Oliver wasn't a huge fan of swearing - which, on the surface, might seem a little out of character. He was, after all, a tough and single-minded man, prone to using violence to resolve dangerous predicaments. He didn't dwell on nuances, he sure as hell didn't favor diplomacy, and he was rarely afraid of offending people…other than his wife.

Still, he'd never been one to sprinkle four letter words liberally in his sentences and he disliked the custom of using the f-bomb as a substitute for very. F-ing huge, f-ing, great, f-ing awful…it rendered the word meaningless. He liked to save cursing for the moments that really called for it.

And in his opinion, this moment called for it.

He was holding Felicity, with Emma Whitmore standing behind him and aiming a Glock at his back. On his other side, a perfect one hundred and eighty degrees opposite Emma, was one of the men who had just chased Felicity, also pointing a Glock. The arrangement made him and Felicity the filling in a Glock sandwich. It was a situation he might have been able to accept for himself but couldn't tolerate for his wife.

So he did what any caring and devoted husband would do.

He cursed. "Fuck!"

And then he pushed his wife to the ground; as gently as he could, but evidently hard enough to make a soft oof escape her lips and force the big skirt she was wearing to briefly swell upward, like a parachute right before touchdown. He dove over her and pressed his chest to her back, but found it difficult to shield the lower half of her body due to some kind of cage that was under her skirt and over her backside. He shifted several times in an effort to improve contact and failed miserably.

He lowered his head to her ear. "What on earth are you wearing?" he murmured.

Felicity mumbled something he couldn't quite catch.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's called a bustle," Felicity said in a louder voice. "Women in the 1880s wore them under their skirts to accentuate their asses."

"But your ass is perfect just as it is. It doesn't need accentuation. And why are you dressed in 1880's clothes, anyway?"

She sighed. "It's a long story…which, if we both stay alive, I promise to tell you."

Her words were a chilling reminder of their tenuous situation and Oliver turned his attention back to options for protecting her. Unfortunately, there weren't many. He'd spread his body as completely as he could over Felicity, but knew in his heart that it wasn't going to make a difference. Despite all the blood she'd lost, Emma Whitmore was pointing her gun with ease and the man opposite her appeared equally as determined. From this range, the bullet from a Glock would go straight through Oliver and into Felicity, making them both sitting ducks. It would be horribly unfair, Oliver thought, to finally reunite with his wife in 1884, only to be killed by gunfire.

Still, no one had actually fired yet…which suggested there were other factors in play.

He leaned to his right and looked over his shoulder. The steady stream of pedestrians in Central Park had vanished, leaving Emma and the man facing each other with only a handful of witnesses. The expressions on the pair were angry, but also cautious - and maybe even a little respectful. Oliver was certain there was history between them. They had faced off before, he guessed, with mixed results. To his surprise – and relief – they were speaking to each other and weren't sparing a glance for him and Felicity.

He breathed out – just a little.

"They're not aiming at us," he said into Felicity's ear.

She nodded – as much as it was possible for anyone to nod when lying face-down on the ground. "I didn't think Wyatt would shoot me. I wasn't sure how he was going to react to you, especially looking the way you are. I told them I was married to Oliver Queen. I didn't tell them you were The Green Arrow. I honestly didn't think you'd make it to the 1880s…and I definitely didn't think you would come in the suit."

Oliver pressed his nose into her hair. "I had to steal a time ship to get to you. Doing it as The Green Arrow felt like the best option. I thought I'd put the fear of God into them."

"I see."

And then Oliver thought about what she'd just said. Wyatt. He'd heard the name a couple of times in discussion with Jiya, although not nearly as often as Rufus. Wyatt-with-the-Glock was part of Agent Christopher's team, he realized. It was unlikely there were two time-traveling Wyatts.

He put his mouth next to Felicity's ear again. "So that's Wyatt? Then I'm guessing the other guy who chased you is Rufus."

She nodded awkwardly once more. "Yeah - Wyatt's the guy with the Glock and Rufus is the other guy. How'd you know that?"

"I met a friend of theirs when I was trying to find a time machine and she mentioned that her team included a Wyatt and a Rufus." He squeezed Felicity's shoulder and grinned. "And I think she and I just managed to kill two birds with one stone."

"You're going to have to explain that one a little more, Oliver."

"She and I stole a time machine and came to 1884 together," he clarified, "although for different reasons. I was looking for you and she was looking for her team. And it turns out you're both in the same place."

Felicity frowned. "And now she's pointing a gun at Wyatt? Some friend."

Oliver looked up to assess the state of the Wyatt-Emma standoff and saw that, sure enough, Emma was still aiming her pistol at the man. The two were engaged in some kind of I'll lower mine if you lower yours dialogue.

He shook his head. "The woman with the gun is not the friend. She's the woman who has the time machine that we stole."

Felicity's brow creased as she absorbed this information. "Oh."

"The friend's name is Jiya," Oliver continued. He craned his neck to broaden his view. "She's standing next to Rufus now." Indeed, Jiya was pressed to Rufus's side, as if she needed the physical contact to assure herself that he was alive and well. Oliver could understand that. He felt the same about touching Felicity.

His wife, on the other hand, shifted uneasily under him. The movement caused him check once more for threats, and seeing none, made him wonder if he was simply getting heavy. She'd never minded his weight before, but then he usually rested his bulk on her under pleasanter circumstances. He lifted himself on one elbow to provide relief and laid his other hand on her ribcage.

She took advantage of the move to turn her head and study Emma.

"So who is the woman with the Glock, then? And why does she have a time machine?"

Oliver followed her gaze. "Her name is Emma Whitmore. She's part of some wingnut organization called Rittenhouse that wants to take over the world. One of their tactics is to go back in time and change history. That's why she has a time machine."

"She's Rittenhouse?"

"Yeah. You've heard of it?"

Felicity exhaled loudly. "I learned about it yesterday. Now I understand why Wyatt is pointing his gun at her. He hates Rittenhouse."

"They're not too high on my list, either."

"Is that why you shot her? I see she has a bandage on her arm."

Oliver shook his head. "I didn't shoot her. One of her own team members did - by mistake."

She smiled. "Nice team." Then her smile faded. "Why did you bring her?" It was a genuine question, not a criticism. Felicity sounded as if she were examining the pieces of a puzzle prior to putting them together.

Oliver squeezed her shoulder again. "She's here because she has a time machine and she knows how to fly it," he explained. "It was way too complicated for me to figure out."

"Ah. Makes sense."

Suddenly Felicity gasped and stiffened.

He felt her fear flow into him. "What is it?" he asked, anxiously scanning the area for new dangers.

"Please tell me that's not your mother standing near Emma."

Oliver followed her gaze once again and saw that Carol Preston had moved nearer to them. He felt an unexpected urge to smile; Felicity appeared more frightened of his mother than she'd been of the Glocks.

He rubbed his hand reassuringly along her ribcage. "It's not Mom."

"You're sure? Then it's the woman who looks like her? Lucy's mother?"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the back of her neck. It wasn't the right time for the kiss but he couldn't help himself; he was so relieved to be holding her again. "You know about that, too? You have been busy."

"I've been stuck in 1884 for a day, Oliver, and I've been trying to find ways to get home. I met a group of time travelers and - somewhere along the line - saw a photo of a woman who looks very much like your mother, so I asked about it."

He felt a small surge of pride. Trust Felicity not to wait to be rescued. "I knew you wouldn't sit back and do nothing," he murmured appreciatively.

She reached out awkwardly from under him and squeezed his forearm. "It must be strange for you – seeing her."

"It's weird," he admitted, grateful for her empathy. He caressed her ribs once more. Her waist felt unfamiliar – rigid and unyielding. "Felicity?"

"Hmm?"

"What on earth are you wearing on your top half? It feels like armor under there."

She sighed. "A corset. Another instrument of torture that women imposed upon themselves in the nineteenth century."

"Is it bulletproof?"

For the first time since they'd reunited, she chuckled. "No. It just seems that way."

"Damn. Then what's the point?"

"I'm not sure really. I think the point is to shrink the waist. They liked little waists and big butts in the nineteenth century."

"Well, I'm glad we don't live in the nineteenth century. Bustles…corsets... How in hell do guys manage to cop a feel?"

She laughed again. The sound truly was music to his ears. "These are different times, Oliver. I don't think guys are as interested in copping feels."

He shook his head. "Guys always want to cop a feel. There are paintings on cave walls that show Neanderthals doing it."

"Well, I think I can safely promise you that when we get back home, I will never wear a corset again and you can cop all the feels you like."

He grinned. "I'm going to hold you to that promise." He looked up and saw that Wyatt had lowered his arm to his side, although the man was still gripping the Glock with white knuckles and glaring at Emma. "Speaking of getting home," Oliver continued, "maybe we should get to our feet and see what we can do to move that process along."

She hesitated and the smile disappeared from her face. "Okay."

Her response was less enthusiastic than he would have expected and he wondered what was going on in her busy mind. There must be something about their situation that he wasn't aware of, he thought; some snag she hadn't yet told him about. Whatever it was, he decided he wanted to learn about it when they were both upright and he had his bow in his hand. It would give them more options.

He rolled off of her and stood; then reached down to help Felicity up. She got to her feet awkwardly, struggling with her long, full skirt. When Oliver was satisfied she was steady, he tugged on her hand to pull them out of the line of fire between Emma and Wyatt. Then he retrieved his bow and returned to her side. The result was that the group was now standing in a circle, loosely arranged in pairs; Jiya was next to Rufus, the dark-haired woman who had been walking with Felicity was next to Wyatt, Carol was beside Emma, and Oliver stood by Felicity. Everyone except Oliver and Jiya was in 1880s clothing, making the group appear like a twisted scene from a period movie; a nineteenth century garden party that had somehow gotten tangled up with Glocks and the Arrow suit.

Emma turned her glare from Wyatt to Oliver.

"So," she said sarcastically, "you wanted to go to 1884 to recover your tech guy?" She had also lowered her gun but appeared poised to raise it again at the slightest provocation. "Silly me - I was picturing a scientist like Rufus, here. I wasn't expecting Blondie." She grinned maliciously. "Hell, if the two of you were down on the ground any longer I was going to tell you to get a room."

Oliver shrugged. "Felicity is my tech support. She also happens to be my wife."

"You're married," Carol Preston stated. "I must have missed that in my research." She sounded disappointed.

Emma laughed. "Oh dear, Carol. I guess that means he won't be making Rittenhouse babies with Lucy after all."

"What?"

The exclamation came simultaneously from Felicity, Wyatt and the dark-haired woman. She must be Lucy, Oliver thought, eyeing the woman curiously. My cousin.

Emma laughed again and addressed Lucy directly. "What's the matter? You thought you were the only Rittenhouse royalty around here, Princess? Well, meet Prince Oliver. You and he share a great-grandpa."

Lucy narrowed her eyes at Emma before turning to Oliver.

"Is it true?" she asked.

It was a lousy way for her to hear the news – from a bitch like Emma. He could feel everyone's eyes staring at him expectantly - Felicity's, most of all. "I think so," he replied. "When Jiya and I were," he paused, "borrowing the Mothership, I met another member of Rittenhouse – Nicholas Something or Other. He looks young, but he was really born before World War I. He told me he is my mother's grandfather - and then explained how. He has no reason to lie about it."

Wyatt snorted. "Nicholas Keynes – you met Nicholas Keynes. And he has every reason to lie – he'll do anything to advance Rittenhouse's vision of the world. He'd love to have you buy into the bullshit that you belong to some elite group and then talk you into fighting for them, especially since The Green Arrow is such a good fighter…which is who you are, right?" When Oliver nodded, Wyatt added, "Felicity told us about her husband, Oliver Queen, but failed to mention that he had another identity." There was no rancor in his tone. He almost sounded amused.

Oliver reached down and grasped Felicity's hand. "We all have secrets. Does everyone in your families know that you travel in time?" He gestured at Wyatt, Lucy, Rufus and Jiya.

Lucy looked at Carol. "They certainly do in mine, but I think I'm the exception." She pushed a few strands of dark hair off her face. "Was Nicholas telling the truth, Mom? Are we related to Oliver's mother…and to Oliver?"

Her tone was both suspicious and hopeful, and Oliver understood immediately. Lucy wasn't hoping he was her relative so much as she was hoping her mother would tell her the truth. There was doubt in her voice but he could tell she hadn't given up entirely on their relationship - she wanted to believe Carol would be honest with her. It was so similar to his own relationship with his mother that he immediately felt kinship with Lucy.

Carol held out her hands. "You know as much as I do, Lucy. I heard the story for the first time when Nicholas told Oliver. He never said anything to me before. I certainly would have told you if I'd learned we had family."

She sounded truthful, but Oliver didn't know if that was a good enough reason to believe her. His own mother had been an accomplished liar and he suspected it was a trait she shared with Carol.

Lucy bit her lip and didn't reply. She turned to Jiya. "You were there when Nicholas spoke to Oliver?"

Jiya nodded.

"So, what do you think?" Lucy continued.

Jiya hesitated. "I can't vouch for Nicholas's truthfulness," she replied slowly, "but I can speak to Oliver's reaction when he saw Carol. He called her Mom and almost dropped his bow. The two women must look very much alike." She gave Oliver an apologetic glance, as if to say, sorry for letting them know that even The Green Arrow has human moments.

He smiled at her to signal that he was okay with it.

"Felicity had the same reaction when she saw the picture in your locket," Wyatt offered to Lucy. "She thought she was looking at a picture of her mother-in-law – remember?"

Lucy nodded.

"Meaning it's likely the two women share DNA." Rufus spoke for the first time. "Well that - or something really weird happened to the space-time continuum and Lucy's mom managed to duplicate herself."

The group stared at him in silence.

"Oh, for God's sake, that was a joke," he explained. As Jiya gave him an annoyed look he added, "And judging by your expressions, not a very good one."

"No," Wyatt agreed soberly. "One Carol Preston is more than enough for me." He glanced down at the Glock in his hand as if debating whether to holster it, and then left it where it was. "So," he continued, "we think Oliver, aka The Green Arrow, really could be Lucy's relative…and a descendant of David Rittenhouse?" He spoke to the group in general but his gaze was fixed on Lucy.

Lucy returned the gaze with warmth and reached out to squeeze his hand. After a moment, she turned to study Oliver. She had lovely eyes; dark, intelligent and experienced. She'd seen a thing or two, he thought, in her time travels. And judging by the gun Wyatt carried, she'd also survived some hairy situations. She was tough, he guessed – tougher than she appeared.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

She pursed her lips. "I'm not sure yet. It's kind of a shock. You've had more time to absorb the news —what do you think?"

Oliver looked down at Felicity. They were still holding hands, and she tightened her grasp as she gave him an encouraging smile. "I think I'm happy about it," he said truthfully. "I don't have many relatives. Felicity and my son, of course, are my family, but it's nice to believe I have a cousin in this world…even if it's a distant cousin. And I think you and I have a few things in common." He glanced at Carol.

Lucy followed his glance and he saw that she understood. We both know what it's like to deal with complicated, ethically-challenged mothers.

She gave him a small nod before continuing, "But what about the other thing…the Rittenhouse connection. What do you think about that?" She sounded worried.

"Rittenhouse?" Oliver grimaced. "I'm not big on organizations that want to take over the world and tell everyone how to live his life. I've fought against them ever since I picked up the bow. I don't think Emma has to worry about Prince Oliver claiming his inheritance."

Lucy smiled.

"And yet," Carol said pointedly, "The Green Arrow runs around Star City shooting people for not behaving as he thinks they should. You're in no position to claim the moral high ground, Oliver."

Oliver shook his head. "There's a big difference between you and me. I stop people who break the law – people the police can't or won't stop. I don't interfere in the lives of law-abiding citizens."

Carol looked at him coolly but didn't argue. He knew she would refuse to see the distinction.

"So now that you know about Rittenhouse, does that mean you'll try to stop us?" Emma asked him. She was wearing a confident grin, as if his answer didn't matter, but her bravado felt forced.

She's tired, he thought. She's been on her feet a long time and that arm has to killing her.

He considered her question. Rittenhouse was evil and he made it his mission to fight evil. He would never want them to succeed. On the other hand, there was already a team dedicated to fighting Rittenhouse - a pretty damn competent team, judging by what he had seen. And he had plenty of enemies on his plate already; there were days when he thought he'd be fighting forever. He didn't need to take on more.

He looked into Felicity's eyes, hoping to read her thoughts, but only saw love and support.

He turned to Emma. "If I find you interfering with the people of Star City," he replied, "you're damn right I'll stop you." He entwined his fingers more tightly with Felicity's. "But at this moment – right now?" he continued. "I just want to bring Felicity home – to get us back to our proper time. I have no intention of chasing you through history – unless you do something that forces me too."

Emma's grin disappeared. "If you really mean that," she said soberly, "then I'll take you both home, right now."

She was telling the truth - he could see it. It made sense, he thought, from her perspective - to get him out of her hair. He was less likely to interfere with Rittenhouse if he was with his family, living his life in the proper century. Of course, she could also try to kill him; but she'd probably realized by now that he wasn't all that easy to kill. And she was tired from blood loss; and she was hurting.

Felicity, we're going home. His heart lifted.

Carol put a hand on Emma's arm. "But Emma, Nicholas wanted us to investigate 1884, remember? To make sure no one was tampering with history? We haven't done that yet."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Nicholas – he loves having us at his beck and call, and he's always willing to put my neck on the line and never too eager to risk his own." She turned to Lucy. "Are you trying to change history, Princess?" she asked abruptly.

Lucy shook her head. "No, but-"

"You see?" Emma said to Carol. "Princess and her team don't interfere with history; that's our M.O., not theirs. We're wasting our time here." When Carol looked at her doubtfully, Emma continued, "Look – if you want to stay behind and trust your daughter to give you a ride home in the Lifeboat, that's fine with me. I'm taking the Mothership back to the present - now." She gestured to Oliver. "Let's go."

He took a step, but stopped when Felicity tugged on his hand and didn't move. He turned to her and saw worry in her eyes, and his heart sank a little. He recalled that she hadn't seemed terribly excited when he'd mentioned going home a few minutes ago. He had a feeling he was about to discover why.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She looked down at the ground and then up at him reluctantly.

"Oliver, there's a problem."

"Problem?" he echoed. His heart sank further.

She nodded. "I might have accidentally changed a tiny thing in history yesterday. I didn't mean to, it just kind of happened." She sounded embarrassed.

"There - you see?" Carol said calmly to Emma. "Nicholas was right. History is being interfered with. We need to stay and find out what they did."

Emma shook her head. "She said one tiny thing, Carol. And as far as I can tell, everything around here seems normal. Besides, if they were really trying to change history to hurt Rittenhouse, she wouldn't have admitted to it just now. She would have lied."

Carol's mouth flattened into a straight line and she didn't reply.

"I say we go home," Emma said.

Yes, Oliver thought, let's do that.

He looked into Felicity's eyes and saw conflict in them. He was tempted to try to persuade her, but didn't want to force his wife to do something she felt was wrong – although, at the moment, he honestly didn't understand why it would be wrong. To the best of his knowledge, his life with Felicity hadn't changed. She remained his wife and they lived in Star City with his son. He wanted to get home before that was no longer the case. One tiny thing was probably not significant.

"Felicity?" he encouraged.

She took a deep breath. "I met Nikola Tesla in Central Park yesterday," she began. "I didn't try to meet him. It was his first day in America and I think he was lonely and a little frightened. He just came up and started talking to me."

"Nikola Tesla, the inventor?" Oliver asked, and his heart lost whatever lightness it had gained. Tesla was a significant figure in history - not someone he would put in the tiny little thing category.

She nodded. "Uh-huh." She looked down at the ground again and appeared to be searching for words. It was never a good sign, he thought, when she was speechless.

"You met Tesla and…?" he prompted.

"And we started talking," she continued. "I was still in my modern clothes and he was curious about it. I couldn't exactly tell him that I live in 2018 and had travelled back in time, so I told him I was from the west and that it wasn't all that unusual to see women dressed like this on the other side of the country."

She paused.

"And?" he prompted again.

"And the conversation eventually came around to electricity. About AC versus DC current. I think I got a little excited – you know how I can get about science, Oliver. And – I mean - I was talking to Nikola-Frackin'-Tesla, after all. The man's a genius. It would have been impossible not to get a little enthusiastic."

He sighed. "And?"

"And he kind of asked me out."

Oliver half-choked, half-coughed. "On a date?"

She shook her head. "No…no…not really a date. Just to supper. You know - a bite to eat with a friendly face. It was his first day in America, after all."

Oliver ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I think supper qualifies as a date," he said dryly.

Felicity grimaced. "That's not the point, Oliver."

She was probably right about that. They still hadn't gotten to the part where history had changed. That was the point. He inhaled. "I assume you said no?"

She nodded. "I did, but he was pretty persistent and started to follow me. I finally agreed to have supper with him tonight, just to get him to go away. I figured it was a safe bet – I thought Barry would figure out how to get me back to the present day before then and I'd never have to see Tesla again."

They were getting closer to the problem – Oliver could sense it. "But?" he urged.

"But Barry didn't come. And in the meantime, we learned that my conversation with Tesla may have been a little…life altering… for him."

Oliver put his index finger under her chin, then gently tilted it upward until she was meeting his gaze. "How life altering?" he asked softly.

Her blue eyes were full of guilt. "Tesla decided not to take a job with Thomas Edison in New York, the way he's supposed to. He's decided to go out west, where women wear jeans and are educated in the sciences."

Oliver frowned. That was not the answer he was expecting and he didn't think it sounded so terrible. "So Tesla wants to take a trip out west," he said slowly. "That doesn't seem like the end of civilization as we know it."

Felicity's gaze faltered and she looked to Lucy as if asking for help, but it was actually Carol Preston who provided an explanation. "Tesla is supposed to work for Edison for about six months," she said. "In that time, he will try to convince Edison that AC current, not DC, is the future for delivering electricity to homes. When Edison fails to agree with his vision, Tesla will quit his job and eventually partner with George Westinghouse. It's the perfect combination; Tesla's a genius and Westinghouse has the financial backing to build AC power plants. If Tesla goes west instead, he may never meet Westinghouse."

Carol, the historian, sounded sure of her facts, so Oliver figured her story about Edison was accurate. He still didn't understand why the change was so important, though. He lifted his hands helplessly. "And that's a big deal because?"

"Because Westinghouse's plants have the ability to deliver electricity over a great distance - to homes in rural areas, far away from the cities," Lucy replied. "Edison's approach would reserve electricity for the wealthy city dwellers," She exchanged a glance with her mother, and for a moment, the two women appeared in accord. "Electricity in the home allowed people to study at night and to buy labor saving tools. It created an entirely new educated population – people who normally would have been farmers and laborers could now go on to be writers, doctors, scientists – you name it. It's one important step in speeding up the pace of technology development."

Oliver frowned. "But won't someone eventually start building AC power plants anyway? I mean, the best ideas usually rise to the surface."

Lucy nodded. "Sure. But it will take longer, and it means many technologies could be delayed by thirty or forty years. Some of the things we're used to now – computers and the internet, for example – might not be available."

Felicity flinched.

Emma glowered at Lucy and Carol. It was clear that she didn't like seeing the two women in agreement and she wasn't happy about delaying the trip home. "Edison's on our side," she said impatiently. "He's Rittenhouse. So shouldn't we want to advance his ideas? This sounds like a good thing to me."

Carol shook her head. "Not in this case. Think about it Emma. When did Connor Mason first develop a working time machine?"

Emma shrugged. "I don't know – three or four years ago?"

Carol nodded. "Exactly. So suppose Tesla gets on a train and heads out west, and people get electricity thirty years later than they're supposed to. What do you think that means for the creation of the time machine? Do you think it might be delayed?"

Emma shrugged again. "Maybe. It's tough to say."

"It's a reasonable probability and it's a chance I don't want to take," Carol said crisply. "Good heavens, we could walk back to the Mothership now only to find it gone – leaving us stranded. Not to mention that Rittenhouse's strategy is predicated on time travel. Delaying that could undo all the progress we've managed to make." She looked at Lucy. "We need to get Tesla to stay in New York and work for Edison."

Lucy met her mother's eyes and nodded. "I know. Our reasons may not be the same, but I agree Tesla has to stay."

Oliver's head was starting to spin. The chance the Mothership could disappear sounded to him like a very good reason to return to it right away. He was with Felicity now, thank God, but his son and his sister were a century away and he couldn't begin to guess the implications for them if time travel suddenly ceased to exist.

Jiya looked at Rufus. "Do you guys have a plan for getting Tesla to stay?"

Rufus sighed. "We do. I'm not sure it's a great plan, but since we're having trouble even finding the guy, it's the only one we've got."

"What is it?" Oliver asked quickly. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

Rufus, Lucy and Wyatt all looked at Felicity. "The plan is for Felicity to go on her date with Tesla," Wyatt answered for them. "And she's going to talk him out of leaving."

Oliver's feeling had been correct; he didn't like the plan. "You couldn't come up with something else?" He posed the question to the group but his eyes were on Felicity.

"No," Wyatt said shortly, "we couldn't. First of all, the only way we're even going to locate the man is by going to the place where he said he would meet Felicity. And second," he added before Oliver could interrupt, "it makes sense that Felicity is the one to talk to him. She managed to get him to change his original plan and decide to go out west. She should have enough influence to get him to change back."

Oliver started to shake his head, but Felicity stilled him by reaching up and placing her palm against his cheek. "There's no danger, Oliver," she said gently. "We're supposed to meet at a bench right here in Central Park. You can be nearby watching. I'll just talk to him and then…it will be over. It's simple."

Oliver frowned. "When are things ever simple, Felicity?"

She smiled. "Never. But in this case, it's about as close as it gets."

Famous last words, he thought.

"We don't have a choice," Wyatt added. "It's our best shot at getting Tesla to stay."

No one disagreed – not even Emma.

Oliver sighed. "Fine," he said last, staring down into Felicity's eyes. "But I'm going to be very close by. I can't risk us getting separated again."

She nodded. "That's okay, Oliver. As soon as this is fixed, I want us to go home."

She dropped her hand from his cheek and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back into some semblance of order. He watched her long, full skirt dance around in the breeze.

"At least," he added soberly, "I know the guy won't be able to cop a feel."