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Alas, I do not own Arrow.
Everything happened so quickly.
The hooded figure was joined by three other persons, the barrels of their guns staring sadistically at them, a sentence to death written in their profile.
His nerves on fire, he gripped Felicity tighter and readied himself for action. He'd been in tighter spots before and he sure as hell didn't beat the island to be thwarted by a few rogue thrill-seekers in Starling City – especially not with Felicity at his side.
He had a second to act.
One second.
Survival instinct coursed through Oliver's veins, pumping around his body at a rapid pace, igniting every atom in his core.
Instinctively, he dropped them both to the ground as fast as he possibly could, their bodies flush. Bullets sprayed. Windows smashed. Sparks flew from where they ricocheted off solid matter. Screams amplified. He was acutely aware of her distress pinned under him and, in the hope the gesture would lessen her fear, he allowed himself a brief glance into her depths, his eyes urging her to remain calm, to trust him, to hold tight. She swallowed hard under the gaze, her own eyes answering his.
A cacophony of sound rang through his ears, smacking against his eardrum, dulling the sense and making him disorientated, but while the commotion intensified, Oliver saw his opening and jolted to his feet with Felicity in tow. His arm wrapped around her middle, they rushed to the away from the shooters and around the nearest corner, the wall their shield for the time being.
The gunfire escalated; the danger strikingly real.
Oliver grasped at the space beside him with the need to diminish his worry, his breath coming in fast spurts. Felicity's absence known immediately, he swiftly turned his attention away from the attackers toward her just in time to see a rogue gunman surging toward them. With almost no time to react, he moved to throw himself in front of the blonde, but Felicity, brimming with adrenaline, was the first to act. She swung her arms wildly, smacking the assailant square in the face with her handbag, knocking them out on impact.
Her head tilted back in realization at what she had done, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "I guess…my tablet…he's out cold."
They were closing in on them. "Oliver Queen! Show your face!"
He eyed the wall of glass in front of him, clocking all the risks in his head.
There was only one exit option available.
His hand tightened on her elbow. "Do you trust me?" he yelled over the clamour.
With a lick of the lips, she looked directly into his eyes and nodded.
He didn't waste any more time. Without a second thought, he pulled her to his side and took off toward the window, the bullets firing in their direction. At the last possible second Oliver snatched at the chain from the curtain rail as they hurtled through the glass, angling Felicity into him as they swung through the air and back through the window two floors below in one fluid movement.
Splinters of glass exploded around their frames in fantastic, deadly display as they each careened over a desk and spattered onto the ground. Shards showered over their still bodies, gusts of wind flapping papers about, the scene eerily calm. The seconds that followed were encased with shell of climax, relief saturating over the destruction they created.
Oliver was the first to pull back to sense, his vision rapidly scanning the area closest to him, but once he saw Felicity stir next to him, he desperately reached out and draped back her messy ponytail, needing to see that she was okay. Apart from a few minor scrapes on her face that he hated himself for, she seemed to be fine and her breathless nod to him confirmed as such, allowing him the chance to release a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding since the moment they charged for the escape.
He didn't know if it'd work.
He didn't know if the rail would hold their combined weight.
He didn't know if he was being reckless or if he was being smart.
He didn't know if his rash decision would lead to their deaths.
But seeing her alive and in one piece next to him quelled the overwhelming pain shooting through his limbs. He did what he had to do. They were safe.
Clambering to his feet, he dusted off the remnants of the windows and offered her his hand in aid. She took it, her eyes glazed over in shock. "Are you okay?" he asked breathily. Her legs moved robotically, like they were running on sheer habit more so than direction but as soon as she was upright, she fell into him, causing him to step back to support her weight. "Whoa, whoa, okay," he stammered worriedly, ushering them over to the couch on the other side of the office to sit her down.
Her hands gripped the edge of the furniture as though she feared she'd fall off if she didn't steady herself and against his better judgement, and also perhaps selfishly, Oliver slipped down next to her and cautiously put an arm around her shoulder, his hands idly rubbing back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.
"Felicity…" he whispered, on edge due to her state. "Please say something. Are you hurt?"
Just then her head lurched to the side so that she could look at him. "How did you…" she paused to fix her askew glasses, "you jumped out the window! You just threw us out a wall of glass – and I let you do it! I mean, I realize we were in a pretty tight spot with frighteningly low escape options but we're twenty floors above ground level and you just hopped out there without a care in the world and I just rolled along with it because, let's face it, I really had no other choice and then we were flying through the air and somehow coming back in through another window…I mean, how did you know what to do? What part of the brain registers that as a viable exit route? And the blinds rail! It could have snapped! We could have fallen out of the sky! I could have been splattered on the pavement, bits of me embedded all over the street…" Oliver drew back his arm, figuring his touch might not have been the best idea right then. "How, Oliver?"
"I don't know…" he replied, shaking his head. "I just acted. Pure instinct." He pulled at his tie, feeling it choking him. "I've been in a lot of, uh, pretty intense situations over the years and I've had to learn to trust my gut to get me out of them."
"On the island?" she demanded, her voice still wavering from the bountiful energy emanating from her.
He nodded curtly. "You could say that I had to find a few inventive ways to survive while I was there. But that doesn't excuse what I did; I shouldn't have put your life in jeopardy like that. It was reckless of –"
"No, Oliver," she interjected with closed eyes. With a deep breath she reopened them, the nervy edges now softened. "You saved me. Granted it definitely wouldn't have been my first choice, but without that little Tarzan stunt I would have been…well I don't really want to think about that really because," she pulled away, scrunching her face into one of her many expressions that somehow clearly conveyed what she meant. "The point is you shouldn't feel guilty about saving my life – even though I can see that it's too late for that," she pointed out, indicating with her pointer finger to the lines on his forehead.
"I guess it's my default setting these days," he uttered solemnly.
Her back straightened suddenly, her head cocking to the side as she studied him. "It shouldn't have to be; you shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself. Especially when you've just," her hands swung to and fro and then pounded the air.
He smirked despite himself. "I think that's easier said than done."
Any traces of distress vanished from her features instantly, a much more thoughtful look in its place. "Well, now seems like a good time to start trying." The sincerity in her words was impossible to overlook, filling up the space between them. "Thank you," she breathed.
"Anytime."
She blinked suddenly, as if out of a trance. "Wow I think my heart is finally starting to beat again at a semi-regular pace; that's nice," she said, moving away from him again and observing the mess they had just made.
You shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself.
Oliver gave himself a moment for her words to sink in. That was all he had been doing for years - one pressure atop of another, building and building, pushing him down, making his body leaden, anchoring him to the guilt he lived his life by…
Pressure was all he knew.
Pressure was all he felt.
As Oliver Queen, CEO; Oliver Queen, son; Oliver Queen, brother; and Oliver Queen, The Hood.
It was probably the adrenaline talking; her mouth and thoughts spilling out of her as they popped into her mind but regardless, it was uncanny how she could say something that hit so close to home at the most inopportune times. He guessed she still saw him better than anyone else.
"Thanks Felicity," he murmured sincerely.
"For what?"
He chose his words carefully. "For knowing me better than anybody else."
The twinkle in her eye wasn't formed from his imagination and her fingers danced together just for something to do, but just as it looked like she was about to say something, a different voice carried through the air, alerting them immediately.
Oliver was on his feet in an instant.
"Oliver! Oliv-"
A swift jab to the stomach cut the call short, his instincts in overdrive. Felicity let out a cry of surprise at his adept timing, her body backing into the room. But it wasn't until the intruder raised an imposing hand and spoke up that he realized his mistake.
"Dammit Oliver it's me!"
He jerked back, eyes wide. "Digg? God, Digg I'm sorry!"
His partner, with one knee on the ground and an arm hung around his abdomen, narrowed his eyes, obviously winded. "Tell that to my stomach," he groaned.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, moving over to hook an arm around the man so he could assist him to his feet.
Through pained lids, Diggle surveyed the decimated office space, wincing every now and again. "I know you're kind of the king of getting out of tight spots but this," he waved a hand at the destruction, "is new even for you. Since when did you become Spider-man?"
Oliver rolled his eyes. There was no way anyone was going to let his, truth be told, pretty extravagant stunt slide anytime soon.
"Funny, I thought it was more like Tarzan," Felicity blurted abruptly and subsequently threw a hand over her mouth as soon as she did. "Sorry, I have a tendency to say things without thinking - been doing that since I was child and it's a tough habit to break once you've been doing it for practically your whole life and I probably should have stopped talking way sooner…I think I'm coming down from the buzz…"
Kicking glass out of his way, Oliver shuffled over to her, gingerly resting a hand on her elbow in a form of comfort. He was sure hugging would have been unsuitable for the moment that was in it, but knowing that didn't stifle the growing desire to do so in him. Diggle cleared his throat, the noise discarding his thought process. He turned to face him. "Diggle, this is my…friend, Felicity Smoak," he announced, gesturing to her. "Felicity," he looked back at her, "this is John Diggle, my-"
"I'm his black driver."
Oliver hung his head in exasperation. "And bodyguard and friend," he supplied. Digg snickered.
"Bodyguard?" she questioned with a wry smile. "Great job up there…" she lifted her hand up, pointing to the ceiling. Oliver and Diggle exchanged amused glances. A beat passed and then, "That was a joke by the way! Sometimes things sound way funnier in my head and I end up either making a fool of myself or offending someone so in case you were wondering…that was a joke."
John chuckled. "I like her," he remarked to his boss.
Felicity smiled meekly, extending a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Diggle."
He accepted it. "Likewise, Ms Smoak." His eyes travelled over to her other hand that rested limply against her hip. "Are you hurt?"
Oliver snapped his stare to her hand immediately, the tension in his shoulders burning.
"It's nothing," she assured with a shake of the head. "Probably just a sprain. It could have been a lot worse than that if it weren't for Oliver."
"If it weren't for me you wouldn't have been there in the first place," he muttered under his breath but something in the way her ponytail ebbed to the side told him that she had heard it. In effort to sway conversation away from him and them and pretty much anything else to do with what had just happened, Oliver coughed and let go of her elbow. "Where are the hoods now?" he directed to Diggle.
"SCPD are on site but the hoods got away."
His jack ticked. "And they came after me."
"Why?" Felicity posed innocently.
He puffed heavily. "For weeks they've been targeting prominent people of Starling City who they think have been, I don't know, turning a blind eye in the aftermath of the Undertaking. I guess it was only a matter of time before they decidedly focused on the Queen family. Having our name associated with the biggest disaster to ever hit the city has to pay up at some point." Even to him his voice sounded defeated, almost forlorn, but there was something so disconcerting about a gang of vigilantes coming after him, Oliver Queen, rather than the Hood. "Something tells me it isn't the last I've seen of them."
The sun had well and truly set by the time they were making their way home.
After they had cleaned up the, thankfully, minimal superficial cuts and scrapes and Felicity had regained most of the control of her limbs, SCPD were extremely keen for information and pounced on them for statements and accounts and what felt like endless circles of questions where the answers served no help to the investigation:
Did you get a good look at them?
Did they say anything?
Do anything that might offer up some information on their identities?
What on earth possessed you to hop out a window?
Any reason they would come after you? – the most ridiculous question of the day really.
It didn't help either that the series of questioning was carried out by two different detectives and then finally by Detect- no, Officer Lance. Sure, Lance and the Hood had been somewhat working together over the past couple of months even though it had earned the man a demotion in his job, but Lance and Oliver Queen, the CEO, the man who got one of his daughters killed while breaking his other daughter's heart in the process, were still on shaky terms. His interrogation was…brash to say the least. Full of grunts, disapproving shakes of the head and penetrating stares.
He was a bit gentler to Felicity in all fairness, the father in him shining through his pinched features every once in a while when she rambled too long or made some kind of inappropriate quip or flippant hand movement. Not even men with the most broken of hearts could withstand the sheer light of Felicity Smoak.
Oliver insisted that she ride home with him and Digg when they had finished the last soul destroying loop, mostly wanting to fully make sure she got there safely, but a part of him selfishly yearned to be around her for just a little longer. It was funny how easily he slipped back into the role of protective boyfriend…even though he wasn't her boyfriend anymore. Teenage Oliver always drove her home, walked her to her door, and waited until she was inside before pulling away – and now at a weary twenty-five, he was essentially doing the same thing. And that mere fact drew out the clouds of dark clawing through him for the time being.
What he hadn't counted on, though, was Felicity easily accepting his offer. A fiercely independent spirit, she was never a fan of his end of date ritual so when she agreed practically immediately, it took him by surprise. The good kind of surprised, to be honest. Okay, so maybe Diggle's offer of grabbing some Big Belly Burger to go made it all the more appealing, but either way, she gave no quarrel to them giving her a lift.
"It's not too far now, just toward the end of that street," she announced, leaning forward with a hand on the driver's headrest.
"Just tell me when," Digg responded chirpily. It was obvious he liked Felicity and Oliver dreaded the ensuing conversations between them that would no doubt occur the minute she stepped into her house. The quick glances in the rear view mirror at them, and the accompanied smirk, told him as much.
"You know, you didn't have to drive me home," Felicity said, squeaking against the leather seats as she twisted in Oliver's direction.
"I think it's a bit late for that," he noted whimsically.
"I know, but I just wanted to you to know that. I wasn't trying to impose myself on you guys and where I live isn't exactly near the Queen mansion so really I've just added trouble to your night and I should have politely declined and let you guys go on without me."
A playful expression written on his face, he leaned forward into her space. "Felicity, we both know I wouldn't have left you to make your own way home. And as for causing us trouble, Diggle's really mad that you ruined his date night."
The blonde gasped. "You had a date?! Mr Diggle why didn't you say anything?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"
John snorted from the front seat. "I think what Oliver's alluding to is my date night with Ms Pizza and a basketball game. I'm a big romantic."
Her shoulders sagged in relief and she smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand lightly. "You're such a jerk sometimes," she breathed. And then tensed.
Wanting to keep the moment easy, he chuckled once. "I have heard that," he commented.
What seemed like a myriad of emotions flickered over her face, animating her features in the transient light. She turned away from him, leaning her shoulder into the window as her view raked along the passing scenery. "Oh, Mr Diggle it's just the house up here, the one with the pink flower pot sitting beside the door," she proclaimed suddenly, pointing to it even though he couldn't see her from where he sat.
"You got it. And call me Digg – Mr Diggle makes me sounds like my father."
"Okay…Digg," she tested with a quick nod.
The car swerved to sidle up to the sidewalk, coming to a stop outside her townhouse. Unable to help himself, Oliver moved forward to have a good look at it. What he found most interesting about her home was how much it resembled the one she used to live in all those years ago, down to the flower pots and mailbox; like himself, she was drawn to familiarity like a moth to a flame.
"I like your house."
She whipped around, eyebrows hiked. Then, her face relaxed. "Thanks. It's no Queen mansion but it does the job."
His lips twitched. "Isn't this the part where you apologize profusely for passing comment at how much money my family has?" he asked good-naturedly, doing absolutely nothing to hide his delight that she remembered their exchange from their first date.
Felicity collected her bag from the floor, hooking it over her shoulder, looking everywhere else but at him. A pang of rejection scratched through him. "Not this time," she answered a little sadly.
He pursed his lips, his hands dropping onto his lap. "How about I walk you to your door?"
"No, Oliver, it's okay." Upon his crestfallen demeanour, she tagged on, "But you can stay here until I'm safely inside if it makes you feel any better."
"I'll take what I can get."
Her smile was genuine, reaching her eyes this time and with a cute shove of her glasses, she cleared her throat. "Thank you for today. You know, for the lift and the food and the saving of my life. You always have ways of surprising me."
"Felicity, you don't have to thank me, I'll alwa-" His phone buzzed erratically in his pocket, distracting him. He raised a finger asking her to wait, muttered an apology as he grappled with his suit pocket, and took it out. "Oliver Queen," he greeted, doing nothing to hide his chagrin.
"Oliver? It's Lance."
He swallowed, feeling apprehensive at the tone. "What can I do for you, Officer Lance?"
He could feel both Felicity and Diggle's eyes on him but his kept his stare fixated in front of him, not focusing on anything in particular. The weight in his chest began to expand, stretching out through his ribcage, clogging him up.
"It's…it's about your sister. Thea."
His throat constricted. "What about her?" he hissed through his teeth.
Lance hesitated on the other end and Oliver wished he could reach through the phone and shake the man for answers.
"What about her?" he boomed again, urging the man to speak.
In the corner of his subconscious he vaguely felt the soft touch of a hand on his arm but in that moment all he could feel was every hair on the back of his neck rise, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach churning briskly.
"She's been taken. By the Hood copycats."
All of the breath sagged out of his body in one swoop, leaving him sinking forward so far that his forehead met the headrest of the passenger seat.
"Oliver?" Felicity asked in ultimate concern, her arms enveloping him.
"When?" he seethed into the receiver. "When was she taken?"
"About a half hour ago," Lance stated matter-of-factly. "Listen, Oliver we're doing everything we can and we're gonna get her back, okay?"
"Do you have any leads? Any idea where they might have taken her?"
"We're working on it."
"Do you have anything, Lance?" he barked, shooting upright, Hood persona taking over.
The officer gave a large sigh in obvious deliberation.
"Please," Oliver whispered, knowing full well that there was no good reason as to why Lance would offer him any information on the case, but he had to take the chance. Thea was missing, taken by some crazed psychos hell-bent on a vengeance crusade and he'd be damned if he didn't suck the well dry trying to find her.
"There was one thing," he relented. "One of the guys – African American going by witness statements – is missing a hand. We're running checks on him now."
Good. Something new to go on. It was small but it was better than nothing.
"Look, Oliver," he exhaled. "I'll call you as soon as we hear anything. Sit tight. We're gonna bring your sister home."
Then the phone went dead.
In a rush of anger, Oliver flung the device against the seat, his hands scraping through his hair. The phone bounced onto the ground and landed by Felicity's feet. Warily, she collected it and held it close to her.
Uncertainty and fear clouded the air; Diggle was the first to cut through. "Oliver, what's going on?"
He raised his chin defiantly. "The copycats took Thea."
Digg cursed under his breath.
Felicity gasped in horror. "Oh my God Oliver, I'm so sorry! Do – do they know where they've taken her?"
"No," he acknowledged through gritted teeth. "But I'm going to find out."
"How?" his friend asked with knitted eyebrows. "We don't even know what they look like much less where they'd be."
"Lance gave me some information. I just have to work off that."
The blonde's hand came over to clasp his, her thumb rolling over his knuckles. "Oliver, don't hate me, but shouldn't you leave this to the police?"
He finally met her eyes. "I can't sit and do nothing, Felicity. I have to find her."
She drew back resolutely, determination etched into her face. "Okay. And I'm going to help."
His hands were clammy.
That was literally the only thing winding through his mind as they walked through the park, the sun blinding, the sky clear for miles.
He could feel the moisture generate in his palm every time her hand tightened or her fingers squirmed through his and though there were a million other things he would rather focus on – like how her cheeks blushed pretty much any time he said something complimentary or how her hair waved behind her in the breeze or her laugh (which was like a manifestation of sunshine) – he couldn't keep his thoughts off his sweaty hands. Typical.
And boy was it hot.
He was sure his shirt was beginning to stick to his back. How attractive.
"Are you okay?" Felicity suddenly asked mid-story. She was talking animatedly about her best friend back in Coast City. Her name was Dani and she sounded like the exact opposite to Felicity, but the way her free hand danced in the air and her eyes brightened when she talked about her intrigued him. Oliver knew how it felt to have a best friend that you knew everything about and could talk about anything with, and he understood the excitement with which she held herself over the topic.
Apparently, however, Felicity was perceptive and happened to notice his slight distraction.
"Yeah, yeah," he assured with a grin. "It's just really hot out, you know?" He fanned himself with his hand just to go that extra mile…because he was an idiot.
"Tell me about it," she agreed, blowing some air onto her face. "Sorry about my hands by the way; they're really sweaty – which is really disgusting when I think about it. In my head it sounded totally normal."
Oh thank God. He could almost definitely feel the relief seep through his pores.
Oliver choked out an incredulous laugh. When she tried to remove her fingers from his, he only strengthened his grip. "So are mine," he confessed dramatically as if it was a big secret. "Just don't tell anybody, okay?"
"Deal." A crooked smile broke out and she swung their hands more forcefully than before. He loved that she started to relax around him, a playfulness she hadn't really exhibited before, or at least not a side to her that he had seen much of, eking its way out. "Anyway, you're probably sick of hearing about my friend-"
"No I'm not," he interjected. "She sounds…"
"Different," she supplied with a chuckle. "Yeah, we're pretty opposite. But I think that's what makes us work so well."
"You miss her," he deduced softly, ducking his head so she'll meet his spheres.
She raised one shoulder. "Yeah, I do. This is the first time I've ever moved and to leave the only place I know and go to a completely different one where I don't know anybody has been harder than I thought it'd be. Sometimes I just wish Dani was here, you know?" Her head twisted away to look at a gaggle of kids running around happily on the green, their elated screams rising up into the air. "I know I've made friends here but…I don't know…it's just different."
That was the first time Oliver had heard her so…sad. Here was this girl that appeared to embody so much cheerfulness and joy sounding like the loneliest person in the world. It was then in that moment, as he watched her get lost in the children's enjoyment, that he promised that he'd do everything he could so that she'd never feel like that again.
Feeling the way he did when he was around her was certainly alien to him, but somehow he just knew that this girl, that Felicity, had the potential to be so much more to him. At sixteen, love – or the idea of love – seemed like something out of movie, a destination too far away for contemplation…but was he crazy for thinking that maybe he was already falling for her?
He tugged at her hand to root her to the spot and she looked back at him quizzically. "You know, sometimes it's better to have one really good friend than a bunch of people you only kind of know. Dani's your best friend and just because you're living in two different cities doesn't mean that'll change; you might even get closer." He knew that his words resonated with her when she eyed him in what could only be described as wonder. "Tommy's my best friend," he continued, feeling slightly self-conscious considering he was not known to be an open guy, "and in many ways I feel like he's my only friend. From the outside it probably looks like I have a lot but being Oliver Queen…it comes with a territory. It can be difficult to figure out who your real friends are." He frowned a little. "Anyway, uh, years ago, Tommy's family used to go on vacation for the whole summer and it was really tough, you know? I used to count down the days until he'd be back; being a kid billionaire without any friends is not a lot of fun. So I sort of know how you feel." He offered her a small smile.
"Well I'd like to think that you have another friend now," she said shyly, moving their interlocked hands around.
"And so do you."
Cue the blush again. He'd never tire of that sight. "You know you're different than people say."
Pools of blue met, the breeze calming for that breath of a moment as though observing them. "Well, most people fail to see the real me," he admitted, the ghost of a smile forming. "So…ice cream?"
She nodded. "Ice cream."
He knew what she was capable of, of course - if there was one thing Felicity knew better than herself it was computers, but to see just how quickly she had managed to wrangle information was amazing. It was as though her fingers moved on their own accord, knowing exactly what to do and executing the plan as fast as humanly possible. He watched her work, hovering over her frame as she sat at her dining room table with Diggle flanking her on the other side, also visibly enthralled by her work ethic.
Every passing second caused his heart to pound harder, his fingers drumming against the table just for something to do. In the crowded mess of his mind, he clung to the sliver of hope that they hadn't killed Thea on site which meant they were waiting, biding time…most likely for Oliver. Truth be told, the idea that was she was still alive, still breathing for now kept him going, kept him from spiralling into a blind rage; he understood that information was vital, and Felicity was the only one that was able to help him at this point.
"Felicity, are you hacking into the hospital's mainframe?" Digg asked, his tone half-disbelief and half-admiration.
Her bottom lip jutted out as she spied the screen over her glasses. "Hacking is such an ugly word; no, I'm…yeah, totally hacking into the hospital mainframe." At his bemused face, she elaborated, "We know that one of the hoods is missing a hand, so I thought we'd check to see if there have been any males that have had surgical amputations on their extremities…"
"And cross-checking them by race and age," Oliver concluded.
"Exactly."
Diggle crossed his arms and smiled. "Now that is impressive."
In a matter of seconds, Felicity pumped her fist in the air, a clear indicator that she had found something. She had always been competitive when it came to, well, everything and over time, had developed that gesture as her form of victory celebration. Oliver had never been happier than to see it then. "Got one. Jeff Deveaux; African-American; late thirties."
"Anything else on him?" Oliver enquired, feeling his body start to shake in anticipation.
She worked away again. "He's an ex-marine. Lost his hand in the Undertaking." Her face dropped. "And his wife."
"What about his phone records?" the other man suggested. "We can find out who he's been in contact with."
A sheer doggedness he had never witnessed in her before seemed to take over as she punched the keys. "Okay…so he's made a lot of phone calls to a church in the Glades – something called 'Standing Strong'. It's a support group for those who lost loved ones in the earthquake," she read off the screen.
"And who wants to bet the other hoods are members of the same group?" Oliver thought out-loud. "Get me an address please."
Concern seemed to filter through the blonde's demeanour as she pulled up the address. "Oliver, I understand that you want to help get Thea back but I really think you need to tell the police these details. You can't just go there, they'll kill you – you have to talk to Officer Lance. He'll be able to help."
He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face impatiently and resting his body against the wall. The easy option would have been to tell her who he really was but he'd already made his decision not to drag her down that path – and he was going to stick with it. "Yeah, yeah you're right. I'm just really worried about Thea. We're gonna go talk to the police right now, right Digg?"
John gave an imperceptible shake of the head, not a fan of Oliver's deflection. "Yeah, we are."
"I'll come with you."
"No, no," Oliver exclaimed, pushing off the wall and moving to her side. "Felicity you've already helped us so much and I can't thank you enough. You're…amazing."
"Are you sure? I don't mind going to the precinct with you."
He forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace and placed his hand on her shoulder. "No really it's okay. But I'll call you as soon as I hear anything. I promise."
"Okay," she relented in understanding.
"Thank you," he reiterated, squeezing her shoulder.
With a stern look in his partner's direction, they were on their way.
He was going to get his sister back.
"I have to admit, this is really good ice cream," Felicity hummed in approval as she devoured the treat.
Oliver raised his chin smugly. "Told you."
"And who knew we liked the same flavour."
"Oh, there is nothing that mint chip can't fix," he asserted.
They had found a bench at the edge of the park that was relatively covered in shade by the trees behind it and decided to sit down after they'd bought two cones. After a few minutes, Oliver bit the bullet and draped an arm along the top of it and around her, letting his fingers just brush off the exposed skin on her arm. She had turned into him as they spoke, their knees constantly connected as they ate. All the while this charge seemed to sit between them, an electricity that he'd never encountered before.
The best thing about the date was that the conversation never stalled; Felicity, by nature, was a talker and Oliver, as long as he was invested, could talk for hours on end to anyone who would listen. He knew almost immediately that they could talk for hours and hours and hours, never tiring of listening to the other one recall stories or passing comment on the most trivial of things. The thing was, most of the time, they weren't really talking about anything; it was just random spurts of thoughts connecting and flowing into something else entirely, never once stopping even when he said something stupid that forced him to bite his tongue or she babbled for a little too long. As funny as it sounded, despite them being wholly different people, it was almost as if they were on the same wavelength, able to understand the other through a single glance.
It was just so easy; so natural.
Nothing between them was forced. It was like she brought out a side to him that he wasn't too familiar with and he did the same for her, each of them exploring and discovering new feelings and thoughts.
Was a first date supposed to be this good?
"So, how did you find the best ice cream in the city?"
He looked out toward the dimming sun. "Raisa used to take me here when I was younger and I would kick up a fuss if I didn't get some ice cream before we went back home." He laughed a little. "I was a very persuasive child."
She beamed. "I bet." She bit into her cone. "Who's Raisa?"
"Technically? She works for my family. Realistically? She's kind of like my second mom. My parents are busy people and she's been there for both me and Thea since as long as I can remember," he said fondly.
"How old is Thea?"
His legs crossed at his ankles, his body slumping down on the seat. "Six and three-quarters," he quipped. "She's a firecracker, chasing around after me everywhere I go. She's the cutest kid with the biggest heart." He smiled. "I spend a lot of time with her, especially when my mom isn't around or my dad's at work and I love it, to be honest. If I'm having a bad day, she's the one person who can make me laugh. Plus, we have awesome tea parties."
Felicity giggled. "Oh really?"
"Definitely. Maybe you can come to one some time," he commented nonchalantly even though he was internally screaming. He braced himself for her response.
"I'd like that," she answered chirpily. Damn that felt good. "You know, I know what that's like – not having a little sister because I'm only child and the only experience I have with kids is that little girl that lives next door but she's kind of annoying…but the whole busy parent thing. Sometimes it's like my mom is always working. I only really get to see her at weekends and even then she's glued to her cell."
Oliver popped the last bit of his cone in his mouth, his fingers idly tracing nonsensical patterns on her skin. "What about your dad?"
Almost immediately she tensed and his hand stilled, sensing the sudden shift. Awkwardly, she toyed with her glasses, her head hanging toward the ground.
He wanted to kick himself. "Felicity, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked-"
She pushed some of her hair behind her ear, looking back up at him through her eyelashes. "No, it's okay, Oliver." Her head shook as if the action could bring her back to a better state of mind. "I don't know my dad," she said with a breathy whisper. He felt his heart twist in pain for her. "He left when I was really young and I barely remember him. But I do remember how much it hurt when he left."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, pulling her closer to him, wishing he could say something better, could express something that would make everything okay for her. He hated the thought of Felicity hurting.
"Don't be. I'm a big girl," she laughed, but instead of its usual musical quality, it fell flat in melancholy. Shoving hair off her face, her depths appraised him tenderly, her lips curling upward. "But thank you."
A loose crooked smirk appeared on his face, his eyebrows raised in the hope that he could bring back her full beam again.
And it did.
And then, ever so slowly, she leaned forward into him, their faces centimetres apart, and she kissed him. It was sweet and dripping in affection and though it took him a second longer than he would have liked to react, he kissed her back with the same reverence, his hand coming up to frame the side of her face as hers hooked into his shirt. Every part of him came alive, his heart racing as their lips moved to a rhythm neither of them set but understood anyway.
She was the first one to break away for much needed air. "Wow," she breathed, licking her lips.
Wow indeed.
Thea made it home unscathed later that night.
Once the suit was on, Oliver Queen was no more. He was the Hood; a man on a mission. And he was going to get his sister back.
Surprisingly enough, he was able to infiltrate the church with relative ease, using the upper echelons of the building as a means of catching them off-guard. Thea was tied to a chair in the middle of the aisle as the men huddled around her in obvious dispute as their guns swung listlessly from side to side as though they were mere toys instead of the lethal weapons they were. Oliver steeled himself, feeling the fury stir within him the more he saw how careless they were being with a life bound in front of them.
He knew it was time to take action.
Arrows were flung.
And shots were fired back.
They came at him like an oncoming storm, their moves sloppy due to the element of surprise. Mostly they attacked and hoped, their manoeuvres never having any impact as Oliver slipped and swirled out of their way, utilising their loose abandon as a means of taking them out one by one. Deftly avoiding their advances while using skills he had acquired and perfected on the island, he fast gained the upper hand, noting that the only other person in his way had cut Thea free and was dragging her across the building.
He chased after him, his quiver taut and ready. Ignoring the taunts and cries of the man and focusing solely on his sister's suffering, Oliver shot an arrow into the man's shoulder, sending him over the balcony.
He could have let him drop to his death. He could have let him pay. But his no-killing rule bobbed in the back of his mind and he was acutely aware that despite his mission, despite his anger, he couldn't let the darkness consume him. He had to honour Tommy's memory; and he wasn't going to let these lowlifes be the reason he tarnished the vow he had made.
Ultimately, the choice was a simple one. He saved him.
Thea was alive and unharmed – that was all that mattered.
Once he tied the vigilantes to the railing outside the church as a gift to the SCPD, his job was done and he headed back to the foundry.
"So she's okay?" Felicity asked for the fourth time, unable to cover her relief even over the phone. He could practically hear her teeth release her bottom lip.
Oliver grinned, feeling freer than he had in hours. "Yeah, other than a little shaken up she seems fine."
"I'm so glad that she's alright."
"Me too." He perched himself on the medical table, one leg firmly planted on the ground while the other dangled in the air. "Listen, we wouldn't have found her if it wasn't for you, Felicity; I can't thank you enough."
"Oliver, in case you forgot, you saved my life earlier – wow it's been a long day…" she trailed off for a second and then, "so really it was nothing. You know Thea's important to me. I was just happy that I could do something."
"Still…thank you." He just needed for her to accept it, needed her to understood how much her help mattered to him.
She waited for a few beats on the other end. "You're welcome, Oliver."
He smiled into the phone.
"Anyway I better get some sleep. I've got work in the morning and well when I don't get at least six hours I can't function properly and I need to be on top of my game because I'm still new to the job and I can't afford to slack off just yet…not that I plan on slacking off in the future…and I can't believe I just said that to my boss. Just pretend I said nothing, okay?"
He nodded. "Deal. Goodnight, Felicity," he said softly.
"Goodnight, Oliver," she replied in the same tone.
So what did you all think? Writing action doesn't come all that naturally to me so I hope it read okay. Originally, I wasn't going to include flashbacks in this chapter but I just love writing them as lovestruck teenagers and somehow I managed to sneak them in! Haha. Anywho, I would love to know your thoughts on the chapter so if you have time please drop me a review :)