"This is big, guys," Lyla proclaims after a long silence, pulling her reading glasses off her nose, her gaze still glued to the numerous case files they pulled and neatly ordered in front of her. "Actually, it's more than big. This is gonna cause a ripple effect that will be felt up to the highest places."
Oliver curtly nods, clenching his jaw. He is aware. He was very aware of the fact the moment Felicity has presented him with her findings. They just uncovered a serial killer the likes of the Happy Face Killer or the BTK, a man who has been murdering young girls throughout the whole States for the past decade without anybody noticing the relation.
"How is Ms. Smoak holding up? Is she aware of all of this?" Lyla points to the files.
"Yes. Actually, she helped us put the facts together." It's a version of the truth, a small portion of it that Oliver viewed into the story he was going to spin. Maybe he shouldn't even have done that, keeping Felicity completely out of the picture, but he just couldn't find it in himself to keep all the credit for himself somehow.
"Oh. And how exactly did Ms. Smoak help you figure this out? I though she didn't have a clue who the Slasher is or what his relation to her was," says Lyla suspiciously, rising one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. She is not stupid. Not at all. However, Oliver knows she has no way of knowing about Felicity's hacking past, so he feels fairly confident there is no way this can be tracked back to Felicity. Oliver is ready to offer Lyla the version of events they've agreed on with Digg, but the man himself beats him to it.
"It was actually Felicity's idea to broaden our search and look for more possible victims. She was concerned about the jewelry she received not being identified as belonging to any other of the Star City victims like the locket."
"And you want me to believe you didn't come to the same conclusion yourself, Johnny?" Lyla asks skeptically, a hint of impatience for being taken for a spin in her voice. Diggle just calmly looks at her, a slow smile stretching the corner of his mouth. "Of course we did. But she was the first one to voice the idea when discussing the facts, so she takes the credit. She also suggested to go as back as ten years, since the Slasher is the same person as her stalker, which hinted his connection back to her Lisy the tech Whiz days." It's a simple explanation, but it seems to pacify Lyla.
Or – and this might be a more believing story – their boss and friend just doesn't want to dig deeper. Which is exactly what Oliver and Diggle were counting on and thank God for Lyla, Oliver sends a silent prayer of gratitude to any deity out there.
"I still can't believe nobody has caught onto this," she murmurs at all, the gravity of the situation hitting back full force.
"You and me both," confirms Oliver. "We will need to have all the evidence from these cold cases shipped to us ASAP, Lyla," he adds urgently and Lyla nods, a grave set to her shoulders.
"On it right away. We will also have to update the team and I will have to notify my superiors. This will eventually circle back to Waller, you know that, right?" she warns them and Oliver nods. He's aware. Not happy about it – nothing concerning Amanda Waller's direct involvement can be considered happy news – but he will deal.
"The thing is," Lyla continues thoughtfully, "I think this might actually be good news to her." There is a note of bitterness entering her voice and Oliver gives her an incredulous look.
"Good news?" he growls.
"Yeah. Just try to see it from her perspective as the boss. The case just got bigger, more prominent, more high stakes. And it ties an uncovered serial killer with the stalker case of a prominent person. A case she herself has personally assigned to us. It has all just doubled its appeal, and since Waller is the one who pushed to solve Ms. Smoak's stalker case in the first place, she will gladly take the credit for a work well done."
Oliver grinds his teeth at Lyla's words, but before he can say anything they might regret later, Lyla beats him to it, reading his anger all too easily. "Which doesn't necessary have to be a bad thing. She might put the case under tighter personal scrutiny, but firstly, she'll have to agree we're doing a good job so far by blowing this case wide open and secondly, more importantly, she will be willing to allocate any necessary funds. Surely you realize that with the case growing so big overnight, we will need to broaden the task force as well."
Again, Oliver was aware of that. And again, he doesn't like it. More people on the case means more scrutiny, bigger decision-making pool and less oversight. Less control and he won't be able to keep things on a tight leash as he has so far.
"Again, don't worry. You and Diggle will still be in charge. But you know we need more manpower. There are now a dozen murder cases involved, and we will need to go back and forth between the local PD's for evidence as well as our own outposts. Quite frankly, it's going to be an administrative mess, you get the picture."
He does. He hates it. But it can't be helped. So he focuses on which can. "We need that evidence, Lyla," he repeats, drilling his single point across.
"I am aware. I will put it into motion ASAP, I promise you. But in order to do that, we will have to bring the whole task force up to speed on this because the stakes have just gone over the roof here. I will handpick the agents to bring on the team. Now, meanwhile, I want you to prepare a presentation of the newly uncovered facts to hold to the whole team this afternoon. Are you ready to do that?"
He nods without skipping a beat.
"Good. I will send you the names so you can decide which tasks to assign to whom following the presentation, including gathering the evidence. I would suggest Alena Whitlock as the liaison between us and the local PD offices. She is young but quite tenacious, and she's proven invaluable in dealing with police departments throughout the country, pushing them to make good and quick on their promises. But the decision is, of course, up to you."
Oliver nods again, instantly agreeing with Lyla's choice. From the handful of times he has worked with Agent Whitlock, he's got to know her to be very good at what she does. Many people underestimate her, because she's young and female and isn't ashamed to show her assets, as well as the fact that she's quite outspoken, lacking a social filter which proves to be too much for some. A little bit like Felicity, Oliver just now realizes with a start. What Oliver likes about Alena though is that she cuts the bullshit and is highly efficient, delivering results when some merely talking about getting them. She knows how to push hard but still stay surprisingly civil and even subtle about getting what she wants, not affronting or intimidating the local police officers with her FBI badge. Which might be the biggest asset right now.
Lyla's sharp voice brings Oliver back from his musing. "Prepare the presentation, I will get you your people."
"How many are we talking about?" asks Diggle.
"Well, apart from the two of you and your team of five senior agents that's been on the case so far, I am bringing about a dozen more people on board." Diggle whistles at that. "You know it's standard procedure in cases this big, Johnny. You'll need the manpower. That's why I need you to get people up to speed."
They know how it goes. It's not their first rodeo. However, this just complicates things. It's good to know they have resources, but to have so many people involved…it makes Oliver uneasy.
"There is one more thing to discuss." He says, straightening his spine. "Felicity Smoak's safety. The stakes have just been upped, big time. We can't just leave her in the PD's care. The Slasher has slipped by them too many times already."
"I agree. With these new facts, there will be no problem with allocating resources and having her security upgraded to our own agents and our own surveillance, twenty-four seven." Oliver nods, something slightly easing in his chest. He just trusts his men more, there is no question about it. Still…it doesn't feel like enough. Especially since the Slasher can still get to her, if not personally, then passing creepy messages and stalking her.
"What about moving her to a safer location?" he suggests, to which Lyla and Diggle give both a collective sigh that grates on Oliver's nerves.
"Did Ms. Smoak express a desire to be removed from her home? Does she feel unsafe there?" asks Lyla matter-of-factly.
"No," Oliver hisses through clenched teeth. In fact, Felicity has shot him straight to hell herself upon proposing moving her to a safe house. But that doesn't mean she is right in her stubbornness to stay in her apartment. Moreover, all it is about, Oliver thinks, is nothing but her misplaced tenacity not to be intimidated by the Slasher. But she should be, any reasonable person should be absolutely terrified. He knows he is.
"Then I suggest we keep her where she is."
"She's not safe there, Lyla." He tries one more time. "Not as safe as she would be in a safe house."
"That has to be her decision though, Oliver, don't you think? And from what Johnny tells me, she is not willing to move."
Oliver throws a dirty look at his snitch of a partner. Diggle doesn't bat an eye at his murderous look, though.
"Moreover, Oliver, you know it suits us just fine as well. Because tell me, Agent Queen, since you are the profiler here, what will the Slasher do once he realizes we've moved his holy grail away from his sight and hid her?"
His teeth grind together as he impatiently growls, "It's not her fucking job to keep him happy and content. She's not a bait to be dangled in front of him."
"I agree," replies Lyla coolly, unaffected by Oliver's angry tone. "That's why I am assigning such heavy security to her. But moving her elsewhere is a whole another thing. There are other possible victims to consider here," she reminds him with a raised eye-brows and Oliver's eyes fall shut because she's just drawn the ultimate argument he can't fight against.
Doesn't he know it, doesn't he see all the dead girls behind his closed eyelids every night he falls asleep? Isn't he afraid of every single phone call to tell him there is another body dumped somewhere?
Still. Keeping Felicity in the direct line of fire, so much in the open and utterly vulnerable, does something to him, grates at him in a way he didn't know was possible.
"Look. Unless Ms. Smoak herself voices fears over her safety in her own home, we will leave things as they are. Are we clear?"
He doesn't respond, won't validate Lyla's words with an agreement. It would be a lie anyway.
"Agent Queen, do I have to be concerned about any possible conflict of interest here?"
That statement has him back and sharp pulling out of his petulancy. He gazes at Lyla, searching her eyes, wondering what she knows, or at least, how much she suspects.
"Lyla," Diggle warns in a low voice, but she ignores him, pinning Oliver with a sharp look. "Look Oliver, you are one of our best. And I know you care. But if this case proves too much to you, if you're finding yourself too close to it to look at it objectively, then I suggest you step back and remove yourself from it." It's a warning and a piece of friendly advice all wrapped in one, before Lyla's whole demeanor softens. "There would no shame in that, Oliver. We all find ourselves in situations from time to time that feel a little more personal to us than others," her eyes cut to John and Oliver knows what she is hinting at. Personal entanglements are messy and screw with your head as well as judgment.
Truth is, he is biased. He does care about Felicity. A lot more than he is supposed to. But at the same time, that's exactly the reason why he can't simply have her case handled by anybody else. He absolutely needs to be the one.
So, he straightens in his spot, puts on a professional face once more, forcing Felicity's teary face from last night to the back of his mind. "No, Director Michaels. There is no personal interest going on in here. I was just trying to put all options out there. I do respect you and am fully behind your decision."
Even if he doesn't like it.
Lyla gives him a small nod. "Glad to hear it. Now get out of my office, Agents, I've got a few more decisions and phone calls to make."
xxx
Things at work are… well, hectic and chaotic are the first words to come to Oliver's mind when he thinks about it. After giving his presentation, there is an immediate uproar of disbelief and astonishment at the latest development followed by a bustle of activity as his new team was getting itself acquainted within their new roles in their newest high-profile case.
Then there are the reactions from other departments, some department heads taking part at the presentation, curious what it is that has Director Michaels call in an impromptu meeting of a serial killer's special task force while tripling its size in the span of mere hours.
It is… well. The news is indeed huge, to say the least, and it's spreading across all departments like wildfire.
The Star City Slasher just got promoted to the national level, the duration of his killing spree extending from less than a year to a whole decade. Having these seemingly unrelated cases click together like pieces of a puzzle amounts to a great deal of work, and in the next couple of hours, Oliver's is patted on the back about a dozen times by peers and superiors alike, being congratulated on his spectacular work on this case.
Which makes him feel that much worse. There is nothing to be celebrated or congratulated on in his eyes. If nothing else, this should have been caught upon a long time ago. Not to mention how the misplaced praise and acclaim he and Diggle are getting is leaving an especially foul taste in his mouth, because all of this was possible thanks to one incredible bright woman who he couldn't even name as the rightful source and who is currently being terrorized by the very same man they are all trying to catch.
All while they don't even have a name. So instead of basking in his sudden undeserved popularity, Oliver turns to his newly established team, pouring his hopes into Agent Whitlock, stressing to her their absolute need to get their hands on the evidence files from the local PD's, starting with Shelby Crowley's case.
To his great relief and satisfaction, Agent Whitlock seems to catch on the urgency and severity of the matter fairly quickly and upon leaving the office late in the evening, Oliver is more than confident he's leaving the work in the right hands.
Next day goes around in the same manner and it's only late afternoon the day after that when Oliver finally realizes that the reason for his edginess and utter restlessness is not the workload itself, but his lack of contact with a certain blonde. He sighs, utterly bewildered at how and when this exactly happened, but he can't pinpoint the moment where he went from forgetting about the world due to getting lost in his work to forgetting about his work by getting lost in thoughts about Felicity Smoak.
What he knows, though, is that he hasn't seen or talked to her for over two days, and it starts to get on his nerves, his needs to see her and make sure she is okay un urgency he can't ignore any longer.
With a clear intent, he therefore decides to leave work early – for his standards – and makes a quick stop at his favorite Mexican place, picking up an assortment of foods he knows he himself as well as Felicity will enjoy.
Two hours. He just needs two hours of her company and her presence to find his center again. By now, he knows that a single smile from her can recharge his energy to work through a whole night, if needed. And he needs that. It's probably not healthy. Definitely not normal. But he needs it to keep his sanity as much as he needs his next breath.
xxx
Life is just not giving him any breaks these days.
This was supposed to be a respite from him. Visiting Felicity was just as much about making sure she was okay as it was about him unwinding, regrouping. Making sure what he was working towards.
It looks promising too, once she opens to door to him, the smile stretching across her face blinding him with its warmth, causing a breath he didn't realize he was holding up until now leaving his lungs in a silent whoosh. He enjoys it, this moment of pure content and elation, when there is nothing else in the world but her smiling self.
Then he steps into her apartment and starts to notice the smaller things. Like the nervous twitch of one corner of her mouth. Or the dark spots smudged underneath her eyes that speak of very little rest. Her whole body is buzzing in restless energy as she bustles around, talking nonstop while running between the kitchen and living room, taking out plates and filling up glasses and asking question he has no time to give answers to before she's already asking new ones, never waiting for an answer.
The whole loft is bathed in artificial light, and although it's already dark outside, one can't see it the progression of natural light, because all the curtains are drawn tightly shut.
Felicity is clearly showing signs of unraveling at the seams. She is nervous and jittery, and completely unfocused. She is happy to see him, there is no question about that, but she's also unable to concentrate on anything, her mind running a mile a minute, one second telling him about a new idea for a computer program, the next about Curtis's wedding anniversary closing in and the plans he has to celebrate with his husband. She is all over the place, stands up to run to the kitchen only to detour back without retrieving anything. She can never stay on one topic and her food's falling from her fork back onto the plate on one too many occasions. She has a hard time to even stay focused on what he is telling her.
Oliver doesn't mind her lack of concentration on interest where he is concerned, not one bit. He can only imagine what it's been like for her for the past couple of weeks, and especially the past couple of days. She barely talks to anybody, she doesn't leave her apartment, can't even let natural light into her home anymore. She can't go out, can't meet her clients, can't go shopping or see a movie or take a walk. Her whole life is on a standstill. It's only understandable it makes her miserable and jittery, her being cooped up in her home while the thought of a serial killed at her heels is never too far away. All of this? It's a natural symptom of the disease currently rampaging through her whole life.
And his heart aches for her.
Because he can't promise her an easy or early resolution. It's only putting one foot in front of the other. And it might still get worse before it'll get better. He honestly doesn't know what to do to make it better. All he can do is push his people at work to get what they need and show up at her place in a desperate attempt to brighten her day at least a little, offering some company other than that of her single colleague who leaves her at afternoons to go home to his happy marriage.
So Oliver changes things up. He doesn't take his lunch hour anymore. He takes early evenings instead, showing up at Felicity's with dinner. Sometimes they talk about the case, theorizing as he updates her on the newest development. Sometimes they just talk about silly, meaningless stuff, or they discuss her work for a change. Sometimes, when she is feeling especially down, they nearly don't talk at all. They sit silently side by side, letting the quiet sounds of the television wash over them, both too deeply lost in their thoughs.
It's lasts nearly a week and Oliver's team manages for only half the evidence cases being shipped over to their SC office, his agents painstakingly starting to sift through boxes upon boxes of collected samples and case files. It's tedious work that doesn't bring any new information about the identity of the Slasher, but Oliver doesn't let it deter him. Objectively, he knows how these things take time. No murder case was resolved in a night.
Still, every evening he visits Felicity and has nothing to show for, he feels like a bigger failure, letting her down.
It's slowly eating down at them both. They both intentionally don't talk about the other thing that's been grating on Oliver's nerves, his skin flushing with sweat every time the thought crosses his mind.
The Slasher's been quiet. Eerily quiet for the past week, and that is not a good sign. Oliver should be glad there's been no new victims, but the idea of the Slasher being still out there, plotting something, possibly bigger than yet before, has him in knots.
xxx
Oliver's really fucked up this time.
His uneaten container of Chinese food that's been sitting on the coffee table while he paces Felicity's apartment has long gone cold, but he doesn't care, because this time, it won't be as easy to appease his sister's anger by sweettalking her or to buy himself into her good graces with absurdly expensive gifts.
His phone is glued to his ear as Oliver tries to calm and explain himself to a rightfully infuriated Thea shouting at him across the line, because this time, he's really, really screwed up; by completely forgetting about his sister's birthday, glossing over the day without any acknowledgment or even a single stupid phone call.
He doesn't begrudge her for throwing her sharp accusations at him, he fully deserves them. But what guts him is the note of hurt and utter disappointment in him he can clearly hear in her voice.
With a last angry insult, Thea hangs up on him with a distinctive click, letting Oliver blink stupidly before finally realizing what has just happened. For never – ever – before, no matter how angry she was, had his sister hung up on him. Never.
Defeated, he shuffles his feet back into the living room in a daze, plopping his suddenly heavy body back onto the couch.
"Uh-oh. Thea?" Felicity asks in concern and understanding, rubbing her hand up and down his arm soothingly when Oliver keels forwards, shoulders hunching while his hands rise to cover his face in a defeated gesture.
"I forgot about her birthday," he whispers though his fingers, momentarily too ashamed to look at his companion.
"Oh, frack. Oliver…"
"I can't believe I forgot her birthday." He says more clearly, his voice rising with anger at himself. "In all of her twenty-two years, I've never forgotten about the birthday, never. not even when I was stationed in Kandahar, even then I begged my Commanding officer to allow me to use his satellite phone to wish my baby sister a happy birthday." Oliver is suddenly dangerously close to crying, feeling like the worst brother and biggest let down at the face of the earth.
"I am so, so sorry, Oliver," Felicity murmurs, and he can hear it in her voice, her own remorse. It's not merely compassion, it sounds like she's actually apologizing.
"It's not your fault," he utters back shrugging his shoulders, dismissing her worries, because this has nothing to do with her. It's all on him. He should have kept track. Should have set up a damn phone alarm or something. This... there is just no excuse. A single day in a year. He can't remember a single fucking day that means a great deal to the person he loves most in the world.
"It kind of is, though," Felicity whispers in a guilt-ridden voice, her gentle fingers burning through his dress shirt where they're rubbing across his shoulders. His ears perk up at that, because what exactly is she saying?
Pulling his hands from his face, he gives her a quizzical look. "What do you mean it kind of is your fault?"
She's biting her lip, her eyes suddenly vulnerable and full of remorse and he doesn't like that look on her, not one bit. "Well, if you didn't spend your whole time either at work, working my case, or here, looking after me, you wouldn't have forgotten," she says and there is such conviction in her voice, it renders him momentarily speechless.
"Wha-at?" He blinks stupidly at her, momentarily lost for words. "Felicity, that's completely- No. Just no. This has nothing to do with you," he finally manages to get out, but even as he says it, he can see his words are not sinking in and God, could this get any more complicated?
"It's just… I should have paid attention more closely. I knew her birthday would be coming up, but I did nothing to make sure I wouldn't forget. But that's on me and my forgetting has absolutely nothing to do with you. Also," he adds on a sigh. "I am afraid this is just the tip of the iceberg. This argument with Thea… it has been a long time brewing. It just came at the worst possible moment."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is-" Oliver starts but stops. Why the hell is it so hard to talk about this? He gulps, tries again. "I didn't find enough time to spend with my sister for years now. Ever since I returned from overseas. I've been…" It's so hard for him to admit this, after all this time, aloud and to Felicity of all people, but it's the truth. "…hiding in my work of sorts. Ever since I came back from abroad, ever since joining the FBI. It was just easier to hold my distance than deal with people closest to me. Thea was the only person I actually tried to keep a close relationship with after returning, but even she doesn't really understand the nature of what I've been through."
"The war, you mean," Felicity murmurs in a gentle voice, her fingers burning through the material of his shirt.
He nods, a tight fist clogging his throat. "That. But even beyond that. It's also about the nature of what I do now."
Felicity's eyebrows scrunch at that, indicating she doesn't follow him. He can't blame her. It's really hard to comprehend, when you look at it like that. To willingly push away and keep secrets from the one person you are supposed to love.
"You have to understand, Felicity, I love my sister. She is the single best thing in my life."
He can see that startles her, something vulnerable appearing in her eyes, and it's almost too much for him to see it directed at him, so he looks at the table in front of him instead. "I've not always been completely truthful with her, though. Coming back from war… it changes you. And it was easier to put on a façade of the old Oliver for my family than try to explain what I went through. Shortly after I joined the FBI, went through the training. To be honest, it was more than most veterans accomplish once coming home. Being able to regain old relationships, return to a normal daily life routine, maintaining stable work, it's too much for most."
Felicity silently nods, understanding coloring her eyes, deepening the beautiful shade of blue, and Oliver suddenly realizes that she does understand. She deals with veterans and their problems almost daily, is familiar with their situation, with the physical as well as psychological needs and worries that come from returning from war. Her company, her pro bono work, it's all concentrated around army veterans and people who underwent traumas trying to return back to normal life. Her company tries to offer them back at least a little of what they'd lost, suffering phantom pain due to a severed limb, the inability to walk because of a crushed spine, hearing loss suffered when a bomb went off just a little too close. Even now, Felicity's eyes are shining nothing but compassion and understanding, and Oliver can't look away, mesmerized while greedily soaking all of it inside him.
Felicity understands.
And for Oliver, it's like he takes the first free breath of his life. It's not so hard to talk about his sister and their complicated relationship anymore, because he knows, Felicity won't judge him, won't hold it against him that he stepped away from her or his family to a certain degree in an attempt to protect them from the darkness inside him.
"When I first applied to Quantico, Thea was beyond excited. And proud. She was just a teenager but she supported me through the training and was so thrilled once she found out I would be stationed here, in Star City. But I never really told her what I do. She knows I am a Special agent, an investigator. But I always glossed over the details of my position, never talked cases I work on with her. She knows I spend long hours at work and that I am way too dedicated to it, but she probably thinks I do tax evasion or corporate crime or something like that… And I've never really tried to disapprove that assumption. I just… " His eyes fall away from her to focus on his fingers which are nervously twitching on his knees.
"Oliver…" Felicity sighs. There is a reprimand but also sadness in her voice. And even a hint of disappointment and that carves him up alive. "Why on earth didn't you tell your sister what you do?"
Because the world is an ugly place? Because he didn't want her to worry about him? Because he didn't want to taint their time spent together by stories of murders, psychopaths, child abusers and serial rapists? There are way too many reasons and Oliver knows neither fully validates his decision of keeping this part of his life separate from his sister. The lie… even if just a lie by omission, has just been going on for so long it felt harder and harder to put Thea back on the right track.
"I felt that by keeping the two worlds separate would somehow shield her from the things I daily deal with," he utters in a feeble voice at last.
"Oh, Oliver," Felicity murmurs, one of her soft hands covering his, calming the fidgety movements of his fingers, before her thumb starts to draw soothing circles over his skin. Something tight clogs his throat at her gentle touch and tone. "So Thea has no idea? She has no idea who you've been tracking down for the past couple of months? The reason why you've been working yourself to the ground lately?"
"No."
"Oliver!" Felicity cries is surprise, despite that it should be clearly known by now that he's kept his sister completely in the dark about everything. Her tone is now openly full of reproach and maybe even a little bit of frustration and he feels momentarily ashamed by how his weakness being called out by her like that. He hates the idea of being a disappointment to her, for any reason. He can't even look her in the eye.
"Oliver," she calls his name again, gentler this time. "How can you expect your sister to understand the graveness of your job, or the current situation, if she doesn't know what kind of weight your job carries? What hangs in the balance if you don't give it your hundred percent, and the responsibility that rests upon your shoulders? How can she be proud of you if she doesn't know that you literally try to make the world a better place and protect the lives of women like her. Like me." She adds on a whisper, her fingers twitching over his hand. "She has no idea what's at stake, the world you carry on your shoulders. I am sure she would view your lack of free time at the moment in a whole different light if she knew that you are not in fact neglecting your relationship by choice but by sheer necessity. I am not telling you to share all the gory details with her, but think about it, just for a moment, from her perspective. I mean, how is Thea supposed to feel if she thinks you let her birthday slide in order to work overtime on some while-collar criminal's money laundering?"
And he hears her, he gets it. She is absolutely right. He's been shielding his sister for too long, has been using smoke and mirrors describing his job, never really revealing the true nature of his cases. She thinks that he's merely a workaholic, cold and detached in dealing with his own family, maybe partly by being damaged by his time spent overseas, but not really making any effort to get better, get closer. And the truth is, he's always preferred it that way, because if felt easier for Thea to believe that than have her worry about the monsters he was daily dealing with to make the world a better place.
The worst part is, Oliver still doesn't have a solution to that. He doesn't know how to fix the broken relationship with is sister other than he desperately wants to. He just knows that he's missing his sister, missing the closeness and tight bond the two of them shared before he left for the army. He'd like nothing more than to have his sister back, but he doesn't even know where to start. Doesn't help that right now, he has absolutely no time to start. Adding Thea to his huge pile of problems at the moment seems just too much.
"You know what? I have an idea!" Felicity suddenly blurts out, her hands shooting into the air excitedly before she freezes, apprehension crossing her face and dimming the light in her eyes somewhat as she bites her lip. He's instantly drawn in, intrigued beyond reason as to what goes on in that brilliant mind of hers.
"What idea?" he slowly asks.
"Well-you can say no. It's rather… wow, I really haven't thought this one through…" She closes her eyes, letting out a breathless huff of laughter before turning the loveliest shade of pink. It's beyond adorable. "But what if… since you are spending so much time here anyway, eating dinners with me, I mean, spending time talking about, you know, the case-"
Oliver is momentarily glad he doesn't hear any hint of a complaint or a reprimand in her voice.
"-I was thinking… What if you invited your sister to dinner? Here, I mean. I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. That way, you wouldn't have to feel like you are neglecting work, since you'd be technically spending time on the case or checking up on me. And on the other hand, Thea gets to meet me, one of the people you are busting your ass trying to protect from a very dangerous man." The tiniest shiver runs through her at that and Oliver's pulls one of his hands from underneath her warm fingers and puts it on top of hers, sandwiching it between his own.
"You could finally come clean to her about your work, maybe even explain about the current case a little, if you'd feel comfortable, just a little. Just so she gets an idea of how time consuming and attention demanding it is, but also so she understand that when you don't spend time with her, it's not because you don't want to, or that you don't care enough, but that you literally can't because you are trying to help the people of this city stay safe. Ultimately, make her safe as well."
Something in her words causes him to feel like a little boy receiving praise from a favorite teacher, and to his horror, he feels his cheeks grow warm. Oliver is momentarily thankful for wearing a semi-beard, because it helps him mask the flush he's sure is currently spreading across his cheeks like wildfire.
"The best part, of course," Felicity continues with a small, sweet grin, oblivious of his current state of being completely amazed by her, "would be that you don't have to go out and take your sister to some elaborate dinner date to make up for your blunder, because let's face it, we both know you'd just spend the whole evening worrying about work anyway, guilt-tripping yourself about 'abandoning your duties'," she says with a huff and a slight eye-roll, framing her last words with air-quotes, and Oliver would find that adorable, if he wasn't so stunned at how well she apparently knows him. It's unsettling and yet comforting at the same time.
And it's a brilliant idea, it really is, but…
"Felicity, that's very generous of you. But I can't possibly impose on you like that-"
She huffs again, waving his concern away. "Don't be silly. You can and you will. I've been cooped up in this apartment for weeks behind drawn blinds, I haven't met a soul in person, outside either FBI agents, police officers, Curtis or delivery guys. I am actually dying for some normal company. Not that- not that your company isn't normal, it's just-" she's blushing again and he secretly loves it, before she suddenly grows more serious, more solemn.
"Unless, of course, you find it too weird," she motions between the two of them uncertainly, "And then there is of course the thought of bringing your sister to this place, which might not be the smartest or safest idea. I mean, the Slasher is still out there, duh, so maybe that's your real concern, which, if that's the case, I'd totally understand, no hard feelings. I mean, this is your sister." She is rambling now, and it's cute and so her that it steals Oliver's breath away. "And of course, it's not like we-" she stammers and he can clearly see how quickly her mind's spinning out of control with all of her worried thoughts, "I just...forget it. I mean…I apologize. I just thought it would be a nice way for you to see your sister, since it's me and my stupid case that's kind of been hogging all your time and I already feel bad for it, but if I've overstepped and it's too much…"
"Felicity." Her name falls from his lips on its own, a gentle whisper of enchanted laughter really, but she doesn't notice, plowing ahead and digging a deeper hole for herself.
"-or if I am mixing professional with personal, I apologize-"
"Fe-li-ci-ty." That finally gets her attention. "I think it's a lovely idea, very thoughtful and extremely generous, especially under the current circumstances. And yes, if you don't mind, I'd actually really like to take you up on your offer."
"Oh," she whispers, her lips forming an adorable little O. "Yeah?" she asks hopefully despite the uneasiness still lacing her words.
"Yeah." He reassures her again with a nod, observing as her whole body sags in relief, a big whoosh of air leaving her lips before a beautiful, easy smile blossoms across her face.
"Okay, it's settled then."
"It's settled then," he confirms once again for good measure. "Though the food's on me."
She grins at that. "Deal."