her eyes, a lingering though insisted maybe he had been a bit too fast in believing her.
Oliver Queen was a good man though. She didn't know how but...she just knew.
She fell asleep.
When Felicity woke up she felt completely refreshed. She got out of bed and walked into the adjoining bathroom - which was terribly old-fashioned, pink everywhere, she loved it - to freshen up. With a grimace she put her skirt back on, but kept Oliver's t-shirt. She didn't feel like wearing the crumpled shirt she had already worn at work all day yesterday.
Barefoot, she followed the smell of bacon all the way to the kitchen. She found Oliver preparing what seemed to be a gargantuan breakfast. There was already a stack of pancakes on the table, and a jar of maple syrup and he was putting scrambled eggs and bacon on a dish.
Wait...breakfast? How long had she been out?
"Hey," he greeted her as she walked in. "I was about to come and get you. Feeling better?"
"Much," she said, silently admiring how his black t-shirt fitted the muscles of his upper body. Reality reminded itself to her as her stomach growled at the display on the table, probably because it had been empty for a few hours.
"What time is it?"
"8 am. You slept 14 hours. Time travel is exhausting, apparently."
She wasn't sure if he meant it or if there was a part of him that still doubted her story and made fun of her. To be completely honest, the second version was better. It still weirded her out a little he had so readily accepted her explanation.
She sat at the table as he put the dish with the eggs and bacon in front of her before pouring her a freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the food and she noticed there were waffles too.
She chuckled. "I guess cholesterol is not a thing in 1948, then. Ah, what the heck. I'm starving, and this looks amazing. You did all this ?"
He nodded, filling his own plate generously. "I love cooking. My friend John owns a diner and I go help him sometimes."
She remembered the name from several of the pictures. The handsome black guy holding the pretty brunette.
"Lyla," he said, and she realized she had said that out loud. "How do you know?"
"I saw pictures of them...in one of the trunks in your attic. From a 4th of July hasn't happened yet."
"Didn't you say there was someone looking like you on those pictures?"
She chuckled. "Not someone looking like me. A perfect carbon copy, down to the name."
"The 4th of July is in 2 months, and I don't know any girl who looks like you, named Felicity. So it must have been you on those pictures."
She shrugged. "That would explain the note, actually. In the document the lawyer gave me, there was a note. It said, 'Please come back', signed with just an 'O'."
He finished his orange juice and looked at her pensively. "So you were here before, but then you weren't and I left you my house asking you to come back, but no other explanation?"
"I know, the more we talk about it, the more insane it sounds, but everything about this situation is insane. Oh my God, I'm Claire Randall. This is my own twisted version of Outlander, sadly without any kilts."
He gave her a blank look. "I didn't understand a single word of what you just said."
She shook her head. "Never mind. I don't want you to think I'm even more crazy."
He smiled. "I don't think you're crazy. You would not be here eating my world renowned pancakes if I did."
"Thank you. For not kicking me out. Or calling the police. Wait, world renowned?"
"Hey, I believe your time travel story, the least you can do is trust me on this."
She grinned. Everything she had read hadn't prepare her for his sense of humor, and it was incredibly charming. It made her wonder once again why and how he had ended up living the solitary, sad life he had.
"Felicity…" he said her name for the first time and she shivered, loving the way the syllables rolled on his tongue. "The question is...why would I ask you to come back? If you were here before, what happened between us that would compel me to leave you my house hoping you would hypothetically travel back in time to find me?"
She blushed. Stupidly, she had not envisioned things that way. Since she had heard about him from Henry she had always envisioned him as an old man, even after seeing the pictures on Google. Of all the reasons why he had left her his house, she didn't imagine for one second it could be anything romantic.
She gave him a knowing look. "I don't think you're the kind of guy who falls for my type."
"What type is that?"
"Nerdy?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Right. Too modern a word, I guess." She shrugged. "I don't really have a 1948 version of it."
"Felicity, first, I don't have a type. And second, I think you're beautiful."
She pictured herself with the crumpled shirt she had slept in, her hair a mess and make-up probably smudged on her face. She didn't believe him for a minute, even if it was nice to hear.
She held his gaze for a minute, but he was giving her a rather intense look and heat creeped up her cheeks. She wriggled on her chair, feeling both slightly excited and a bit uncomfortable and not quite sure why. "Anyway, I should probably get back to...go back home."
"Already? Without even seeing 1948?" He leaned forward and there was hint of something she might have recognized if she knew him better, it looked like humor but was...warmer, she decided. "Aren't you just a tiny bit curious?"
Of course she was curious. And if she was being totally honest, she didn't really want to leave immediately. Staying a bit longer in Oliver's company definitely had its appeal, despite the contradictory sentiments he was eliciting in her.
She was weak. She caved. "What do you have in mind?"
He looked out the window. "It's sunny and warm. There's a park nearby, we could go for a walk, get some fresh air. I stayed inside all day yesterday so it'd be good to stretch my legs."
"Ok, but I can't go out like this," she said, gesturing to her clothes.
He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "My sister always leaves some clothes here, and you seem to be roughly the same size. Actually, the room you slept in is hers. I'll show you."
As they climbed the stairs, Felicity lingered on the pictures hanging on the wall. Some were his family and friends, a few landscapes, and one was of little kids playing at what seemed to be a family gathering.
She turned to him, "Did you take these?"
The admiration in her voice seemed to please him and he nodded. "I was a photographer during...a few years ago. I do weddings, anniversaries, things like that now.. It pays the bill. And it beats photographing dead bodies."
His words were a perfect echo of what she had heard when she had been climbing these stairs in the future, or was it the present?. How could she know he would say that to her? She paled slightly at the implications and he misread her reaction. "Sorry. That was a very inappropriate thing to say."
She put her hand on his biceps, the touch so instinctual she didn't think about it crossing any sort of 1940s lines. "No, it's...don't worry. And these pictures are beautiful. You're very talented, no matter the subject."
She was a step above him so they were eye to eye. He smiled, and for a minute she lost herself in those blue pools before remembering they were in the middle of the stairs. Not that he seemed to mind, with the way he was looking at her. Again.
His question from earlier in the kitchen, about why he had asked her to come back in his will, resonated in her head and she turned around. Climbing the remaining steps a bit quicker than necessary,. Despite the fact she had met this man not even 24 hours before but she couldn't deny there was something… a connection between them, and she suspected he was feeling the same way.
Ok, but she had to stop thinking she was Claire Randall or this was some alternate version of 'Somewhere in Time.. Oliver looked nothing like Jane Seymour, so time traveling romance was not happening. This was not a TV show, or a movie, and she was too reasonable to entertain that kind of idea, no matter what some clone, alternate version of herself or whatever had done with Oliver Queen.
He showed her where to find the clothes and she opened the closet, hoping Thea Queen would not mind too much. Felicity chose capris in a cute vichy blue pattern and a matching blue sleeveless shirt. Luckily, she and Oliver's sister shared a shoe size as well so she completed the outfit with cute flats.
After she'd dressed she found Oliver sitting on the coffee table in the living room, waiting for her. He'd changed as well and was now wearing black slacks and a green polo shirt. He was definitely giving off a Cary Grant vibe, and at the same time he would have blended right in during 2017. She decided to focus on the fact she was going for a stroll with a gorgeous man and pushed all other thoughts of time travel aside.
But when she walked out of the house, the reality of her situation smacked her right back in the face.
Like the interior of the house, the exterior was a millions miles away from what she had seen the day before. No more abandoned buildings, no more empty lots filled with trash or tagged walls. Instead, it was a lovely neighborhood with rather impressive homes - none as impressive as Oliver's, but still beautiful - with flowery gardens and trees all along the street. The blue sky and sunny light only helped make the scenery all the more idyllic.
Seriously, this was like being in Pleasantville. Or at least the end of the movie, with all the colors.
Oliver greeted one of his neighbours on the other side of the street before leading her to a beautiful vintage car. Thanks to an ex-boyfriend who had been passionate about it, she knew enough about old cars to recognize an Auburn. And if it wasn't exactly vintage in 1948, it was still dated since they had stopped production in 1937.
"Woah," she whispered as he opened the door on the passenger side. She admired the shiny blue metallic color before climbing in almost reverently, admiring the shiny aluminium dashboard and brushing her hand over the rich cream colored leather of the seats.
"Do you want me to put the roof back on ?" he offered.
"No! It's perfect."
He sat behind the wheel, putting the key into the ignition.
"Huh. No seatbelts." Felicity noticed, looking at the seat behind her right shoulder before noting the bench seat which left no separation between her and Oliver.
He raised an eyebrow. "No what?"
"Never mind. Come on James Dean, let's go."
Oliver opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it and started the car with a low chuckle. After driving for a few minutes he asked, "Is there anywhere you want to go?"
She looked around her, at a loss. "I don't recognise anything."
Which was not surprising considering she never came to this part of Star City, otherwise known as the Glades. But apparently, 70 years ago the Glades had been a fancy neighborhood with lovely homes, well kept gardens and children playing. She wondered what had happened to turn it around so badly. She would look it up when she got home. And speaking of...
"Can you go to 6th Avenue? At the crossroad with Cisco Lane...if that's how they are named now."
He nodded. "I know where 6th Avenue is, not sure about the other one. What's there?"
"My apartment. Well, it's certainly not there yet, I'm just curious to see what it looks like."
The traffic was obviously not as bad in the 1940's and they made it in ten minutes. Felicity was sure it would have taken her at least 25 in 2017. Hopefully she'll be able to test it if she gets back.
When, she corrected. When she gets back.
Oliver drove down 6th Ave and she guided him where she could, recognizing landmarks till they got to the place she would someday call home.
She was not prepared for what she found, though. The only thing that allowed her to recognize her street was the little church on the corner, which was still there in 2017. But aside from that, nothing was the same. Her street in her time period was a row of townhouses and buildings, a few shops, and a lame 'green spot' composed of a dying tree and a bench.
There was none of that now. Besides a few houses, it was mostly a giant green space with trees, bushes, flowers and even a lake. Or well, a big pond. A few people were walking their dogs. It was truly a bucolic setting and she felt sad things hadn't stayed that way.
It would be so nice to have a place like this to unwind after a day at work. Or run in the morning. If she was the sportive kind. Which she wasn't.
That's when it struck her, how far away she was from home. Especially now, as she stood in the street where she had lived for the past few years. Except this wasn't 'her' street. She didn't live here yet, she had no home. No family, no friends. Nothing.
The enormity of what had happened to her over the last few hours washed through her like a tidal wave and she gasped softly, panic invading her lungs. She kept talking about checking things when she got back, but what if she couldn't? What if she wasn't able to go back in her own time?
"Are you ok?"
Oliver's hand slid along the back of the seat behind her shoulders. He wasn't touching her but it still felt comforting. Somehow he had sensed her brief moment of distress and that helped settled her.
Discarding her thoughts, she smiled at him. "Yes. Still trying to come to grip with what's happening."
He didn't insist any further, instead looking around to give her a moment to compose herself. "This is a nice place. Want to walk around for a bit?"
"I would love to. This place doesn't exist anymore in 2017," she said wistfully.
Oliver got out and quickly came to open her door before opening the trunk and grabbing a blanket. They didn't walk long before deciding to seat down next to the pond.
"So," Oliver asked as they were comfortably situated. He had also brought a thermos of coffee and a container with fresh fruits which he must have put together while she'd changed. "Can you tell me anything about my future?"
She snorted. "Absolutely not. I mean, I guess I could tell you some very vague, very mundane stuff, but nothing important. Not that I actually could, in fact, since there was not much to find anyway."
His eyes widened. "Wait, you hired a PI to find out about me?"
She laughed. "Not exactly, no. I googled you," she said teasingly, knowing full well it would make no sense to him.
The expression on his face was worth it. "Excuse me?"
She went and tried to explain to him about the internet, wondering again why he was still listening to her and not calling the nut house. She wasn't sure she would have had the patience or understanding if their roles were reversed.
"That sounds...useful," he said, even though she wasn't convinced he believed her. This sounded probably way too sci-fi for him.
"Anyway, when Henry told me about your death, I got curious and tried to know a bit more."
"Who's Henry?"
"Henry Diggle. The head of security at...the company I work for." He didn't need to know it was his family's company, created by his sister.
"Did you say Diggle?"
Ah, crap.
"Yes. Apparently his grandfather and you were close friends."
A big grin appeared on Oliver's face. "So I'm guessing it's John's grandson."
She sighed. "See, that's the kind of things you're not supposed to know."
He scoffed. "Well it's not like I'm going to tell him."
"No, but you can't even...suggest the name when he will be born or something."
Oliver huffed out a laugh as he leaned back on his hands and crossed his long legs. "Ok. although I don't see how suggesting a potential name for his grandson could change the course of history."
He kind of had a point, but she was too afraid to change anything to let it pass. "Wait until you hear about the grandfather paradox, and that butterfly in China thing."
The look he gave her made her rethink that idea. One step at a time.
"Ok then. Anything you can tell me about you?"
"Let's see...I'm an IT specialist, as in Information Technology...I work with computers. Everybody has one of those in 2017."
"It's that Google thing."
"It's a small part of it, but yeah...I'm hoping to get a promotion soon. I love my job but it's not very fulfilling right now."
She didn't even know why she was telling him this. She guessed her missed job opportunity from the other day was still weighing a bit on her mind.
"You want more responsibilities?" The question was genuine. There was no mocking incredulity or dismissiveness which she could have expect from a man raised in the 1930's.
Felicity nodded. "Women have a lot of jobs with responsibilities nowadays. Some of them create their own companys."
"Glad to hear it. My sister is still young, but I know she's capable of great things. I always try to support her in anything she does, even though I wasn't there much over the last few years. But I'm making it up to her now. Or trying to anyway."
He was looking away so she couldn't really see his face but the tone of his voice was revealing enough. He had already made a similar comment a bit earlier, clearly avoiding the word. The war was not a subject he was going to broach.
So she was surprised when he turned to her and asked, "Has there been another one? Can you at least tell me that?"
"Another world war? Not like the one you've been through, no...but things aren't exactly peaceful either, far from it."
He nodded and she wondered what was going on through his head. She had seen enough war movies to have a glimpse of the horror it had been, and she was sure it didn't even come close to the reality of it, to what he had experienced. He looked both distraught and angry but she didn't say anything. She didn't exactly know what to say anyway.
"I guess you want to go home?" he asked as he started to stand up, and her heart tightened, understanding the little interlude was over.
She let out a little laugh though, as if he was going to drop her off at her doorstep instead of her moving across time through a mirror. She told him so and he smiled, the lines of tension on his face disappearing and she rejoiced in the fact she had chased away any unpleasant thought from his mind, even for just a moment.
Back at his place she changed quickly into her own clothes, leaving the ones she had borrowed on the bed. Oliver was waiting for her in the attic.
She gestured at the mirror. "If I touch it and nothing happens I'm going to look really ridiculous."
"It's not too late for me to call the police," he teased her.
"Or the asylum."
They shared an awkward laugh, and Felicity realized she was stalling. Whether it was because she indeed was scared of not being able to go back, or she just wanted to remain a bit longer with Oliver, she couldn't decide. Both options were terrifying in their own way.
"So, I'm just going to…"
She walked over to the mirror, taking a deep breath before turning back to him.
"May I come back?"
Oliver frowned. "Not to sound rude or unwelcoming, because believe me it's really not the case...but why ?"
"I want to show you the note you left me. I want to try and understand why you left me your house. Don't you?"
Hesitation crossed his face but then he slowly nodded. "We might never get an answer."
She shrugged. "Maybe not. Then we'll just hang out. We must have had fun the first time if you asked me to come back." And wow, she had really just made that insinuation, despite having decided earlier there was no romantic possibilities between the two of them and she felt her face flush with what was probably an unflattering red.
Oliver smiled, his eyes crinkling and she was mesmerized by the classic beauty of his facial features. His next words only helped to reduce her heart to a blubbering mess.
"I would like to spend more time with you, Felicity."
She was pretty certain she managed to play it cool. "Of course this is assuming it wasn't a one trip thing and I'll be able to come back. And obviously I won't be able to give you a call to warn you, I'll just show up and I don't really like when people do that to me, so...yeah"
He came to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "It's ok Felicity. You'll be fine. You're welcome anytime."
She closed her eyes briefly, feeling strangely settled by his words and his touch, and before she could start thinking again she put her hand on the mirror.
Oliver stayed in the attic a few more minutes after she...disappeared, his hand in his pockets.
Felicity had been standing there, and the next second...she wasn't.
He had to be honest, a part of him had still doubted her story. That part was still convinced she had been a lunatic - albeit a lovely one - who found a way to sneak into his house then went on drivelling about time travel.
But she had brought such a breath of fresh air, unknowingly chasing away the dark thoughts which were his daily lot with her smile, and he had chosen to ignore his doubts for 24 hours.
Turned out she had told the truth after all.
He had been taken aback by her request to come back, because why would she want to? What could she possibly find in 1948 that she didn't have in 2017 ?
She certainly wasn't coming back for him, right?
She doesn't know how damaged you are.
If she knew she would stay safely on her side of the mirror.
And why did he care? He knew nothing about the woman other than they lived 70 years apart, so this whole thing was ridiculous anyway. Once she was back in her century she would realize there was nothing for her here and would go back to her life on a street with no pond and that google thing she apparently worked with.
Still, he left the door of the attic opened.
Just in case.
It was a curious feeling - in the sense that she hadn't felt anything at all. She had barely blinked and she was back in 2017.
Of course the no feeling thing was just about the crossing over, because as soon as she was back her legs crumpled and she fell down with a painful groan. The headache she had experience yesterday was back with a vengeance. She stayed in her lying position for a few minutes, breathing deeply, fighting nausea.
If throwing up was a side effect of time travelling, it was not cool at all, and there should be a notice coming with all time travelling machines...things.
She turned her head precariously and grabbed her bag, fishing for her phone, checking the date and time. April 22, 2017.
She was home, and time seemed to have passed at the same pace in both period. She had been gone for less than 24 hrs.
She tried to sit down but a wave of dizziness crashed through her and she fell back down with a gasp. She was in no shape to drive, and she didn't plan on lying on the floor for a few more hours in the hopes of getting better. While the house was beautiful and welcoming while Oliver lived there, now it just looked creepy again...even more so, for some reason.
And lifeless.
With a sigh she raised her phone.
"Caitlin? Could you come and get me ? No, I'm fine, I'll explain when you get here. I'll text you the address. And please….bring Ibuprofen."
