AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm not a lawyer or a cop, so everything in here might be inaccurate. Let's just pretend it's not.
Felicity thought it was cold in the SCPD bullpen, but no one else seemed to. Maybe it was just the adrenaline running through her system, or the cold metal cuffs that were currently banded around her wrists. Whatever the reason, she couldn't stop shivering.
The room was crowded and noisy, with detectives bustling around and phones ringing shrilly every few minutes. Felicity was used to working through a fair number of distractions, but the commotion of the room was too much. She wasn't sure how anyone was getting their work done.
So far, being arrested sucked. She sat in an uncomfortable chair at the end of a desk and watched in horror as a deputy she'd never met before slowly typed out her name on his keyboard with one hand. If they'd been at QC she'd have just shoved him out of the way and done it herself. She didn't think that would go over so well here.
The deputy looked up at her. "S-M-O-K-E?"
It was the third time he'd asked. "No," Felicity sighed. "S-M-O-A-K."
He nodded and went back to his pecking.
The television in the corner was tuned into CNN and, when their coverage jumped from a storm in Missouri to the death of Sebastian Blood, Felicity fully focused her attention on the screen. There was file footage from the night before, along with images from the past few months of Blood on the campaign trail. There were several pictures of him and Oliver together, and Felicity was surprised to see how much time it seemed the two had spent together. Oliver had liked the other man, but the coverage made it seem like they were much closer than they were.
A small countdown clock went up in the lower corner of the screen as the anchor announced the coroner was releasing the findings of the autopsy in fifteen minutes. Felicity didn't know what the big deal was. He'd clearly died from his gunshot wound. She'd watched the security footage from the hotel and there'd been hundreds of witnesses. What more was there to talk about?
The camera cut back to another photo of Oliver and Sebastian, this time somewhere downtown. It might have been on the day of the gun exchange, but Felicity couldn't quite remember.
The deputy abruptly pushed back from his desk and nodded at her to stand just as a banner popped up beneath the photo. 'Drug Connection?' it asked.
The deputy tapped his foot. "Ma'am?"
"Just a sec." Felicity craned her neck to look around the officer as he stepped in front of her.
"That's not how things work around here." The officer said, tugging her up by her arm a little bit roughly.
The next hour passed in a blur as she was photographed, fingerprinted, and taken through the standard procedure of being booked. It was mortifying. Eventually she was led into what she was fairly sure was the same interview room Detective Lance had questioned her in the year before. Somehow she didn't think she was going to walk out again so easily.
The deputy led her to the chair and when he unlocked the cuffs, Felicity rubbed at her wrists idly.
"First time in handcuffs?" the deputy asked.
"Do fur lined ones count?"
The metal bands slipped from the deputy's fingers and clanged down noisily onto the table. His cheeks turned bright red and as he hastily scooped them back up a middle aged woman in a black suit strode into the room. "That's enough talking from you," she commanded, pointing at Felicity. The deputy scampered out the door.
The woman made her way over to Felicity's side and sat down. "My name is Margaret Brent and I'll be serving as your council," she said, pulling a yellow legal pad from her briefcase before placing it down between their chairs. "Oliver Queen says you have a tendency to say more than you mean to, so in this room you don't speak without thinking and even then you wait for my permission."
Felicity nodded. The odds weren't high that she'd manage to do so, but it seemed like sound advice.
A detective walked into the room and Laurel Lance followed directly behind him with her shiny hair and her perfectly tailored navy suit. Felicity felt a small prick to her ego. She'd been allowed to change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before being hauled out of her townhouse, but her hair was a mess and she didn't have a stitch of makeup on. She'd have given anything for a tube of lipstick.
Laurel sat down directly across from Felicity, but didn't look at her. "I didn't expect to see you, Ms. Brent."
"Call me Margaret, Laurel. There's no need to be so formal, especially with charges as ridiculous as these."
Laurel smiled. "The D.A.'s office doesn't think they're ridiculous at all."
Felicity laughed nervously and both women turned to face her.
"Something funny, Miss Smoak?"
"N-no," Felicity stammered. "I mean, there's nothing funny about Sebastian Blood dying. It's just that you said that so confidently when he was killed in front of hundreds of witnesses and I wasn't even there. And it's not like I'm a prime candidate for murder anyway. I've only ridden in the backseat of a police car a handful of times. Which sounds like a lot now that I've said it, but it was never for killing someone. I don't even like killing spiders. It's just bad karma. Not that I'm a Buddhist. I'm Jewish, actually."
Laurel stared at her blankly. "Well, let's see how funny you find it when I send you to prison."
Felicity swallowed hard, her hands curling and then uncurling against her knees.
"Really, Laurel," Margaret chided. "There's no need for theatrics." Felicity's attorney shook her head. "Why don't you just tell us what you've got?"
What they had were photos of her. Pictures of Felicity in the warehouse the night she'd gone to meet Slade and pictures of her and the Count from the QC security cameras the night he'd held her hostage. The angles on the photos didn't make the circumstances clear and she couldn't really offer up much of an explanation as to why she'd been there. It looked like she and he had been arguing, and the detective slowly started to build the case that she'd taken The Count out that night in order to take over his business.
Then Laurel showed them transcripts of her conversations from the deep web, which shouldn't even have been possible. Felicity had logged on through TOR, she'd used VPN's, and she'd changed her handles frequently, but multiple conversations that should have disappeared into the ether were now sitting in front of her, printed out in black and white. Some of them had been altered, but most seemed accurate. She was talking about Mirakuru, which the detective was very curious about, and then MDMA and lithium and about thirty other drugs that she'd thought might counter the anger and rage her friends were experiencing.
There were other conversations too though, conversations that were completely fabricated, conversations between her and Blood where he told her he would give her and her associates the Glades when he became mayor, conversations where Oliver asked her to bring him a pick me up, even one where Thea asked her to bring "supplies" to the club.
Most disturbingly there were screen grabs from a hidden camera that had recorded footage of her at home, sitting at her computer, typing away as she sang or ate ice cream. Screen grabs that were time-stamped to match the transcripts. She'd have thought it was impossible, except that it clearly wasn't. Someone had been in her computer tracking her activity and filming her every move. The only clear thought she'd had since she'd been arrested was that someone had spying on her. She'd have been horrified if she weren't so outraged.
She'd told Oliver that he'd gotten too cocky, but sitting there listening to the evidence as it was laid out before her, she wondered if she had as well. She was practically itching to get her hands on her babies so she could see how badly they'd been compromised. There hadn't been any footage of her at the Foundry, but that didn't mean there wasn't any out there. For now though, she could take a small measure of comfort knowing that Diggle, Sara, and Oliver were safe.
The detective slowly began weaving a tale that had Felicity's heart hammering away in her chest. The State was theorizing that she had helped Blood amass a drug empire in the Glades. That she'd helped launder the money they'd made so he could use it for his campaign and that she'd ultimately turned on him, deciding that she wanted to take over the business herself.
As the detective spoke, the events from the night before began to sound more and more like science fiction. Sebastian Blood, he explained, had not in fact died from a gunshot. The bullet had pierced his skin and he'd suffered blood loss, but there had been no tissue or organ damage from the wound and when they'd lifted the body the bullet had simply fallen out of him. What had stopped his heart was a potent mix of MDMA, heroin, and an unknown substance they hadn't been able to identify. "I suspect we'll find it's this Mirakuru, you were so interested in," the detective snarled.
Felicity sat back in her seat, wondering what else they might uncover if they dug deep enough. She quickly ran over the list of things she'd been doing the past month that might also end up landing her in prison and was surprised to realize how long it was. She usually tried to keep herself to less than five felonies at a time, but she'd been a busy little bee that month. Still murder and drug trafficking weren't amongst her transgressions. Well, a little bit of drug trafficking.
Felicity stared at one of the pictures of herself at her computer and tried her best not to panic, but it was no use. Every time she looked up the room felt smaller and it was definitely getting warmer. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck as the detective eyed her knowingly.
"The thing is Miss Smoak, you seem like a nice girl. Now this guy," he said, sliding a photo of Oliver towards her, "this guy seems like the kind of guy who might have found himself in over his head. And maybe he turned to you for help, and you, being such a nice girl, got pulled into something you didn't fully understand."
Felicity's eyes flew to Laurel, whose own eyes had grown impossibly large as they focused on the photo. She'd sat across from Felicity calmly the whole time the charges were being leveled at her, but now there was an edge of panic to her. For all the steely determination she'd displayed there was now something sad there, something delicate and vulnerable in the way she eyed the photo. The elder Lance sister reached for the picture and then caught herself, her shaking hand falling down to the table gracelessly. There might not have been a sense of loyalty between Felicity and her, but it seemed there was still a protective instinct for her former love. Just as quickly as it had shown itself, though, it seemed to be evaporate.
"Is Oliver Queen involved in your operation?" Laurel asked, her hand shaking on the table.
Maybe Felicity was reading too much into the woman's reaction. Maybe Laurel was just desperate for a drink.
Margaret Brent placed a warning hand on Felicity's arm. "That's quite a story you've built up. But I still don't see any solid or admissible evidence you can hold my client on. I suggest you release Miss Smoak immediately."
"We have thirty six hours," Laurel said, rising from her seat. "And we intend to use them. The police are searching Miss Smoak's home now. We'll let you know what we find."
Laurel filed out of the room without looking back, but the Detective lingered. "He won't protect you," he said, pushing another photo of Oliver towards her as he stood. "And I suspect the deal will go to whoever flips first." He walked to the door and opened it. "Think about what you want the next twenty years of your life to look like, Miss Smoak."
When the door closed behind him, Felicity stared at Oliver's image. They were in a lot more trouble than she'd thought.
"Hey, kiddo." Felicity looked up from the bench in the cell she was being held in and smiled at Officer Lance. "I brought you something to eat." He held up a paper bag and shook it as he pushed a key into the lock.
The door slid open with a metallic shriek and then banged shut just as noisily once he was inside. "How you holding up?"
She shrugged as he plopped down on the bench. "I've had better days." She had no idea how long she'd been held for at that point, but she was exhausted. Her lawyer had assured her the evidence was circumstantial and she wouldn't end up being charged, but the DA's office wasn't acting like it. "You sure you should be in here?"
"Eh, I'll take my chances. It's not like I'm the most popular guy out there anyway." He slid a little closer to her, placing a file he'd been carrying onto his lap as he reached into the bag. "Chicken salad. Hope you're not a vegetarian." She shook her head no as he handed over a sandwich. "So, drug trafficking huh? Want to tell me what's going on?"
"My lawyer says I shouldn't talk about this to the cops," she said, taking the sandwich eagerly and unwrapping it.
"Well, and don't tell Laurel I said this, but lawyers say a lot of stupid stuff."
"I didn't do it," she said. "You know that right? I mean, I'm assuming you don't usually bring guilty people snacks." She took a bite and smiled in relief. It was much better than the baloney they'd offered her earlier.
"Yeah, somehow I don't really see you or your friend as people who'd suddenly take up trafficking drugs into town for a profit. Call me crazy, but I'm not ready to label you a drug kingpin just yet."
She swallowed and then nodded. "I'm definitely not. I've only ever trafficked drugs in for research."
Lance froze and then closed his eyes. "Okay," he began, "So this would be the time to maybe listen to that lawyer." He opened his eyes and met hers. "Do me a favor and say the word allegedly."
"Allegedly."
"Thanks."
"I didn't have anything to with Sebastian Blood though, allegedly or not. I hardly ever spoke to him."
"Well someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make us think otherwise."
"You know all that stuff they said about Oliver and his club isn't true either, right? He didn't bump me up to be his EA as a way to cover that I was supplying Verdant with drugs."
Lance shifted a little. "He's not the same kid who left on that boat, but if I didn't know you, I could believe it."
She shook her head. "Well you shouldn't. I can't say how he was in the past, but he'd never do anything like that now."
"You guys are close, huh? Do you know anything about what's going on between him and my daughter?"
Felicity choked a little on the sandwich. "What do you mean?"
"Come on. I know something's up, they were always together when she first came back but now I barely see her with him anymore. She's been moody and she spends all her free time looking into that contributor from Moira's campaign."
She hadn't expected him to know about Slade. "Slade Wilson?"
"Yeah, that's the guy. Everyone's talking about him like the sun shines out of his ass, but she says he's dangerous. She's all bent out of shape about it. You didn't know she was looking into him?"
"I did. I just didn't know you knew."
Lance eyed her for a moment. "Look, you're close with the Arrow and Sara. Any idea what's going on with them? I mean, I'm not complaining about the collars they're handing me, but some of these guys have really been through the wringer. She brought a guy in for me tonight, and trust me, he was no saint, but it's been a while since I had to ask myself if Sara and I were making the right choice by helping your friend."
"I haven't really heard from her. Or him."
"You haven't talked to the Arrow?" he paused, eyeing her suspiciously again, as if he thought she was playing a game with him. He hadn't looked at her like that since he'd had her in the box all those months ago. "What about Oliver? He say anything when you're at the office? Does he think Sara's been acting strange at all?"
She shook her head. "He hasn't been at the office for the past few weeks. He's been focusing on his mom's campaign." Lance's eyes flashed in irritation and Felicity felt herself flush. It was unfair to still be lying to him.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Smoak," Lance said, handing her the file. "Because, I'm worried about my daughter."
"What's this?" she asked, opening the folder. Her eyes skimmed over the opening page until they settled on the picture of a man at the bottom. Her mouth went dry.
"A photographer we found a few weeks back. One of those paparazzi guys you filed a complaint about. His neck was broken."
"Oh." The file felt hot in her fingers as she snapped it shut. "Why are you showing this to me?"
Lance ran a hand over his face. "Because we found synthetic blonde hair from a wig at the scene." Her eyes rounded. "You know anything about that?"
She felt a strong urge to tell him. Maybe he already knew anyway, so what would the harm be? It would be nice to talk to someone about what had happened; she might even stop waking up in the middle of the night in a panic about it if she did. Felicity opened her mouth, but then snapped it shut, remembering how frightened Sara had been before she'd officially returned and how badly she'd wanted to keep her violent past from her family. "No. No I don't know anything about it."
"Yeah, well, somebody needs to start talking. I keep finding these hairs all over town. I'm guessing if I took my daughter's get up in for analysis they'd be a match."
A chill ran through her. "What do you mean, all over town?"
"Those cases I gave you- the ones with the guys down by the docks?" Felicity nodded. "Synthetic blonde hairs at every crime scene. One guy had a fistful in his hand." Lance looked tired, she realized. Tired and older.
"And you think Sara's involved in their deaths?"
"Don't you?"
She was starting to now. "I'm not sure."
"Look, I know my daughter. She's not just killing people randomly. If she and the Arrow are taking things up to this level maybe it's because these guys are from the Assassin's Brigade. Are they trying to take her again? I can't help to protect her if you guys don't fill me in."
"The League of Assassins," Felicity mumbled softly, her mind reeling.
"What?"
"The League of Assassins." Her voice grew more focused. "I'm not, like, a stickler for those kinds of details, but I get the feeling their members might be. And you know, there could be an Assassin's Brigade out there. I don't want us to be confused down the road."
"I don't care what they're called. Are they coming for Sara?"
She shook her head. "Not as far as I know."
"Then she's keeping something else from me." Lance collapsed back against the wall.
"You know, there was a time when she used to tell me everything. She couldn't keep her mouth shut. Laurel was the secretive one." The detective shook his head. "Do yourself a favor, sweetheart- don't have kids. All they do is break your heart."
Felicity watched him for a moment, her perspective on his role in her life suddenly shifting. She'd never really considered why he'd actively started helping them. She guessed she'd chalked it up to his sense of justice and his understanding that things could get bad in a city when the rot spread down from above, but it was clear to her that she'd missed the most important reason- he was looking out for his daughter. Sometimes she forgot that she didn't know what a father's love for his child actually looked like, but she could see it now, plain as day on this man sitting next to her. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sara. "How much do you know about the time they spent on that island?" he asked, looking up at her hopefully.
"Not much, really." It wasn't exactly a lie.
"Maybe we can swap some info."
She shook her head. Lance was an ally, and she'd like to tell him everything, but it wasn't her secret. She saw his eyes darken and she felt guilty. Not as guilty as she'd feel if she accidentally let something slip that Sara or Oliver would be upset by though.
He stood abruptly and she understood that she'd drawn a line between them, a line that made it clear that they still didn't trust him. A line she thought they might regret later. His fingers balled into fists at his side. "Fine. I don't have to know everything, god knows I'm getting used to it, but I need you to let me know if there is anything I can do. Do you understand?" She nodded.
"Good." He pulled the file from her fingers and she followed behind him as he made his way out. He stopped, turning to face her as he slid the door of the cell back to leave. "I don't know what's going on with you and the Arrow, but Sara's a good kid and there must be a reason she's doing what she's doing. If she won't come to me then I need you to find out what's going on. My daughter's been helping you- now you need to help her, Miss Smoak."
She found herself nodding without thinking. "I will."
Lance stepped out and then locked the cell. Felicity rested her head against the cool metal bars and stood for a long while after he'd left, wondering exactly when it was that her entire life had spun so wildly out of control.
The sad thing was that she knew. It was her fault. She'd brought the Mirakuru into their lives and now it was her responsibility to save them from the mess she'd gotten them into.
But first, she needed someone to save her.
She lay awake most of the night, half expecting the wall behind her to suddenly explode, or for Diggle to walk in dressed like a cop and break her out.
There was a change of shift at six am and she watched as the new guard plopped himself into his chair and leaned back with his eyes closed. His loud snores filled the small space within minutes and Felicity felt more relief than irritation. Team Arrow could come bust her out at any time. It would be the easiest mission they'd ever had.
"Come get me, guys," she whispered.
They didn't.
