A/N: Alright, here we go again! This chapter actually took forever for me to write. I just couldn't make the whole relationship stuff feel right to me, so I'm finally just dealing with the slight awkwardness and deciding that actually having this conversation would be awkward anyways, so I'm not totally going off base with it… Thank you guys so much for your reviews and follows! As much as I love hearing your feedback, knowing that people are still reading this story through the followers is encouraging as well. As for Thea, I know on the show lately she's been more serious, but I choose to ignore that and go with a bit lighter version of her, just because it's more fun for me to write. Purely selfish. We're almost through all of the really heavy plot stuff, I promise! To make up for the rather plot-focused last few chapters, I've created a plot sandwich, in which the actual plot is sandwiched by what is probably more Olicity than we've had in a while (I tried to do the math and I think I've got more Olicity in this one than plot!).
EDIT: I just had to go back and modify the sentence where Sara says she was hiding in a closet so that it makes sense with what I've said in previous chapters.
Chapter 11
His sister looks positively giddy at the sight in front of her, and Oliver can't say he blames her. She's been asking about Felicity since the diner, and suddenly she's right in front of her. In his room. In a sweater and leggings. He's pretty sure the 'just friends' explanation is out at this point. Though the fact that her belongings are in the next room works in their favour, Thea isn't stupid. No, she's very astute, and she's currently asking for that formal introduction she demanded.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and resigns himself to this inevitability. "Felicity, this is my sister Thea," he says, pulling one hand out to gesture toward the brunette. He notices that the blonde is a lot closer to him than before. They must have gravitated toward each other while Thea was eagerly eyeing her like a pair of rare designer shoes. "Thea, this is my…" He pauses, unsure of what to call her. They never really got to that part of the conversation. She's more than his friend; Thea knows that. Introducing her as just a friend might go back on any progress they made, too. He remembers having this struggle at the hospital when she came to visit Walter. That time the result hadn't been quite so hard to get to, though. Finally he just opts for, "Felicity."
Thea's grin stretches even wider if that's possible. "Your Felicity, huh?"
He drops his chin to his chest as he returns his hand to his pocket, pressing his lips into a thin line. For her part, Felicity looks thoroughly amused by the whole thing, which surprises him. She was nervous a few seconds ago, and now she's stifling a smile to rival Thea's.
"You've seen her at the office, and you met her at the hospital after Walter…" He lets his sentence go unfinished since they both understand what he's referring to.
"Nothing quite like a proper introduction to my brother's Felicity, though," Thea quips, still grinning far too widely.
"What did you need, Thea?" He asks pointedly, looking up at his sister.
"I was wondering if you knew whose stuff was in the other room, but I think I see the answer to that question now. Though as to why it's in the other room…" She shrugs, trying to look innocent.
"A pipe burst in my apartment and Oliver insisted I stay here overnight while it's getting fixed," Felicity chimes in, the lie falling easily from her lips.
The fact that she's such a good liar always manages to surprise him, since she's such an open book. Although maybe that's what sells it: no one expects her to lie to them. After learning what he has about her past and seeing this new side to her, though, he wonders how much she actually lies on a daily basis. He doesn't think her personality is a lie, but a lie by omission still counts for something, doesn't it? They're more alike than he's ever realized, each hiding away the pieces of themselves they don't want anyone else to see. Granted, the pieces he doesn't want to display are much larger than hers, but the point remains the same.
Maybe that's what's drawing them together. Up until now, they've both been keeping the worst parts of themselves hidden, but for some inexplicable reason, they've decided it's time to stop. They're trusting each other, opening themselves up in ways they haven't before, and it's deepening the connection that, if he's being honest, has always been there. She's been living in spite of her father for years, while he's been living in the memory of his, but maybe together they can each find a balance. She can't keep shutting out her memories and he can't stay wrapped up in his. By this logic, he can almost convince himself it's mutually beneficial, and not just his selfish side taking over. Whatever the reasoning, he can't deny he wants this to work. He can see a future for the first time in too many years, and regardless of whether he deserves it or not, he wants it.
"Overnight?" His sister is asking, "You must have a good Super."
Realizing the improbability of a pipe actually being fixed overnight, Felicity bites her lip. He can see her trying to come up with a decent explanation and tries not to grin. "Yeah, well, I may have been a little less than polite about his lack of dedication to the building when I called him. He's trying to prove me wrong."
"Right," Thea responds, not looking like she believes a word coming out of the blonde's mouth anymore. It's sort of comforting, knowing that for all of her startling ease in deception, she's not completely infallible in her excuses. When his sister speaks again, her voice is extra chipper. "Well, you kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
To both of the Queens' surprise, Felicity laughs. When she finally calms down, her face is slightly flushed as she takes in their expressions of confusion. "Sorry. It's just… ironic, you saying that to Oliver. Not that he's like that anymore, or that I'm like that, because I'm definitely not and neither is he. I'm well aware of how this looks, and it is not at all like that. This is all very above board and definitely not some flaky thing between a CEO and his secretary, not that there's a thing to begin with. I didn't even want to be a secretary but your brother can be very persuasive when he needs to be. Not in that way, of course- oh God, Oliver will you just hit me over the head with something already to put us all out of our misery?" She snaps, burying her face in her hands and shaking it as though the simple action will erase the last thirty seconds.
Thea is staring at her with raised eyebrows, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "I like you," she declares, "Anyone who can call my brother out on being a man-whore is good in my books!"
Felicity's face is completely red by now and Oliver fixes his sister with a look before she retreats in an exaggerated tip-toe back through the door. She's pointedly left it open, and Oliver crosses to push it closed, apologizing as he does so.
"She's not usually so…" He isn't sure what to call it, and thus resorts to waving his arm vaguely in the direction of the door.
She's still hiding her face in her hands. "Oh my God. I can't believe that just happened. What is wrong with me? Why didn't you stop me?"
"I wasn't really sure how," he answers, trying not to smile.
"You're an awful person," she whines, but there's no heat behind the words. "This was a terrible idea. I should not be here. Now your sister's questioning what's going on and neither of us even knows what's going on."
He remains silent for a moment, distracted by the fire. Finally pulling himself back to attention, he forces the words out. He's a controlling person by nature, making it all the more difficult to be completely at her mercy. "I meant what I said before Thea came in here, Felicity. Where we go from here is up to you."
"I- but why?"
He takes a deep breath before diving in. "Because I can't seem to keep… whatever this is… platonic. I tried because I thought it was best, but-" he raises a hand to stall her oncoming rant about making her own choices, "but, you told me I don't know what's best for you, and you're right. Which is why you're going to go to your room, sleep on it, and tell me what you think is best for you later."
She looks like he just sprouted a second head. "Seriously?"
"Seriously." He nods along with the word.
"And if I don't need to think about it?" She throws back at him. Her eyes are darker than usual and he has to clamp down on the desire to close the distance between them.
"Humour me."
Digg looks only marginally surprised to see Felicity descend the stairs with him the next morning, all three dressed less professionally than they normally would be during the week. For her part, she tries to play it off as no big deal. She overshoots a bit, but the effort is there, so Digg pretends it's natural for her sake.
"He wanted to play caveman," she says by way of explanation when they draw closer to the man. Once her words catch up with her, she squeezes her eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths. "I did not mean that in some kinky role play sort of way."
Oliver nearly chokes on his own air intake as Diggle laughs outright. "I got what you meant, Felicity."
"Right," she says, lifting her chin a fraction of an inch in an attempt to move past the moment, "Let's go. I want to see what my search turned up on the video footage and I want to check out investors in the other companies to see if there are any common names who deserve a visit."
Digg nods once, starting toward the door with the other two following. They only get to the threshold before Thea's voice echoes after them accompanied by the sound of her footsteps on the stairs.
"Bye Ollie!" She calls out, grabbing the bannister as she reaches the last stair to anchor her body as she spins around to face the door. Waggling her eyebrows, she adds, "Ollie's Felicity."
"Goodbye Thea," he returns, his tone indicating his displeasure with the younger girl. She looks completely unaffected by it, however.
"Bye," Felicity shoots off in her general direction before scurrying out the door. She's already halfway to the car before Oliver turns to follow. Digg has hung back and is looking at Oliver with a raised eyebrow and tilted head, silently asking for an explanation he knows he won't get.
True to expectation, Oliver mutters, "Don't ask," as he passes the older man.
The ride to Verdant is mostly silent, with Felicity already setting up the searches she wants to run next on her tablet to give them a head start and Oliver staring out the window while Digg glances back in the rear-view mirror occasionally to take note of the careful distance between the two. Oliver can tell he's barely restraining his desire to ask what the hell is going on and he's grateful for the effort. Diggle may have expressed hesitant support, but that doesn't mean he'll be one hundred percent behind them. The man has taken on a big brother attitude toward the blonde computer expert, and Oliver knows that whenever they sort this out, he's going to be in for a lecture reminiscent of the one he received from Quentin Lance all those years ago. He can't say he's looking forward to that; he can only hope it has a better outcome.
Once they arrive, Diggle sets to checking over bits of footage Felicity sends to one of the monitors while Oliver catches himself up on QC e-mail. He gets about a hundred messages a day, and while it's mind-numbing work, it needs to be done. He can't completely shirk responsibility, even if it's the weekend. One of the benefits of having Felicity as his EA, however, is that she was able to write a program filtering out the generic messages from the more important ones. Automatic responses are sent to any emails from worried investors asking after quarterly earnings, fiscal performance, or future plans, while inter-departmental memos sent to everyone in the building go straight to her own e-mail account for her to check over in her spare time for anything pertinent. It helps, not having to wade through the excess junk mail and just get straight to the point, but it doesn't mean he has to like the job any more.
By the end of two hours, Diggle has managed to locate Whicker on five different nights, but has had no luck spotting the woman. Felicity, on the other hand, has managed to compile a list of investors common to at least three of the destroyed companies and is setting in on cross-referencing them with Whicker and Konn. Oliver is feeling the restlessness that comes with sitting in one place for too long and has taken to pacing as he types out responses to largely redundant e-mails from department heads and Isabel.
Felicity is the one to break the silence. "Ok, so the cross-reference on Whicker came back with mostly innocent social connections. Nothing much deeper than mutual donations to charity fundraisers, some pictures from social gatherings. It looks like Whicker just knew some of these people through the regular channels, so I don't think he's our connection to anything more sinister going on."
"What about Konn's?" Oliver asks, thankful for the reprieve from the monotony.
"His is taking a little longer. I've been able to eliminate some of the investors but the results are still coming in. I probably won't have anything useful until after lunch. Hopefully I can get you at least one person to arrow so you'll stop prowling like a caged tiger."
"He'll never stop doing that," Sara's voice pipes up from the top of the stairs. Oliver's been wondering if she'll show today, and he feels a tiny pull of relief that she has. "Sorry I'm late. Dad wanted to do father-daughter bonding this morning. Not that you can really do much confined to an apartment because everyone else thinks you're dead… Laurel stopped by for a bit, something about being in town for the weekend to get the rest of her stuff in order for the move, so I spent some of that time hidden in a closet. You think I'd be used to that but I guess the last time I hid from my sister in a closet was about seven years ago."
Oliver gives her a tight smile in response to her dig at their past indiscretions. At least they can kind of joke about it. "It's fine. We haven't really gotten much done today."
"I resent that tone," Felicity scolds, pointing her finger warningly at him. "You can always go back to the sad state your system was in before you met me, and then you'd be here for weeks waiting for this stuff."
He holds up his hands in surrender, a small grin playing at the edges of his lips. The blonde swivels back to face her screens in triumph, resuming her typing once more. Oliver turns to the other blonde then, and starts filling her in on their theory from the previous night. As he talks, he studies her face carefully for any sign of familiarity with his words. He trusts Sara, but he knows that her loyalty to the League has to come first in this situation, so she may not be able to be completely forthcoming.
"Start with Harvey Winman," she suggests once he's finished.
Oliver's brow furrows. "You know something about this?"
Sara presses her lips together. "I wish I did. I've never met the man, but there are whispers about him. The Ghost doesn't tell us much about his independent dealings, but the League makes it their business to keep appraised of what's going on. I hear rumours." She shrugs. "Winman's name was one of them. You'd find it anyways; this is just a shortcut."
"Right," Felicity murmurs, typing in a series of commands to modify the search. "Let's see what Winman brings up."
As the search starts, Felicity swivels in her chair a few times before finally announcing she'll make a Big Belly run to kill time. After taking down everyone's orders, she grabs her keys and heads for the door before realizing Oliver is following her.
"You aren't going anywhere alone right now," he tells her, leaving no room for argument. She looks like she wants to try for all of five seconds before sighing and giving in.
"Fine. But I'm still driving, and you're paying."
He says nothing, catching the look of amusement shared between Sara and Diggle as they ascend the stairs but ignoring it.
The drive to Big Belly is mostly silent, but it isn't completely uncomfortable. Felicity concentrates on the road while he surveys the surroundings. It's a habit he can't shake, not that he'd want to. Knowing your environment is essential to survival. Not that there are any obvious threats at this moment. Aside from the usual groups of people milling about on street corners and the occasional car, the Glades are usually pretty quiet during the daylight hours. It's when the sun goes down that extra caution is a necessity. One of the reasons he insisted Felicity park so close to Verdant, despite the danger of being spotted, is because of the plethora of street thugs and muggers waiting in the shadows. The less chance of her encountering one of them on the walk to her vehicle, the better. Like he told her, he'd rather their nighttime activities be exposed than her finding herself in danger because she parked too far away.
He makes it until they're waiting for their order before he finally breaks and asks what he's been wanting to all day. He knows that he told her he'd give her space to make the decision, but she hasn't said anything, and it's making him restless. "So… Have you thought about it?"
Her eyes shift in his direction, a thoroughly amused glint in them. "Thought about what?"
He fixes her with a look and she allows the smile she's been fighting to tease her lips. She doesn't say anything for half a minute, instead choosing to turn her head back to the wall behind the counter as she leans her elbows on it. He's aware of every tiny movement in that moment, from the pursing of her lips to the nervous tapping of her heeled toe against the tile floor. Her knee moves at a consistent rate, bobbing her foot up and down behind her in a nervous tick. She's squeezing her hands together as though the mere action will give her the courage to say the words aloud.
Finally, without looking at him, she says, "I thought I told you I didn't have to think about it."
He turns away from her to mimic her position, their shoulders barely brushing as he counters, "I thought you'd appreciate my consideration for your ability to make your own decisions."
She laughs, bumping his shoulder with hers playfully right as their food appears. He grabs the bag and they head out, his hand finding the small of her back as they do. This time, it feels different, but in a good way. There are a storm of emotions warring for dominance inside him, but it's a good storm, unlike the other one they're currently caught up in. Warmth explodes in his chest as she turns to grin at him briefly and he wonders why he ever thought this was a bad idea.
True to her word, Felicity's computer dings right as they're finishing their food. She pops up from her seat at the table, discarding her wrapper in the garbage as she heads for her desk. His eyes track her progress of their own accord, not even trying to hide the action anymore.
"Alright, so…" She starts. Her voice trails off as she enters a few commands and swivels her head to check out the other monitors before continuing. "Harvey Winman invested in three of our companies. He's relatively new money, the pulled-himself-up-by-his-bootstraps type. He doesn't have any criminal background but the interesting tidbit here is in his financials. He's got a few rather large payments made to an offshore account that is, once again, poorly hidden. These guys really need to get better tech support. Maybe I can freelance, earn a few extra bucks…" She stops, shakes her head slightly to get herself back on track, and keeps talking as she types. "So these payments came from another offshore account that I am currently tracing the origins of and I will have that in 3…2…1… There! Um, wow. Ok. Here's something I didn't see coming. The payments came from a Russian businessman by the name of Adrian Bashmakov. He works for some mid-level investment firm in Moscow."
"An investment firm in Russia?" Digg questions, standing and depositing his wrapper with hers.
"Looks like it," she confirms, "I'd try to pronounce the name but we don't need to be subjected to that."
"What's Bashmakov getting in exchange?" Oliver asks, splaying his hand flat over the table to prevent his fingers from tapping restlessly.
Felicity's head swivels between monitors as she types feverishly. "It looks like… Holy crap."
"What?" He asks immediately, jolting to his feet at her tone.
"The firm operates through employees selecting certain investments and putting client funds into those investments. Bashmakov selected a Russian company that's been a consistently bad investment. It couldn't seem to get off the ground… until just after Bashmakov's investment. After he put his money into it, the company took off."
Digg shrugs. "So they hit it lucky."
"No, they didn't," Felicity says as she continues to scan the screen in front of her. "Their R&D department was stalled for months, but after Bashmakov's investment they released plans for a new, ground-breaking energy sector that would, and I quote "rival America's". The important part of all this: the tech they're looking to develop is vastly similar to Remcon Energy National's."
"Remcon Energy National," Oliver repeats, rolling the name around on his tongue for any hint of familiarity. "Who are they?"
"They're a starter company based out of Starling. They were looking very promising until a few months back. Guess what happened to them?"
"They fell victim to one of these cyber-attacks," Oliver surmises, and Felicity nods in agreement. "So you're saying that Winman invested in Remcon and then used his access to the database to have the Ghost corrupt it, collapsing Remcon, and then one of them sold the information to this Russian company?" She nods. "Then Winman gave Bashmakov a tip so he could make a huge profit?" She nods again.
"And in return for that, Bashmakov kicks a little back Winman's way," Digg finishes the train of thought.
Felicity glances to Sara over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Sound familiar?"
Sara purses her lips in thought. "I haven't heard anything specific about it but it sounds plausible. I just heard Winman's name a couple of times."
It's Digg who points out the obvious flaw in their theory. "But where does Svalov's daughter fit in this? What's to say Winman isn't working with the Ghost himself?"
Sara shrugs. "I never heard anything about a woman, but didn't you say the payments to Winman came from Bashmakov?"
Felicity double-checks before answering in the affirmative.
Sara taps her index finger on the table for a moment. "So what if Bashmakov just paid Winman for the tip? Winman might have been looking for some extra cash on the side. He could have found out what the Ghost was planning to do with the information and decided to branch out a little bit."
Finally, they had something productive for him to do. "Why don't I go ask him?" Oliver suggests.
Getting to Winman is easy. He parks in the company parking garage and is one of the last to leave at night, so there's no danger of them being interrupted. Oliver waits behind the pillar Winman parked beside, wondering if he chose this spot in anticipation of this exact meeting. The garage is silent other than the comforting chatter of Felicity over the comm as she gives him a completely unnecessary play-by-play of the virus she's implanting to crash the server. IT won't be in to fix it until the morning, and with the computers out of commission, Winman won't have any reason to stay any longer.
It doesn't take long for the sound of footsteps to break through the quiet, and Oliver taps the comm once to let her know the target is approaching. The blonde falls silent, but he can practically hear the nervous tension through the link. She's always been nervous when he's out in the field, regardless of her attempts to hide it, but this time the nervous energy feels…stronger. He briefly wonders if it has something to do with their suddenly less ambiguous state of… relationship? He isn't sure what to call it. He's never really thought he could have a fully functional relationship, before or after the island.
He doesn't have the luxury of pondering that question at the present time, however, so he shoves it away for later and steps out to face the businessman. Winman looks appropriately shocked and fearful, dropping his phone and briefcase.
"We need to talk."
"A-about what?" The man stutters, glancing frantically for an escape route or a witness.
"Adrian Bashmakov."
"W-what are you t-talking about?"
"Bashmakov paid you for intel. How did you get it."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Winman insists, though Oliver can see the lie in his eyes.
Without hesitation, he reaches back and sends an arrow flying just right of his face. "How about now."
Winman holds up his hands in a pathetic attempt at defence. "Ok, ok! I- I was working w-with this, uh, this c-comp-puter g-guy. He- He said that he w-wanted access to Remcon's d-database and that he'd give me a share of w-whatever he m-made off it."
"Off what."
"H-He sold s-some of the information from R-Remcon to a Russian c-company," Winman answers, still looking everywhere but at the green hooded figure in front of him. "I, uh, I thought I c-could get more out of the deal… if I gave the tip to Bashmakov. We've, uh, worked together in the past. I… I wasn't s-supposed to."
"Did you deal exclusively with the man."
Winman looks confused, but there's a touch of panic in his expression unrelated to his current predicament. "W-What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Was there anyone else involved."
"N-No."
"Don't lie to me," Oliver snaps through the voice modulator, pulling back another arrow.
"Stop! Stop! Ok! It wasn't just him!"
"Who else was working with him," he demands, a little exasperated that he has to actually ask the question. Surely with your life on the line, you'd be a little more forthcoming.
"Aleksandr Konn!" Winman all but shouts in desperation. "Aleksandr Konn was the go-between! He set everything up! I was j-just supposed to invest to get the access information. Konn g-gave it to the c-computer guy and then he took w-what he wanted and s-sold it to the highest b-bidder. I got a p-portion of the profits for my help."
"And Bashmakov?"
"He was on the side. I s-saw an opp-opportunity."
Sensing he won't be getting anything else of use out of Winman, Oliver finally releases the arrow he's been holding at the ready this whole time. Winman shrieks in a very non-masculine manner as it penetrates the intended target. When the businessman finally looks up once more, he finds himself alone in the parking garage with an arrow sticking out of his phone.
Oliver stays out longer than he should, both digesting the information from Winman and burning off the remaining buzz of adrenaline in his bloodstream. He breaks up a couple of attempted robberies and uses a bit more force than necessary to stop an attempted rape before finding himself at the clock tower. Looking out at the city, he understands why Sara set herself up here; it has the perfect view from all directions, and is too high to hear the chaos of the streets below. He can almost pretend the city is peaceful.
After a few more minutes, he decides that he's decompressed enough to head back to the foundry, and starts the descent back to the chaos.
Digg and Sara are sitting at the table when he returns, Felicity still in front of her computers. It's almost like time froze while he was gone, save for the movement of Felicity's fingers over the keyboard. Her posture shifts just a bit when he enters the room, relaxing, letting him know she's aware of his presence. The other two heads swivel in his direction briefly as he walks over to rid himself of the bow and quiver before heading to change. It seems none of them have any desire to dance in verbal circles with what this means. Konn's involvement as go-between hints at the involvement of Svalov's daughter, whoever she may be. Regardless, the information still leaves them with a huge hole in the entire plot. Whoever this woman is, she wants to destabilize the United States economy, and she's using corporate means to do it. They have too many W-questions unanswered at this point and it's driving him nuts. They don't know who is behind it all, they don't know why she chose this particular method, and they don't know when the next attack will be, or how to stop it.
By the time Felicity is ready to call it a night, because really she's the only one doing anything at this point, the three of them are more than ready to agree. Sara leaves first, seeming to sense that the three of them want to have a private conversation. Once the door closes behind her, Digg turns to face Oliver, arms crossed over his chest.
"How much do you think she's not telling?" He asks, getting straight to the point.
Oliver considers the question before finally admitting, "I'm not sure. I trust Sara, but she's a member of League. I know she wouldn't intentionally keep anything that could backfire on us, though."
"She knows who the Ghost is and she won't tell us," the other man points out.
"I'm not sure if she's one hundred percent sure on his identity," Oliver hedges. "She said she'd never met him. Maybe she's just formed an assumption."
"Assumption or not, it would be helpful."
"There's not much we can do about it if she's not sharing, now is there?" Felicity adds from her computer chair. "We just have to trust that, if she knew anything important, she'd tell us."
Convincing her to come back to the mansion with him for a second night isn't as difficult as he anticipates. He waits for a long list of arguments ending with her throwing his 'one night only' guarantee back in his face, but is subjected to only a half-hearted effort. She still asks what his definition of 'one night' is, though. In the end, it only takes half the time and counter-arguments he'd prepared to get her here.
They stand outside the guest room door, fingers loosely intertwined. Oliver leans forward to press his lips gently to her forehead, his eyes shutting as he does so. He's surprised when he feels her free hand snake around the back of his neck, pulling his head down just enough for her to press her lips against his gently. It's soft at first, and even as it deepens, the kiss remains slow. She pulls back after too short a time.
"Goodnight," she whispers. Before he can reply, she's disappeared through the door and left him alone in the hallway.
He spends the next two hours trying to fall asleep but failing. It isn't like most nights, though. Usually he feels a sense of restlessness and dread when attempting to sleep. Oliver Queen isn't afraid of much, but he fears what awaits him every time he closes his eyes. Tonight, however, his bout of insomnia is brought on by the never ending stream of thoughts buzzing through his brain. He can't shut off the wheels turning in his mind, trying to put the pieces together. It's strange, realizing that he can't sleep because he's too caught up in his present and not because he's avoiding his past.
The knock on the door is so soft that, if he were anyone else, he wouldn't have heard it. He pads over to answer it, glancing at the clock as he goes and seeing it's nearly 3AM. Oliver can think of only one current occupant of the house who would still be awake right now.
Sure enough, he opens to door to find Felicity on the other side. She's wearing actual pajama pants and a tank top tonight, with a black knit sweater pulled over her shoulders against the cold. Her eyes reflect her uncertainty as she tilts her head to look up at him.
"I- uh- I didn't know if you'd be awake."
His lips lift briefly in a half-smile as he steps back to allow her into the room, closing the door softly behind her once she steps past him. Her eyes linger on him from her seat on the couch as he turns around, and he realizes he isn't wearing a shirt. Repressing the urge to smirk at her, he crosses to the couch and sinks down beside her. They seem to fall together naturally as his arm drapes across the back of the couch and she leans into his bare chest. His arm falls from the back of the couch to wrap securely around her shoulders as he leans into the corner formed by the back and armrest. His other arm comes to wrap around her waist, fingers dipping inside her sweater unintentionally and brushing the bare skin peeking out from the hem her tank top while his chin rests on the top of her head.
"Sorry, I just…" She trails off, her voice low.
"Couldn't sleep?" He volunteers, his fingers tracing faint lines on her upper arm.
"My brain wouldn't shut off."
"Neither would mine," he admits, allowing his eyes to close briefly. He feels calmer with her here.
"What was your father like?" She asks suddenly into the silence. "I mean, before all of the List stuff. I knew him as Robert Queen my boss, but what was he like as Robert Queen the father?"
The question surprises him, but he supposes it makes sense. They've only really talked about their fathers in terms of the men they resented, not as the men who raised them. He considers what he remembers of his father for a few minutes before finally deciding how to say what he wants to.
"My father was… happy, at one point. I don't remember him smiling much, but when he did it was around me and Thea. I remember when Mom first had Thea. He looked so content to just hold her and stare down at her like she was the best thing in the world. Their marriage wasn't the best at that point, but she brought them back to each other for a while. As Thea grew older, they grew apart again, but I didn't really understand what was going on between them. I was more focused on my little sister and just being a kid. He used to play games with us on his days off, or take us to movies. He was just a dad on those days. As time went on, though, he started getting more reserved. He smiled even less than usual and he stopped taking time off. When he stopped paying attention to us… That was when I started acting out, begging for his attention. I didn't understand why he suddenly just stopped wanting to spend time with us and, well, we both know how that ended."
Felicity's head bobs against his chest in a nod. Her fingers have absently started drawing random patterns over his skin, tracing figure eights and running over the scars he hates to look at. He likes that she doesn't shy away from them, but she isn't fascinated by them either. Most people stare while trying to look like they aren't, even Laurel revealed a strange captivation with the evidence of torture covering his skin. It prompts curiosity in even the most controlled of people, and yet Felicity has never been fazed by them.
"What about yours?" He asks.
She draws in a deep breath and lets it out again. "He was… He tried. The truth is that we never fully clicked. He understood parts of me, but he spent a lot of the time trying to get me out of my comfort zone. I guess he thought it would toughen me up or make me a more rounded person, but a lot of his efforts fell flat. He just didn't get why I was more comfortable tucked behind a book or a computer screen."
"I thought you said he worked with computers, too," he says, his hand stroking up and down her back. They've shifted over the course of their conversation so that they're lying down, Oliver on his back and Felicity half lying on his chest between him and the back of the couch.
"He did," she confirms, "But he wasn't as in love with it as I am. To him, I think it was more of a job than a career. Maybe that's why I love computers so much. I was always more electronically inclined, and some days he'd spend hours teaching me the ins and outs of computers. We'd take all sorts of electronics apart and put them back together again. Drove my mom crazy, but she let it happen because those were some of the few times our days together ended on a good note. Maybe I chose IT because it was a way to keep a good part of my father alive." He can feel her smile against his chest and tightens his arms around her briefly. "The ice fishing wasn't so bad, since I could bring a book, but then I fell in… That wasn't so fun. Sometimes I would wonder if he knew anything about me, but then I'd remember the good days and I'd forgive him. It was easier to convince myself he was doing it out of love back then, and I did love him for it. Back when he was just my dad who tried too hard to get me out of my shell.
"But then it changed. He started drinking more and staying home less. He became this completely different person. I even started volunteering to go on ridiculous outings I had no interest in just to try to draw him out. Eventually I stopped trying, but Mom never did. Nothing we did seemed to help, though. We just watched him as he descended into this completely different person who would rather spend his nights hitting things and chasing away his demons with alcohol than try to sort it all out. I still don't know what changed for him. One day he was excited to get a leg up in the business world and was taking my mom to fancy parties, and the next he was telling us that he wanted us to stay away from it all. He became this paranoid man who had to look into my friends and dates and then proceed to scare them off. He didn't want us to get close to anyone and kept telling us it was for our own good. It was weird, but he wouldn't explain what was going on so we were just left to watch it all unfold."
"Is that why you said you were a different person when he was alive?" He asks hesitantly. He doesn't want to pry, but he wants to know.
She nods against his chest again. "I let him push me into becoming this recluse who spent half of her time afraid of him and the other half insanely angry at him. I stopped trying to feel anything after a while because it was easier than balancing the whirlwind of emotions I couldn't keep up with and he encouraged it. When he died, I kept letting him control how I acted, but after that conversation with my mother I realized I had to stop. It was hard, but eventually I realized that if I just tucked him away like he taught me to do with my emotions, I could be myself again. In order to be the best version of myself, I had to forget all about him, so I did. I compartmentalized him and only brought him out once a year to help my mother grieve. It used to work, too, until…"
"Until I started prying?" He offers as she trails off.
He can feel her responding smile. "I wouldn't exactly call it prying." Her body shifts then, and she moves to prop her chin on one fist, balancing on his chest so she can look at him. "You were right, about the compartmentalizing thing. It's not healthy. I have… a lot of unresolved issues surrounding the man and pushing them away doesn't help me deal with them."
"Well I have more than a few… unresolved issues of my own so I can't really judge."
He leans up to press his lips to hers before they shift back to their previous position, her head resting on his chest, and lie together silently for a few minutes. Eventually, when her breathing starts to even out and she relaxes completely against him, he realizes that she's fallen asleep. He's used to holding a lot of weight in his daily life, mostly mental and emotional, but the physical feel of her body resting partially on his is the first time the weight has been good. His mind drifts back to his earlier struggle to define what they actually are as he lays there with his arms wrapped around her. They're obviously beyond friends, but he's hesitant to call what they have a relationship, mostly because of his utter lack of success at them.
He and Laurel were definitely not what he would consider functional, both before and after the island. They were too busy clashing against their vastly different expectations. She thought she could change him, make him a better man. Maybe she did, but it wasn't in the way she expected to. Looking back, it was almost as though she wanted to fix him, just so she could say she was the only one capable of doing it. It's the only reason he can come up with for why she stuck around through so much. He was a spoiled little rich kid back then, only concerned about himself. He liked what she represented, and more importantly his father did, so he kept her around and mistreated her to his heart's content. A small, petulant part of him had wanted to see how much she could take before admitting defeat. Apparently the answer was disappearing for five years on a yacht with her sister in a fit of commitment-phobia. So she couldn't fix him like she wanted. It took a sunken yacht and five years on a not-so-deserted island to do that. Although fix isn't the right word for what the island did to him (more like shattered), he did come out of it a better man.
After the island, they had been nearly as dysfunctional, coming together and pulling apart. Even after his wake up call, Oliver was still using Laurel for his own selfish purposes. He told himself that he'd know he was a better man when she accepted him once more, but that would never have worked. This time, they pulled Tommy into the middle of it, and he died for it, just like Laurel was sure Sara had. They both knew, then, that theirs was a toxic relationship, not the inevitability they once hoped.
His other attempts at relationships post-island were also failures. He pulled a Laurel and tried to fix Helena, putting Felicity in the crosshairs in the process. McKenna was an attempt at the first healthy relationship he'd had probably in his entire life, on the adult equivalent of a dare from Felicity, but Helena had put an end to that. It wouldn't have worked anyway. He had too many secrets to give himself fully to the cop, which is the very definition of unhealthy relationship. Then there was Isabel, which just sort of spoke for itself. Not really a relationship, but it was another sign that he wasn't cut out for one.
With all of the evidence stacking up against him, he can't in good conscience subject Felicity to a relationship with him, because inevitably that will end in failure. What he needs is a way to refer to it that doesn't make him think about his other attempts, because she is nothing like them. He knows she'd understand his reluctance; she had a front row seat for each and every spectacular failure. He won't associate her with his past, because for the first time about a week ago, he realized she is his future. He may not know what to call them, but they're together, and for now that's what matters.
He fell asleep that night and for once he didn't wake until morning, even if it was only a mere four hours away. The nightmares still came, but they weren't as vivid or consuming as usual, and he woke on his couch to find Felicity still wrapped in his arms.
She stays at the mansion for the following three nights, despite her initial attempts at protest, and eventually they find their way together. She's made it a sort of game, seeing who falls asleep first. He knows it's her attempt to help him sleep without outright saying it, and he's grateful for it. She hasn't won the game yet, but she's determined to.
The only thing it's managed to accomplish, though, is making her even more tired than usual. Digg and Sara have noticed, but they are blessedly silent on the subject. They merely sharpen weapons, spar, and look at video footage while waiting for Felicity to come up with something they can use.
"You know, you would think people would be just a little more careful about where they meet. I mean, this is a top of the line hotel. It's bound to have security systems installed, meaning cameras," Felicity vents as she runs the footage through the computer. They're running out of backlogged video to watch, which means they're running out of chances to catch sight of the mysterious woman. "I mean, as frustrating as it is, at least she's doing a good job of hiding herself. Seriously, I've seen Congressman Marcus on here about five times already, meeting with hookers. If I wanted to, I could blow his career right- holy shit."
All three heads snap to the blonde at the computers at her sudden change in tone. She doesn't swear often, so whatever it is must be big. They're on their way across the foundry when she holds up a finger behind her.
"Wait. No. You stay there. All of you. I have to make sure…" Her voice trails off as he and Digg trade frowns. She's already busy typing and clicking and pulling up screens frantically. Her head is swivelling between monitors at a rate that should probably give her whiplash, but again she doesn't notice. "Holy shit," she finally breathes.
"Felicity, what is going on?" He demands.
She inhales a steadying breath before setting her shoulders. "Ok, so I went back and-" She stops, looking back at the three of them over her shoulder. "You can approach now." Hesitantly, the three of them form a semi-circle behind her. "Ok, so I went back to check and make sure this isn't just a coincidence, because if it is a coincidence then we'd look pretty stupid to accuse her, but it makes sense, now that I think about it, because-"
"Felicity," Diggle interrupts her non-stop stream of words. She hasn't sounded this nervous in a long while.
"Right. Sorry. Ok, so see this figure here?" The blonde indicates a woman on the video. She's wearing a long black coat and a black head scarf, walking with her back to the camera. She's in the line of sight of the camera for as little time as possible. "So I went back to check, and she takes that same route through the lobby about two to three hours after Whicker arrives. We only went an hour on either side before, but then I figured if she's controlling the operation, she'd want to make Whicker wait, right? So she'd come after him, and probably build the anticipation as much as she can. She varies her time of arrival and only walks so the cameras can see her back. I found this," she draws up another video, "of her leaving about two hours after she enters. She leaves through the back way because the cameras only point toward the door, not away from it. I don't know why she wouldn't just have the Ghost fix the footage, but maybe she either didn't tell him, or he just didn't think we'd catch on and didn't want to waste his time. Either way, it's a pattern."
"Ok, so we have a non-descript figure in a black coat," Digg summarizes dully.
"No, we don't," Felicity argues. "We have more than that. She slipped up in the one I was watching. Here, check this out."
They watch as the video starts to play back. The woman appears on the camera, heading in the same direction as always, but this time a man bumps into her, knocking her off balance. She turns her head to glare at him, and that's when they see her face.
"Holy shit," Diggle echoes Felicity's earlier statement.
Oliver's head goes fuzzy for a split-second, trying to make sense of what he's seeing. "That's…" He trails off, unable to complete the sentence.
Felicity is the one who finishes it. "Isabel."
A/N: Ok, much longer than I actually thought it was going to be, but there it is! I know at least some of you saw that coming, but sometimes I think the anticipation of waiting for characters to find out what the reader already suspects is just as good as a curveball. Hopefully you guys liked the Olicity happening in there. I'm going to try to make them a bigger part of the chapters than they have been recently. Once I started writing longer chapters, they became much more filled with plot so the Olicity has been suffering a bit. I'll try not to rob you guys of them in the future. Next up: they have to decide how to deal with this new information and, well, Olicity did NOT heed the Ghost's warnings, and he's not happy about that. Of course, there will be Olicity moments.
Also, I have a question. So, there is a time coming up in which the two will be separated. Now, if I had realized this when I started, I would have included Felicity's POV earlier on in this so I could go into it without it being weird, but hindsight is 20/20. So, my question for you is: Would you prefer for me to leave it in Oliver's POV, and have Felicity fill him in on what happens when they're back together, or would you be OK with some of the chapters in Felicity's POV during that time?