The car pulls away from the club, smoothly merging into the midday traffic. Oliver's eyes don't leave the building until it disappears. He catches the light tapping of Felicity on her keyboard over the comms, and the even fainter sound of Ellie talking in the background.
In some ways, it feels like Oliver Queen stays behind in the lair. The parts of him that matter - the bits that are really him - are kept safe in Felicity and Ellie's care. There's no place for this new identity he's forged for himself right now. Arrow suit or business suit, he can't be a family man, a father or a lover at the moment. There's too much at stake to risk showing Isabel any sort of vulnerability.
So Oliver drags his eyes away from the window. He shoves those feelings down, lets the gravity of the situation sink in and feels a mask slide across his face as surely as if he'd obscured his identity with a hood and a strip of cloth across his eyes.
"We got a plan?" Sara asks.
Oliver's grateful that she doesn't ask if he's okay. He's not. She knows that.
Though her words are directed at him, her eyes are on Malcolm. Oliver knows that even if her gaze had been settled on him, all of her senses would be tracking Malcolm's every single move. It's both precaution and recognition of that danger that the man embodies. Sara's always had a fantastic sense of self-preservation, one that usually ends up extending to the people around her. The ones she cares about, at least.
"Confront Isabel," Oliver answers, a grim line to his lips and no amusement in his eyes at all. "Get my sister back. Implicate Blood and win my mom the election."
Sara's sharp eyes switch to him. "That's not a plan, Ollie, that's a kamikaze run." There's a noise of agreement in his ear and he knows Felicity's heard the entire exchange through the comms.
"We have the element of surprise," he counters. "Isabel doesn't know that we know anything and she's undoubtedly busy with the attack at QC and the election just two days away."
"Surprise only gets us so far, Oliver," Malcolm advises.
Oliver squares his jaw, curling one hand into a tight fist at the sound of the other man's voice. It was just a few minutes ago that he'd made thinly-veiled threats against him and those he loves, all on top of finding out that he's the 'Bad Man' his daughter told them about when she first arrived. The bad man who was going to get into Felicity's room and do… God only knew what. It's probably a really good idea that Sara came along, because if it'd just been them he might've rammed his knuckles down Malcolm's throat at his arrogant tone.
Malcolm's not done. "She had to have known that we'd figure out she has Thea eventually and that the attack on QC was her doing."
"Then what do you suggest, Malcolm?" Oliver snaps. "What leverage do we possibly have over Isabel other than two former League of Assassins members and the Arrow threatening her? I'm going to need you to tell me, because I've got nothing. I've got nothing and she's got my sister!"
"Oliver…" Felicity's gentle voice sounds in his ear and he closes his eyes, turning toward the window. She soothes him. She always has… but that doesn't mean she has a fix for this. She doesn't. And they both know it.
"I'm sorry," he says after a beat, half to Felicity and half to Sara, but Malcolm nods like it's meant for him, something Oliver ignores. "This is just…"
"Ollie, I get it," Sara says. "Nobody's gonna blame you for having a rough time with this."
"It's just… it's Thea," he stresses, as if that says everything. And to him it does.
Sara nods, a shadow crossing her face. "I know."
Oliver closes his eyes.
"They took her for a reason, Oliver," Malcolm points out. "Isabel isn't the criminal mastermind she thinks she is and she loves the sound of her own voice. We need to get her talking, find out why they took Thea and what they want from us to get her back."
Oliver's eyes fly to Malcolm, his brow knitting as he weighs his words. Isabel might not be a criminal mastermind, but Malcolm Merlyn surely is. Oliver's starting to wonder if maybe the psychotic mass murderer had a point about his usefulness - if anyone can think from Isabel's perspective, it's Malcolm.
"You think they want something in trade?" Oliver surmises. "If that's true, why didn't they contact us?"
The thin smile that paints itself across Malcolm's lips is quietly patronizing, like he's trying to explain something to a very small child and doesn't really have the patience for it. Oliver's look melts into a glare, his annoyance with the man spiking.
"Have you ever been hunting or fishing, Oliver?" Malcolm asks. Oliver has to bite his tongue to keep from doing something he knows he'll regret as Malcolm chuckles at his own words. "What am I asking, of course you have. You wouldn't have survived that island if you hadn't, to say nothing of your elimination of so many of my colleagues." He settles in his seat, shooting Oliver a cavalier look. "So tell me, Oliver, what's the most effective way to hunt?"
Make your prey come to you. Lure them in. Keep yourself in a position of power.
The answer is instinctual, still so deeply embedded in his bones that he doesn't even have to think about it. Of course it's about forcing them to come to her, about putting herself in a position of power. When has anything that Isabel has ever done been about anything else?
Oliver's short nod is the only acknowledgment he's willing to give. "We need to figure out what she wants then - other than Mom dropping out of the race - and we need to do it right now. She's put us in a bind and I want to turn it back around on her as soon as possible."
"Oliver," Felicity cuts in over the comm. "Your mom wants to say something to you."
There's a rustle as it's passed over to his mother and as soon as the white noise stops, he asks, "Mom?"
"I've called Walter," she says in place of a greeting.
"You…" His eyes find Sara, who merely raises an eyebrow in question. Oliver is particularly glad that Malcolm doesn't have an earpiece because the curiosity on his face is probably not a good thing. "Okay, why?"
"For years, he raised Thea," Moira replies, which explains absolutely nothing. "And despite my somewhat rocky relationship with him, he adores your sister as if she were his own. He would do anything he can to help us get her back. I didn't tell him much, obviously, but enough to recognize that the situation is serious."
"Mom, I've been gone for less than fifteen minutes," Oliver says. "What did you do?"
"We have assets, Oliver," Moira points out, "which Thea helped us secure. And Isabel's control over QC is predicated by her stock options and her chokehold on the board." She makes a small ticking noise. "The latter is mostly dictated by the former."
"Even with Thea signing the paperwork, we don't have the liquid assets for a large buyout," Oliver counters.
"Perhaps not," Moira says. "But we do have a tremendous number of assets to borrow against. And, with his connections at the bank and the precarious position Thea is in, Walter was more than happy to agree to push through the paperwork for a mortgage on several of our properties. Now, it does put us in a relatively tight spot with our immediate financial situation. The turnaround won't be anything extraordinary, which I was hoping to avoid, but…"
"Are you telling me we're majority owners in Queen Consolidated again?" Oliver asks, barely taking note of the way both Malcolm and Sara sit up a little straighter at his words.
"I might not have been able to secure much in the way of support as an inmate, but as the leading mayoral candidate, I have a great deal more doors open to me," Moira replies. Considering the day they've already had and the fact that they'd gotten into a fight about how to handle the Isabel situation, it's nice to hear the satisfied smile he catches in her voice. "My attorneys are signing the paperwork now. We'll have 57% of QC's stock by the time you get to the building."
"That's…" Oliver shakes his head, more than a little floored. "Mom, that's incredible."
"I'm under no illusions," she says, pragmatic as always. "This is war on several fronts and we need to win all of the battles we can. Obviously, I can't position myself as both the city's business and political leadership. I would never win the election. And we do need me to win, if for no other reason than to throw a wrench in Isabel and Sebastian's plans. So, the shares belong to the family trust, which I will be signing control of over to you."
That completely blindsides him. He wants to argue that he's the last person who needs to be in control of the shares, the absolute last, but at the same time, he sees the usefulness of her actions. It's smart - it puts the control back in their hands while not jeopardizing her platform. There's only one immediate thought that comes to mind.
His voice is heavy as he notes, "We can't do that without Thea's signature."
"Perhaps not," Moira says. A light melancholy fills the pause, and he knows both of them are feeling his sister's absence. He knows that it's not just because they need her signature, but some part of him recoils at the realization that lately it feels like it keeps coming back to legal formalities. Moira sighs, breaking the silence, her fortitude back. "But I can sign my rights over to you, with or without her approval. Or yours."
"Mom…" Oliver licks his lips, just like he does when he's nervous and needing a moment to think - something Felicity had pointed out to him when they'd been watching Ellie climb a tree on her quest for a new space to build a castle for her fairies. He lowers his voice to where he hopes Malcolm can't hear him. "You'll be left with nothing. If you do this-"
"It's already done," she cuts him off. "And, Oliver, I'm hardly a pauper. I don't suspect that you're about to turn me out and I'll have the mayor's office, if all goes well."
"It's still risking a lot."
"It would be risking more not to do this," she counters. "If signing everything over to you is the cost of saving Thea's life, that is a cost I will most gladly pay." He closes his eyes, recognizing the gravity of what she's done. Moira Queen has never defined herself by the number of zeros in her bank account, not when it comes to her family. But that doesn't mean she hasn't used her means as a shield and as a weapon, in any way she possibly could to gain the upper ground. What she's doing is a lot, and he knows it, just as much as he knows if she'd told him what she was planning, he would have opted to look at different options. Moira continues, cutting off his train of thought, "Now you have the company, Oliver. You have something Isabel desperately wants. Use that edge."
He nods. "I will."
"Good. While you're doing that I'm going to make a few calls to the board and then my publicist. She left me a message about making a public statement regarding the attack at QC."
"I know what this took, and I appreciate that, but I can't have you doing things like this without at least talking to me about it." He catches her disgruntled huff on the other end and before she can say anything, he finishes with, "Even if it's just so that we all know what's happening, before we actually take steps like this." He pauses, shaking his head in wonder because this was the leverage they'd just been talking about needing. "But if this works…"
"It will work," his mother interrupts with a confident air. "Just don't sign any more napkins, and we'll be fine."
Oliver flinches and bites his tongue to keep from replying. It's a reminder he didn't need. He wants to point out it was a piece of paper, not a napkin, feeling the absurd need to defend some part of his actions. It's her not-so-subtle way of taking his last comment and turning it around on him, using the truth, which always makes the cruelest cut.
He's apparently quiet too long because his mother suddenly feels the need to fill the silence.
"Oliver…"
"I've got it," he replies, his voice a little sharper than he means it to be. He lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. That's not fair. It's not her he's mad at, not about this. He's aggravated at the way she's using it, but she's not wrong either. Losing QC had been his fault. He'd trusted the wrong person, and if he hadn't been rash and impulsive, he would have known that. "I'm sorry." His voice softens. "I get it. I'll be careful."
"Good," she replies, her voice a little bit gentler. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that we can't afford mistakes."
She doesn't, he already knows that very, very well. But he gets why she says it. It's probably better said aloud anyhow.
Oliver nods, even though she can't see him.
"Felicity needs the earpiece back now," Moira says. But she doesn't let go just yet, her voice hardening as she adds, "I do so hope you get a chance to see the look on Ms. Rochev's face when she realizes we've regained control of the company. Enjoy it on my behalf, if you do. I know I'm relishing the mental picture."
Oliver breathes out a soft laugh. His mother… she is equal parts connivingly vindictive and maternally protective. As much as that tends to cause more problems than not for him - so many times it's caused problems for him - it's also just so thoroughly her that he finds himself relishing it. She is his mother, and he loves her, faults and all.
"Hey," Felicity says, her voice significantly brighter than a moment ago. "Congratulations on your gazillion dollars."
He lets out a bark of laughter - only she can get that out of him, especially under circumstances like this. Some of the pressure in his chest loosens a bit, recognizing the new edge this gives them over Isabel. It's almost like it wasn't entirely real until Felicity had said something about it. Hearing it from his mother was one thing, but from Felicity… God, he loves her.
The smile is evident in his voice when he replies with, "I don't think it's a gazillion."
"Billions, then," Felicity counters. "It's more dollars than a lot of countries' net worths. Like all the dollars."
"I really don't care about that," Oliver tells her. "I just want Thea back and the company out of Isabel's hands."
"I know," Felicity agrees quietly, and it's his turn to hear her smile. "And for the record, I don't care about the money either."
His heart skips a beat. He already knew that, there'd never been a question of it, but it's still amazing to hear it. It's even more amazing to believe it. Money drives so many people to do so many things. It's made everyone's interactions with his family suspect for his entire life. But not her. Not Felicity.
"I know," he replies, his voice taking on the intimate softness he can't seem to avoid when it comes to her. Not that he wants to. "I never doubted that."
"Well good," she says. He can hear the gentle impact of her fingers on her keyboard in the background. "As long as I have my fella and our daughter, I'm set." He chuckles and her fingers stop for a split second as she adds, "I love you."
"Me too," he replies.
The cabin of the car is too cramped with company he definitely does not want to be in, and saying those words feels like he's letting people into a place of happiness that he doesn't want to share with them.
Felicity seems to understand because she's suddenly switching topics. "So… know how we said QC was probably a terrible place to meet Isabel? Home turf and all?"
"Yeah," he responds, suddenly wary. He wonders if it's just his mother and his girlfriend who will change their plans on the fly or if it's going to wind up being all of the women in his life. He wouldn't put it past Ellie. She's clever and headstrong and he adores her for those qualities, but she's already well on her way to giving him gray hairs early.
"Well, she just got a text from Blood to meet him at the Four Seasons where he's scheduled to have a rally tonight."
"I'm guessing Sebastian wasn't actually the one to send the text?" Oliver ventures.
"That would be correct," Felicity supplies, sounding exceedingly proud of herself. "I'm trying to back-date her cell phone pings to try and find her evil lair of doom. Or lairs. I'm not sure yet. But wow, does she get around. And that came out wrong. I didn't mean 'get around' like she's slutty. Because, I mean… well, maybe but no judgement there. Or here. She can sleep with whoever she wants, that's her business. Except of course that one time where it was totally my business, too, but I meant-"
"I get what you meant," he interrupts, hoping with a quiet desperation that she actually stops because this is not a road he wants to go down at all. Or ever. Especially after what he'd just learned. He groans internally, shoving it down to a place he hopes he never has to visit again. "Keep looking. We need to go at this from every angle we've got."
He shifts as he speaks and lowers the partition in the limo.
Frank had shown up with the car by the time they'd even gotten out of the club and he hadn't so much as batted an eye at Malcolm's presence. But, then again, if people weren't exceedingly discreet and willfully blind to a degree, they didn't tend to last that long in Moira Queen's employ.
"Yes, sir?" Frank asks, meeting Oliver's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Change in plans, Frank," Oliver tells him. "We need to head uptown to the Four Seasons."
"Right away, sir," he confirms crisply.
If Frank's missing some of his recent good-natured snark, Oliver can't blame him. They might be able to rely upon him for absolute discretion, but he's still well aware of who he's driving around town and the way his eyes linger on Malcolm's for a moment before he looks back to the road only emphasizes that fact.
"Your mother has been manipulating things behind the scenes, I presume?" Malcolm asks.
The disaffected air surrounding him is as transparent as Malcolm Merlyn is capable of, and it leaves a sour taste in Oliver's mouth. He hasn't seen the two of them together since before he became aware of their one-time affair and he finds that the vibe between them bothers him. A lot.
But despite that, Oliver can't ignore him. This is information they all need to know.
"She pulled the company out from under Isabel, bought out the majority shares," Oliver replies, leaving out the how. Malcolm doesn't look surprised nor intrigued, and Oliver realizes he probably knows way more about their situation than he'd ever let on. "Then she signed it over to me. Technically, it's in the trust, but now I have two-thirds control of that. Thea has the rest."
"That's both helpful and a problem," Sara says. "It's going to put Isabel on the defensive, probably make her even more desperate."
"She was too secure," Oliver says. "She held most of the cards and she knew it." He glances out the window to catch sight of the hotel they're headed toward at the end of the block. "We needed an edge and this gives it to us."
A grave certainty shades her eyes. "Wounded animals are more dangerous, Ollie."
"Maybe," Oliver says, meeting her gaze. "But they're also more vulnerable." Sara purses her lips but before she can continue, he turns his attention to more immediate concerns. "Felicity, we're almost there. Can you put the security cameras on a loop?"
Her little laugh from the other side of the comms almost sounds offended, but it needed to be asked. They haven't talked any of this through, not in any sort of important detail, such as making sure nobody knows they're there. There's no faster way to lose his mother the election than to have shots of him walking around with Malcolm Merlyn two days before the vote.
"Oh ye of little faith," she says. He can practically see her shaking her head and it makes his lips twitch with a smile. "It was done before you pulled out of Verdant's parking lot and they're none-the-wiser. You should still use the underground parking and enter the building separately. I can't hack people's memories. As cool as that idea might be."
He can't suppress his chuckle at that. Oliver shakes his head fondly before refocusing on the task at hand.
"Frank?" Oliver calls out. "Garage parking if you would, please." Frank nods crisply in return.
"Isabel here yet?" Sara asks. She hadn't grabbed a comm before leaving the lair, which isn't exactly a bad thing in this situation, but it does speak to how much they are making up this plan as they go. That should probably be concerning, but Oliver's done a lot more with a lot less in the past and he's unwilling to consider any possibility of failure. Not in this. Not with Thea's life on the line.
"Three minutes behind you guys," Felicity advises, having picked up Sara's voice through Oliver's comm. "I'd hustle if I were you. She's going to meet 'Sebastian' in the ballroom. Probably best if you get there first so she doesn't call him and, you know, ruin the entire thing."
"Not yet," Oliver relays to the others, "but she's not far. Let's move."
The limo rolls to a stop in an ill-lit section of the hotel parking garage without asking. Oliver wants to say something, but he knows it's not necessary - Frank's a sharp man and well aware of why his employer asked him to park here. There's no one about and the three of them slip out of the limo. Malcolm more-or-less disappears into the shadows immediately, but when Oliver glances at Sara, it's obvious she knows exactly where the other man is. He's suddenly obscenely grateful she came along.
Oliver leans down to address Frank through the open driver's window. "Keep the car running, please," he requests. "I don't think we'll be here long." He moves to go before pausing. "I appreciate your discretion. I'm only here because my sister's in trouble."
"You don't owe me an explanation, sir," Frank replies with a small smile. It reminds him of his first few weeks with Diggle. "But I do appreciate it. The devil seems less evil when we have to barter with him for our family's sake. But you and I both know your family extends well beyond your sister, sir. Pardon me for saying, but the more you can do to limit your involvement with that man, the safer they are."
Oliver sighs, feeling the truth of his words keenly. But he has to save his sister, there's no other options. He has to. He'll worry about the other threats and the potential ones he's currently inviting when this one is less immediate.
"Ollie," Sara calls from a few steps away. She gives him a pointed look that more or less says, 'Move your ass.'
"I appreciate your candor, Frank," Oliver tells him. "And I don't disagree. We'll be back shortly."
"Of course, sir," Frank agrees as Oliver steps away and the window rolls up.
"Where is she headed?" Sara asks.
"Ballroom."
They don't waste any time. Oliver and Sara make their way to the elevator, walking in-tandem, responding as one to their surrounding, like they always have. As they wait for the elevator cab to reach them, Oliver glances behind him.
"He's already upstairs," Sara says in response to his unspoken question.
"That's creepy," Felicity says in his ear.
Oliver wonders if she's watching them in the video cameras, or if her hearing is just that good over the comms. Either way, he nods with a soft, "Yeah."
Sara glances at him. "What'd she say?"
That makes Oliver smile too, that she knows his response hadn't been directed at her. And that she's so okay with it. He loves the way they've all fallen into a sort of rhythm over the last two weeks. It was there, before Ellie showed up in their lives; it was the very thing that kept them alive on certain occasions. But it was never like this. It's a new sense of family, of belonging, of everyone having a place. It settles him; he needs that, considering what they're about to walk into.
"She said Malcolm's creepy," he supplies.
"Because he is," Felicity adds.
Sara smirks as the elevator dings. "She's not wrong."
They make their way up to the mezzanine level. It's been awhile since Oliver's been in this particular hotel - despite it being the Four Seasons, their suites aren't all they're cracked up to be. At least by his pre-island standards. That feeling might have more to do with getting kicked out one summer after seeing how many people they could fit into the swimming pool. He doesn't remember much about the ballroom, he's been in it once or twice for some event or other. He knows it's huge, but it's secluded, in the far corner of the third floor. Oliver wracks his brain, trying to remember the floor plan.
As if she can read his mind, Felicity says, "There's the main entrance to the room and a few others on the opposite side. Not easy to get to from inside the room without having to cross a whole bunch of space. There is a balcony… although it looks like the doors are sealed for construction right now."
Oliver nods, turning to Sara but she waves him off, somehow knowing exactly what they're both thinking.
"I remember the layout from Mallory's birthday party," she says. Oliver furrows his brow - who? Sara gives him a look. "Remember trying to turn the floor into an ice rink using cooking oil?"
The memory surfaces and Oliver makes a face. Oh yeah, he remembers, and he'd be glad to never think about it again. The desire has absolutely nothing to do with embarrassment or shame, but rather because the idea of Ellie knowing about it or, God forbid, getting ideas from him, makes him grimace. He feels a wild urge to scrub every stupid thing he's done from everyone's memory, as illogical as that is.
"What now?" Felicity asks.
"Nothing," Oliver answers, but Sara's quick to talk over him, adding in a loud voice, "Ollie and Tommy thought it'd be fun to turn the ballroom into a skating rink using cooking oil." He closes his eyes at the amusement in her voice. "The only reason they didn't get caught is because they got bored after opening the fourth bottle and everyone bailed. Leaving a huge mess."
"Oliver, I love you more than I can express sometimes," Felicity starts. Her words instantly warm his chest. "But I'm almost kind of glad I didn't know you back then."
"Yeah," he replies. "Me too."
"Although I wasn't that far removed from stupid shenanigans myself," she continues under her breath.
That piques his interest and he finds himself glomming onto it, almost desperately. He knows what he's doing, recognizes the weird urge to not focus on the gravity of what's about to go down. It's something he wouldn't have entertained in the least a few weeks ago. Is it because of how much things have changed between him and Felicity? Because of Ellie, maybe? Because he's let himself start to lean on them, depend on them to light up the darkness that still lives deep inside him? It's everything he ran away from before, and it's almost comical how much his attitude has changed about it.
He honestly has no idea what he'd do without them by his side.
"Not that I'd ever admit that," Felicity finishes.
Oliver wants to ask, but now is so not the time for that, even though the distraction is more than welcome. For a split second, it helps keep him from thinking about every worst case scenario, on top of what Thea could have possibly been going through the last two weeks, as well as wrestling with the guilt and fear of knowing that it was likely because he'd been so distracted that he never stopped to wonder why they hadn't heard from Thea… Oh yes, the distraction is very welcome, but they also don't have time for it. He needs to focus on the here and now.
"Do you have eyes on Malcolm?" Oliver asks her instead, just as the elevator doors open.
"Yeah, he's…"
"Nevermind," Oliver says, cutting her off. Malcolm stands outside the doors, hands in his pockets, looking like he's been waiting for hours instead of a few minutes. He shoots the older man a dark look, biting his tongue to keep himself from asking him where the hell he'd gone - he doesn't care, as long as he's there, as long as he can see him. And he knows he can't trust anything the man says anyway.
Oliver and Sara sweep past him without a word, eliciting a tiny smirk from him as he falls in line with them.
Luck appears to be on their side for once, as they run into no one on their way to the ballroom. And soon enough, empty hallways give way to an enormous, opulent room that's already decorated with entirely too many American flags and a truly absurd number of red and blue balloons. They damn near cover the entire ceiling, attempting to fill the air with a sense of celebration. It's a strange mixture of money and tackiness that would make his mother wince, Oliver absently notes before he catches Malcolm eyeing the gold spray-painted bald eagle center pieces littering the cloth-covered tables with obvious distaste.
It's an unsettling reminder how very alike his mother and Malcolm are at times.
"Isabel's in the building," Felicity informs him. "And she's alone, so yay for that."
"She's here," Oliver relays to the others.
He meets Sara's eyes. She gives him a little nod and drifts to one side of the room to flank the door. It's not really necessary because Isabel isn't the sort to run from a fight, but Oliver assumes it's League of Assassin instinct to block off the exits and ensure their prey is cornered. After all, the ones they go after aren't supposed to escape. This thought is only backed up when Malcolm gravitates to the other side of the door where he can also keep an eye on the side entrance.
For his part, Oliver's a front-and-center kind of guy. He leans back against the center table - the first thing Isabel will see when she enters the room - and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Then there's nothing left but waiting.
There's no room for small talk, no idle chit-chat to chase away the long minutes. The only thing that fills the silence is the idle drift of the balloons and Felicity quietly informing him that his mother just received word from her attorneys that it's complete. It isn't quite 57% - more like 56.692%, not that Oliver really follows Felicity's understanding of it, and not that it matters. It's done. They have the company back.
No more than thirty seconds after he whispers, "That's good," the steady clip of patent leather heels against the marble floor in the hallway heralds Isabel's arrival.
Oliver doesn't move an inch. He just waits. There's no part of him that wants to stand taller or put himself in a position to make himself look bigger because it's not necessary. Isabel isn't a physical threat to him and they just stole the controlling shares of the QC out from under her. She's already losing by the second.
The doors swing open and she strides in. It's to her credit that she's instantly aware that something's off - she pauses for a fraction of a second, taking in the scene before her. Her eyes shift from him to Sara and then Malcolm. Her lips curl back in a derisive sneer and then she rolls her eyes, finding Oliver again.
"I don't have time for your theatrics, Oliver," she says. She sounds bored, unaffected, but Oliver doesn't miss the subtle shift of her body, or the tightening in her shoulders, meaning she recognizes the threat surrounding her. Interesting. "I have a company to run."
"For the moment." Oliver pushes off of the table. "Believe me, I have things I need to be doing, too."
"Potty training?" Isabel asks in a dryly sarcastic tone.
The hint of anything Ellie-related makes him clench his jaw, but he lets it slide, despite the suddenly vicious urge to clamp her mouth shut for her. If he lets her bait him about Ellie this is going to end very differently than he needs it to. Felicity grumbles a quiet curse under her breath from the other side of the comms, a colorful stream of words directed at Isabel. It's satisfying, because he can't - and won't - say it right now.
"You have my sister." The words are simple, quiet, but the intensity behind them is enough to make Isabel falter slightly as Oliver stalks closer to her. She still grins though, a malicious twist of her lips that makes him hate her a little more with every step. "And you're going to give her back to me."
"Suppose I do," Isabel replies, not even bothering to play coy. "You and your very interesting allies… Are you going to make me let her go?" Oliver makes tight fists as she gives Sara a dismissive glance before focusing on Malcolm. "It's been a long time, Malcolm. But then again, I'm not surprised you'd crawl out of the woodwork to find your daughter."
The pit of Oliver's stomach turns to lead instantly as he jolts in surprise right along with Malcolm.
Isabel's ability to take them by surprise in this - in anything - is something she clearly views as a victory if the full-on grin that spreads across her face is any indication.
"Now how did you know that?" Malcolm wonders, managing to only sound mildly curious even as he eyes her, obviously regauging her threat level.
"Robert and I didn't have secrets from each other," she replies loftily.
The lead in Oliver's stomach suddenly plummets.
Disdain lines Malcolm's face. "I find that difficult to believe."
But that's not the piece of all of this that strikes Oliver. Not even close.
"My father knew?" Oliver asks. "He knew about Thea?"
"That she wasn't his?" She looks at him with mocking pity. "Of course he knew. He was a fool, not an idiot. And like a fool, he loved her anyway. He was going to leave your mother, leave the company, leave you… but then Thea broke her arm, doing something ridiculous, no doubt."
"She fell off her horse," Oliver says, so quietly barely anyone but Felicity hears. It's unsettling. He knows exactly what she's talking about, remembers Thea's accident, the broken arm that had left her in a cast for most of the summer… and the way his father had rushed to the hospital, late and uncharacteristically frazzled.
"We were at the airport when we got the call. I begged him not to go, but he'd always had such a weak spot for that little girl." Isabel clenches her jaw, her anger rising and it's very, very evident that that wound had never healed, not at all. "He promised me we would leave the next day. But instead, my internship was terminated and he never spoke to me again."
Everything in him wants to deny Isabel's words, call her a liar, but he can't. She wasn't just some girl he fooled around with, some meaningless affair. His father had changed that summer, something had shifted - it wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but it'd been something. And it was this. God, it makes the fact that he slept with Isabel a thousand times worse. Oliver tamps down the wave of nausea, refocusing on Isabel, trying to ignore the way the puzzle pieces of his father's life are shifting into a completely different picture than he'd once assumed.
"So that's what this is about?" Oliver asks. "He chose us over you."
"She ruined all my plans. Our plans," Isabel replies. "She ruined everything. He loved me. I was his soulmate… until she ruined everything." She takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Oliver's, and the manic darkness staring back at him almost makes him step back. "Now, at least, she has a chance to be useful."
"She's a teenager, Isabel. She's not a part of this."
"She's at the center of this, Oliver," Isabel counters. She laughs, and it's equal parts dismissive and mocking, like she sees a picture that Oliver can barely grasp. "She always has been. She was born into this."
"No, she has nothing to do with this. This is between you and me." Oliver grits his teeth. "You are going to give her back to me or I'm going to pull Queen Consolidated out from beneath you so fast your head will spin."
He's met with a patronizing smile; she's like a viper, venomous and ready to strike.
"Don't overstate your business savvy, Oliver," she tells him. "We both know you don't have the capital or the know-how to take back the company, or you'd have done it already."
And oh, he can't wait to wipe that self-serving smirk right off her face.
"I might not," Oliver says as he steps back, feeling lighter for the first time since she'd entered. "But we do. And if you check your messages, I think you'll find we already have."
The smile slowly melts from her lips, the color draining from her face. Isabel watches him for a long second, like she's trying to discern if there's any truth to his words. Whatever she finds must tell her that he believes what he's saying, because she shoves her hand in her jacket pocket, yanking her phone out. Isabel scrolls through her messages and he knows the instant she sees it. Even if he hadn't been certain his mother's plan would work, he would've been able to tell - her body tenses, her jaw clenching, her knuckles turning white as she nearly crushes her phone as she watches her plans unravel right before her eyes. And it's even better since it's because of his mother, because she'd finally gotten one up on the woman who'd slept with her husband, stolen her company and kidnapped her daughter.
It feels like a hard-won victory.
"So," Felicity whispers in his ear, "we're watching on the security cameras and your mother is smiling. Like an actual real smile. I'm not sure what to do with that."
"It doesn't matter," Isabel says, nearly spitting the words as she stuffs her phone back in her pocket. "Things are already in motion and it takes time for you to get control away from me, time you don't have."
Oliver narrows his eyes, not liking that assertion at all. "This is just the beginning."
"Oh, on that we absolutely agree," Isabel counters.
"I'm not going to stop coming after you," he promises, closing the distance between them again. "Or Sebastian. Not until I have my sister back safely. None of us will." She holds his gaze, not wavering for a second. Oliver dips his head slightly, lowering his voice, "And, Isabel? I really don't think you want to see exactly how many resources I can pool if I have to."
A.R.G.U.S., the League, the Bratva… there's no one he won't call in favors with to save his little sister. He'd do anything - everything - to save her.
"Don't be so dramatic," Isabel tells him. She gathers herself, straightening her jacket. The haughty air may be gone, but she's still not giving up any ground. "You have something I want and I have something you want. I'm pretty sure we can meet somewhere in the middle."
He frowns at her tone, but it's Sara who speaks up. "You want to trade?"
"I'm not signing over the company to you again," Oliver says.
"I don't need you to," Isabel informs him, and just like that, her twisted little smile is back. "I already have it and you're never getting it back, no matter how many shares you buy. So no, this isn't about the company, Oliver."
"Then what do you want?"
"Give me Slade Wilson and I'll give you back your sister."
Oliver freezes. That is the very last thing he'd expected. Ever. He isn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this isn't it. And from the startled gasp on the other end of the comms, Oliver's pretty sure Felicity hadn't been expecting it either. They'd both assumed - hell, they'd all assumed - that Isabel would prefer the control, the freedom away from whatever Slade had been planning, the ability to use his resources for her own means.
Not this. Slade is locked away, where he belongs, where he's supposed to stay.
He knows about Felicity, about Ellie… His blood turns to acid and it burns through him at the memory of him holding his daughter in his arms. He will never forget the fear on her face, the tears marring her little cheeks, the realization that Slade could do anything to her…
"No," Felicity whispers in his ear.
"Slade," he repeats slowly, his voice rough. God, even the thought of him being loose again… "Why?"
Isabel shrugs. "Every commander needs a good general." But the gleam in her eye betrays her.
"You can't control them," Malcolm says, seeing right through her. "Your mirakuru army. And you think that Slade can." Isabel slides him a sidelong look and he huffs. "You're a fool."
"Two days from now I'll still be in control of Queen Consolidated and Sebastian will have the mayor's office," Isabel tells him. "We'll have all of the pieces we need to control this city…" She looks at Oliver for emphasis as she says, "Except for Slade." Isabel spares Malcolm one last glance. "And I'm not the one who got caught trying to level half the city, so I'm pretty sure you don't get to call me a fool, Malcolm."
"Yet," Oliver hisses at her, drawing her attention back to him.
"What?"
"You haven't been caught yet," he clarifies. "But you won't get away with this forever."
"Because you're going to stop me and save the city?" Isabel asks. "Oliver, you can't even save your sister without begging me to help. What makes you think you can save an entire city?"
"I'm not doing it alone," he answers immediately. It's a response completely borne of instinct, something he knows in his gut. He's not alone. How had he ever thought this was a mission he could have undertaken on his own? It'd always been an impossible notion, and it was something he'd been willing to carry with him to his grave, whenever that time came. But not anymore.
Isabel stares at him, her expression sour and distasteful, like she's sucking on a lemon. For a second he thinks she appreciates the gravity of his threat, but then she smirks, dismissing him. The tiny tick of her eyebrow tells him she doesn't put any stock in his words - hell, she looks amused more than anything, which is fine. If she continues to underestimate him, all of this will work out so much better.
"Get me Slade by tonight or you'll never see your baby sister again," Isabel tells him. "And the last memory you'll ever have of her is her calling you a liar and running away from you."
The words cut through him like the finely-wielded knife she intends them to be, but he doesn't rise to the bait. The urge to wipe that smirk off her face is overwhelming, but he ignores it, because they have a bigger problem - how the hell are they going to stretch this out, buy more time to find Thea on their own? Slade's a tremendous threat, blinded or not, but the notion of his sister in Isabel's hands is no less terrifying.
If it really comes down to trading Slade for Thea… he's not sure what he'll do.
Which is why they need time.
"I can't make Slade appear out of thin air," Oliver says, and Isabel's face twists with displeasure. "It's going to take me a few days. He's not nearby."
"Well if I were you, I'd hurry," Isabel replies, the words coming out in a distasteful hiss. "My hospitality is running thin."
The menace in those words has Oliver taking a threatening step towards her, barely recognizing Malcolm and Sara following suit on either side of them.
"If you hurt her…"
"I make no promises, Oliver," Isabel says, tilting her head as if she's not staring down a man who can break her neck in two seconds. "But I'll be generous and extend my timeline. Tomorrow night. Get him to me and I'll give you back your precious sister." She smiles. "And as a show of good faith, I'll throw in Roy Harper."
That completely blindsides him.
"What?" The word's out before he can stop it, before he can fully process what she's just said. Roy? She has Roy? A sharp inhale from Sara echoes the one from Felicity over the comm as he stares at Isabel, trying to connect the pieces… She has Roy. Suddenly the power surge during the press conference makes so much more sense. Slade had stolen the machine, but he hadn't used it. It'd been Isabel, and Roy had been the mirakuru blood bag. This entire time… when they'd all thought Roy had disappeared, fallen into the shadows…
Isabel smirks. "You didn't even know something had happened to him, did you?" Oliver grits his teeth. "We found him at a shelter in Bludhaven. It was pathetic, he didn't even put up a fight." The thought of Roy in a shelter, much less one in Bludhaven, makes his blood run cold. But Isabel doesn't give him the chance to linger. She narrows her eyes. "You have until tomorrow night, Oliver. But no longer."
They stare at each other, the tension in the room rising before Oliver finally nods. He can't say the words, because it's an agreement he isn't sure he means to keep, but at the same time, he isn't sure he doesn't. They can't give up Slade, they can't… but they have to find Thea, and they need to do it fast. They need to regroup, to think about this rationally, to come up with a plan to get Thea and Roy back that doesn't involve letting free a madman with an axe to grind against his entire family. If that means he has to search every damn building in the entire city, he'll do it.
"I'll be in touch by noon tomorrow," he says. He gives her a cold smile. "In fact, I'll drop by the office. I'm sure you'll be busy cleaning out your things."
Isabel sneers. "Don't bet on it."
He has no doubt his mother is already making calls to various board members, using decades of influence and uncashed favors to sway them in his favor. It's not something he wants, not by a longshot, but if it means getting the company back and screwing Isabel in the process, he won't be arguing. If there's one piece in this whole mess that he's confident about it's that they'll wrest control of the company from Isabel. And he doesn't intend to lose it again.
Isabel steps aside, clearly not willing to be the first to leave. "Scurry along now," she says, waving her hands in a dismissive shooing motion. "It seems like you have a lot to do in the next day."
Oliver bites his tongue, resisting the urge to snap back at her or make any kind of threat, which is something that feels a little bit like growth. With a lingering glare, he and Sara turn toward the door, but they both freeze when Malcolm takes another step toward Isabel.
"You would do well to be more careful what enemies you make," he tells her. Isabel draws back her shoulders, squaring her jaw. "I am not Oliver Queen and I have no hesitation about making you pay in very inventive and drawn out ways if you bring harm to my daughter."
"You don't scare me, Malcolm," Isabel replies, but the tight lines of her body tells another story entirely.
Malcolm smiles, and it's filled with a chilly malice that makes Oliver frown. "Then you're a bigger fool than I thought."
"And your opinion means so very much to me Malcolm," she counters sarcastically. "Why don't you skulk on back to whatever hole you crawled out of? You had your chance with this city." She looks at all of them in turn. "You all have. And you failed. Now it's my turn."
Oliver flinches at her word choice, because he did fail, at least in part, in his attempt to save the city last spring and hundreds of people paid the ultimate price. But that doesn't mean he has to stop trying, that doesn't mean it's over. If anything, it only serves as one more reason to fight the battles he's chosen. It's not just his father's wrongs he's struggling to right these days, it's his own shortcomings - he cannot and will not win every single conflict. It's amazing how quickly that realization has come over him in the last few weeks, how easy it was to accept now that he has so much more in his life. And just like that, losing doesn't look like he'd once imagined it would. It's not bleeding out in a grimy alley or his body giving out to injuries it just can't bear after he drags himself back to the lair. Failing is living with knowing others aren't because he wasn't a bit faster, a bit smarter, just a touch stronger. It's learning from those failures and working to better himself so that next time maybe he'll be fast enough, smart enough, strong enough so that he doesn't have to mourn another loss.
"We'll see," Oliver tells Isabel, knowing she doesn't understand failure the way he does, that she only sees victory in terms of power and control. It's why she'll lose. And it's why he'll keep fighting. Without looking away from her, he says, "Let's go."
Oliver turns his back on her, leaving her in the room as he walks out. Sara's instantly at his side and he ses Malcolm doing the same. Oliver looks back, unwilling to let him out of sight again - he can melt away all he wants, but as long as he can keep him in his sights, he will; he has a promise to keep to Felicity on that score. He catches Malcolm turning with a dramatic air that would be ridiculous on anyone else as he follows suit.
He waits until they've rounded the corner and are well out of Isabel's earshot before he lets out a breath of relief that the encounter was over. It hadn't answered anything though - they still didn't know where Thea was, and Isabel had delivered her terms.
Slade.
Oliver closes his eyes briefly, icy cold fear branching out through his chest.
There's no way they can release him, especially to Isabel. There's no telling what he'll do. It doesn't matter if he's blind, he's still as big a threat as before, probably even more so. And he knows about Oliver's family.
But Thea…
He realizes that Felicity has been oddly quiet since Slade's name left Isabel's lips.
"We need Felicity to figure out where she's being held," Sara says, interrupting his train of thought as they make their way to the elevator. She glances at him. "I know you'd do anything for Thea, Ollie, but giving Slade to Isabel is a horrible idea. Tell me you aren't considering it."
"I'll consider anything to save Thea," Oliver replies automatically, without a thought, because it's true, even if it's a bad idea. He looks at her. "And Roy."
He refuses to allow either one of them to be one of his failures. They just have to figure out how to get two birds with one stone. They'd done it before, they can do it again.
"I'm working my computer magic," Felicity says over the comm. The sound of her beautiful voice, full of reassuring confidence, has his fear abating a little. They can do this. "I'm triangulating off of Isabel's phone signals from the last three weeks and I'm running facial recognition on every single recording I can get my hands on for the last three weeks, for Isabel, Blood and Thea. And Roy, again, even though that's been running. It might take some time, but we'll find them."
Oliver nods, but it's only a reminder of Isabel's timetable. "We don't have that time, Felicity," he replies roughly, running his hands through his hair.
"I know," she replies quietly, just for him, and he closes his eyes. Her voice trembles slightly, and he knows she's remembering Slade just as well as he is. "I know that, Oliver."
"I have some resources at my disposal that I need to consult," Malcolm says. Oliver glances at him to find his face touched with a stony resolve that he is definitely not comfortable with. "I'll be in touch."
He should probably stop Malcolm from leaving - he should definitely stop him - but they have greater concerns than Malcolm Merlyn at the moment. And besides, maybe his resources will help them. God, the fact that he's actually considering Malcolm a partner in this, using his resources… if that doesn't say everything that needs to be said about this situation, Oliver's not sure what would.
So he says nothing. Oliver just nods at the other man as he turns and heads the other direction towards a side door leading to a stairwell.
The instant he's out of sight, Oliver lets out another heavy breath, scrubbing his face.
"You're juggling a lot right now," Sara says.
"Yeah," Oliver agrees.
Slade. Isabel. Blood. Zoom. Malcolm. There are threats on all sides and danger around every corner, sometimes literally, but some threats are more immediate than others. And it has to be Thea's safe return he prioritizes at the moment. It has to. Nothing else is nearly as much danger. Not yet anyway. He steels himself - he can't think about the future, about the what-if's. He has to focus on this moment, because if he lets himself wonder what might happen if this falls apart… If something happens to Thea… if Slade gets out…
Oliver sighs, giving Sara a wry smile that he knows doesn't reach his eyes. "It's a good thing my coordination is pretty great then."
Sara scoffs at the same time Felicity does and it feels like the sound comes in stereo.
"Let's get back," he says. "Talk to Lyla and Digg, put our heads together and come up with a-"
His very rational plan of action is cut off by a choked gasp in his ear and the fear cliff he'd pulled himself off of is back with a vengeance. The sound is quickly followed by a thin, "Oh my God," from Felicity that sends a chill straight down his spine.
"What? What is it?" he asks. Oliver shoves his hand against his ear, pressing his earpiece closer even though he can hear her perfectly - everything from the rapid fire of her fingers flying over the keyboard to her breathing growing more rapid. He tilts his head, as if that simple act will somehow get him closer to her. "Felicity?"
"Oh God," Felicity whispers. "Oh God, oh God, oh God… No, that's…. No, no, no."
The anxiety lacing her tone has a surge of adrenaline slamming into him, quickly followed by an ominous sense of terror thrumming through his veins that makes his hands start to shake as he snaps, "Felicity, talk to me." He starts walking faster without conscious thought, Sara taking a moment to match his stride.
When she doesn't answer, he demands more forcefully, "What's wrong?"
"You need to get back," she chokes out. "Now, Oliver. Now, right now."
"What is it, what happened? Are you okay?" he asks, breaking into a run. "Is it Ellie? Is someone there?"
He skips the elevator completely, shoving his way through the door to a stairway. He skips steps as he hurries down the flights, dimly aware that Sara is somewhere behind him still. His entire focus is on getting back to the car as fast as possible, getting back to the lair as fast as possible, to his family to soothe that terrified sound right out of Felicity's voice. His arms ache to hold her, to shield her, to put himself in front of whatever's happening… He just has to get there.
"Felicity!"
The door to the parking garage bangs open against the cement wall and his feet pound the pavement as he runs to where Frank's waiting with the limo. The man sees him running and he instantly has the car in gear, pulling out to meet them.
She's not saying anything and he's about to snap when she whispers, "Oliver…"
It's barely above a whisper, her voice gritty and terrified.
He skids to a stop, his hand landing on the limo to hold him up as that terror he hears in her voice makes his muscles weak.
"Oh God, the entire time," she whispers.
"What?"
"He's been here the entire time and we didn't know it."