Felicity woke slowly to a room speckled with early morning light. There was a heavy weight across her chest and she was welcomed by two of her favorite scents – coffee and recently-showered Oliver. The weight was his arm and a decent portion of his upper torso as he lay half across her, his head resting on her pillow instead of his own. Normally she was the one sprawled on top of him, but then there had been nothing normal about yesterday. For a while she had feared that they would never see each other again and he had probably feared the same. So she knew exactly what this was – this was Oliver being protective, even naked and asleep…and smelling great. To her disappointment, there was no sign of the coffee. That aroma must be coming from the kitchen.

She was surprised that Oliver still was asleep. He was always the first to wake, restless with barely contained energy that had to be expressed in activity after hours of lying quietly. When he'd told her last night that he was spent physically and emotionally, he must really have meant it because he was almost inert now. His breathing was slow and deep, his limbs relaxed and his face smoothed of worry lines. She felt a twinge of guilt when she recalled that she had persuaded him to exert himself further before sleep, but only a twinge. It had been special, and she was pretty sure he had felt that too. Not that all their other times together weren't special, but the connection last night had somehow transcended the physical and bound them in a way that felt permanent.

She had moments yet when she could not believe this thing was real – her and Oliver. She kept waiting for the bubble to burst, for him to recall that Laurel was the woman he had loved for most of his life or for another crisis to convince him that he wasn't meant to be with anyone. Of all the fears she'd had yesterday, perhaps the greatest was that Oliver might somehow blame the kidnapping on himself and decide that she'd be safer away from him. But so far that hadn't happened, and as she felt the weight of him on her and thought about the license she now had to run her hands over his amazing body, she had to smile.

Of course, being who she was, she also had to do something to spoil this serene and tender moment. In this case, Oliver's bent knee resting lightly on her hip and abdomen began to make her aware of her rather full bladder. She was going to have to get up to pee. She frowned at the ceiling – this was one of those moments that only seemed to happen to her. Sara Lance, no doubt, had been able to drink a six-pack and cuddle til noon. Felicity thought about gutting it out - she really hated to disturb Oliver – but the potential consequences of waiting too long were even less romantic. And besides, that coffee smelled awfully good.

Keeping an eye on Oliver's face, she slid slowly and silently out from under him, plumping the covers to prop up the arm that had been holding her. She rolled carefully off the side of the bed to the floor and stood up, feeling a slight chill as the morning air hit her naked body. Oliver sighed and shifted, but settled again without waking. So far, so good. She exhaled in relief and stepped into the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later, Oliver was still asleep and she was feeling much more comfortable. She pulled his tee shirt over her head and, recalling that John was in the other room, added a pair of leggings to her just-tumbled-out-of-bed ensemble. She was pleased to find that her feet, although sore, were not nearly as painful as yesterday.

She tip-toed out of the bedroom and closed the door gently behind her. John was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of coffee. She wondered if he'd slept at all. The sofa wasn't exactly Diggle-sized.

"'Morning," she said softly before nodding toward his cup. "I hope you made enough for two."

John smiled, "Of course I did. Anyone else I'd say I'd made enough for five, but I'm guessing your coffee habits haven't changed. "

"They haven't."

"How're the feet?"

She looked down at them briefly before responding, "Better."

"Oliver still asleep?"

Felicity nodded, "Surprisingly, yes. I figured he'd have us up at the crack of dawn running those photos through facial recognition, but he's really out. He must have been exhausted."

John took a sip of his coffee and looked at her thoughtfully, "I wonder whether yesterday was harder on him than it was on you. He was pretty shaken." After a short pause he added, "It certainly got him thinking."

Felicity bit her lip. That didn't sound good. In the past, Oliver thinking about their relationship meant Oliver coming up with a list of reasons why they couldn't be together.

John must have read her thoughts. He shook his head and said quickly, "No, not thinking that – he's not planning to pull some self-sacrificing stunt for your protection." He looked down at his coffee mug and said carefully, "No, my guess is he figured out yesterday that you are it for him."

Felicity added milk to her coffee and raised the steaming mug to her mouth. As always, the first taste in the morning was heaven. "It?" she repeated.

John said slowly, "The last woman he ever dates."

"Oh!" Felicity abruptly put her mug down, at a rare loss for words. She felt a warmth inside her that had nothing to do with the coffee. That Oliver might see their relationship as enduring was not a complete surprise – especially not after last night - but it was still a shock to hear John say it out loud. Thus far she'd kept such notions to herself. Hearing it from someone else took it from the dream category and placed it squarely in the realm of possibility. She studied the tendrils of steam rising from her mug, embarrassed and delighted at the same time.

When she was able to look at Digg again he was watching her with those steady, warm brown eyes that never missed a thing. At such times, she thought, John could be both comforting and disconcerting; he was compassionate, yet he also disliked avoidance and preferred to get right to the point. She could tell he was about to do that now.

"Felicity," he asked gently, "what are your plans? All this," he looked around the bungalow, "is nice, but you and Oliver can't play house here forever. I think you both already know that you're compatible." He paused, and added sternly, "Have you at least talked about what happens next?"

It was the question Felicity had been dreading. She wanted to tell John that it was too early to be thinking about it; that after three years on a battlefield she and Oliver had earned a few months of not thinking at all – but she stopped. For one, John deserved better. And for two, the man could pinpoint a lie at five hundred yards in the dark – he was essentially a lie sniper. She sometimes wondered how Lyla could live with it.

She took a deep breath. "We've talked about it a little," she said unevenly. "We haven't decided anything yet, but I doubt we'll come back to Starling. We both want a fresh start. I've thought about opening my own software business and Oliver – well, he's still working out what he wants to do."

John frowned. "And now that you know Ray made you CEO of Palmer? You must be a little interested in running a fifteen billion dollar technology company. You'll have license to develop all kinds of new tech."

She shook her head, "I'm not so sure, John. It's not something Ray or I ever talked about. I like the technology part but I don't know that I like the CEO part. There's a lot of crap that comes with being CEO that has nothing to do with the tech." She took a sip of coffee, letting the mug hide her face for a few seconds. "I don't think I'm the best person for it."

And of course Digg spotted the fib. "That's bullshit, Felicity, don't give me that. We both know you can do pretty much anything you put your mind to. And after years of being bossed around by men who are less intelligent than you are – and I include Oliver in that list – you must be dying to take charge. What's the real reason you don't want to go back to Starling? " He was looking at her intently.

Felicity hesitated. She probably couldn't say this to anyone else, not her mother and especially not Oliver, but this was Digg. He'd known she was in love with Oliver long before she'd been willing to admit it, and he'd been witness to every phase of their erratic relationship over the last three years. If anyone would understand, it would be John.

She met his eyes squarely. "I'm afraid, John," she admitted, "I'm afraid of what happens when we get back to Starling and we have to deal with all of his past. There's Laurel, for one. She's been part of his life forever and you never forget your first love. And he's going to want to look out for Thea, even if she is kickass. I don't want to get sucked back into our old life. What if it makes him remember all the reasons he thought he couldn't be with me in the first place?"

Digg smiled and looked at her kindly. "I figured it was something like that. Felicity, we both know there are no guarantees in this world and I'm probably the last person to pose as an expert on relationships." He tapped his fingers lightly on his coffee mug. "Still, I feel pretty confident in saying that Oliver's not in the same place he was a year ago, and I don't ever see him going back there. It's more than him finally being happy - you're part of his DNA now. He's not going to give you up that easily."

Felicity straightened up and adjusted her glasses, "You think?"

John nodded, "I know."

Suddenly everything felt better. Felicity took a healthy gulp of coffee and smiled.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask John if he thought she should take the CEO position at Palmer Technologies when the motion sensor alarm on her cell phone went off.

And in the blink of an eye his Glock was in John Diggle's hand. She wondered where he had been keeping it during their conversation. And, nearly as quickly, Oliver was standing in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and looking wide awake. Felicity watched as John flipped him a second Glock and Oliver - barely looking - caught it in the effortless, one-handed way that only athletic men seem to be able to do. Felicity was torn between admiration of Oliver's bare-chested, bare-footed form and a bit of envy at how he could spring out of bed and instantly look this good. Only when John gently pushed on her shoulder to get her to duck behind the kitchen counter did she recall that they might be in danger.

Felicity crouched, peering over the top of the counter while John and Oliver did some kind of silent communication that ended up with them standing on either side of the front door to the bungalow. There was silence as everyone waited.

And then someone knocked.

Felicity rose from behind the counter only to see John motion her to duck back down. She obeyed, but kept her head high enough to see what was happening. John moved to the window and carefully pushed the curtains aside to take a look.

"It's the detective," he announced, "and it looks like Lance is with him."

Oliver swore, expressing both relief and frustration. Felicity stood up and this time John let her stay standing.

He and Oliver did another silent communication thing and both of them lowered their guns. Oliver handed his Glock to John who moved to sit on the sofa, placing the weapons under it but within easy reach. Then he sat back calmly, looking for all the world like he'd been watching ESPN for the last hour.

The second knock was louder and more impatient.

Oliver took a last look to make sure there was no other weaponry in the room. Certain everything was in place, he opened the door but filled the frame with his body, not allowing immediate access.

Detective Zimmer and Captain Lance both stared at him, Zimmer looking mostly curious and Lance looking mostly irritated. They clearly had not been expecting Oliver's casual, half-naked appearance; he gave the impression that he had just gotten out of bed after a normal evening at home. Of course, he had just gotten out of bed, Felicity thought, but there had been those in-between moments where he had caught a gun and looked incredibly sexy doing it. She reminded herself to focus.

"Can I help you?" Oliver asked politely.

Before Zimmer could respond, Lance angrily pushed his way into the bungalow. He made a long and obvious search of the room, starting first with Digg and ending eventually with Felicity. His expression softened a little when he met her eyes.

"Ms. Smoak," he said.

"Captain Lance," she acknowledged.

"I'm glad to see you safe."

"Thank you."

His gentleness lasted for all of about five seconds; then the interrogation started. "I understand from Detective Zimmer, Felicity, that you were able to get away from two kidnappers on your own? That's quite a feat," he added sarcastically, "How did you manage to do it?"

She didn't rise to the bait. "They left me alone for a while and the place wasn't quite as secure as they thought," she explained, matter-of-factly. "I found a way out and managed to get my hands on a phone. I called Oliver and hid til he and Digg could pick me up." The three of them had agreed to this story last night. Their plan was to stick as close to the truth as possible, without actually talking about events in the warehouse.

"And where, exactly, did you make this miraculous escape from?"

"I don't know," she glanced over toward John, "Digg and Oliver picked me up, maybe they can tell you."

Lance looked at Diggle who nodded and provided the location of the warehouse. Lance immediately turned to Zimmer and said, "I'd suggest you get men out there right away. You'll especially want to look for bodies with arrows in them." His face darkened. "It's too bad we're only getting this information now – it's been over twelve hours, plenty of time for someone to clean up the place." The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

Taken aback, Detective Zimmer said reasonably, "Based on Ms. Smoak's information yesterday I didn't think there was a need to look for bodies. And if you're implying that these three," he gestured to Oliver, Felicity and Digg, "went back there to destroy evidence, they've been here all night. I had uniforms drive by several times." He gave Lance a what the hell is your problem look.

Lance shook his head, but didn't argue further. "Well, let's see what else Ms. Smoak has to say about her kidnappers. If they're not dead in the warehouse then they're still on the loose. I assume we can try to go after them."

He sat down on a stool near Felicity and pulled out his notebook. For the next twenty minutes he asked her the same questions in various forms over and over, trying to get her to deviate from her story. Oliver stood supportively behind her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder. She never wavered, partly because they had practiced last night but mostly because Oliver would squeeze her shoulder gently when he wanted her to stop talking.

At last Lance gave up, clearly frustrated. "Fine," he said brusquely. "Let's recap: We know we're looking for two men, one older and darker and one younger and fairer. We don't their names, we don't know why they took you, and we don't know where they are now." He shook his head, and broadened his angry scowl to include Digg as well as Oliver and Felicity. "You're just full of information, all three of you."

Felicity tried to assume an appropriately worried expression. It wasn't much of a stretch because Lance was intimidating and most of what he'd just said was true. They really didn't know anything. The only piece they had omitted telling the Captain was that they had photographs - they had agreed last night to look into those on their own. "I'm sorry, Captain," she said apologetically, "I was just trying to get away. I didn't think to try to gather any evidence." She stopped when Oliver squeezed her shoulder again.

There was a long pause, during which Detective Zimmer looked thoughtful and Captain Lance disbelieving. Finally Zimmer spoke up, "Well, thank you for the information. We'll be in touch if we learn something." Felicity noted that he said if, not when.

The two men left.

Oliver, Digg and Felicity looked at each other. "I think," Oliver said, "that we should check into those photos sooner rather than later. I'd prefer it if we learn the identities of those two men before they do."

Felicity nodded. "We need to run the searches. There's a community college not far from here that has a pretty good datacenter," she explained to John. "There's not enough bandwidth at the bungalow to handle the facial recognition software, but we can go there and get them running."

"Sounds good," John agreed, rising from the sofa.

Felicity started walking toward the bedroom to get dressed, but stopped when Oliver didn't follow. Still standing at the kitchen counter, he said thoughtfully, "Why don't we divide and conquer? You two go to the college and I'll stay here and get on the phone with Cisco. He should have more information on the Palmer employees by now. Maybe we'll come up with some information that we can tie together."

It was a reasonable suggestion and not a bad idea, but there was something off in his voice. It was almost his needing time alone voice, not something Felicity would have expected from him now. She'd assumed he'd be suffocatingly overprotective until they figured this whole thing out. She looked at him quizzically.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

Oliver smiled reassuringly, "It's fine, I promise. I just want to figure this out as quickly as possible." He walked over and kissed her on the forehead.

She didn't believe him, but there wasn't much she could say. "Alright," she agreed slowly, "I'll get dressed and John and I can head to the college." She opened the bedroom door.

"Felicity?" Oliver's voice followed her.

She turned, "Yes?"

"I think you should let John drive the Porsche."


Oliver listened intently for any sound of a second car that might be following the Porsche. When he heard nothing, he tucked a gun in his jeans against the small of his back, poured two large mugs of coffee and stepped outside. He sat on the steps of the bungalow and stared at the ocean. It was almost exactly twenty-four hours since Felicity had been kidnapped. At this time yesterday, he had been returning from his run only to see the men grab her. Like yesterday, there were a handful of beachcombers along the shore, a few walking dogs and one or two others picking up shells and sea-glass as Felicity loved to do. It was very tranquil. He hoped it stayed that way.

He took a sip of coffee from one of the mugs, placing the second beside him on the step. "I wasn't sure how you take your coffee," he said conversationally, "so it's just black. I hope that's okay."

The man stepped around the corner of the bungalow and walked up to Oliver. He appeared to be unarmed and alone, but appearances could always be deceiving. "Black coffee is fine," he said mildly. "It's been a long night, I could use some."

Oliver wordlessly handed him the second mug. The man accepted it and took a long sip. There was something familiar about the way he closed his eyes when he swallowed. "Not bad," he said, "hits the spot."

He and Oliver studied one another. The man looked fifty-ish and very average – average height, average weight, wearing an average white shirt and blue pants. There was a decent amount of brown hair cut short on his head, and he had pale blue eyes that looked straight at Oliver, but almost without interest. The kind of man you'd pass a dozen times on the street and never give a second glance – not powerful and certainly not threatening. Oliver wondered exactly how many times they had passed him during the last six weeks.

If the man was unnerved by Oliver's appraisal, he didn't show it. "Mr. Queen, I appreciate the opportunity to talk with you like this," he began. "After what happened yesterday, I thought a change in tactics might be appropriate. I'm going to try persuasion rather than force." He chuckled suddenly. "Felicity turned out to be even more resourceful than I thought. She is quite an amazing woman." He paused, "And of course she has very good friends. Now that the three of you are on high alert…well…I'm not crazy about the violence that would be needed to take her. Someone might get seriously hurt. So…I thought I'd try a different approach." He said it in the same tone a person comparing paint samples on the wall might use when evaluating the colors.

Oliver felt anger burning deep in his belly as the man matter-of-factly discussed his kidnapping attempt, but did his best to bury it. He needed to keep his head clear. "Persuasion?" he asked slowly. "You think you can just convince us to give Felicity up to you?"

The man shrugged. "I think you should listen to my story," he said. "You might be surprised at what I have to say. After that, well….let's just take it one step at a time."

Oliver put his mug down. Keeping his voice neutral he said, "Maybe we should start with your name."

The man nodded, "If you wish. I've had several. The one that would probably mean the most to you is James – James Smoak."

Oliver said flatly, "Felicity's dad."

He nodded. "You don't seem surprised."

Oliver shrugged. "Someone's been watching us for weeks, ever since we left Starling. Every trip we made into town, all our picnics on the beach, we've never been completely alone. I figured whoever it was had a personal interest in one of us. If it were just about revenge or eliminating a threat, he or she could have made a dozen assassination attempts by now. I guessed someone wanted something." He sighed, "My mistake was assuming that it was from me." And if they were here, he thought, both Felicity and John would be giving him a lecture on self-centeredness when they heard that statement.

"But you didn't know it was Felicity's father."

Oliver shook his head, "No, I didn't know that." He looked up at James Smoak, the man who had walked away from his wife and daughter many years ago and felt his anger reignite. "If you wanted to see Felicity," he asked tersely, "why didn't you just call her? Why the kidnapping?"

James Smoak sighed, "You tell me. You know Felicity – you know her curiosity and her capability. If she had any interest in finding me – talking with me – don't you think she would have done so by now?" His voice was steady as he continued, "No, I'm quite certain she hates me. Otherwise, she would have already used her considerable talents to find me."

Oliver frowned and said brusquely, "She's hurt and angry. But I don't think Felicity's capable of hate." He stared up at Smoak, unable to comprehend the man. "She must have been an amazing child. I don't understand how you could have left her, no matter what the circumstances. You're her fucking father." He thought about Felicity's distrust and fear of desertion, the remnants of her life with James Smoak, and continued, "And I sure as hell don't understand what makes you think you have a right to interfere in her life now."

For a moment Smoak said nothing, just stared back at him with a sad smile on his face. Finally he gestured to the step next to Oliver. "Do you mind if I sit down? It was a long flight getting here and an even longer night hiding in the bushes. And then I had to wait til that very persistent police detective set off the motion sensors before I could get near the bungalow. I'm not as young as I used to be, and I'm very tired."

Oliver gazed out at the ocean and then shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Thank you." James Smoak closed his eyes briefly in relief, then lowered himself on the step next to Oliver. "Ahh, that feels good," he said softly. He took a deep swallow of coffee from his mug and set it aside. "I'm going to tell you a story," he continued, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd listen. After that…well…like I said, we'll see."

He looked toward Oliver as if anticipating another objection, but Oliver only raised his eyebrows and gestured for him to begin. Encouraged, Smoak opened his mouth but then suddenly paused. For the first time, Oliver thought he detected nervousness. He hated to admit it, but he was curious.

James Smoak took a deep breath. "I had a good childhood," he began, "a really good childhood. I had a younger sister and two parents who adored us, and each other. Of course no one's family is perfect, but ours was pretty close to it. We were happy."

Really? This was his story - he was starting with his childhood? Disappointed, Oliver almost laughed out loud. He was about to say this wasn't a therapy session and the man could go fuck himself when Smoak raised one hand to silence him.

"Please," he said, "this will make sense." He lowered his hand back to his lap, resting it lightly on his trousers. "When I was fifteen – older than Felicity was when I left her – my father left us." He stared out at the ocean and Oliver could tell he was remembering that day as vividly as if it were yesterday. "My mother, sister and I had gone to a local fair for the day. When we got back home he was gone, and he had eliminated all traces of himself – his clothes, photos, even his hairbrush. It was as if he had never existed."

Oliver looked at him and waited, interested again.

Smoak swallowed before continuing. "We were devastated. My mother must have spent a week in bed crying and my sister and I…for months we ran to the door every time we heard a car go down the street. The pain was worse than any physical trauma you could ever suffer."

And yet, thought Oliver, you inflicted that same pain on your own child. He shifted in his seat, angry at himself for wanting to hear more. He shouldn't be listening to this man's excuses.

As if reading Oliver's mind, Smoak continued hurriedly, "But people are resilient. It took a lot of time, but eventually we recovered and went on with our lives. My mother never remarried and I didn't see her smile much, but she got a job and she was functional. My sister and I finished school and went to college. We started careers. We both married. And in all that time, I never looked into my father's disappearance. It seemed better buried in the past."

He paused. There was an element of wonder in his voice when he said, "But then my wife and I had Felicity." He looked at Oliver and shook his head, genuinely amazed. "I can't explain it, but having children changes you. You'll find out if you have any of your own. It may sound stupid, but it gets you thinking about your heritage – about what came before and what's going to come after. I don't know exactly why, but after Felicity was born I suddenly became interested in figuring out what happened to my father. I wanted to be able to talk to her about her grandfather." He shook his head regretfully. "It would have been so much easier if I had never looked."

Inexplicably, Oliver felt a chill run up his spine.

"I started with record searches," James Smoak continued, "and hired a few private detectives. And then the internet started to take off and I had a whole new set of tools to hunt with. There was Interpol and the FBI and CIA to tap into. And there was ARGUS. I'm pretty good with computers – Felicity gets that from me – and I created automated searches and that pulsed every agency database out there." He turned and looked at Oliver, "It took me almost five years, but I found him."

Oliver sat forward on the edge of the step. He had a feeling an already sad story was about to get a whole lot darker. He looked at James Smoak expectantly.

"I found him," Smoak continued tiredly, "living in strange place called Nanda Parbat. I found him looking not one bit older than the day he'd left us, even though it had been almost twenty years. I found the kind, gentle and loving father that I'd remembered leading a League of Assassins, himself a ruthless killer." He stopped abruptly.

Oliver felt sick. "Ra's al Ghul," he whispered, all the while thinking there must be some mistake. It couldn't be that Felicity was related to….that Felicity's grandfather was….. He asked Smoak the question aloud - he couldn't help himself. "Ra's is – was – Felicity's grandfather?"

James Smoak nodded.

"Did he know?"

Smoak shook his head, his face becoming calmer. "No. I'm fairly certain he never even knew that I had a family or that I'd found him. Once he left us, he made sure there was never any connection." His voice was factual, devoid of bitterness. "I have a couple of contacts in the League now that I pay dearly to stay informed of any happenings. Imagine my surprise," he added dryly, "when I found out that my own daughter was in Nanda Parbat, the last place on earth I'd ever want her to be."

Oliver said nothing. He was, after all, the one responsible for bringing her there. For several moments he and Smoak stared at the beach. There were a few more people walking, although it was mostly an older crowd. Fall had arrived and the kids were back in school. Oliver wondered how much longer he and Felicity would really want to stay in the bungalow now that summer was over.

He looked at James Smoak. Despite his promise, the story still didn't really explain why the man had tried to kidnap Felicity, or even why he had left her as a child. It only proved that in the screwed-up father competition, he clearly had an edge. Oliver wanted better answers.

"Why now?" he demanded impatiently. "Why does any of this matter now? Ra's is dead and I no longer have anything to do with the League. Felicity could go the rest of her life without knowing this. So why the need to tell her, why the kidnapping?"

Smoak shook his head sadly, "That's a very naïve statement, Oliver. As you know, Malcolm Merlyn has taken over the League essentially by force – the two of you staged a coup when you handed him that ring. Many League members are not pleased - there are a number who will only give their allegiance to Ra's bloodline, not some usurper. Merlyn knows this."

Oliver frowned, "Then they have Nyssa. She and Malcolm can do battle for leadership of the League. If there are members who support the bloodline, she should have plenty of allies."

Smoak shook his head again, "Although of his bloodline, Nyssa is not respected by all. While she's an excellent warrior, she's perceived by many to be impulsive and emotionally weak. Your marriage to her would have been the perfect answer – your strengths as a leader combined with your offspring having Ra's blood. It was a good solution, from the League's perspective."

He paused, then turned to face Oliver. For the first time, there was anger in his voice. "But you upset all their plans when you left and put Merlyn in your place. And I'm afraid now," he said tersely, "that Felicity's heritage will not stay a secret. They are ageing, but there are a few old men in the League who know Ra's had another family many years ago. They may decide to look, and it's possible they may find me. And if they find me, they will find her." He laughed bitterly, "It would be ironic, wouldn't it, for them to find that their Al Sahim was with a woman of Ra's bloodline after all. Some might think it fate."

Smoak looked at Oliver, his face harsh. "The day I found out who my father was, was the day I left Felicity and her mother. When I learned about the League, I knew the best thing I could ever do was erase any connection between Ra's and my family, just as he had tried to erase any connection to his. And now that connection is in danger of being discovered." He clenched his fist. "And that is why I tried to kidnap Felicity - to warn her, to keep her safe." He added almost defensively, "Is that a good enough explanation for you?"

Oliver shook his head helplessly. He had no rebuttal – couldn't find a damn thing to say. And he felt a heaviness in his heart as he realized that the calm and stable life he had imagined for Felicity and himself had evaporated with this man's account.

Smoak turned to look back at the ocean. "When I kidnapped her," he said in a calmer voice, "I had planned to tell her this entire story, just as I have told it to you. I wanted to convince her to start a new life, under a new name; away from Starling, away from Coast city - and away from you."

Oliver said dryly. "I don't think she would have gone willingly."

Smoak nodded, "I thought the same. But I would have told her that this was for your benefit as well. That by being with her, you were always going to be on the League's radar, and if she left – well, then you'd be safer, too. It might have worked. She clearly loves you that much."

He was right. Oliver sat back, nonplussed. He wanted to be furious with James Smoak - to tell him that he should have fought for his family rather than leave them all those years ago, that there had to have been another solution - but the words wouldn't come. He thought about the times he had been willing to walk away from Felicity for reasons that weren't even as good - reasons that, in reality, were more selfish - and it was hard to find fault. This man had done what he thought was necessary to protect his daughter, and Oliver was certain that his pain had been every bit as great as hers. Worse, in a way, because he had always kept thinking about her.

Smoak smiled sadly, "I've followed her for her entire life, you know. She's brilliant, but she's always been something of a danger magnet. First there was that asshole boyfriend of hers in college." He sounded like any worried father. "I managed to convince the NSA to take him, just to get him away from her. Then there was the job for the startup in Boston – her boss was equally bad news—but fortunately she wasn't there long." Oliver sat up. Felicity had never mentioned a job in Boston. Smoak continued, oblivious to Oliver's reaction, "And then she gets to Starling and meets you and Mr. Diggle. The next thing I know she's the Vigilante's tech support, on speed dial with the police."

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "For a while, I thought she might end up with John Diggle. The two of them spent an awful lot of time together. I liked him for her – he's dependable and tough, and has more common sense than all her other boyfriends put together – but it was you from the moment she met you. I wasn't happy but I could have left well enough alone, until you had to go and hook up with the League." He shook his head.

Oliver didn't know how to respond. There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sound of the waves breaking against the shore and sweeping back out to sea. There were so many thoughts swirling around his head that he wasn't sure which one to focus on first. He settled on thinking about Felicity's reaction to the news that he had killed her grandfather. Oddly, he didn't think it would bother her that much. That is, if he told her.

"So," James Smoak said gently, intruding into his thoughts, "What happens next?"

Oliver shrugged, "I don't know. Are you still going to try to tell her about this?"

Smoak shook his head, "No, I don't think so. I'll leave it up to you to tell her as much or as little of the story as you wish. You two clearly are not some short-term fling and trying to separate you was a mistake. If you both decide you want to disappear, well then I'll be happy to help."

"Don't you want to stay and meet her?"

Smoak's eyes were bright as he glanced briefly at Oliver. "More than anything, but I don't think it's a good idea."

"How do we get a hold of you if we want to take you up on your offer?" Oliver asked.

Smoak shrugged, "I'll find you."

And with that James Smoak got up and walked slowly away from the bungalow, leaving Oliver alone with his thoughts.


A/N:

Thanks to folks who are sticking with this story. Your fav's and follows are appreciated. I have a job that is full-time and then some, and have been getting up to write before work. Although I'm enjoying writing, there are mornings where the thought that someone might be looking forward to the next chapter is the only thing that keeps me from hitting the snooze button.. - Boston-