(Announcer): This week on Under the Hood… Our hero finds he is pitted against an enemy much closer to home than he realized. As he struggles with this acknowledgement, he must decide if he's finally ready to actually accept and fight to keep the people in his life.
May 20th, 2013:
He was entirely opposed to this plan and he'd made that very clear up front. That being said, Felicity had been adamant and nothing he'd said had swayed her. It was possible he was losing his edge. Or it was just Felicity, which was entirely possible. Just the previous week, she'd insisted, against his equally vehement protests considering her history with planes and panic attacks, on flying with him to Shanghai to 'transfer' Edward Rasmus to Japan where he could be extradited for his crimes. She'd handled the trip better than he'd expected, quiet but calm as she sat with him in the cockpit-she'd claimed it would help to see out the front windows and he hadn't denied her.
Then she'd wanted to purposefully get herself caught counting cards in Dominic Alonzo's casino, so she could plant a device on his personal computer that would allow her to access his files and discover what he knew about Walter Steele's the plan itself had been, against his better judgement, a feasible one, they'd run into the very problem he'd had with it. That was how he'd found himself kicking in Alonzo's office door to find the man using Felicity as a human shield with the barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.
Oliver may have been a crack shot, but he wasn't willing to risk the issue with Felicity between them.
"Drop the bow," Dominic had growled, "or the blonde gets a bullet in the brain."
The eyeroll Felicity gave was so exaggerated it must've hurt. She'd then proceeded to throw the man's gun arm up and shoved her elbow into Dominic's sternum and when they both righted themselves again, Dominic was staring down the barrel of his own gun. Felicity, pressing a hand into her twice-injured but healing stomach for the previous exertion, had glanced his way and offered Oliver's slightly bemused look a simple shrug.
The smirk that had taken his lips was entirely unbidden.
To Alonzo's look of almost oafish surprise, she'd offered an understated, "Five years of self-defense classes."
Then Alonzo had told them about Walter's fate and the archer forgot what it was like to smile.
"I saw them drag the body out. There was this guy in black, looked a lot like you."
Oliver and Felicity had shared a grim look over this information. His stepfather, it seemed, had fallen prey to the Dark Archer. Felicity had been very quiet after that as they'd gotten away. Outside, she'd offered soft condolences to him, which he'd only been able to accept with a terse nod as he thought of how he'd have to tell his mother and Thea. The grip of Felicity's arms around his middle had been tight as he'd driven them back to the Foundry on his motorcycle and her entire frame had been tense against his back for the duration of the trip. He dressed in his civilian clothing on autopilot, trying to figure out just how he would tell his family, to tell his mother that she was now a widow for a second time while Thea had lost a man who had been like a second father to her.
"It's Malcolm Merlyn."
Oliver was surprised to find Felicity had been waiting for him in the alley outside the foundry's back entrance, and he turned to find her step away from the wall of the building she'd been leaning against while she waited for him. She was twisting her hands together, her shoulders tense in apprehension.
Then he heard her words and realized just what unfathomable thing she was implying. Oliver went still.
Felicity noticed this reaction from him and jumped to continue before he could say anything.
"I haven't been sure how to tell you because he's your best friend's father," she said, " but I've known for about a week. I've had my suspicions for a while, and I finally figured it out when I found a news article dated shortly after Christmas." She paused as if expecting him to say something, tell her to continue or deny her outright, but Oliver wasn't entirely sure how to even respond to an outlandish claim like hers. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she continued, apprehensive. "He was wearing a sling. He told the press it was from a personal training mishap, but I couldn't let the coincidence go, so I started digging into it." She wrung her hands together again. "Do you remember those devices I use? The flash grenades?"
Oliver offered a vacant nod and tried not to let his his foul mood rule his reactions.
"I used one that night, and the flash was stronger than I'd anticipated."
"What does that have to do with Malcolm Merlyn?" Against his intentions, Oliver's tone was defensive with his impatience to have this ridiculous conversation over with.
Felicity stepped closer in challenge of his tone, all nervousness melting from her posture as she did so.
"It took me a while to trace the money because it went through several subsidiaries of Merlyn Global, but I eventually found out he'd flown overseas for an off the books laser eye surgery. It's why he was out of the States for several weeks."
Oliver turned, having heard more than enough of this.
"He was recovering," Felicity insisted, but he didn't turn as he bit down an angry remark. "Oliver!"
He spun around, catching the woman off guard as she nearly barrelled into him and she took a step back in surprise.
"That man was like a second father to me, Felicity. You can't expect me to just believe he could do something like this out of the blue. Our families have been friends for years. After his wife was murdered, he changed, yes, but there's no way he's behind all of this. He's not that kind of-"
"Not that kind of man?" Felicity's words were loaded and they drew Oliver up short with their painful subtext. "You mean like your father wasn't?"
It hurts, both to say and to be heard, but it has to be said. Oliver's father hadn't been the man his son had thought him to be and neither, it would seem, is Malcolm Merlyn. Oliver recoils like he's just been sucker punched and Felicity feels a pang of sympathy for him as he turns away and his expression closes in on itself. She steps forward to place her hands on his arms to keep him facing her because this news is something he needs to face.
"I'm sorry. I am," she stresses as she holds his gaze and then she watches his jaw clench and shift as though he's trying to ground the information between his teeth. "But, it's him. Malcolm killed Walter."
And that's the real sucker punch of all of this because, if she's right, it means Malcolm Merlyn is also behind his father's murder. Oliver meets and holds her eyes for a moment, his gaze heavy with so many things. Then he exhales and looks over her head and Felicity sees the first bout of doubt in his eyes.
Despite how insistent she'd been, Felicity had hoped she was wrong. In his car, which they'd moved to after he'd driven them to his house on his motorcycle, they had listened as not only Malcolm Merlyn but Oliver's mother made it clear they had both been entirely aware of Walter's situation. When Oliver had told Moira of Walter's demise, the woman had called, on a phone he had bugged beforehand, to demand answers and proof of life from Malcolm, implicating herself as an unwilling accomplice of his to some unknown end.
While his survival is definitely good news, that Oliver gets out of the car to storm off towards the side patio speaks to how troubling the method of their learning it had been. Concerned, Felicity sets her laptop aside and follows across the moonlit yard. He's a ball of frustration as he paces across the well-manicured, lamplit stone of the patio, his hands a busy and fidgeting mess of running through his hair, gripping his hips, and just fisting at his sides.
This continues for a few moments before he grips and flips the patio table over with a roar of frustration. Felicity watches silently and from a distance for another moment, but when his agitation only continues to grow, she decides she should probably step in. She strides forward to take Oliver's wrist in one hand to hold him still and puts the other on his other arm as she turns him to face her. Her intent carries through as he's drawn from his thoughts to return her gaze. She can see the conflict there because his mother, willingly or not, is helping Malcolm Merlyn-who is in fact not the man he'd thought-and had lied to him about it only moments before. She offers her silent presence because it's all she has to give, but he eventually begins to calm regardless, pressing his fingers into his eyes and then running that same hand over his head as he dips it, his other hand settling on his hip.
She's not going to say the situation doesn't suck or that everything will be okay because it does and it won't. But, she can be there, offer her silent support.
After he takes a few breaths, Oliver lifts his head again and drops his hand to her arm, a gesture which tells her he's calmed.
"Can you track that call?" he asks.
Felicity gives a nod a returns from the car a moment later to find Oliver has already righted the table and is sitting with his brow dropped to the surface and his fingers interlaced behind his head. It's probably the most outwardly troubled she's ever seen him. He lifts his head as she sits and settles back in his chair with his fingers now laced together on the tabletop and none of the turmoil she knows he's in is bleeding through his expression. The man's always had quite the poker face.
"We could call John," Felicity ventures as she opens her laptop. "He would help us."
"No." Oliver's response is immediate and resolute.
Felicity looks up at him, but Oliver keeps his attention raptly on the table between them.
"Oliver, come on. If he could help with this, then-"
"We don't need him. We can do this job on our own."
Oliver is clearly trying to convince himself of this, and doing a good job of it, surely. She'll even give it to him that perhaps he's not wrong. But, having to do something and being forced to do something out of an obstinate refusal to share potentially pertinent information are two wildly different things.
"Maybe," Felicity allows after her brief pause of contemplation as she pours through Malcolm Merlyn's most recent calls for the one she wants. "But, we do need him. You need him." Oliver, stubborn, is apparently intent on ignoring this. "He's not just your bodyguard or your partner in crime fighting, Oliver. He's your friend. Those are never overrated but have a poor history of being underappreciated."
The pause that follows is thick with the weight of old memories as Oliver's gaze glazes over, still fixed on a spot on the table between them. While he contemplates on her words, Felicity starts a trace for the source of the feed Merlyn had streamed to Moira minutes before. She's surprised a moment later when Oliver speaks again, particularly given the topic he chooses.
"Shortly after my stay in China began, when I was just starting… all of this," he begins and Felicity dips the laptop screen a little to give him her attention. "…I had partners. Friends. For a while, we had a good thing going. We were mostly just taking on street crime, but what we were doing was good for the city. But, one of them turned on us, got mixed up with the gangs and turned his back on everything we'd been trying to stand for. For money." He glances up but turns away again when he finds Felicity watching. "I'm not saying John is anything like him or that he would try to do anything of the sort because I know he wouldn't. But, ever since then, I've learned to need no one, to rely on myself before all others. That's not to say that I don't appreciate friends or what they do or have meant to me, but letting them go has become… easier. I won't ask anyone to go any farther than they will. If I do, they'll just leave under worse circumstances, so what's the point?"
The silence that follows these revelations of character is heavy with unspoken implications as Oliver is still unable to look her in the eye. One inference in particular sticks out to her and Felicity leans forward, wary of the sensitive subject as she rests her elbows on the table in the space in front of her laptop.
"Are you expecting me to leave too?"
This gets Oliver's attention, makes him lift his gaze to her. But, he doesn't refute anything. This is the answer she was expecting, but it isn't the one she'd hoped for.
"That's a lonely way to live."
"It's easier," Oliver defends quickly and then adds, "and necessary."
"I don't think I believe that," Felicity dares.
The scan finishes and Felicity glances to find it's given an address, but she doesn't lift the screen to get a proper look at it yet. Walter's life isn't in immediate danger so long as Moira keeps up whatever her end of their deal is and this is clearly a conversation Oliver needs to have.
"Back… on the island," Now it's Felicity who averts her eyes, focusing instead on cataloguing the worn keys on the keyboard of her laptop. "I had this friend. She was a little like Cindy, actually. And you. Quiet. A little gruff. I don't know if you saw it, but I have this tattoo on the back of my shoulder. A dragon."
Oliver's eyes drift down as his thoughts seem to drift back to that night in a dark asylum when Felicity had nearly died. After a moment, he swallows, his eyes focusing again on the table. He doesn't lift them.
"I saw it," he says at length and Felicity nods but doesn't drop her gaze this time, willing him to look back up and to stop blaming himself for that night.
"It was hers," she says. "She's the reason I'm here today, taught me most of what I know, actually. But, in the end I… I let her down." Through the swimming that stirs in her vision as moisture coats her eyes, the blonde sees Oliver look up. "In the worst possible way. Every day, I'm reminded of her, and I have this lingering regret that I'll never be able to apologize. But, mostly, I'd just like to see her again, to ask for her advice when I'm stuck or maybe just to hang out and learn more Chinese…" Felicity's mind drifts back to quiet nights of learning Chinese in a trashed fuselage, but she stops the memories before the first pang of regret can hit her. "I'm not saying you always have to agree with him, but John is still your friend. And one day he might not be here for real. And then it won't just be a choice that keeps you away."
Silence falls as Oliver silently contemplates this thought and Felicity lets him think for a moment before she adds, "You say it's easy for you to let your friends go. I don't think I believe that. I think that's just something you tell yourself to make it easier when you think you have to let them leave you. It makes it easier for you to push them away."
Felicity leaves Oliver to his thoughts then and turns her attention back to her laptop. The signal triangulation gave her a building in the northern section of the Glades. There's not much of a surprise there. After borrowing a satellite she knows getting into the place won't be a simple matter. Malcolm Merlyn is clearly adamant about keeping Walter as a hostage because the place is swimming with guards.
"What is it?"
Oliver is clearly done with his contemplations for the moment. Whatever the results of those musings are, his expression gives nothing away. Knowing she shouldn't pry anymore, Felicity focuses on the matter at hand and turns her laptop to face Oliver. He pulls it closer to study it.
"I found where they're keeping Walter, but it looks… heavily fortified."
He looks at the feeds for all of a few seconds before he declares simply, "I can get in," and stands. Felicity reaches over for her laptop and hurries after him.
"I'm coming with you."
He turns to catch her arm. His expression says he's ready to argue the issue and Felicity digs her heels in, ready for a fight.
"Felicity, no," he denies, but she won't hear it.
"No? Why not? Oliver, I can handle myself. The gunshot wound barely hurts anymore, so it isn't that much of a-"
"Felicity, it's how I'm getting in."
Oliver gives her a pointed look, and the blonde goes pale as she realizes just what he means. And while she can apparently manage a plane ride, even a long one across the Pacific, under the right circumstances, she's not sure she'll ever be able to jump out of one and retain control of her mental faculties. Parachuting onto a ship only a couple hundred feet from shore had nearly rendered her catatonic.
"Although it does still bother you," Felicity grimaces because he must've seen the way she'd clutched at the wound during their confrontation with Alonzo. "Even if it could take the landing…" He puts his hand on her shoulder and opts not to finish that sentence. "Just sit this one out, okay?"
Felicity swallows, ducks her head, and ultimately relents with a nod.
"I'll call you when it's done."
He gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"I'll drop you off at home."
It's an hour before he calls her, and it's some of the best news she-and most likely Oliver as well-has heard in a long time when he tells her Walter is alive and on his way to the hospital to get checked out.
He called Felicity the moment Walter was in the hands of the paramedics-which he observed from a safe distance. Then he went back to Verdant to drop off his gear and was just entering the basement when the call came in from his mother. By the time he confirmed-within a minute-that he was on his way to the hospital, Thea had called and then left a series of texts when he hadn't answered given that he was already on the phone. So, he changed out of his gear more quickly than his usual pace and headed down.
Everyone was laughing when he stepped into the hospital room, and he couldn't help but smile. It had been so long since he'd seen his sister smile and laugh like she was. She spent the next fifteen minutes filling their stepfather in on things he'd missed during his imprisonment. That was when his mother turned to the door with laughter in her eyes and a smile she didn't seem inclined to shake.
"Excuse me," his mother said, "but who are you? This is a private meeting."
Oliver turned and found Felicity standing in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers in hand. Given that it was almost five in the morning, he actually hadn't expected her to make it down so soon. Felicity gave a nervous smile.
"I know. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge, I just-"
Just a few sentences in and Oliver could see she was already on the verge of floundering-his mother often had that effect on people-so he stepped in.
"This is Felicity," he said with a hand on the frazzled woman's shoulder to settle her. "She's my friend."
Felicity cast him an appreciative smile.
"She's a friend of mine as well," Walter said, sounding and looking pleasantly surprised that she was there. "It's wonderful to see you again, Miss Smoak."
"You are acquainted with both my son and my husband?"
Oliver recognized that look in his mother's eyes, and, after all of his father's indiscretions, he could hardly blame her. All the same, it didn't sit well with him that she thought this of Felicity, whom she didn't know, or Walter, who as far as he could tell had been as faithful to her as his father should've been-and he'd done his digging on the man.
"I work at QC. And I'm Oliver's IT girl," Felicity supplied with a nervous energy in her posture, her hands twitching as though she wanted to wring them together, but then she got this look that said she was appalled for reasons he was sure only she understood. This didn't bode well. "Not in a kinky or sexy librarian kind of-"
Oh, good God…
His mother's expression tightened into something shrewd he recognized as suspicion, and Felicity thankfully chose this moment to glance at Oliver. She went quiet because he was giving her a look that said she should stop that verbal line of thought before she made it worse. It was fortunate that she understood this look. The last thing he needed was for his mother to take those words as the confession they weren't.
"I fix his computers," Felicity corrected herself, and Moira's shrewd frown let up a fraction. "And his wifi. Basically anything electronic because, I don't know if you've ever seen him try to use them, but he's," Felicity gave a laugh that was exaggerated by her nerves. "He's pretty hopeless. But, of course, you probably do know that because he lives with you, and you've known him his whole life. I mean, you were there for the whole 'party boy dropped out of four colleges-'"
While Speedy certainly seemed find amusement in this current line of verbal thought, his mother's frown was deepening again, so Oliver took hold of the blonde's elbow to silence her-he was sure she didn't notice that he himself was smiling just a little in amusement in spite of himself, although he bit the inside of his bottom lip to hide it-and she took a breath, looking as though her babbling had physically pained her. She covered her eyes with a hand and murmured, "Oh, I really need to work on my introductions. Or just talking to people in general…"
"Baby steps," Oliver muttered, and she turned on him because he'd purposefully let humor slip into his tone.
"Is that judgement I'm hearing?" she asked with a subtle tilt of her head. "Because I'm an expert in a dozen different programming languages, and I'm fluent in the other major ones. I've finished my BA. You never even declared a major at any of four schools."
"Sure I did," Oliver quipped easily. "I majored in dropping out." He gave her a look and quirked one corner of his mouth. "And talking to people."
He marveled at his own good mood and knew it had everything to do with their victory that night, however small it was. Felicity's face flushed with embarrassment, and she couldn't seem to come up with anything to say in response.
A hearty laugh from Walter drew both of their attentions, along with those of Thea and the reigning Queen.
"I'm glad to see both of your spirits seem to be up since last we spoke. And I'm sure the boy only jests, Miss Smoak. Oliver must know as well as I, and I mean this as no small compliment when I say, that you are the most intelligent person in this room."
"Oh, by far." Oliver agreed.
When Felicity turned to him, he saw she was now aware that his entire purpose of trying to get a rise out of her had been for the sake of Walter's mood. The man had needed a good laugh after his months in captivity, and Felicity always seemed to bring it out of Oliver without trying, so he thought he'd give it a shot. She glanced at him with a smile, letting him know she wasn't upset.
"On that topic, how fares your education?" Walter asked, his attention back on the blonde. "I do hope you've not been neglecting your studies in my absence."
"No, sir," Felicity replied easily, and Oliver found himself wondering again when she found the time for everything she did. "That was part of our deal and I haven't forgotten. I'm on the home stretch, actually. I'll have that degree by Summer, just as planned."
Walter smiled, pleased.
"That's wonderful news. Our IT department is in need of your considerable skills."
"We've all missed you at the office. I picked these up on my way," Felicity said as she stepped forward to set the flowers on the side table, "and I'm sure you'll be getting an official, and likely ginormous, 'Get Well' card in the mail from everyone after they hear about this."
Walter laughed again, and Oliver was relieved to see some of those harsh lines of weariness around his eyes ease up.
"I look forward to it. And, thank you. Your concern is appreciated."
Felicity nodded but then seemed to notice the tension still on the part of Oliver's mother because she began to fidget.
"Well, I'll take my leave then. Awkward fifth wheel and all. Sorry to take up so much of your family time. I hope you all have a wonderful night."
Oliver glanced at her through his peripherals as she turned and left the room and there was a fleeting sense of potential seclusion that hit him from a source he had difficulty identifying.
For years, he'd been a solitary force, only occasionally accepting the help of others but never outright relying on them. Even now, he couldn't view anyone as more than a passing acquaintance in his life. Sometimes appreciated more than others. Rarer times as friends. Never as someone he expected to stick around. But, as Thea and his mother turned their joyful attentions back onto Walter, Oliver had the sudden stark realization that Felicity had been right earlier.
He'd been back in his old life for seven months now, surrounded by people from a life he could barely remember and by the people he'd met since. Yet, somehow, he was alone. He'd returned a soldier, solitary in his motivations and goals and reborn to a crusade passed down to him by a father whose shadows had finally caught up with him. He had one helluva fight on his hands.
That being said, he realized he didn't want to be isolated anymore.
On this sudden whim he turned for the door after giving his quiet word to return shortly. He scanned the hall in both directions and spotted the bob of a blonde ponytail halfway down the hall to his left. With his much longer strides and his hurried step, he neared her quickly and called out to her. Felicity turned, surprised to find him following after her, and stopped to wait for him to catch up.
Only, when he finally did, Oliver wasn't sure himself what he wanted to say. So, he just stood there, staring and trying to piece together his jumbled thoughts into a meaningful, conveyable statement. But, what did he want to say? What had been so urgent that he couldn't just call her later or bring it up some other time?
"Oliver?" Felicity took a small step closer, her brows dipped into a furrow of concern, and she lifted a hand as if to take his arm but stopped herself. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against his fingers. "Is everything okay?"
This was a good question after everything that had come to light over the past few hours. Honestly, most of it hat yet to completely soak in. Walter's supposed death… Malcolm Merlyn… His mother…
Of course, this had nothing to do with any of that.
Are you expecting me to leave too?
This, he realized, was the kernel of his direct concerns and was what he'd kept himself from dwelling on since their conversation a little over an hour ago: Felicity's imminent-to him, at least-departure from the team.
"About… what we were talking about earlier." He paused to collect himself and saw recognition of the topic in Felicity's eyes. He took a breath, struggling with something so exposed and… vulnerable. But, even so… "I don't… want you to leave."
It was all he could bring himself to say in the end. Nothing on how much she'd helped him over the months or how much he valued her presence in his life for however long she was willing to give it. Felicity, however, seemed taken aback by this meager confession.
She blinked, seemingly unsure of how to respond. But, then she smiled and, after a brief hesitation, stepped forward to grip his hand, stopping the restless fretting of his fingers. He stilled entirely when she reached up to press her lips to his cheek in a soft kiss. Oliver wondered in that instant if his heart had always beat so loudly in his chest. The contact was brief, but he felt in that moment before she stepped back like he'd missed something somewhere along the lonely road of his crusade. And in that moment his heart ached for a reason he couldn't yet define because he'd been through the wringer that night and it was half past five in the morning which meant he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. Felicity, unaware of these stirrings, gave his hand a comforting squeeze.
"I'm not going anywhere." She said the words with a surety that implied the task would be as simple as the simplicity with which she'd spoken.
For the first time in a long time, Oliver couldn't find it in himself to think any differently.
"Goodnight, Oliver."
She'd already released his hand and turned away to leave before he found himself able to reciprocate with a quiet, "Goodnight, Felicity," and she turned mid-stride to throw a smile over her shoulder.
Oliver stood there for a time, unable to interpret his own reaction to any of what had just happened other than the relief that she intended to stick around and some nondescript longing for a life he was no longer fit for. He stood there until she reached the end of the hall and when she made to turn she looked back and, finding him still there, offered another smile and one of her little waves of farewell. He returned both. Then she was gone and he was left alone with his thoughts.
In the end, he chalked it all up to exhaustion and over thinking.
But, as he returned to his stepfather's hospital room to rejoin his family, he knew there was one thing he still had to do before the night was over.
It was early. Most people were still asleep at this hour. John Diggle, it seemed, was not one of those people. Ten minutes after Oliver had arrived at the man's apartment with no response from knocking, the soldier arrived from the stairwell in jogging gear. He drew up short for a moment when he found Oliver waiting but pulled his keys from his pocket and continued past the archer to his door.
"Oliver," he said in greeting as he unlocked and opened his door.
Oliver turned with him, knowing there was a chance John might not hear him out.
"I met Nora Reid in Hong Kong," he said, getting right to the point, and John looked up, pausing as he opened the door. "She was working for ARGUS at the time, and I ended up… falling in with them."
John Diggle stared at him for a moment, hiding his reactions well. Then he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped aside, granting Oliver entry. Oliver took it, relieved, and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he stepped into the man's kitchen just inside the door as John closed it behind them. Then John turned to study him with his arms folded across his chest, clearly waiting for further details.
"She was my medical handler," Oliver continued. "But, someone found out her ties to ARGUS and tried to use her husband to get her to spill secrets. She refused and asked me to go after him instead. ...Something came up, and I couldn't get there in time. That's how she knows who I am and it's why she hates me. But, I meant it when I said she won't turn me in. Waller always kept her people on a short leash and my identity is still classified on their database. She may have retired, but she won't break orders."
John just stood there for a few moments and Oliver accepted his scrutiny, allowing him the time to process this information and whether he believed it or not. When the man sighed and shifted his feet, the archer knew he did and he breathed a little easier.
He was going to need his friends for what was to come.
"While I appreciate the belayed honesty, it's like I told you last time, Oliver. This all just isn't for me."
"I know, and I heard you. But, I need your help."
This piqued the man's interest, however he might try to deny it, as he shifted again.
"With what?"
Oliver took a breath and folded his arms across his chest as well, still having trouble digesting the information he was about to give. But, time wasn't on their side. He couldn't tiptoe around this issue.
"Malcolm Merlyn is the Dark Archer."
Dig raised a single eyebrow, but his surprise, Oliver knew, was far more palpable than he expressed visually. If only it was the only bomb the archer had to drop.
"And my mother is working with him."