Two months after Tommy has been made a full fledged Division agent, Shado catches him on his way to a meeting with his father.
"We need to talk," she says, grabbing his arm and tugging him back in the direction from which he'd come. "Before you go see your-Malcolm-before you go see Malcolm." Even though she doesn't like it - "You need to own up to your own past, Thomas. No matter how it hurts you." - she's gotten better at keeping his parentage a secret from everybody else at Division, but sometimes she slips up.
"What's going on?" he asks, following her as she swipes her key card across the door lock for one of this level's armories.
Shado waits until they're both inside the room and the door is closed behind them. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. Do you trust me?"
He wants to have the right to feel hurt that she even has to ask, but he's been in this world long enough to know better. "You know that I do."
"Your father is planning on putting you in charge of the recruits' training for the time being."
That's her job. If he's being put in charge, then that means... "Why? Where are you going to be?"
"Malcolm wants to make some noise in Starling City, see if he can lure Oliver out into the open."
Tommy's heart stops. "He's going after Thea? Moira?" Surely his father wouldn't. He couldn't. They have nothing to do with this.
"I'm not sure yet," Shado says, "Possibly both of them. It's not like he hasn't threatened their lives before. How do you think he forced Oliver to stay seven years ago?"
"He used them against him." Admittedly, Tommy thinks that makes a lot of sense. The Oliver he knew back then would have moved heaven and earth to get home...unless it was going to put other people in the crossfire.
"Them...and you and Laurel and anyone and everyone else Oliver has ever loved. It's what Merlyn does."
Tommy remembers his father snidely mentioning how unfortunate it would be if Laurel met with an untimely accident. He remembers feeling helpless and out of control until he'd convinced himself that it was just a threat. Malcolm wouldn't do anything to Laurel so long as Tommy toed the line. "And you're just going to help him threaten them again?"
Hurt flashes across Shado's face. "I'm doing this, Thomas, because another agent isn't going to care about the collateral damage. Another agent won't try to keep Moira and Thea safe while they're trying to bring Oliver in, and they won't care about keeping Oliver safe when Merlyn is completely fine with them taking him out. I'm going because I'm one of the only people who is actually going to try to keep everyone alive."
Everything inside Tommy just deflates. All the anger at his father, all his anger at Oliver, all his confusion surrounding what their relationship was and what it wasn't is completely inaccessible to him. All that matters is that his best friend was still his best friend when he joined Division and he stayed away to protect them, to protect him.
The problem is that Oliver's not just going to sit idly by while his family is in danger. He's going to show up in Starling. He's going to try to protect them.
And Tommy's father is going to use that against him.
"Be careful," Tommy says. He knows Oliver wouldn't kill her, just like he knows she wouldn't kill him. There are so many other factors in play, however, that he feels the need to say it. He doesn't know how to tell her he wouldn't know what to do if anything happened to her. He thinks he would go crazy here without her, with no one around who truly had his back.
"I will," she says. "Watch your back in here without me. Your father has eyes and ears everywhere. Don't trust anyone."
He wants to hug her, but he's not sure if she would be receptive to it, so he refrains. Still, there's something about the way she looks at him, like she's memorizing everything about him, just in case this is the mission that separates them forever.
Which it won't be. Tommy hopes.
One at a time, they slip back into the hallway; Tommy goes first and heads straight to Operations.
As soon as he steps inside, he feels sick. Thea and Moira's faces are displayed on the monitors, along with a host of information about them. If Division wants them dead, they'll be gone within 24 hours.
He hears the door behind him open. Shado moves to stand beside him. "Stay calm," she says. "I've got this."
"Tommy," Malcolm yells from across the room. "We have a new recruit. She's just waking up. As the new head of recruit training, your face need to be the first face she sees. Let's go."
It's exactly how Malcolm would announce a position change. No one in the room even seems nonplussed by it.
"Go," Shado says softly. "We'll talk more when I get back."
If you get back, he thinks, but he can't bear to say it out loud. She takes his hand and gives it a firm squeeze, then she's walking away and he's watching her go.
"Here," Malcolm says, passing him a tablet. "This is the file on your girl."
Tommy only has a few seconds to skim it as he follows his father out of Operations and down the hall to the recruits' quarters.
"Felicity Smoak," he says under his breath. "Welcome to the hellhole they call Division."
"To get to Malcolm's black boxes, you need to get to him," Oliver says, passing Felicity his phone. They've been going over the function and personalities of every high level Division agent. Thus far, she's learned about the head of Division, Malcolm Merlyn, and his second-in-command, a fearsome woman by the name if Isabel Rochev.
"Who is he?" Felicity asks, staring at the photo on the screen with no small amount of curiosity.
"This is Barry Allen," Oliver says. "He's Malcolm's engineer. He handles the encryption of his black boxes, setup and monitoring of comm units for teams, hacking, and upkeep of ever piece of computer technology inside Division. If you use a keyboard, you report to him. Malcolm will put the two of you together to try to find me, I have no doubt."
"How do I handle that?"
"Barry? Smile, flirt. He's a softie, but you need to impress him first. Once you've done that, he'll fall at your feet."
"No," Felicity hesitates, "I meant, how do I handle the fact that my job will be to find you?"
"I don't understand."
She sighs. "If they tell me to find you, Oliver, that's exactly what I'll have to do. I've been studying how to find people for the better part of the past ten years."
"I know how to stay off of Division's radar, Felicity. I've done it before; you don't have to worry."
"You forget to eat if I don't call the Chinese place three blocks away and order kung pao chicken with egg rolls; of course I'm gonna worry."
"That's different."
She doesn't think so. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to hide. You teach me how to protect myself on the inside; I'll teach you how to protect yourself outside."
The smile he gives her is soft and genuine. His hand curves gently over her shoulder. "Thank you."
"I can try to cover your tracks," she says, intentionally breaking the moment. Oliver gives her a look. "Carefully, of course."
"Don't overdo it. Allen is clever. If you don't cover your tracks just right, he will catch you."
"Noted." Felicity hands him back his phone. "I'll be careful."
Now," he says, in what is a clear change of subject, "How is that shell program coming?"
"Done." Felicity raises a fist in the air victoriously. "As of an hour ago."
"Good." Turning away, Oliver starts rifling through one of the drawers of one of the metal cabinets, pulling out various shiny, pointed things. "Let's get this over with."
Felicity winces. She has not been looking forward to this part.
Trying not to look at the instruments Oliver is sterilizing, Felicity unbuttons her blouse slowly, letting it slip off of her shoulder and down her arm. She wraps the rest of the garment around her waist.
"I'm going to give you a local anesthetic," Oliver says, "but it's not going to do much. This is going to hurt, Felicity."
"I know. I said I was willing to do whatever it takes. I am."
Felicity leans forward onto the table, making sure she's comfortable and well supported. "Besides, we have to do this now. It needs to heal before Division takes me or they'll be suspicious."
The first cut into her skin hurts, but the second is more bearable. She closes her eyes and focuses on the firmness of the table beneath her upper body. He's making the incision in her upper arm, in a place that's accessible so she can cut out the encased microchip once she's inside Division. The chip contains the shell program she needs to be able to communicate with him on the inside without detection.
"I hate needles," she says, because talking is a distraction she needs right now. If he tells her to stop, she will. No sense distracting the guy with the sharp pointy objects. "I'm not even sure when that started. I know that I hated getting shots when I was a kid, even had nightmares about it. There must have been some bad experience in my youth, I just can't remember it. All I know is that I don't like needles. I'm not crazy about blood, either, but it doesn't make me woozy, just a little uncomfortable, which I think is understandable. Shouldn't blood make everyone uncomfortable?"
He hasn't told her to stop yet, so she keeps going. "This is gonna be my first scar. Probably. The ones in my mouth don't really count-impacted wisdom teeth, stitches-cause you can't really see them."
The pain goes from a dull throb to a sharp, piercing pain, and she can't help the quick intake of breath that accompanies the sensation.
"You okay?" Oliver asks.
"Yes. Keep going. I want this over with."
"Soon, I promise," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, the amusement. "Keep talking to me, Felicity."
So she does. Her brain is a little too frazzled and pain-addled for her to really remember everything she says, but she does know that she doesn't stop talking until after Oliver finishes the last stitch and is pulling the latex gloves off of his hands.
"All done."
She breathes a huge sigh of relief. "Now I just have to figure out how to take it out."
Felicity tries to ignore the blood dripping down her arm as she presses a blade against a tiny white scar that has just recently healed. She needs to be quick, but she also needs to be careful.
She had to lift the pocketknife off of one of the guards, and she's got to drop it back on the same one before he notices it's missing. There's just no other way. Division doesn't let them near anything else sharp enough to cut through her skin, and she needs this chip out of her arm now, because she needs to be able to communicate with Oliver sooner rather than later.
It's the thought of Oliver that helps her through the agonizing process of pulling the chip out of her arm. Trying not to cry, she dabs at the blood with a tissue, slaps a bandage over the cut, and tugs her sleeve back into place so she can hide the evidence.
She's just burying the bloody tissues at the bottom of her trash can when someone knocks on the door to her room.
"Smoak!" Tommy yells, "Let's go. Time's wasting."
Sliding the chip in her pocket and the stolen knife under her mattress, Felicity climbs off of the twin bed and yanks open the door. "What's up?"
"I want to introduce you to someone, c'mon." Tommy starts walking and motions for her to follow. Felicity has to jog for a few seconds to catch up with his longer stride and quicker pace.
"Who?" she asks.
"You'll see."
They round a corner, take a quick elevator ride (after Tommy swipes his key card; Felicity's not allowed off of the recruit's level and has been told numerous times that any unauthorized access to other floors could result in her cancelation), and descend a short set of stairs into a room completely filled with computer equipment. Several workstations, a display of six monitors on the far wall, and a workbench covered with wires and tools make the place look like heaven. Off in the corner of the room is a twin bed, almost hidden by all the stuff that surrounds it.
A young man spins around in his desk chair as Tommy and Felicity reach the last step.
"Tommy," he says, jumping to his feet and running towards them, just barely dodging a stack of books as he does so. "I fixed the issues with the comms, but I had to recalibrate the entire system."
From there, he launches into a detailed explanation that Felicity can tell Tommy doesn't understand a word of. She, however, follows him easily. Computers are her bread and butter.
"Felicity Smoak," Tommy says, when the young man pauses to take a breath, "Meet Barry Allen. You'll be working primarily with him."
"Hi," Felicity says, "Nice to meet you."
He takes her hand and gives her a smile that lights up his eyes. "The infamous Felicity Smoak, it is a pleasure."
Oliver's right; Barry's cute. And he's already looking at her with definite interest. Impress him, that's what Oliver said to do. Impress him, and he'll fall at your feet.
Felicity scans his setup. One or two thoughtful comments later, she barely notices when Tommy leaves the room because she's so engrossed in conversation with Barry. And is he ever eager to impress her. It's a cinch to plug in the memory card, and the beauty of the program she's designed is that it's virtually undetectable and loads itself onto the system so she doesn't have to leave the incriminating hardware there. Once sufficient time has passed, Felicity just casually slips the card back into her pocket. She'll destroy it at the first available opportunity.
"We do need to get you up to speed on a few Division-specific programs," Barry is saying, "but I'd love to show you some of the actual hardware. This system is a thing of beauty."
"I'm sure that's because you designed it," Felicity says. Talking to Barry is effortless. She can look at him and see the excitement and joy in his eyes at the thought of creating things. He actually seems happy here.
Division didn't kill his father, she reminds herself. And like Oliver told her once, everyone has their own reasons for joining up.
"So," Barry says, offering her a red vine, "What's your story?"
Taking the candy, Felicity draws on the half-true cover she'd constructed with Oliver. "Computers always made more sense to me than people. My dad was an insurance salesman." Hardly, he worked for the CIA, but sales was his cover when Felicity was little, so the lie doesn't catch on her tongue. "But he knew all about computers. We were building one together when he left."
"I'm sorry," Barry says. "My dad killed my mom when I was around the same age. So, I know what it's like...to live with a parent betraying you in a fundamental way like that."
She doesn't want to talk about her father, but she does want to use this similarity to find out more about him, the things Oliver couldn't or wouldn't tell her. Felicity asks, "How did you end up here?"
"I was put in the foster system. Actually, when I was around fifteen I had a family who would have adopted me if I hadn't hacked into the police systems looking for information about my mother's murder. I cut a deal, but it was contingent on spending a few months in JV. Malcolm approached me when I got out." He smiles. "Best decision of my life. This is the first place I've ever felt like I belonged."
Felicity doesn't have a response to that. Her brain can't even begin to contemplate it. To her, Division is constant danger. If they find out she's working with Oliver, she's dead. If she can't get Oliver the information he needs without Division finding out her, he's dead.
Barry seems to catch on to her anxiety, but he completely misinterprets it. "Give it some time, Felicity. Pretty soon this place will seem like home to you too."
It's the least reassuring thing he could possibly have said, but he has no way of knowing that.
Felicity smiles and takes another red vine.
After two days of carefully observing the computer lab, Felicity concludes that it's quietest during lunchtime. The shell program she installed can be accessed from any terminal, so she doesn't have to be anywhere near Barry or his system. She had to wait a few days after planting the program, just to be careful. Even with that caution, it's still best to not have to worry about anyone else's eyes peeking over her shoulder.
But now she can talk to Oliver. Even if it's just through what basically amounts to a well-hidden, super-encrypted instant messenger.
Felicity takes a deep breath. What does she even say? She wants to write him a novel, tell him all the things that have happened. She wants to tell him how she doesn't like people's loyalty to Division, but she understands it so much better now; she wants him to promise her that they'll keep the collateral damage to a minimum. She wants to talk about how Tommy is a great training agent. He's supportive, kind, and encouraging; he makes her laugh when she never thought she'd be able to so much as smile while she was inside Division's walls. She wants him to know she understands why Tommy Merlyn was Oliver Queen's best friend.
And then there's Barry, whose eyes light up when she enters the room, who is so relieved to have someone else to talk tech with who actually understands, and who shares his contraband candy with her.
Finally, she wishes she could speak with him about Malcolm Merlyn. She has yet to actually be in the man's presence as anything other than a face in the crowd, but everything about him gives her the creeps. It's inconceivable to her how this ruthless, cunning man is the father of one of the gentlest souls she's ever met.
"Tommy doesn't have the stomach for Division," Oliver told her once. "And it'll eat him alive if I-if we don't stop it."
"You didn't have the stomach either," she'd replied, "You left."
"We're not the same, Felicity. He's a good man."
She'd stepped forward then, placing a hand on his arm. She remembers how her voice had trembled with conviction. "So are you."
"No," Oliver had said with a shake of his head. "I was. Now I'm just a survivor."
And the way he'd completely shut any attempts at conversation down after that had been the end it.
Being here, with these people - watching how Merlyn manipulates everything around him, knowing how he broke Oliver into fragments and let him heal wrong - it makes her understand him so much better. He's not what she thought in the beginning at all.
And she knows, knows way down in her bones, that she's not going to be the same either. Sure, she's playing a game. She isn't the Felicity they see, and they can't manipulate and control her the way they did him. It's not going to matter. Division alters everything it touches, and she's not going to be the exception.
Felicity puts her hands to the keyboard and types.
I'M IN. WAITING FOR INSTRUCTIONS.
She waits. A few seconds later the reply comes through.
GOOD. WILL BE IN TOUCH. KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN. STAY SAFE. 346.
During one of their late nights, they'd developed their own shorthand, just in the unlikely event someone from Division got their hands on transcripts of these conversations. Three-Four-Six means: Got your six.
Felicity smiles and replies: 346.