Chapter 29
Looking at her old apartment is more than a little trippy for Felicity as she moves over to her old closet. It looks the same, of course, as she remembers. She just really hopes she has more than just the chunky blouses and skirts. Not that she didn't like them, but she's gotten used to her new fashion choices.
On the plus side, she now has her panda flats back! She lost them last time to a blood stain she just could not get out. Oliver had offered to buy her new ones, but they just wouldn't have been the same.
Felicity frowns at the brightly colored dresses in her wardrobe. Well, it looks like her promotion gave her the money to update her style a little earlier. That's going to take some getting used to.
But the dresses are not what she needs. Nope. Jeans and comfy shoes are called for. Preferably something with long sleeves to cover her new wound.
She snags her trophy panda flats and tosses them on the bed, going next for her dresser. There's a couple old pairs of jeans in the dresser and the first one she slides on fits like a second skin, a little tight as she tries to buckle them up but otherwise nice. Shirts are a little tougher, but she ends up settling for a t-shirt with a jacket thrown over it before striding back out into the main room.
Talk about weird: Lyla and Digg are studiously avoiding each other as they gaze around her apartment.
So definitely not her world where they have a daughter together. Got it.
Just another item on the checklist of things in this world that are different than her own.
"Ready to go?" She asks, reaching for her back and checking to make sure she has everything. The tablet makes her pause until she realizes it's not just her: the tablet is a couple series older than the one she uses in her time. This whole thing is going to suck technology-wise.
John assesses her for a moment and then nods. "We can go."
"Good," she heads for the door. The sooner she can get eyes on Oliver, the better she'll feel. She needs to know where everyone stands in this world before she decides what to do going forward. Time and alternate realities...if sci-fi has taught her anything, it's nothing to be messed with.
"That's it? You don't have anything you want to share about your kidnapping?" Lyla asks, rounding her couch with suspiciously narrowed eyes.
She shrugs. "Malcolm had me kidnapped. He thinks our green friend is dead."
"So he let you go?"
Right. Lyla is the underling of the most conniving woman to ever rule a government organization. Of course she knows an incomplete story when she sees one. Felicity smiles blandly. "He said I intrigue him. Plus a few threats to make sure I stay in line. No big deal."
She's not fooling anyone at this point, but she shrugs it off and pulls open the door to signal the end of a conversation. The formerly married (soon to be remarried) couple falls into line and marches out the door.
"Are you sure you're good, Felicity?" Digg asks as Lyla takes the lead, falling back to talk more privately.
She sighs, and takes stock of herself for a moment before answering. "I'm sore and a little beaten down, but I've had worse."
"What did he say to you?"
"Usual bad guy threats? Don't interfere or I'll kill your loved ones." She tries to put on a menacing voice, but going off John's face it's unsuccessful. She drops the act and stops walking so he has to face her head on. "My mother. He threatened my mother and everything else that matters to me if I interfere. But said he's intrigued by my brain and doesn't want to rid the world of my talent."
Knowing Malcolm felt that way about her makes her feel dirty.
Digg scowls. "We can protect you, and your mother."
"Don't worry, John. We'll figure it out. I probably shouldn't go to the Lair anytime soon, but I can work remotely. I'll show you how to set that up." She purses her lips as she contemplates her mother. "And my mom...she's my mom. She can handle herself most of the time." Around cocktails and drunk, grope-y men...assassins might be another matter...
"Felicity-"
"Digg," she places a hand on his arm before he can continue. "I'm in this with you. It's my choice and I'm here. Okay?"
He sighs and nods. "Alright."
"You could at least pretend to be a little happier about it," she teases as she starts walking again. Were her boys always this worried about her? Stupid question. Of course they were. They saw her as a walking trouble-attractor.
Digg grumbles as he slides into the driver's seat and Felicity pulls up the latest news feed on her tablet.
Time to get reacquainted with her new present.
...
"Blondie!"
Felicity blinks, looking up from her tablet in shock as Roy marches right up to her. She can tell from his gruff exterior he isn't used to the closeness she's used to in the future. She moves for him, pulling him into a close hug.
"I'm fine, Roy. No need to be worried, scarecrow." She's missed him. Even if this isn't the Roy she knows – not yet – she's still comforted by his familiar presence.
He snorts into her shoulder, not putting distance between them as he responds to the hug in kind. "A Wizard of Oz reference? Really?"
She smiles as she pulls away. "Yup. What are you doing out of bed?" She might not remember what happened to him to land him in the hospital in this twisted version of things, but she can see a couple casts, so he can't be all better.
"They released me." He announces playing with his red zipper. "About time too, I was getting sick of that hospital gown."
"So why are you still here?"
"Digg told me to wait for news about Oliver. I couldn't get into the private waiting room, so I figured that was the next best choice." He lowers himself slowly into the worn hospital chair.
Felicity drops into the chair next to him, closing her eyes. She might as well at least get some semblance of sleep while they wait. "Works for me."
"Felicity?"
She blinks her eyes open, frowning at the voice she vaguely recognizes. "Mrs. Queen?"
"Mr. Diggle, it appears you've found Miss Smoak," Moira continues, voice notably cooler as her gaze settles on the bodyguard in question.
Felicity didn't even realize Moira knew her name before they got Walter back and that whole awkward hospital room meeting. She glances at Diggle with a question in her eyes. What the hell is going on?
"Mr. Diggle claimed Oliver was hurt looking for you, something about you being kidnapped." Moira looks her over suspiciously.
She shifts. "I was. Kidnapped, I mean. Terrible experience. Wouldn't recommend it."
"Did you get the police involved?"
"Digg found me," she responds with a smile. "Also, it's kind of hard when your kidnapper just lets you go."
Moira frowns. "You know who kidnapped you? We can report them-"
"I don't think that's necessary. What would I say? Yeah, hi, Detective Lance, I was kidnapped by the CEO of an international conglomerate who is planning to level the Glades. He tortured me for a little while, then stitched me up, and let me go after threatening everyone I care about. That would go over really well. Especially when he can follow through with his threats."
Moira pales. "What did you say?"
Felicity stills as she realizes what she just said out loud. "I said...um...it seems pointless to file charges since I'm fine?"
"Come with me." Moira's hand wraps around Felicity's wrist to drag her away. It would work too, but the moment her hand closes on her wrist pain draws a surprised yelp of pain from her throat, drawing looks from everyone around.
Moira releases her hand immediately and Felicity cradles her wrist.
"Sorry," Felicity smiles at the worried looks. "I'm fine. My wrist is just a little sensitive." She waves off a hovering nurse, flashing the professional looking bandage to prove her point.
"What happened?" Moira asks, gently examining the wrap.
Malcolm stabbed her with a knife, but she can't really say that aloud. "Nothing. I had a run in with a sharp object."
"Felicity," she leans forward, speaking softly so Roy and Digg will have more trouble hearing. "I think we need to talk."
This whole world is too wacky. Moira Queen seems to actually like her. The whole universe is upside down. It's like someone just told her that what she spent her whole life thinking was an orange was really a pineapple: It makes no sense.
"What do we have to talk about?" she asks quietly with an unsure smile.
Moira looks her over, seeing resolve in the young woman's face. In response she takes a step back. "You should come wait with us. I'm sure Oliver will want to see you when he gets out of surgery."
And the world is still lopsided. "No thanks. I'll wait out here." She purposely slouches, leaning sideways to rest her head on Roy's shoulder as she tries to sleep or at least pretends to.
"Your friends can come with us," Moira announces, the picture of hospitality even if her eyes are like flint.
Felicity blinks in surprise and looks sideways at her boys. John shrugs, leaving the decision up to her. She sighs and pushes her glasses up her nose.
"I guess that's better than waiting out here."
"Are you sure you're alright?" Moira asks, slipping her arm around Felicity's back like they're the best of friends, and seriously, this is freaking her out to the extreme. The Moira Queen she knew hated her guts, for revealing the truth about Thea to Oliver, for stealing her son. And she and Oliver hadn't even been together at that point.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Queen."
"What have I told you? Call me, Moira."
This is definitely an alternate universe. There's no way Moira would like her otherwise. "Right."
"Please, Mom, she'll start calling you Moira when hell freezes over," Thea chides as they enter the private room, her eyes scanning the new company and carefully sizing up Roy. "Who's the new guy?"
"Manners, Thea! This is Felicity, and her friend."
"Roy Harper," Felicity fills in, not particularly happy that Moira is still glued to her side. It's like she wants to talk, and Felicity would really rather do anything else.
Roy nods in her direction and heads directly for the corner of the room furthest away. Felicity wants nothing more than to join him there or Diggle standing guard by the door, but Moira apparently has other ideas as she steers Felicity to a couple private chairs.
Given no other choice, Felicity lowers herself into the chair and shifts nervously under Moira's gaze.
"I'm surprised he let you live," Moira whispers, not making direct eye contact.
Felicity rests her hand on the knife injury. "You and me both."
"So he doesn't know you and Oliver are trying to foil his plan or is he the one behind this attack?"
She jumps and turns to stare in shock at Moira. "You know?"
Moira blinks. "Oliver told me last night, before he found out you were missing."
"About all of it?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch. She mimes shooting an arrow.
Her eyebrows draw together.
Felicity's head is starting it hurt even more from trying to figure this world out. So far her conversation with Malcolm has been the easiest to understand. Moira might as well be talking Chinese for all Felicity understands her.
"Is Malcolm behind Oliver's mugging?"
Felicity blinks once at the cover story, but years of paltry excuses have her shaking her head. "No...no..."
Moira continues to watch her with hawk eyes. "That was my first thought, but then I realized if it was him, he would have killed my son, would have killed anyone who stood in his way that he couldn't bring under his thumb."
Felicity contemplates her next step. This Oliver Moira's talking doesn't seem like the Oliver she remembers. Oliver-from-this-time had been cold, calculating and full of terrible excuses. He was never open with the people around him, not like this. Hell, he still wasn't open with the important things in her world. It was the reason she had ended things.
"Oliver..." Felicity searches for the words. "Let's just say, he may think Oliver's dead." She tilts her head as she clarifies, "well, he just doesn't know it was Oliver. He doesn't really care who it was, but Oliver's not in any more danger than he was before. And, once he's better, he's going to learn how to beat Malcolm."
She'll find Sara if she absolutely has to.
"Learn how to? Malcolm did this? Not his man?"
"His man?" Felicity asks. "No. He doesn't have a 'man'. Well, he probably does, but Malcolm does his own dirty work, unless it's part of a larger masterplan where he blackmails someone into fighting his enemies. Then he pretends to be sorry about it, but really he's just a dick. I'm glad he loses a hand." She clamps her mouth shut an instant later, aware of her faux pas and just hoping Moira didn't notice. She's just stress babbling now.
For her part, Moira just continues to gaze at her curiously. "There's something different about you, Miss Smoak."
"Different? Me?" She grimaces at the sit-com feel of her words, and she slouches back into the chair with a defeated groan. "Can we just blame this on the stress of my kidnapping? What's important is that Oliver's not in any danger, at least not from Malcolm, not any more than he ever was."
Thankfully Moira nods in acceptance, although her eyes tell a different story. There's going to be questions later, but for now Felicity has a reprieve.
A doctor steps through the door an instant later. "Oliver's out of surgery."
...
"Can I have this dance?"
Oliver looks like sin in a suit. And the dopey sap looking down at her reminds her of every moment they were alone since they drove off into the sunset. Bali. And dancing barefoot on the beach in the moonlight. She can't be sure which she prefers honestly.
He's sweet and loving, the perfect gentleman. She can see the obvious love in his eyes as he stares down at her. The whole thing is romantic and moving, at least until Oliver drops that time bomb on her and she starts freaking out.
The kiss.
It's unexpected, shocking her into breathing correctly. It's also something only Oliver would do. She was freaking him out, so he did the only thing he could to calm her down.
The scene melts into meeting Moira, and the iciness she's used to receiving from the woman dedicated to protecting her son. The scene shifts again, moving too quickly for Felicity to make much sense of anything.
Some pompous ass is talking about how great he is, about how the Glades don't need to be saved...and Felicity witnesses a spectacular smack down. And then she ruins the moment talking about a cheeseburger.
The dream shifts, the bright colors of the gala shifting into the bright red of Big Belly Burger. Moira laughs, Oliver flirts, and Felicity manages a cute sort of awkward. Moira even prods her and Oliver together. Felicity pulls away, gun shy.
Moira just looks between them and smiles, a little too much like Thea's "I have a plan" smile for Felicity to be truly comfortable.
"Hey," a gentle hand shakes Felicity awake and she squints against the bright hospital lights. Moira smiles kindly down at her. "He wants to see you."
She yawns and stretches, trying not to wince at the kinks in her muscles that seem to augment the dull pain she's been in for the last day or so. Hospital chairs really aren't that comfortable to sleep in, but she didn't think she could sneak home for a couple of hours with the Queens watching her like they were.
Standing, she shuffles behind Moira to the door to Oliver's private room – not in ICU, she's happy to see. There have been enough ICU rooms in her past. She doesn't need any more.
She pauses by the door, looking through the little window in the door at the man she loves with all her heart, the man she walked away from. He's staring out the window, anxious lines written into his face. He looks years younger, which she guesses he is, technically.
Felicity turns to ask Moira a question, but the woman is already gone, back to the waiting room probably. Suspicion doesn't begin to describe her complicated feelings for the latest version of Moira she's been a witness to. It's becoming clear now that her dreams are memories. The changes are more extensive than she thought at first. Nothing like that happened the first time. From what she can tell, in her timeline Oliver only would have visited her for shadier and shadier tasks.
The metal door handle warms under her touch as Felicity contemplates her options. She could walk away. He hasn't seen her yet. He never has to know she stood here and decided to walk away.
But she has to know he's okay, more than just seeing him through a door. She needs to hear him deny the pain even though they both know he's badly hurt. She needs to see that resilience to remind her why she walked away and that going back doesn't change anything, it makes it more defined.
Oliver's head turns to her the moment the door squeaks open, relief immediately easing the stress lines on his face and the corners of his lips ticking up in an almost-smile. It's an easy look, so natural on him. Felicity hasn't seen it since she ended things between them.
"Hey," she whispers as she shuffles to the seat pulled next to his bed, reaching out to grasp his hand. She thought she would feel the difference between his grip now and from her world. She doesn't. On closer inspection she can see the difference in the little scars she's become so accustomed to.
"Hey," he whispers back, voice low. "You okay?"
Felicity drags her eyes back to his expressive eyes. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Malcolm said he killed you."
He sighs, running his thumb over her knuckles. "He stabbed me, pushed me off a building, but it takes more than that to kill me."
Felicity makes a pained sound and pushes away from him to start pacing the room. It's too much. No. That's too much like when she thought he was dead at the hands of Ra's Al Ghul. "How?" she whispers, voice choked with restrained emotion as she refuses to meet her eyes.
"Grappling hook," Oliver whispers, his eyes tracking her movement. "Digg must have found me. Just like he found you."
She spins to face him. "Please tell me you didn't do this for me."
"He had you, Felicity," Oliver says, his voice cracking as she remembers a time in the lair when he said the same thing, the exact words he echoes now: "He had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make."
"Don't ever say that!" Tears threaten to fall down her face as Felicity faces Oliver. It's too much for him to say. It's a declaration of love she can't stand to hear, not here, not now. "Oliver, you almost died."
"I had to try to find you, Felicity. I can't lose you," he argues, trying to sit up in the hospital bed.
Felicity walks over and pushes him back down gently, her hand moving to cup his cheek. "Oliver...all you did was nearly kill yourself. Malcolm let me go."
He frowns. "What?"
"He thinks the Arrow is dead, and he wants to keep an eye on me. If I try to stop the Undertaking he's going to kill everyone I care about." Then she pauses. Does he know about the Undertaking? Or did she just reveal a whole other realm of stuff he doesn't know? Fudge.
"Hey." Oliver grabs her hand, his brows drawn together in confusion. "We've been over this. Of course I know. And I know we agreed to wait for the completion of the Markov device to act, but he had you, Felicity. I couldn't stand by and do nothing."
"So, you did something stupid," she fills in. When the hell did they talked about the earthquake machine and how did he know about it in the first place? What is going on?
"I didn't tell you what happened last time around," Oliver whispers, his thumb drawing the soothing circles into her knuckles again.
Felicity opens her mouth to ask a question. She snaps it shut a second later as Oliver continues, lost in some memory:
"We never talked about how I came back."
Now she does have a thousand questions because WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!
"I didn't just hop in a time machine, or anything like that."
Time Machine? Oh hell no.
He takes a deep breath and sad, blue eyes bore into hers. "Thea...was in a bad spot."
No. No nono nonononono. She can't deal with this. She can't deal with him claiming to come from the future too. Not now. Not on top of everything. Because if he says anything like what her brain has already jumped to, she may lose it. If he's from her time...how the hell is she supposed to reconcile that with the memories she has?
Is he from the same time as her? Did he watch her die?
Thea being in a bad spot...that doesn't clarify anything. For a twenty-something girl, Thea's been in a lot of tough situations. So the question is, what made him come back. Did he have to die to do it?
"I offered my life for hers," he whispers, caught in his memory. "I challenged a master assassin to a duel to the death to clear her name."
Felicity now knows what he's trying to explain and the tears won't stop falling as she shakes her head like she can will it to stop without words. That moment, those weeks, she thought he was dead: she can't relive those. And she doesn't want to.
"Hey," Oliver whispers, the familiarity astounding her, and all she wants to do is curl into his arms. Then she remembers where she is and when she is. She remembers just happened between them, the timelines colliding massively, and so she doesn't seek comfort in his embrace, leaning into the hand that cups her cheek instead. "I'm not telling you this to upset you. I just want you to understand." He takes a deep breath as her blurry eyes find his. "I died. I was stabbed through the chest and pushed off a cliff."
She closes her eyes against the tears, forcing the saltiness from her eyes. "Oliver."
"I died and somehow woke up in the hospital, Felicity. I got a second chance to fix things. I'm not going to let you pay for my mistakes."
Felicity stands and kisses his forehead, lingering for a moment before she pulls back. She pushes her emotions back, forcing herself to think logically. All this new information, it explains the changes she doesn't recognize in her timeline: Oliver's been making changes. She needs some space to figure it out.
She meets his blue eyes, the innocence and emotion there causing her heart to skip a beat as she cups his cheeks in her hands. "We each make our own choices, Oliver. There were smarter things to do in this case, but it doesn't matter. Right now, you need to get better, and then we're going to stop Malcolm."
"No. Felicity, he knows who you are now. It's too dangerous-"
"I'm going to stop you right there, Mister." Felicity narrows her eyes at him, still fighting tears for the remembered pain, for the pain he must be feeling. She needs him to rest, to understand it's okay to heal right now. "My life, my choice, remember? We'll figure it out."
He relaxes at her assurances and Felicity settles back into the seat. Oliver drifts off to sleep, his hand clasped in hers as if letting go would sever his lifeline. Her thumb rubs soothing over his knuckles as his breathing evens out. She sits with him, taking solace in his company.
He's her Oliver, her Oliver. He's the man who wanted to be with her but hadn't figured out how to make it work yet. He's the man who would do anything to protect her, the one who misguidedly worked with Malcolm to spare the rest of the team, the man still so stubborn he refused to use his team.
Yet her memories are painting a different picture. The memories, the dreams, paint the picture of a man who stares at her like she hung the moon. He doesn't look at her and fear what might happen. And maybe that's just because he thinks he knows what's going to happen, maybe he's not ready yet, but it's something.
This version of Oliver apparently told her about the future, told her what would happen. He's not keeping secrets. But he's changed so much too.
She doesn't know the state of this brave new world, doesn't know what else has changed. Action and reaction. There's far more happening here, and she needs to figure it out. Oliver's never been one for subtlety.
She just needs to find her place in this future and see what Oliver changed. Then she needs to figure out how the hell they got here...
If it doesn't hurt her brain too much just trying to wrap her mind around it.
She's going to need another nap.
Or five.
