Chapter: 26 - Aesthetic Repair
Word Count: 3888

Notes: This chapter is a little slower and lighter, but I think everyone probably needs an emotional break after that last one. :) And consider yourselves warned: this is going to be the last time you breathe for several more chapters. Things are going to go down pretty quickly when we hit 1.15 Dodger, so this is your warning. ;) I hope you enjoy it! :D Thanks in advance for being awesome enough to stop by and read, comment, and/or review.

Still in her pajamas at noon, Felicity feels very decadent, considering it's a Friday. Because she thought it was the best option, she called in sick at work, then nestled herself back in bed for a few more hours' sleep. Refusing to sleep any later than noon and waste her rare day off, she decides to get up and finish Oliver's laptop, the one still sitting in pieces on her desk.

Barry is already up and dressed by this point, and she takes a few hesitant steps forward when she sees him in the kitchen. That's never a good idea; Barry's cooking is typically only edible when he's using the microwave. "Why are you destroying my poor kitchen?" she asks, her voice raspy with too many hours of sleep. "I'm pretty sure your cooking counts as cruel and unusual punishment."

He offers her a withering glance, but there's a smile hiding somewhere underneath. "I'm not cooking," he answers, moving away from the stove to show a bag from one of her favorite breakfast restaurants. "I can't ever get enough of this place, and I wanted to eat here just once before I head back to Central City." He frowns. "I'd like to point out that it's your fault I'm here, and that you owe me ten dollars for breakfast."

She rolls her eyes, smiling. "You know I'm good for it," is her response before pulling her food out of it, going back to the couch to start back on Oliver's poor, mistreated laptop. She's surprised when he doesn't follow, instead swiping the bag from the counter after putting his coat back on. "You're not staying?" she asks, surprised.

"No, sorry," is his answer. "They need me back at STAR Labs as soon as possible, so I basically switched my hours today." He frowns. "I guess I'm on graveyard, since I'll get off at two a.m."

She knows how much he hates the late-night shifts, so she frowns. "Sorry, Watson," she says quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner."

He shrugs, smiling. "Not your fault, Sherly," he answers with that huge, cheesy grin she's come to expect over all the years. "After all, you were doing noble deeds—saving a life and making moony-eyes over Starling's resident vigilante." She sticks her tongue out at him, and he chuckles. "Talk to you, soon, Sherly—I want to make sure you're not getting yourself into any trouble."

"I promise to keep you apprised of what your hero is doing," she answers dryly. "And I promise I won't take any insane risks. After that last time, I'm not going into the field again anytime soon."

His eyes narrow at her, and she cringes. "You were in the field?" he asks. "Are you crazy? You could have gotten killed out there!" He crosses his arms, and she knows it's serious now; that's serious face, and Felicity has never won an argument with him when he's wearing that expression. "I demand details."

Never before has she been so grateful to hear the knock at the door, and she looks at it in relief. Barry sighs. "Saved by the doorbell," he mutters as he moves to answer it for her, then turns. "We'll finish this conversation later, though."

She nods at the same time that Saphira starts charging from the spare bedroom to the door, tail wagging as she barks loudly. Barry looks between Felicity and the little shiba, frowning. "It's Oliver," Felicity explains, not looking up. "Saphira loves him for some reason. The Arrow feeds her treats to win her affection, but Oliver just shows up and she's excited." She shrugs at Barry's wide-eyed expression, and then he finally shakes his head, probably not even sure where to begin asking questions.

"Does your life ever seem surreal to you?" he asks finally, heading to the door, and she can't help but chuckle. All the time is the answer she wants to give, but, before she can respond, she hears him say, "Hey, Oliver. Come on in—Felicity's in the den with computer-y things."

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asks, and she can hear the hesitance in his tone. "Because I can come back," he offers, but Felicity knows his heart isn't in it.

"Nope," Barry answers cheerfully, "unless you count the traditional foster-sibling-style bickering, but you probably wanted to avoid that, anyway." He does that awkward laugh that makes Felicity wince. "And I was just leaving, so you're not even interrupting that." Louder, he calls to Felicity, "Try not to get into any trouble, Sherly."

"I make no promises, Watson," she calls back, and then she hears the sound of the door shutting and she finishes with a screw on her computer, standing up as Oliver enters quietly. "I heard about your mom," she says quietly, and he runs a hand over his face—that special tell he has for freaking out.

Without a thought, she stands up to hug him, arms wrapping around his neck awkwardly, her elbow bumping against his shoulder. He tenses, and she frowns because she thought they were making progress on this; maybe he's worried about the almost-kiss incident, but that feels like lifetimes ago for her. Still, his arms wrap around her after a long moment, and he does that long, drawn-out sigh, so similar from the night Thea was in the hospital after her accident.

She releases him and takes her seat at the end of the couch, and he surprises her by sitting next to her. "That's why I'm here," he says finally. "I've been with Mom at the hospital this morning." When her eyes widen in concern, he adds, "She's fine—just a few scratches that needed stitches from all the glass breakage. She won't say it, but she's terrified—worried he'll come after her again." He frowns deeply, running another hand over his face. "I know my mother isn't exactly innocent, but I'm not sure that means she deserved to be threatened at arrow point."

Felicity can't stop the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Of the many things she expected when she started working with the Arrow, the guilt is the least of them. But the remorse claws at her, and she's never been good with guilt. She bites her lip, not wanting to add to his stress, but, at the same time, needing to make the confession. "After I showed you the book," she says slowly, quietly, "I showed it to the Arrow." His eyes snap to hers, his brow furrowing. "He saved me from that fire at Verdant," she continues, choosing her words carefully, "and I felt like I owed him one. So I decided to reach out about the book—to see if I could find more answers." She looks at Oliver, taking a moment to bite her lip to keep from begging his forgiveness. "I had to tell him how I found it, but I swear to you, Oliver, I wouldn't have given it to him if I'd known how this was going to end." She looks away. "I'm so sorry, Oliver."

She expects him to leave then—maybe even yell a little. But what happens is almost worse in some ways, his hand catching the side of her face, tilting it back toward him. "Hey," he says gently, "this is not your fault." His other hand reaches out for one of hers, squeezing it, and she realizes he's not just humoring her—he actually means every word of it. "You were trying to help, and you trusted the wrong person. This is on the Vigilante, not you, Felicity." He hesitates before saying, "But I think that you should leave him alone." He words it carefully, somehow knowing that the wrong word could lead to an argument. "He's wanted by the police and a whole host of bad people. Someone's going to capture the Vigilante eventually, and I don't want him to drag you down with him."

She bites her lip, shaking her head. "He's not always like that," she disagrees in a quiet but firm voice. "But I'll be more careful in the future."

He lets the conversation go because he probably knows it's the best offer he's going to get. He offers her a hesitant smile before changing the subject. "So," he says slowly, "you took a day off, and Starling City is still standing." He offers a hesitant smile, but it grows when she chuckles.

She points at him with the screwdriver in her hand. "Well, the day's not out yet," she quips, earning a chuckle from him. "And, if it does become an oversized parking lot because of robot wars or other disastrous events, it's on you for convincing me, Mr. Queen." She doesn't usually tease him so much—it's too much like flirting—and she hopes he can take it.

"Well, Miss Smoak," he answers, taking the bait with surprising ease, "if a robot war breaks out today, I promise to take full credit for it." He motions to her attire, his eyes lingering a little too long on the Arrow's shirt from last night, even though she had the good sense to put a white camisole on underneath it. Then she flushes as she realizes which pants she has on—covered in fluffy cartoon alpacas in white, black, and brown. "And I'll pay for the destruction of any llama-related sleepwear."

She shoots him a withering look, biting back a smile. "First of all," she starts, trying to maintain some façade of seriousness, "these lovely cartoon animals are alpacas, not llamas, though it's an easy mistake to make. Alpacas are woolly. And they orgle—don't ask." He chuckles, and she bites back a smile, trying to pretend to be serious. "Secondly, your mockery of robot attack is duly noted—but we'll see who's laughing when giant robots use this city as their wrestling arena." She crosses her arms. "Finally, you may find yourself in financial ruin if a robot war breaks out, so don't make any promises you can't keep."

"Thank you," he says abruptly, for no reason whatsoever. She arches an eyebrow in confusion, but he doesn't clarify. It takes her a moment, but she understands that it's meant to thank her for pulling his mind away from this business with his mother and the Arrow—for making him laugh, in spite of the situation.

She starts to answer, but then decides that their communication has never been about words, and it shouldn't be now. Instead, she reaches out to him, turning his hand over and lacing her fingers through his. He stares down at their hands on his thigh, offering her a rare smile. He squeezes her hand once before pulling it away, reaching out to cup her face. "I'm glad you've been able to rest today," he says quietly. "You've been running on fumes for weeks." He motions to his laptop, laid out in front of her. "You can work on that next week, if you want—I'm in no hurry."

She arches an eyebrow. "So I've been told," she answers. "But I've slept all day—doing this makes me feel productive." She studies it for a moment. "Besides, this isn't work to me—this is fun." She bites her lip as his eyes tighten in amusement. "Yeah, I'm a nerd—thanks for not rubbing my nose in it."

He opens his mouth to speak, but his phone demands his attention instead. He checks it, frowning as he reads a text on it. "I have to go," he says finally. "They're releasing my mother, and I think I should be there, since Thea had to work."

She waves a hand. "You don't have to explain that to me, Oliver," she answers. "Your mom has been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours—I think you should be there." She taps the casing on his laptop. "I should have this finished in a few hours—provided that my three favorite starship captains don't start calling my name." His expression is a question, and she answers it. "Solo, Picard, and Harkness." She shakes her head at his blank look. "I find it incredibly sad that you don't know any of those. We'll have to complete your sci-fi education."

He chuckles, putting his hand on her shoulder once before moving toward the door. "Well, I hope to see you again soon, Felicity," he offers with a smile, leaving her to stare after him.

Because, really, there's no way he meant it the way he said it.

Lance's eyes narrow in confusion as he sees the little Mini Cooper parked over in one corner in front of the house, and he frowns at it. He doesn't think the Queens own anything like that, and he doesn't want any distractions when taking Moira Queen's statement. But then he sees a familiar blonde ponytail and it all suddenly becomes painstakingly clear.

Felicity pulls out a silver, flat surface—a laptop of some sort, Lance supposes—and slips it under her arm, locking her car behind her. She pulls up short when she sees him, brows furrowing in confusion before she finally breaks into a wide smile that makes him nervous. "Hello, Detective," she says easily as she meets him at the door, knocking on it quietly.

"Miss Smoak," he answers, not exactly prepared for her cheery disposition today. Every time they meet, it seems like they match wits, and, well, Lance is tired of coming up short. Sometimes he thinks she might be the mastermind behind the Hood, and that, maybe, the guy parading around in green tights with a bow is just a dumb brute. But, he dismisses that on the grounds that Felicity Smoak would never team up with a dumb brute. "I'm surprised to see you here and not with your boyfriend," he adds, remembering last night's incidents, the ones that dragged him here anyway. "I thought you'd be taking care of him—the spray we found at Queen Consolidated was arterial."

She offers him a secretive smile, though he finds it interesting that her cheeks heat a little at the mention of a boyfriend. "I think he'll live to put arrows in more bad guys," she answers flippantly, even though the smile is gone from her eyes. "And we're not a thing." She does an awkward hand motion with her free hand, flashing emerald green fingernails that Lance knows better than to call a coincidence. "I mean, we aren't together or anything."

She uses the knocker this time on the door, then resting her hand on the back of her neck and then smoothing down her black skirt that's maybe a little too short. Then she balls her hand into a fist and runs it down her skirt again, before switching the laptop to the opposite arm. She notices his observations and explains them with, "This place always makes me nervous—like I should present my pedigree at the gate before daring to drive onto this property."

He frowns, surprised. He hasn't known Felicity to get nervous since he's known her—even when he's glaring her down and asking questions about her affiliations. And they both know she's not a shrinking violet if she's working for the Hood. "I thought you'd be used to it by now," he responds.

She shakes her head. "I've only been here twice. And the last time I was here, you shot an assassin who was about to kill me," she answers, surprisingly emotionless for the statement she just made. But, then again, she works with the Hood, and she's probably seen her share of carnage—especially if she was present for Laurel's rescue like he suspects. "I know it's silly, but I'm not exactly in a hurry to go back."

The door opens then, and the maid beams as soon as she sees Felicity. Lance can't help but wonder if she knows what kind of effect she has on people. "Welcome, Miss Smoak," she says in a Russian accent. "Mister Oliver is expecting you." She turns to Lance, and he simply flashes his badge to earn his own entry.

"Thanks," the blonde answers as she follows the maid in, stopping abruptly. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name the last time."

The maid stops, too, surprised but polite as always. "My name is Raisa, Miss Smoak," she answers in that thick Russian accent, watching her for a moment."

Felicity makes a noise in the back of her throat. "Well, Raisa, you don't have to call me 'Miss Smoak.' It makes me want to look and see if my mother is here." She makes a face. "And, trust me, if you knew my mother, you'd be just as terrified as I am by that thought. So, please, call me Felicity."

Raisa offers a tentative smile. "Of course, Miss Felicity," she answers. "Mister Oliver asked me to make sure you were comfortable in foyer."

Felicity makes a face, and Lance knows exactly why: she isn't happy with the title attached to it, but seems to know that's all she's going to get. She and Lance both continue following the little woman. "I don't know why Oliver is expecting me, though," she continues, as thought it was her intended conversation all along. "I told him I wasn't sure if I'd finish this today. I'm easily distracted by my television, especially when I have a day off. I guess that's why I don't get many days off."

Raisa seems taken with her babbling, nodding along with a smile. "Mister Oliver and Mrs. Queen will be down soon," she states, and Felicity sits on the couch with the computer across her lap, back straight.

"Thank you, Raisa," she calls behind her, then looks to Detective Lance. "So, you're here to talk to Mrs. Queen about the thing at QC last night?" she asks, eyes narrowing in confusion. "I thought you would have already done that." He bristles immediately—because he has enough people telling him how to do his job—but she holds her hands out. "I didn't mean it like that—I just thought there was something about the first twenty-four hours being crucial to an investigation." She frowns, shaking her head. "Clearly my small talk skills are in need of some serious work."

He turns away so she doesn't see the corner of his mouth turn up—he doesn't need the girl to think he's gone soft or anything. "The Queens are a special case," he answers dryly, repeating the same thing his bosses have been telling him.

She puts her elbow on the laptop, her jaw landing on her hand. "So, basically, your bosses know where their political bread is buttered," she translates, and Lance can't hide the smile this time. "But, still," she continues casually, "arterial spray means you have blood evidence, right?"

The Queen kid walks into the room then, tilting his head as he thinks about what they've just said. "Detective, you're here to talk to my mother?" he asks politely enough, but something about the kid's demeanor just always seems to scream smart ass. "If you have blood evidence, that means you can find him, doesn't it?"

Suddenly Lance feels a little more sour than usual, the words he says leaving a bad taste in his mouth: "There was a screw-up at the lab. Some kid entered the wrong numbers on an evidence disposal form, and it was destroyed first thing this morning—before we realized what had happened."

"That's a shame," Felicity says quickly—maybe a little too quickly. Then he realizes she's a computer genius who clearly needs a rush of excitement every now and again if she's messing around with the Hood. And he can't stop himself from wondering how easy it would be for her to hack a police server and create a little chaos in their system.

Queen makes a noise of agreement, then turns to Felicity as though Lance doesn't exist. He flashes her a smile. "I see you didn't get distracted by your three favorite captains," he greets her, raising an eyebrow.

She grimaces. "Well, I'm not going to lie," she responds, standing. "I did get distracted by my favorite computer nerd, but I promised myself that I couldn't watch the next episode until I finished fixing up your laptop. And Oliver, I really need to see how Chuck and Sarah's date goes." She offers it to him. "And so I finished it."

Lance is surprised to hear Queen chuckle; the kid hasn't been too cheery since returning from that hellhole he spent not near enough time in, if you ask the detective. "I'm glad to know you did this out of the kindness of your heart," he quips as he takes the computer from her, and she blushes.

Her hands start flying as she speaks. "Well, I didn't mean it like that," she answers quickly, eyes widening. "I did want to fix your laptop—I just needed a little incentive to get me going. If I didn't want to do it, you know I would have told you that. But I'm glad to help you with all of your computer-related needs." She bites her lip. "And I'm babbling. Again." She pokes him in the shoulder. "You should make me stop."

"I like listening to your babbles," he answers after a long moment, and Lance thinks the kid might actually mean it for a change. Felicity has apparently come to the same conclusion, as Lance thinks the last thing he saw that red came equipped with sirens, flashing lights, and a high-pressure hose.

Before she can respond, a new voice says, "Hey, Ollie, have you seen—" Thea cuts off immediately as she sees the pair of them, then rolls her eyes when she sees Lance. Little does she know the feeling is mutual. Then she motions between them. "Never mind—you're with Felicity. I could come galloping through the house on a unicorn, and you wouldn't notice."

Lance can't help but agree with the youngest Queen's assessment, though it goes against everything he believes in. Felicity murmurs a quick goodbye, but Oliver catches her by the arm. "Felicity?" he asks quietly. "Thank you." He comes off as sincere—perhaps too much so—and Lance didn't know the kid had it in him.

"I'll see you later," she calls again, before offering a wave to Thea. "Nice seeing you, Thea—sorry I have to go." With a nod, she adds a pleasant, "Detective Lance."

With a certain amount of necessary seriousness, Lance responds, "You take care of yourself, Miss Smoak. There seem to be monsters out in this city now—especially at night." He adds the last phrase for good measure, knowing she'll pick up the cryptic undertone of the conversation.

"I'll be sure to check my closet twice, then," she answers with a partial smile, and, if she was anyone else, he'd be certain that it was a smart ass comment. As it is, they both know that their conversations about the Hood are made in subtle code, and it's her way of reminding him that she's careful. He just hopes she's careful enough.

After all, that display of puppy love with Queen doesn't exactly inspire confidence in her judgment.

Playlist:

"Happy Face" - Destiny's Child
"Brown Eyes" - Lady Gaga
"Mercy" - Duffy
"I'll Be Waiting" - Lenny Kravitz
"Hate Me" - Blue October
"Hanging by a Moment" - Lifehouse
"Secrets" - OneRepublic

One more note: if you really want to know what an "orgle" is (and you don't heed Felicity's warning), go ahead and ask. I'll tell you, but you may regret the decision to ask. ;) I have to insert a little veterinary humor where I can. :P