AN: So, I found out today that I got the part time job I applied for. That's a good thing for the money situation, but not necessarily for the writing situation. I'm now a full time mother and student with a part time job - I'm sure you can imagine what that does to my free time. I hope you guys will stick with me and this story, but be patient. I can't promise quick updates.
Felicity stretched until her hips and shoulders burned. She couldn't remember having any dreams – or nightmares – but she had woken curled in on herself and laying the wrong way across the bed. When she glanced at her clock she was surprised to see that it was nearly eight in the morning.
The blonde slid to the end of her bed and then crossed to her en suite bathroom to brush her teeth. The smell of fresh coffee hung in the air like a cloud of caffeinated perfection, and she couldn't wait to get downstairs for a cup.
When her teeth were clean and she'd smoothed a hand through her mussed hair, Felicity stepped out of her bathroom to see that the door that adjoined her room and Oliver's was slightly open. Her heart did a thrilling swan dive out of her chest cavity and into her stomach. Felicity was taken aback to realize that it didn't do so out of fear, but something that was close to excitement.
She had left the door open on purpose. Though she knew that the Queen mansion was safe, a part of her had been badly shaken by the attack at the Queen Consolidated building; it had made her feel marginally better to see the open door and know that Oliver would be close at hand while she slept. Felicity had been too tired to contemplate why Oliver's presence would make such a difference.
Now, Felicity found herself approaching the door cautiously and wondering why Oliver had left it open when he'd clearly started to close it. What had stayed his hand? Why hadn't he closed it all way?
She put a palm against the cool wood of the door and hesitated. What if he was asleep? What if he wasn't dressed?
"Oliver?" Felicity called.
A few moments of silence passed before the dull thud of footfalls reached her ears. Felicity took a step away from the door just as Oliver pulled it open. The lines of his face were still softened from sleep and his expression was open, but it didn't appear that she'd woken him. He was also shirtless, which was about four shades of unfair if Felicity was being honest.
Oliver's chest was wide and finely muscled; this close to him, she could easily discern the patchwork of scars and tattoos that decorated his front. The scars looked brutal and yet there was also something captivating about them. Felicity couldn't find them beautiful when they obviously bore witness to such pain, but they were certainly something. Scars like Oliver's would have made another man look terrifying.
Terror was the last thing Felicity felt in that moment.
When she finally forced her eyes off of Oliver's chest and onto his face she felt as though she'd been dropped off of a skyscraper. The air was everywhere but in her lungs, where she desperately needed it to be. They were standing so much closer than she'd first realized, and his gaze was piercing.
Why did his eyes have to be so damn blue?
"Everything okay?"
Felicity barely contained the exasperated groan that tried to claw its way out of her throat. No one should sound that sexy. No one should be that sexy; it was cruel.
"I … thank you," she fumbled. "For this." Felicity waved her hand in a small motion that she meant to indicate the open door and realized belatedly that, with Oliver standing in the doorway as he was, she was actually waving at him. Horrified, she tried to correct herself. "Not 'this' as in this, I'm not thanking you for being half naked or anything – not that being half naked bothers me, I just … I meant the door. Thank you for the door."
One of Oliver's eyebrows inched slowly toward his hairline. Felicity closed her eyes and begged the floor to swallow her whole.
Apparently a shirtless Oliver Queen short-circuited her brain. Damn him.
She cleared her throat determinedly and then opened her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she said, "Thank you for leaving the door open."
For a second Oliver merely stared at her. Then his lips parted ever so slightly and a puff of air slipped passed his lips in a breathy chuckle. The grin that lingered in its wake was stunning.
Felicity was calling it now: shirtless, smiling Oliver was a religious experience. She might have to build a shrine.
"I'm glad you're up," Oliver replied. As per usual, he sailed right past her verbal gaffe. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"You do realize that's one of the worst ways to start a conversation, right?" Felicity queried. "If you were my boss I'd think you were about to fire me."
"Never," Oliver answered.
He didn't joke often, but Felicity caught the undercurrent of humor and smiled.
"Thea is going to spend some time with her step-father in Central City. I've asked Sara to go with her."
"Her stepfather?" Felicity repeated, stressing the first word.
Oliver tipped his head to concede the point. "My mother married Walter after I disappeared. He and Thea are close, but he and I didn't interact much. Walter and my mother separated a few months before she was killed."
Felicity nodded slowly. Oliver had been with his father on the Queen's Gambit when it sank in the South China Sea, and he had been an adult when he'd returned to Starling City. This Walter person must have fulfilled a father's role for Thea, but of course he wouldn't have been able to do so for Oliver. Felicity didn't blame Oliver for thinking of Walter as only Thea's surrogate parent.
"So Sara and Thea are going to Central City," Felicity prompted.
Oliver sighed. He moved away from the door and back into the heart of his room, nodding quickly in an invitation for her to follow. Felicity did so. She felt breathless again for a second when she thought that he might lead her to sit on the edge of his rumpled bed – although why that should make her breathless when they'd sat together on her bed was a mystery – but he didn't. Instead, he led her to the couch across from the fireplace.
"Digg and I are leaving for Russia in two days, which is also when my sister is leaving. You have a choice: you can either go to Central City with them, or come to Russia with me."
Felicity stared at him. This was not what she'd been expecting when Oliver had said that he wanted to talk to her. She'd thought that maybe he wanted to ask her about the attack, or if she'd ever seen her attacker with her father, but no. It wasn't that at all.
"Russia," she repeated dumbly. Then, with sudden comprehension she said, "This has something to do with the Bratva, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Oliver didn't elaborate.
"How long?"
"Two weeks, at least. Thea and Sara will probably stay with Walter longer."
She didn't say anything. Two weeks in Russia and in close proximity to the Russian mafia was a terrifying prospect. Icy fingers of dread clawed at her stomach even thinking about it. Felicity had barely escaped the Italians on her home turf, and now Oliver was asking her if she wanted to face the Russians, in Russia? No. No, she didn't; she didn't want anything to do with any of them ever again.
That would be easier to do if she hadn't bargained for a fake marriage to a high-ranking member of their order, or if her Mafioso father wasn't currently holding her mom prisoner. That was the difference, though: she had faced her father alone, and she had been the target. Digg and Oliver would be with her in Russia, and no one would know her as anyone but Mrs. Felicity Queen. She couldn't, in good conscience, tell herself that she wouldn't be a target for the Russians because she had no way of knowing that. Power plays were brutal, ruthless things in such circles. Felicity understood that her title as the Queen matriarch might endanger her as much as shield her in such a situation.
Felicity trusted Sara; she liked her. Logically, though, she knew that her odds were better with Digg and Oliver. They both knew how to fight, and if it came down to it the two of them only had her to protect. If Felicity went with Sara and Thea and something happened, there was only one trained fighter per two people to protect.
Then again, the idea of leaving the country while her mother was still at De Luca's mercy made her feel panicky. Felicity was separated from Donna as surely now as she would be in another country, but the idea of putting a literal ocean between them needled at her. The attack on her had made it clear that Felicity couldn't afford to lose any more time on figuring out how to get her mother away from the Italians. She had to find a way to use the information she'd stolen. The question was whether or not that'd be easier to do surrounded by people who did not know the truth of her situation, or in another country on the doorstep of a rival mafia.
Felicity fixed her eyes on Oliver. He had sat quietly beside her while she considered all of her options, and he returned her gaze without reproach. He didn't appear at all impatient or irritated with her protracted silence.
The realization that she had come to trust Oliver didn't fully settle in Felicity's mind until she asked him, "What do you think I should do?"
Her question surprised him, but Oliver had spent too long cultivating his stoicism to let it show. With perfect aplomb he said, "I think I can protect you better if you're with me."
Felicity nodded as if she'd expected that answer. "I'll find my passport."
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and started to worry it as she stood and made her back to her room absent-mindedly. Maybe Oliver knew someone in Russia that could help her find a way to leak the information on her father; maybe Oliver could think of something that she hadn't.
Felicity was halfway to her room when it occurred to her that she'd never actually asked Oliver for his help. She had asked him to protect her mother in the event that Felicity got her away from De Luca, but she hadn't asked him to help her achieve that goal.
She spun quickly on her heel. "Oliver?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you help me save my mom? I know I asked you to protect her, but that only works if she's here. And I don't know how to give the cops the information I stole without putting my mom in danger, and I don't know how to get her out of danger. I thought maybe you might have some ideas, or know someone in Russia who can help?"
"Do you still have that flash drive with all the information on it?"
Felicity nodded.
"Bring it with you. We can go over it with Digg. And I might know someone who can help."
"Thanks, Oliver."
It was only when she was in the shower an hour later that Felicity realized that she had never considered that Oliver might have refused to help her.
