The Greatest Bowman

Chapter 3: Come Alive


Felicity's mind was made up that the only good thing that had resulted from her attending the charity gala was the complimentary ticket she held in her hand. It was there that Thomas Merlyn – bless the charming man – had promised her a ringside seat at Barnum's theater when she had expressed how fascinated she'd been with their show. As promised, he'd had the free ticket delivered to the orphanage three days later, with a surprise gift. Mr. Merlyn had included a backstage pass with a handwritten note telling her that he was personally giving her a tour and introducing her to some of the cast members after the show. Felicity was thrilled.

The possible advantages of the experience she was about to have were many, especially as it pertains to her other job – the one that only her good friend Barry Allen and mentor Harrison Wells knew about. Felicity got the job at the Starling City Herald six months ago because of the connections of Dr. Wells, who was good friends with the chief editor. Dr. Wells knew that Felicity, being a woman, had a very slim chance to get hired as a feature writer for the paper's Sunday edition, especially without prior experience. Yet, he believed in her and her capability, so he had shrewdly advised her to pursue the application under a masculine name. She had chosen her father's name, Noah Kuttler, as her pen name and had submitted several articles on science and technology related topics. The chief editor had been impressed by her content and writing style, and she had been hired immediately, albeit on a probationary and part-time basis. Since then, Felicity had gotten to write feature articles on science-related topics. People in the city, men and women alike, had been enthusiastically reading and discussing scientific facts, as well as Felicity's innovative ideas about them, over Sunday breakfast for the past six months. She had been duly but modestly compensated for every article published on the paper, and she was grateful (and relieved) that the chief editor was not pressing Dr. Wells to meet with Noah Kuttler face to face. Not yet, at least.

Felicity had been meaning to write an article on Barnum's shows, highlighting the so-called freaks of nature and investigating the possible scientific explanations behind such genetic anomalies. Since the first time she had seen the "circus," as the shows have been called, she had come to the conclusion that Mr. Bennett's reviews had been narrow-minded at best, and slanted at worst – a product of the man's prejudice and bigotry. She thought that if she could only get the chance to meet Barnum's "talents" personally and examine them closely without being impolite and obtrusive, she could better discern whether they were indeed hoaxes or not.

She stood in line for the show's opening Friday night after the charity gala. The ticket in her hand, as well as the backstage pass in her pocket, would enable her to get to the bottom of things, to investigate the veracity of both the critics' and the supporters' claims, and above all, to satisfy her curiosity and quest for knowledge and understanding. Then she would spend the wee hours of the morning until noon of the next day writing her article and have it sent quickly by special courier to the Herald, hopefully in time for her editor to go over it and then send the Sunday paper to the press for printing and circulation.

In just a few minutes, the theater gate would open. Felicity was so excited to be able to watch another show again after a month. She wondered what new surprises Barnum had in store. She wondered if there were new production numbers, suspense-filled acts, and death-defying stunts. She also wondered if Thomas Merlyn was going to be the ringmaster that night and if he would recognize her from the audience.

She looked up and stared at the many colorful posters hanging on the walls outside the hall. Immediately her sight was drawn to the poster of the Green Arrow. He looked so much like the legendary Robin Hood, the tales she had listened to growing up in their hometown in central England, which was actually just a few miles north of Nottingham in the Midlands region. Perhaps that was why she'd been instinctively and intuitively drawn to the hooded archer. Perhaps it was also because of the mystery behind the man, which was shrouded by the hood that he wore over his head. Felicity wished that tonight he would lose the hood and show the audience his face, but she knew all too well that her wish was nothing more than just a wish.

Would she be able to meet him during the backstage tour that Mr. Merlyn promised? Maybe. It did not mean, though, that he would pull down his hood for her. The obscurity of his true identity seemed part of his act, and she had better accept the fact that she might never find out who the Green Arrow was. Felicity considered the possibility that this was the only mystery she would never get to solve, and it made her unpleasantly uncomfortable.

Once again, she looked at his poster up ahead. Even with the concealment of the upper part of the man's face, his features still made him very nice to look at. The way he posed with his bow at the ready accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular arms. She wondered if he would look better-looking or not if he was clean-shaven, but then she decided that the scruffy look suited him better.

She had only known one other person who had looked just as handsome with stubble, but she did not want to think about him at the moment. She had already been thinking about him all week long. That awful man did not deserve any more thought and attention from her than she had already wasted on him.

Oliver Queen. Yes, that was his name.

Felicity had heard about his appalling story, not just from the papers but from almost every conversation in public places in the past year or so. The only male Queen heir had gone on a business trip to East Asia at his father's bidding about four years ago, but he and the crew of the Queen's Gambit had suffered shipwreck due to a tropical storm in the North China Sea. He'd been the only survivor, marooned on an island where he had learned to survive for three years until a Chinese fishing vessel had rescued him sometime in the previous year. His was an unbelievable story, and people from all walks of life in Starling City had various reactions to it. Some had nothing but pity for him and for his family, saying that the young man had lost his innocence and a significant amount of precious time. Others had been curious as to how he'd survived and how his solitary life in the tropical island had changed him. Still there were a few, like Felicity, who had felt that it was no one's business to speculate or to pry into the affairs of a man who had already suffered so much; he deserved his privacy just like everyone else. But now that she had finally met him, her overall impression of him by the end of the charity gala was that of arrogance and apathy. She had been sorely disappointed that his gorgeous looks was not matched by his less than amicable personality.

After dinner at the gala, when the master of ceremonies had announced that the dance floor was officially open, Thomas Merlyn had introduced Oliver as his best friend. Most of the people on their table, including Dr. Wells and Mrs. Stein, the head governess of the orphanage, had stood up to dance on the parquet floor in the middle of the grand ballroom. Tommy – as he had insisted on being called – had asked his fiancée to dance, leaving Felicity and Barry at the table with just the Queen siblings. Barry had then courteously asked the young lady if she'd like to dance, to which the younger Queen had replied enthusiastically, "Oh, I'd love to!"

With just Felicity and Oliver Queen left at the table, the burden of carrying on a decent conversation had fallen on her, since the older Queen's people skills seemed lacking. (Not that she blamed him for it, considering he'd spent three years alone on an island.) Attempting to strike up a friendly conversation with the handsome man who had been stealing furtive glances at her over dinner, Felicity had asked with a smile, "Do you not find dancing enjoyable, Mr. Queen? Not that I was asking you to dance, or that I was asking you to ask me to dance. I was merely commenting on the fact that all the gentlemen at our table have already-"

"I'm sorry, but I don't dance," he had interrupted her babbling. He hadn't been rude about it. He had actually seemed amused, even if he had tried to hide it by not smiling.

"Well, me neither," she had told him. "Not that I don't know how to, because I do! Know how to dance, that is. In fact, I'd have you know that I was one of the best dancers in our school when I was younger. I just… I'm not used to this kind of formal ballroom kind of dancing that much." Felicity had begun to feel awkward about the whole conversation and had willed her tongue to no avail to stop getting ahead of her brain.

Oliver had simply looked at her intently and asked, "Do you always speak in fragments, Ms. Smoak?" He still had not smiled, but she could tell that he had been somewhat amused by her manner of speaking, whereas she had been positively mortified by it.

"What? Oh! I apologize for the way my mouth seems to have a mind of its own. It happens all the time. Sometimes scares people away. Always humiliates me beyond repair. And I'm doing it again, aren't I? I am truly sorry, for the rambling, which will end in three, two, one…"

"No apologies needed," he had assured her. "Your… words do not scare me."

Oliver had gazed upon her for a moment, but this time with the shadow of a smile on his face. She hadn't been sure what his impression of her had been exactly, because his beautiful blue eyes had lacked luster. Felicity had actually seen a certain sadness in them.

To her surprise, he then had surprised her by asking, "Would you like to take a walk with me, Ms. Smoak? The air in here isn't… I find the outdoors quite appealing, especially at night."

She had replied excitedly, "Yes, I would, thank you."

They had spent a good half an hour walking along the patio just outside the ballroom, engaged in an interesting yet often one-sided conversation in which Felicity had done most of the speaking and Oliver most of the listening. They had spoken about a wide range of topics – from those as profound as politics and the social ills that plagued the city to those as trivial as the day's weather. She had found his ideas concise yet very insightful. He, in turn, had told her how stimulating her opinions were. On a couple of occasions, Felicity had considered asking him about his time on the island, but she had held her tongue, remembering to respect his privacy.

Oliver had stopped walking when he had noticed her shivering from the cold, evening autumn air. He had removed his outer coat and draped it around her shoulders to keep her warm. She had afforded him a sweet smile in thanks, which he acknowledged with a gentlemanly nod. They had resumed their walk, her gloved hands linked through his arm.

By the end of their walk and talk, Felicity had counted the man worthy of her interest, perhaps even the slightest affection, for if she had been reading his signals and the situation correctly, she had every reason to think that he might have been interested in her, too. He had seemed genuinely pleased to be in her company, and she had felt the same way, even though she'd been a little nervous about whether or not he would take the initiative to ask if he could see her again. Felicity had found Oliver Queen a beautiful man on the outside and an intriguing person on the inside. At no point in their conversation had he made her feel like she was less of an individual because she was a woman; in fact, he had encouraged her curiosity and admired her pursuit of knowledge. His mere presence had made something inside of her come alive from deep slumber, and she had wanted nothing more at that moment but to get to know him more.

As they had made their way back to the ballroom, Oliver had paused once again, standing to face her with one of her hands in his. "Ms. Smoak," he said, looking into her eyes, "I wonder if you would care to-"

"Oliver! There you are," a woman's anxious voice had interrupted them. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

The voice belonged to Moira Queen, his mother, and the expression on her face upon seeing her son holding hands with someone who did not look like she belonged to her circle of high-society friends had betrayed her disapprobation of her son's companion. As if that hadn't been enough, Oliver had let go of Felicity's hands swiftly, as if his skin had been scorched by a piece of burning coal as soon as he had recognized his mother's voice and confirmed that it was her indeed that had called out to him.

Felicity had realized that she must have read him wrongly.

"Mother…"

"Oliver, your father is about to deliver his speech about becoming a major sponsor for the orphanage. You should… come back inside now," the Queen matriarch had commanded him subtly yet sternly. Moira Queen had looked at Felicity from head to foot and back, scrutinizing her with her disdainful look, and then she had turned around to go back into the ballroom.

"Ms. Smoak, I…"

"It's fine, Mr. Queen. You go on ahead," Felicity had told him, removing his coat from her shoulders as though she had suddenly developed an allergic reaction to it. "I think I'm just going to stay out here and enjoy the fresh air for a little while longer. Thank you."

And just like that, she had walked away from him in the opposite direction of the ballroom entrance. She hadn't wanted to hear anything else he had to say, which at that point might have only added insult to injury. Clearly, he had been ashamed to have been seen with someone like her. Had it been the real reason why he had taken her out for a walk? Felicity hadn't looked back to see the remorseful expression on his face before he too had turned away to leave her be.


A/N: No worries. Angst and hurt eventually lead to comfort and romance. Just hand in there with me, okay? Share you thoughts on this one?