word count: 6,074
III.
Felicity's phone buzzed, drawing her eye from the computer screen. She reached for it absently, thumbing it open and reading the message she'd received. His name no longer graced her contact's list, so it was only a London phone number at the top of the message box. Not for the first time, she wished she'd blocked it.
—I miss you.
She frowned. It was one more message to add to the six previous. All a variation of apologies and asking her to call. With an impatient sigh, she turned her phone back over and returned to her work. She didn't have time to deal with any of that. Not right now. Maybe not ever. It was yet another level to an already long list of things demanding attention. Much like the rest, she wished it would just fade into the ether and leave her be.
But, nothing was ever that simple.
…
Despite the media vultures seeming to catch on that none of the Queens were staying at the manor anymore—meaning Thea could easily sneak back in— instead, she chose to continue staying at Felicity's apartment. More often than not, she had her boyfriend Roy around, too. This wasn't an issue for Felicity. Roy was a bit mouthy and a lot rebellious, but he seemed like a nice enough kid. It was, however, an issue for Oliver.
"He's making himself at home," he muttered, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island while Felicity stirred a pot of pasta. He was glaring at Thea and Roy, cuddled up in the living room, whispering and laughing with each other.
Felicity moved over to the cutting board, where a clove of garlic sat in wait. She was trying her hand at her bubbe's favorite recipes. While she could afford to hire a cook, she chose not to. Not everybody was as awesome as Raisa, and Felicity prided herself on being self-sufficient. With everything that happened with Tommy though, she was feeling nostalgic. So, she broke out her mother's old cookbooks, none of which she was pretty sure Rebecca ever actually used, but her bubbe had, and she'd taught Felicity a few things when she was a little girl.
"Oliver, you were having sex a lot younger than seventeen," she reminded.
His mouth screwed up. "And look how far that got me."
She raised an eyebrow, staring at him incredulously. "Are you really suggesting you regret being a Casanova in high school?"
"Not regret, exactly, just…" He shook his head. "I wasn't the most thoughtful guy. I mean, I didn't exactly have a lot of long-lasting relationships."
"I remember," she mused. "But Thea and Roy are in a long-term relationship, so maybe it's not ideal that they're sleeping together, but it could be worse."
"My sister is sleeping with a guy who has a criminal record, and who originally met her when he stole her purse…" His eyes widened for emphasis. "How much worse could it get?"
"He could be a mass-murderer." She pointed her stirring spoon at him as she moved back to the pot of boiling pasta. "A la my father. See? Worse."
Oliver snorted and rolled his eyes. "Her mother is also a fellow-mastermind of said mass murders."
"Right, but she tried to stop it, so she gets brownie points." Felicity shrugged. "Listen, Roy seems like a good kid. Rough around the edges, not very happy with authority, and slightly more sarcastic than necessary, but still good."
"Slightly?"
"You know, you two are a lot more alike than you think. He just blatantly shows off his dislike for the general public while you hide it behind a polite, and totally ingenuine, veneer."
Oliver watched her a long moment, waiting for her to elaborate.
She sighed. "Think back to how you were as a teenager. You weren't so different from him. You hated where you came from, and anybody telling you what to do, you barely got along with anybody, and I can count your closest friends on three fingers." She shrugged. "You were a wealthy Roy Harper. Suck it up."
He frowned at her. "I assume you added McKenna to that list?"
She nodded. "Although, she's kind of interchangeable with Laurel, depending on the time frame. Really, if you want to get technical, your only constant friend was Tommy."
"And you."
She frowned skeptically. "I don't know if it can be considered 'constant' if I spent most of my time in a different country."
"I still considered you one of my best friends." He shrugged, crossing his arms and resting them on the island. "You ever wonder what it might've been like if Malcolm hadn't sent you away?"
Felicity bit her lip, glancing at him briefly before she focused on her sauce. "Sure. A lot of awkward silences in the house and a blonde dye job a lot earlier in life."
He hummed. "What about with us?"
She paused. "What about us…?"
He stared at her a long moment. "I liked you."
"I hope so, you just called me one of your best friends."
His mouth twitched, but he shook his head. "I had a crush on you for years," he clarified.
Felicity scoffed. "No, you didn't."
"I think I'd know better than you who I had feelings for."
"Oliver, you treated me like your little sister and you slept with anything that moved. That doesn't exactly boast of super romantic feelings," she reminded.
"Yeah, and like I said earlier, I wasn't the most thoughtful person. You were fifteen when I realized I liked you and I only ever got to see you in the summer…" He shrugged. "There was no way Tommy would ever let me date you and I didn't even know if you liked me like that."
It was funny how obvious things seemed in hindsight. Every summer she came back to Starling and every summer Oliver was mysteriously single. Oh, he had girlfriends leading up to the summer – her brother was only too happy to boast about the triumphs of his best friend – but as soon as Felicity flew back into town, Oliver dropped whatever relationship he was in and dedicated the summer to just her and Tommy. And he was tactile; she never realized just how much. He always had an arm around her or he was ruffling her hair or pressing sloppy kisses to her cheek in an effort, she thought, to annoy her. He liked her but knew he shouldn't, knew Tommy would never let Oliver near her if he knew, so he adapted his approach.
Until that day when she was seventeen and they kissed in the grass.
"It took you two years to kiss me," she said, smiling to herself. "That must've been a blow to your ego."
He rolled his eyes. "I recovered, eventually."
Felicity offered him a half-smile. "So, what, you think if my dad hadn't sent me away we'd be some clandestine romance?"
He stared at her searchingly. "Is that so unbelievable?"
She shook her head, turning her attention down to the saucepan. "Maybe we would have. Or maybe we weren't ready for each other as teenagers. Maybe we would've graduated and gone to college together and gotten engaged and married young. Or maybe I would've gone to MIT and the long-distance would be too much. Or maybe you would've still met Laurel and fallen in love with her and all that history wouldn't have mattered." She shrugged. "The maybes don't amount to much, Oliver. What we are is two old friends, sharing an apartment, trying to be there for Tommy while the city burns down around us…" She raised her eyes to meet his. "Maybe I would've been the love of your life, or maybe that's just wishful thinking."
"For who?"
"For both of us."
He stared at her, the intensity of it enough to make her heart thump hard in her chest.
And then Thea swept into the kitchen. "What smells good?" She paused to look between them and frowned. "Oh, awkward, what's with the tension?"
Felicity tore her gaze away from him and turned to Thea. "Nothing. Hey, why don't you get the salad ready? Maybe Roy can help you."
"Sure…" Thea still glanced between them curiously, but moved to the fridge to gather up every vegetable in sight. She found some counter space and then, without the least bit of concern for anyone else, shouted as loud as she could, "Roy, come help!"
"All right, all right." Roy joined her in the kitchen. "Jesus, anybody ever tell you your voice could rupture eardrums?"
"Me. Frequently," Oliver muttered.
Felicity bit her lip and focused on the food in front of her. A few feet away, Roy and Thea bickered flirtatiously as they chopped vegetables, nudging each other with their elbows. Felicity felt Oliver's heavy gaze on her the whole time but refused to meet it. They both had way too much on their plates to add whatever romantic implications were being tossed around on top of it.
…
"Question…" Felicity shook an empty box of Shreddies at Roy, who was sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of, yup, Shreddies. "Was putting the empty box back in the cupboard on purpose, or…?"
Roy had the decency to wince. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Habit, I guess."
"Great. Then, you can help me pick up the groceries today."
His brow furrowed. "Aren't you rich enough to have them delivered?"
"I'm also rich enough to have security put up a picture of you so you're stopped in the lobby." She grinned. "But, I don't. Because Thea likes you. And I trust her judgement."
He tipped his head to stare at her. "You know I have a record, right?"
"Yep. Mostly for theft. Although, there was some talk about assault…"
He blinked at her, surprised.
She pointed at herself, fingertips a bright, pearly pink. "Computer genius. And you're a stranger, living in my very secure apartment, with the most important people in my life, so…"
"Right. Makes sense." He nodded. "So, groceries?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna get ready. Why don't you make a list and we'll see what we can grab?"
He frowned. "Should I wake Thea up?"
Felicity shook her head. "Nah. Let her sleep. She probably doesn't want to be out in public more than she has to. Plus, if anybody spots her, it'll be more fuss than we need."
He shrugged. "Okay."
"Fifteen minutes. Finish your breakfast and get that list ready."
He saluted her as she walked away.
…
"How much would it take for you to plan a jailbreak?"
Felicity rolled her eyes as she walked into her brother's hospital room. "You're being discharged next week."
"Which is a week too long." He groaned, dropping his head back against his pillow. "I can't take it anymore, Flea. This place is sucking my soul into a vortex of doom."
"Wow, you've been watching way too much television." She crossed the room to take a seat in the chair next to his bed. "I come bearing gifts. Or, a gift, same difference."
"Is it a nail file baked inside of a cake?"
"No. And that would be redundant, since you can technically leave at any time. I just wouldn't recommend it, since there are reporters parked outside, waiting for any peek at you. And also the doctor's concerned about that semi-mortal wound you have."
"Please, this old thing? It's a flesh wound." He eyed her purse as she dug through it. "Is it a pony?"
She scoffed. "What've you done to deserve a pony?"
"Excuse you, I saved a person's life."
"And then got a building dropped on you. Thus nullifying any accolades."
He pulled a face. "What? Why?"
"Because!" She tossed a hand up. "How dare you nearly get yourself killed!"
"Whatever. No good deed goes unpunished."
"Tommy, you don't even like horses. Not since Four-Eyes bucked you off of her when you were eight."
"A," He raised a finger for emphasis, "that is still a terrible name for a horse—"
"Better than you and Oliver calling her Foreskin."
"—and B, that horse had a vendetta against me."
"Again, probably because you called her Foreskin."
He rolled his eyes. "Weren't you bringing me gifts?"
"I'm reconsidering. And I'm thinking about telling your doctor to keep you two weeks."
"That's low!" His eyes narrowed at her. "First, no pony and now the threat of extended hospital time? It's like I don't even know you anymore."
"Yeah, you really need to stop watching so much TV. I'm bringing you a book tomorrow." She pulled her hand from her bag then. "I almost regret bringing you this still warm cheeseburger from Big Belly Burger…"
Tommy lit up and held a hand out. "Don't kick a guy when he's down."
With a snort, she handed him his burger. "There. Don't pull a stitch."
"I'm going to let that one slide because I'm so grateful," he muttered, unwrapping his burger.
"Mmhmm."
Felicity leaned back in her chair then, and waited for his overenthusiastic appreciation to die down so she could ask him how he was feeling. Much as she loved her brother, Tommy tended to make a joke out of most things, so while he put on a good face for her, she knew he was in pain. The dark pockets under his eyes said enough, but he just looked rough in general. He needed a shave and a hot shower and a bed somewhere that didn't smell like disinfectant. Which he would get, in one week. She wanted him home as soon as possible, but she wouldn't ignore doctor's orders. What mattered now was his health. She'd already lost him once; she wasn't willing to test life's ability to suck right now.
…
"Hey!"
Felicity looked up as the door to her office slid open, and Thea walked in. "Hey," she greeted, fingers still poised over her keyboard. "What's up?"
Thea shrugged. "Not much. Just thought I'd see what you were doing."
"Bored, huh?"
She sagged. "Yes!"
"Must be hard, being cooped up here until things blow over."
Frowning, she slumped into a chair. "Will it?"
"Not anytime soon." Felicity sat back in her chair and stacked her hands on her stomach. "You can talk to me, you know? If you ever feel like things are getting to be too much."
"I know." Thea tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. "I used to idolize you a bit when I was a kid."
"Just when you were a kid?" Felicity joked.
Her mouth hitched up on one side. "Well, you got to live in London for one thing. And whenever you visited, you were always so nice to me. Plus, you were smart. Between you and Laurel, it was like hashtag-goals."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, you were my idols. I wanted to be smart and funny and sophisticated, just like you two."
"And look at that, you are. Probably more than us, actually. Well, I can only speak for myself, but the sophisticated thing is mostly a carefully woven shroud." She waved a hand around herself. "I'm a mess. I just wear nice things to hide it."
"Oh, please. You made your own business and it's been blowing up." Thea's brows hiked. "I've kept an ear out. Your apps are huge."
"Mostly in Tokyo. They haven't taken off as much in the American market." Felicity shrugged. "But, I am pretty proud of them."
"You should be." Thea nodded. "Anyway, if anyone's a mess, it's probably me. I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Your life is a little crazy right now. It's okay to take a break and try to salvage things before you throw yourself into the next big thing. College can wait. Or work, if that's what you want to do."
"That's just it. I don't know what I want to do. Half the time, I just want to bury my head and pretend everything going on is just a really realistic nightmare."
"Yeah. I know the feeling." Felicity smiled sympathetically. "Thea, whatever you do, it'll be the right thing for you, and that's all that matters."
"Yeah. Fingers crossed." She sighed and then sat forward in her seat. "All right, I'll let you get back to work. But, if you don't mind, I was thinking I might make dinner tonight."
"By 'make' do you mean 'cook' or 'call for takeout?'"
Thea grinned. Pushing up from her seat, she walked to the door. "I know a great Korean BBQ place that you'll love. Promise."
"I'm allergic to—"
"Peanuts, I know!"
"Oh. Okay. Then great! See you at dinner."
Thea nodded, and pulled the door closed. "Happy working."
…
Oliver snuck in just after 1 am. A small miracle since 2 or 3 was more his staple.
"There's leftovers in the fridge," Felicity said from her perch on the couch.
He walked into the living room quietly, and she absently wondered how it was someone learned to walk so silently.
"What're you still doing up?" he wondered, taking a seat next to her.
"Work." She sighed, and stretched her head back, rolling her shoulders. "I didn't plan to be up this late. But Thea wanted to watch a movie after dinner, so I traded in my laptop for popcorn. I'm a push-over like that."
Oliver smiled. "It's been good for her, having you here. With mom… absent, she needed something stable."
Turning in her seat to face him, she raised an eyebrow. "So, what are you then?"
"I'm… sneaking in at 2 am. So, not stable."
She laughed lightly. "Well, I'm sure you have your reasons. But… I think she'd benefit from having you around, too."
"You're right. But, things are complicated right now. I have a lot on my plate."
"Hers isn't exactly empty."
"Neither is yours." He reached over then, and covered her hand, squeezing gently. "I haven't really asked how you're dealing with things. Learning about your dad… That had to be rough."
"It's been strange." She sighed. "I knew something wasn't right with him. It was staring me in the face the whole time. But… I never imagined it would lead here. I mean, can anyone really expect this?"
"No." He shook his head and dropped his gaze a moment. "Before the island, if you had told me any of this was going on, that my mother would be involved with something like this, I would've thought you were crazy. But… Things happen. People change. Not always for the better."
Felicity turned her hand over and folded it around his. "But, you believe your mom was innocent. Or that she was manipulated into this somehow. Don't you?"
"I want to." He raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression drawn. "I want to believe that, deep down, she is still the woman who raised me. That there's something good left inside her."
"I'm not sure I have the same luxury… But, Moira wasn't like my dad. She wasn't motivated by hate like him. So, maybe you're right. Maybe this isn't as much on her as it is my dad. Maybe she was just another cog in his machine."
Oliver sighed and tapped his thumb against hers. "I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "Thank you, but you don't owe me an apology. You're just as much a victim as any of us… I just, I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that my dad did this." She bit her lip as it started to quiver. "I was worried for him. When I realized Tommy was hurt, when I was flying over, I… I was worried my dad was, too. But, it was him. It was his fault. And a part of me feels stupid for thinking about him at all, because I know he never thought about me. He didn't want anything to do with me. And another part of me thinks that maybe he got what he deserved, dying like he did. And then a third part—because that's all I am at this point, just parts— feels so awful for thinking it. For thinking my own father deserved to die. Because what does that make me? What kind of person am I?"
"Felicity, you're the farthest thing from a bad person."
"Aren't I?" She blinked quickly against the sting of tears. "A whole city was burning because of my dad, and I was worried about him."
"You didn't know."
"Still. Even after I found out that it was him, it hurt. I—I missed him. I still do. Maybe not who he became, but… Whoever he was."
"And that's okay." He pulled on her hand, drawing her into his side.
Felicity pushed her laptop over onto the couch cushion and let herself fall against him. "How did any of this happen? I just, I don't get it. How did our lives become this?"
He hugged her, his hands rubbing her back and over her shoulders. "I don't know."
"I don't know what I'm doing. I feel like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to fall."
He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Me, too."
She laughed, thick and emotional. "Well, I'm glad we're in the same boat." She flinched and looked up. "You know, metaphorically. Not…"
He smiled down at her. "I know."
"Now I feel even worse. I'm crying about all my dad issues. But you have mom issues on top of lost-at-sea issues."
He chuckled. "I guess you should be hugging me then."
She shifted and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest. "I think the last time we did this was before the island… You and Tommy came out to see me in London. You remember?"
"Mm-hmm. You had a little too much champagne and you wanted to cuddle on the couch while we watched The Breakfast Club."
"Iconic movie."
"Iconic cuddling."
She snorted. "Okay, Casanova. I think I fell asleep on you and left a drool patch right about…" She poked him in his left pec. "Here."
"A highlight of my life."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."
He squeezed her. "It was. It's not every day you get to spend the whole night spooning your crush."
"I'm pretty sure at some point I was spooning you."
"I like to actively forget that part."
"I'm pretty sure Tommy took a picture."
He nodded. "Yeah, he still blackmails me with it sometimes."
She giggled. "You're pretty good at this comforting thing."
"I thought I was rusty."
"Not from where I'm sitting." Her eyes started to droop then. "Maybe too good. I need to go to bed."
"In a few minutes," he said, his hands still rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"Fine. But I can't be held responsible for any future drool patches."
He laughed lowly, the rumble warm against her ear. "Duly noted."
Unsurprisingly, she did fall asleep on him, but this time he carried her to bed and tucked her in. On the one hand, how gallant of him. On the other, she was starting to worry she was adding another level of complicated to an already over-complicated life. Because if Oliver Queen was anything, he was that.
…
Tommy was a giant baby.
Now that he was discharged from the hospital and comfortably set up in a room in Felicity's apartment, he'd taken to complaining whenever possible. Felicity hired a physio therapist to help him with his recovery. The rebar hadn't severed his spine, but it had torn through enough that moving in any direction was agony. Gemma, his physio therapist was amazing; funny, patient, and not the least bit affected by Tommy's grumpiness or his sporadic flirting. Despite this, all Tommy wanted to do was become a bed potato— the second cousin of the couch potato— often refusing to leave his bedroom.
So, yeah, Tommy didn't want a therapist and he frequently made that known. And Felicity ignored him, because he might be older but she was smarter.
"She's a tyrant!" he complained, groaning as he laid on the floor of the exercise room, sprawled on a mat.
Felicity rolled her eyes, a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, thumb tapping out a message to a client. "She came with amazing recommendations."
He glared at her from under the arm he'd thrown over his flushed and sweaty face. "Those are easy to fake."
"Have you considered the possibility that you're just a terrible patient?"
Tommy frowned. "I can't believe my own sister, my blood, is a traitor." He paused then, seeming to realize the weight of what he was saying. "That came out wrong. Let's just pretend I didn't say anything."
She hummed. "Including the tyrant bit?"
"No, that part I stand by." He raised a finger and pointed at her meaningfully. "How sure are we this woman isn't secretly an assassin, hired to slowly kill me through unnecessary exercise?"
Across the room, Gemma snorted. "I can think of at least three different ways to kill you that would be both easier and quieter."
Tommy waved a hand toward her and then looked at Felicity. "Do you see what I'm working with?"
"A competent and patient woman that I trust has your best interests in mind." Felicity grinned. "Okay. While you're here working on getting better, I have my own work to do. I'll be back later, all right?"
"Bring food!" Tommy called after her.
She flicked her thumb up from around her phone and waved it at them before she cut toward her office.
Thankfully, since everything Felicity did was on her own time anyway, she didn't have set hours or need to answer to anybody. Whatever she put out there was her own creation, and she was still making plenty of money on what she'd already done. But, idle hands and all that.
Felicity had a few people trying to contract her into building specific projects, wanting her to be there in person rather than reaching out across the interwebs, but she wasn't so sure now was the right time for that. She wanted to focus on whatever would keep her close to her brother. Which would be fine, because her brain was a commodity and her ability to wield technology was a gift. A very expensive gift that few could manage to afford. But, there were some and so, to avoid boredom, she took those contracts on and busied her mind and hands with that.
That didn't, however, distract her from the mystery going on right under her roof.
…
Felicity frowned as she walked into the kitchen, heels clacking on the floor, to find Roy seated at the island, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his face. "Do I want to know where that came from?" she wondered, pointing at the bruising that crept from his forehead to his chin, leaving the entire left side of his face a purple mess.
"I'm not great at making friends," he muttered, wincing as the cut on his lip pulled.
"I have a First Aid kit somewhere…"
"'m fine."
Humming, she shook her head, and made her way down the hall to raid her bathroom cabinet. She returned triumphant, waving the red bag at him. "All right, let's see what we're working with here."
Sighing, Roy dropped the bag of peas to the counter and looked at her dubiously. "Do you even know how to use that thing?"
She whistled, long and low, before carefully reaching up to poke at his face.
Wincing, he pulled back from her probing fingers. "Uh, ow."
"Baby. My brother had rebar through his chest. This is nothing." She unzipped the bag and dug around in it. "So, why didn't you go to the hospital?"
He snorted. "Ever since the Glades blew up, they've got their hands full. If you don't have the money to move things along, you're not exactly getting a great experience. Anyway, I don't exactly have insurance."
"My dad used to have a private doctor on retainer. Anytime he caught so much as a sniffle, he'd call her up." Felicity looked his face over. "I can see if she'll take my call. The Merlyn name doesn't hold much weight lately, but, like you said, money still greases palms, so…"
"It's fine. I'll heal."
"Your choice." She took his chin and turned it so he was facing her better. "Hold still. This is going to sting."
"Wait, what is— Ow! Jesus, what the hell!"
"It's an open cut." She rolled her eyes. "I needed to disinfect it."
"You go to med school in London, too?"
"Not even close. I was a computer geek all the way."
Roy grumbled, as she continued poking at his face, cleaning out a few other scrapes. "Thea mentioned you a few times… She was thinking of moving there after high school. Something about studying fashion. She was gonna see if you'd let her stay with you while she went to school."
Felicity hummed. "I would have. And she'd be amazing at that."
He frowned. "You think she'd want to still?"
"I don't know. She hasn't mentioned anything to me. I still have an apartment there, if she needs somewhere to stay…" She shrugged. "Thea's smart. Whatever she wants to do, I'd bet money she revolutionizes it."
Roy stared at her a long beat. "You were really close with the Queens, huh?"
"Once upon a time." She started peeling open a few bandages then. "When we were kids, we went everywhere together. Then I was sent to boarding school and that had to change. But, Oliver and Tommy still had each other. That helped. And when I came home, they were always there. Or, here, I guess."
"Gotta be weird for you, though. All this stuff with the trial and seeing your dad on the news for the bombings."
Felicity paused, her brow furrowed. "It hasn't been easy. But… We'll get through it."
"Yeah, people like you tend to bounce back."
She raised an eyebrow. "You mean rich people?"
He stared at her knowingly.
"Well, you're not wrong." She smoothed a bandage over a split in his cheek and then stepped back, dusting her hands off. "Look, Roy, I know that you used to live in the Glades and… I'm sorry. For what my dad did."
"Not sure it's your place to apologize. You didn't do this."
"No. But… He's not here to apologize for what he did. And if he was, I'm not sure he would. So, I'm sorry. I'll take responsibility in whatever way I can." She crossed her arms and shrugged. "I'm not sure what that means yet, but… I hope an apology can hold you over until I figure it out."
He stared up at her, brow furrowed. "It's weird."
"What is?"
"How someone like you can be related to him." He shook his head. "You're nothing like him."
"Well, in this context, I'm hoping that's a compliment."
He snorted a laugh. "It is."
"Good." She smiled. "Now, since you defrosted the peas, how about we have them with dinner?"
He glanced at the bag and then nodded. "Sure, what are we making?"
...
For the most part, Felicity tried to avoid consuming negative press, especially when it concerned her family. But, the fact that her father had been a terrorist wasn't something she needed to see on a TV screen or on a magazine to know it was true. Somewhere along the way, Malcolm Merlyn had lost the part of himself that his children had so admired, that his wife had loved. He became a shadow of the man he once was, a phantom that haunted the earth until it was ready to decimate it. And she didn't know how to feel about it. Angry, sure. But also, disappointed and confused and guilty.
Really guilty.
Obviously, it wasn't her fault. She hadn't put the idea in his head, and she didn't help him go through with it. If anything, she abhorred what he'd done. But, she wasn't there to stop him. To guide him back to that moral place he'd once lived. To support him through whatever insanity had led him to this place. Was that on her? Did that make her a terrible daughter? He was her father. Despite everything. Even on the days that she hated him for sending her away, for not being able to look at her, for trying so hard to erase her existence from his life, he was still her father.
And he was gone.
The funeral was a quiet one. With the press unaware of where Tommy was staying, it wasn't difficult to leave the apartment and drive to the cemetery. They kept the details of the funeral quiet, and the guest list at a paltry two.
Tommy sat hunched in a wheelchair while Felicity stood next to him, hands balled up into fists. Oliver and Thea had offered to come, but she'd waved them off. It was a nice gesture, and she appreciated it, but Malcolm was no friend to the Queen family. Somehow, he'd brought Moira Queen into all of this, likely against her will, and Felicity couldn't ask them to stand in front of his grave and listen to anything kind that might be said.
But, now that she was there, she was finding words – kind or otherwise – difficult.
"Is this the part where we highlight all of his good qualities, or can we just throw some dirt on him?" Tommy wondered.
Felicity looked down at him knowingly. He was dressed in his best suit, even if he kept tugging his tie a little looser. "Whatever he was, whatever he did, he's still… dad."
"Yeah." Tommy scoffed, his mouth pressed flat in a line. "Was he?"
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe he died. When mom… Maybe he followed her."
Felicity's eyes stung. She reached out and laid a hand atop Tommy's shoulder. "It's wasn't always bad. Right? I mean… He had good days."
"Yeah. Sure. When we were little. For a while."
Malcolm had disappeared early on, returning years later and acting like that was a normal grieving process. His behaviour, however, had drastically changed. Gone was the warm parent they'd been used to, and in his place was a more hardened man. There were no more kind words or comfort, just expectations and disappointment. It didn't matter what his children did, they couldn't live up to what he wanted them to be. So, they stopped trying. Felicity gave up on being his daughter at all, and accepted her new life in London. Tommy threw himself into his rebellious image and never quite stopped. In her case, school cushioned her. For Tommy, he had Oliver. And now, here they were, burying a man that hardly qualified as a father.
The gravestone was simple. A name and a date. There wasn't much more than that. She wondered how long it would be before someone desecrated it somehow. She wondered if she would care.
"So, maybe we say goodbye to who he used to be?" She forced a smile. "Before mom died, before… all of this."
Tommy shifted in his wheelchair, still frowning. "He used to be funny. And… nice. He was kind to us. To other people..."
"He told the best bedtime stories." Felicity stared at his name, carved into marble. Malcolm. In a strange way, it seemed so foreign to her. "He gave great piggy back rides. And he never tucked the sheets in too tight. Mom always made it so snug, I couldn't move."
Tommy huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, because you rolled right off the bed."
"Right, so dad made the teddy bear walls. They penned me in." She smiled slowly. "He was a good dad, wasn't he? Back then."
Tommy reached up, covering her hand in his own. "Yeah," he rasped.
"Then we remember him. We love him. And we… let him go."
He squeezed her hand so hard it hurt.
Digging a handful of flower petals out of her jacket pocket, she tossed them forward to fall into the grave, and then she nodded. "I hope, wherever you are, you're at peace."
Tommy cleared his throat. "Goodbye… dad."
Closing her eyes, Felicity let out a long breath, twin tears sliding down her cheeks.
It was a farewell long coming.
tbc
note: you know what i forgot to mention? thea is not going to be malcolm's daughter in this. i'm just completely voiding that storyline entirely, lol. malcolm manipulated moira through different means in order to get her to cooperate in the undertaking. also, was the bombing being called 'the undertaking' something that was like publicly known, or was that something just the arrow-team called it? i can't remember.
for those curious about other stories being updated, i'm trying to keep with this one until i'm finished it. then i plan to move on to the others. i really appreciate all the support you guys have been giving me and that there hasn't been a lot of questions about updating other fics. i've been writing frequently and trying to keep focused and dedicated to getting this story finished, so i hope you're enjoying it!
please try to leave a review; they're my lifeblood
- lee | fina
