By the time Lyla brings the helicopter back down, the streets are filled with sirens and shouts of surprise and dismay as the dust from the building collapse starts to settle. The air is still thick with ash, even several blocks away. As they all disembark, trying to get their bearings, dusting off their clothes and coughing to clear the debris from their lungs, Oliver recognizes where they are. Lyla's landed them on one of the closest skyscrapers, and it just so happens to be the roof of Merlyn Global.
It's now the tallest building in the city. Queen Consolidated used to be taller.
The sight of the lit-up floors in the surrounding buildings makes his gut twist.
"What good am I all the way over here?" Lance snaps. His eyes are on the dull glow of the flames still visible, on the billows of smoke spiralling into the air.
"It's too dangerous to land closer," Oliver answers. He'd barely had the state of mind to turn his modulator on, but he's sure even if he hadn't, his voice would be garbled enough from the smoke to disguise it anyway.
"Too dangerous?" Lance repeats, spinning back to face him. "You're joking, right? Because the only dangerous thing I'm seein' right now is you."
"Dad," Sara says, her voice filled with caution as she hops off the helicopter. "Take it easy."
The older man is several steps past angry and is heading straight into a grief-stricken hell. His face is twisted with guilt-ridden pain as he turns to face his daughter. His hand shakes as he points at her.
"There's no taking anything easy right now, Sara," he replies. "Not after what just happened, after the men I lost. The good men I just lost. And the ones I left behind…"
Oliver wonders if it's just him who hears the '... because you asked me to.'
"I know," Sara replies with a solemn nod. Her voice is quiet, barely touched by the ash. The muted horror of what just happened burns through loud and clear. Without another word, she turns to the back of the helicopter, grabbing the small bundle of her street clothes and ducking inside to change quickly. The city might need the Canary right now, but Lance needs his daughter. Sara's priorities have always been clear.
"So what?" Lance asks, accusing eyes finding Oliver again. "You gonna just leave me here to dig through the debris on my own? After all this?"
"You aren't the only one who lost people in that building, Detective," Oliver informs him. The company may not have been his the entire time, but he was still responsible for the people who worked there - for the people who had still been in there tonight. It might have been evening, but QC was never truly empty.
Alarm colors Lance's face. "Felicity Smoak? She wasn't…"
"No," Oliver replies immediately. The mental image of Felicity buried beneath the wreckage fills his mind - bleeding, broken, crying out for him… He grimaces, shaking his head to get rid of it. It's too reminiscent of Tommy's death, far too easy to picture her there. The very thought has nausea slamming into him. "No. She's safe."
"Good," Lance says, clearly unsettled. "Good. She's a good kid."
"Damn it," Felicity sighs through the comm. Her voice is light, and he can tell she's forcing it; he can hear the tremor behind her words, the reality of what just happened evident. He knows she's doing it for his sake just as much for hers. "Just when I was starting to resolve that my future step-dad is sort of an enormous jerk, he goes and says that. Glad you didn't die, too, dad." That statement makes Oliver jerk, but before he can wrap his mind around it, Felicity's continuing, "Which is just beyond bizarre to say out loud. You know what's not bizarre? My mother freaking out about Detective Lance almost dying. Let's keep this between all of us, because she's already called ten times since the building collapse completely took over the news."
The steady stream of her voice in his ear is calming. Oliver closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, enjoying it. Because he can; because he's alive. They didn't save everyone, but he can't bring himself to feel too guilty about surviving because it means he gets to go home to his family. And that's a damn miracle if there ever was one. The irony of his recognizing that isn't lost on him.
"You wanna know who waits for no man?" Felicity asks. Oliver's lips quirk slightly, not answering because he knows she's just talking. "This daughter of yours. She's apparently 'super starving'."
"I am super starving, Momma," Ellie adds, her voice smaller through the comm, but audible enough to have Oliver taking a choked breath, his chest filling with gratitude and love. The sound of it is like a soothing balm, one he didn't realize he needed in that very moment. He's alive, which means his daughter still is. The desire to see them is damn near overwhelming. He knows there's more to do here, so much more, but he's almost willing to let it all go just to hold them in his arms right this very second. "Come on!"
"Now that we're more or less in the clear," Felicity says, "I'm gonna go attempt chicken nuggets. And before you say anything, mister, I have backup at the ready. John is going with me, he'll make sure I don't burn the safe house down. Pretty sure ARGUS wouldn't appreciate that, especially because this is a nice hideout." Oliver can't stop his small smile this time and he bows his head. His eyes are still closed as he revels in his Felicity. He's pretty sure she's rambling just for his sake at this point. "Anyway, hurry home. I love you."
I love you, too.
And he hopes to God she's joking about the chicken nuggets. It's just a microwave, right?
"Is that Daddy?" Ellie asks, her voice suddenly closer, as if she's launched herself into her mother's arms. "Love you, Daddy!"
He almost responds before biting his tongue. The sound of clothes rustling echoes over the comm as Felicity catches Ellie with a breathless, "He loves you, too, baby," - and God, he does, so much, and he wants to say it to her right now - before she says to him, "See you soon. We love you."
Oliver turns his head so the words don't carry as he offers a quiet, "Yeah." He puts everything in that simple word that he can't say in present company. "See you soon."
With a soft, "Be careful, make smart choices," she switches her comm off, severing their connection. It only makes him want to get back to her even more.
As Sara joins them again, reemerging from the helicopter with all traces of the Canary gone, Lance clears his throat, demanding attention.
"You wanna do good? You wanna save the city, Arrow?" the detective asks. The snideness in his words hit Oliver like tiny knives slicing through him. "How's about you help me dig for survivors, huh? Help us mourn the dead that fell in your battle."
He wishes he could, he truly does. There's more ways to save the city than taking down bad guys, but Oliver has too much to do and too little time to do it in.
"I have to bring Isabel in," Oliver says. "And I need to work on a plan to stop Slade, because he's still out there. He wanted this city burned to the ground before, and he will again. I don't have the luxury of grief, Detective."
"You're a real bastard, you know that?" Lance challenges. All-in-all, Oliver takes that as a good sign. The detective without fight in him is a foreign thing that Oliver never wants to see. "An' what makes you think you're taking in Rochev? Where the hell are you taking her?"
"To me," Lyla chimes in. She steps off the helicopter with an air of authority that is palpable. Another ARGUS agent takes her place in the pilot's seat as she steps up to Lance. "She's in my custody now, Detective."
Lance bristles. "An' who the hell are you?"
"Agent Lyla Michaels, but my agency is classified," Lyla replies smoothly. She pulls out some non-descript sort of badge that is absurdly generic but somehow grants her authority. "All you need to know is I'm taking over the handling of Isabel Rochev." She slips her badge back into her pocket, her voice grim as she adds, "I've already called for backup to come help clean-up."
"Oh, that's real nice of you," Lance says with a sneer. "Cause a mess like this, people losin' their lives, and you send a cleanup crew." He doesn't wait for a response before jabbing his thumb in Oliver's direction. "So you're tellin' me he's government sanctioned?" Lyla pinches her lips, but Lance keeps going. "My tax dollars at work, huh?" He narrows his eyes at Oliver. "Was wondering where you got the chopper from."
"I'll stay," Sara reminds him. She's calm, attempting to diffuse the tension. Oliver's not sure it works even a little bit. "I'll help you look for your men, too. Okay?" She turns to Oliver. "I'm leaving my weapons with you, but I'll keep my comm unit on in case there's an emergency."
"If you see any sign of Slade…" Oliver starts, his tone heavy with warning.
"We'll run," Sara confirms.
Lance scoffs. "The hell we will."
"Dad, we will," Sara repeats, leaving no room for dispute. "You saw what he's capable of. We can't take him on. Not right now. Not without a plan." She looks back at Oliver. "And not without help."
"Ain't no way he survived that anyhow," Lance says, waving back at where the building once stood. The flames have died down, lessening the glow of the fire on the horizon, but the smoke is just as heavy, the air still foggy with dust. Lights from multiple emergency vehicles make the sky glow. "If we find him, we'll be findin' a body."
"Don't underestimate Slade Wilson," Oliver says, the words coming out harsher than intended. But he's back on that roof, back with the choice of letting him go or going after him, stopping him once and for all… Oliver knows deep in his gut that that isn't the last time he'll be seeing his old friend. And it's all because of him. He narrows his eyes at Detective Lance. "That would be a tremendous mistake, one I guarantee you won't have the chance to fix."
Lance stares back at him, not believing a single word he says, but he doesn't argue the point. Oliver knows he saw the same things he did up there, the way Slade ripped through his men like tissue paper. Oliver's not sure if it's the weight of the moment coming down on all of them, or Sara resting her hand on Lance's arm, but either way, he switches gears.
"What about the Queen girl?" Lance asks, nodding his head to where Thea's still asleep on the floor of the helicopter.
"I'll get her back to her mother and brother," Oliver advises. "They'll look after her."
"Have them let me know when she's awake," Lance says. "I'm gonna need a statement."
Without waiting for a response, he turns away from them and the helicopter, heading towards the stairs that will take him down to the street. He's limping slightly, covered in sweat-laced dust, but he doesn't pause for a second. Oliver knows the policeman's going to be out there all night. He will do everything in his power to make this right, both as The Arrow and Oliver Queen, but he can't escape the feeling that he's failing the city all over again by not following Lance right now.
Sara grips Oliver's shoulder, her voice quiet as she says, "Thanks for saving him, Ollie."
"He's your dad," Oliver replies simply. "You should call Laurel, let her know you're both okay."
"Yeah," she says with a sad smile. "And he'll come around again. He's just hurting right now."
"He has every right to hate me," he says. "I don't blame him."
"No," Sara negates, shaking her head. "He's lashing out. There was no way you could have known about the bombs, or that he was bringing so many men up there." Oliver doesn't agree, and it's painfully obvious to both of them. Sara gives him a look, adding, "I know Felicity will get it through that thick skull of yours."
He lets out a choked laugh. She's not wrong, Felicity will definitely do her damnedest. He's surprised to discover it's all the more reason he wants to get back to her. Hearing it from Sara, trying to believe it himself, it's all different from hearing it from Felicity's lips.
Sara squeezes his arm once more, obviously pleased she got a reaction out of him, before turning.
"Hey, Sara?" She turns back with raised eyebrows. "Find out how they connected Isabel to Blood, and if they've already got him in custody. I don't want any loose ends."
"You got it," she agrees before turning to follow her father.
Oliver watches them go, making sure they make it through the door before he turns back to the helicopter. Lyla's already back on, slipping her headset in place as she checks Isabel's handcuffs. Her wrists and ankles are tightly secured, linked together by a long chain that's hooked to a steel ring in the roof of the helicopter. Her lips are pinched with displeasure, glaring at everyone and everything around her. Usually he'd enjoy the hell out of that, but the sight of her only makes him tired. He just really wants to get Thea home, and get back to his family.
The whir of the helicopter blades starts up again as Oliver climbs on, shutting the door behind him.
He checks on his sister, making sure she's still securely fastened in one of the seats. Taking her hand in his, Oliver readjusts her head slightly before meeting Lyla's eyes. The understanding look they share says everything. They had contingency plan after contingency plan for getting Thea back, but nothing for this situation. Oliver hates flying blind nearly as much as Lyla does. She hands him his own headset and Oliver pulls his hood off, slipping it on, not for the first time thinking about the fact that he has no qualms about doing this around Lyla's men. He knows she'll make sure they keep his identity safe.
"We'll drop you and Thea off at the safe house with the others before I bring Isabel in," Lyla informs him, her voice laced with static as the chopper rises into the air.
"You think Waller will hold her?" Oliver asks warily.
"I think…" Lyla starts, her tone grim. "I think she'll see Isabel as a tool to get Slade back. And she's going to want Slade back. But more than that, she's going to hold her responsible for those explosives."
There's a darkness to her tone that clues Oliver in to the fact that there's a whole lot more going on than she's saying and it doesn't take much for him to figure out what it is.
"How many did you lose?" he asks her.
"At least three," Lyla replies. He bows his head in acknowledgement. She looks outside as they fly closer to the rubble and Oliver follows her gaze. It's just as impactful as it was the first time, maybe even more now that the wind has shifted, giving the illusion of smoke clearing. The block is surrounded by fire trucks, ambulances and police cars, and the crowd of people is near-suffocating. Lyla's voice is calm, a clear indicator that she's been involved in situations just like this multiple times, as she continues, "ARGUS will be coming in for cleanup and containment any moment." She smiles wryly. "And I have a debrief as soon as I get back."
Oliver knows very well how debriefs with Waller usually go. They are less than pleasant.
"Did she know?" he asks. Lyla doesn't answer immediately and he wonders for a second if maybe he wasn't clear enough. "Did she know you were releasing Slade? That you'd taken a team of men?"
She doesn't meet his eyes, her eyes still on the ruins of QC as they start heading away from the city's business district. That in itself is answer enough.
Lyla meets his eyes again. "Let me worry about Waller."
"Lyla," he cautions grimly.
"It's fine, Oliver," she dismisses.
"If you need us…" he begins. "If you need cover…"
"Then what?" Lyla asks with a trace of amusement in her voice. "You'll tell her you put an arrow to my head and made me release Slade?" He gives her a sullen look and she smiles, with gratitude. "I'm a big girl, Oliver. I can take responsibility for my decisions."
"I know that," Oliver says. "But you did this as a part of our team. For our team. You're not in it alone and we're not about to hang you out to dry."
His insistence, more than the sentiment, seems to be what surprises her. Whatever it is that gets through to her, though, he's glad for it because the restrained smile on her face reaches her eyes and it's vital to Oliver that she knows she's a member of their team. She's put everything on the line for them, everything, including guarding Ellie and Felicity even while she's answering to Waller and fighting morning sickness. She's owed his loyalty.
"You're a good man, Oliver Queen," she tells him. "Don't let Lance tell you otherwise."
With a self-deprecating smile, he says, "I'll keep that in mind." It's the closest he can come to agreeing with her. "How far out are we?"
"Five minutes, give or take," Lyla responds, glancing at her watch. "We're landing a ways away. I don't want to expose the location by landing the helicopter there. You'll have a car ride to the safe house afterwards. I have an ARGUS agent coming to get you and Thea."
He nods his agreement. He has no idea where the safe house is, not yet anyway, but he can only imagine the attention a helicopter would get anywhere they went. Still, he's incredibly anxious to get back to Felicity and Ellie. He hasn't deluded himself into thinking Slade's dead - they aren't that lucky, not by any means - and regardless of where the safe house is and how secure it is, he won't be comfortable until he has his girls in his arms. The thin line of empty white space over the comms tells him that Felicity may have shut off her end, but she isn't disconnected completely - she's still listening in, making sure he's okay just as much as he wants to make sure she's okay.
"My lawyers will have a field day with this," Isabel says, pulling him from his thoughts. Oliver and Lyla don't move, but they both look at the other woman. "I'm pretty sure this is what they call unlawful imprisonment."
Oliver only has enough energy to snort. "That's hilarious coming from you," he replies.
"You won't get away with this," Isabel says, ignoring him before looking at Lyla. "Either of you. The second we land, I'm calling my attorneys. Whatever's being charged lacks merit, I'm sure. I'll be out within the hour."
Lyla's face is impassive as she tilts her head, staring at her like she's looking at an especially tiny bug under a microscope - annoying and petty, but nothing that concerns her.
"You say that like there will be formal charges," Lyla says. "Like there will be a trial. There won't be. Don't confuse ARGUS with the SCPD, Ms. Rochev. You are not innocent until proven guilty, and there's no time off for good behavior."
Isabel's nostrils flare with anger as she stares Lyla down. Lyla doesn't budge, merely smiling.
"You can't do this," Isabel says.
"I'm pretty sure we already did," Lyla says. "I don't need evidence to take you in, but it does help. Kidnapping Thea Queen, bartering an innocent life for the release of Slade Wilson, blowing up Queen Consolidated. You made this easy for us."
Isabel's jaw clenches, her face souring. She shifts, yanking slightly on her handcuffs, but she's tightly secured. She's going nowhere. She switches tactics, turning her attention back to Oliver.
"If you think you can hide from Slade, you're even stupider than I'd thought." Isabel smiles; he's sure it's supposed to be chilling, but it's obviously forced. She's grasping at straws. "He's going to destroy you and everything you love." With a sneer in Lyla's direction, she adds, "And he's going to free me to help him."
Oliver can only stare at her. She's desperate - it's clear she'd banked on everything working in her favor, something that would almost be admirable except for the blatant faults in it. All her plans have crumbled, quite literally, right in front of her and she's bound for a top secret government agency that will probably never let her see the light of day again. She's reaching for hope and if he were a slightly better person he might feel a little sad for her, because it's all so futile.
But he doesn't.
Oliver sits up, careful not to jostle Thea too much before he stands. Years of learning how to maneuver and control his body lets him naturally adjust to the sway of the helicopter as he moves towards her, stopping just outside her reach.
"You thought Slade could control your men, right?" Oliver asks, lowering himself to Isabel's eye-level. "Your plan was broken from the start. Slade can't control them. He can't even control himself. You put your faith in a madman and while I have no doubt he'll come for me, I also have no doubt that he will never, ever come for you."
Rage darkens her eyes, her face flushing with a furious anger - and it's all because she knows he's right. With a tiny snarl, she yanks on the tight chains holding her before suddenly grabbing for him. She comes up short and he doesn't even flinch. It's more than a little satisfying.
"I saved him more times than you," Oliver continues. "I fought with him, trained with him, killed for him. We were allies once, and look what that brought me. The only thing Slade is loyal to is vengeance and a twisted version of Shado that haunts his memory. You're nothing to him, Isabel. And you never will be."
She can't do much more than curse at him with formidable rage, and she does it with gusto. Maybe it's a little petulant - it's definitely more than a bit vindictive - but something in Oliver relishes seeing her brought down so low.
He just smirks at her.
A sudden drop in gravity has Oliver's stomach swooping as the helicopter starts descending.
"We're here," Lyla announces. She stands, holding onto a handle in the ceiling as the vehicle drops. "I'll be in touch after I've met with Waller."
Oliver turns away from Isabel without a second thought, looking back to his sister. He quickly unhooks her restraints, catching her when her dead weight falls against him.
"Here," he says before pulling his headset off. Lyla's already there, taking it from him. He hooks his bow across his back before picking Thea up again. She's nearly weightless, so tiny and frail. God, he can't wait for her to wake up, to hear her voice sass him and to call him out for worrying so much about her, to explain Ellie and watch his sister and his daughter bond, to earn her forgiveness… To get his sister back. Staring at her sleeping face for a moment, Oliver cradles her close, readjusting her so her head rests against his chest. He sends out a mental prayer that she'll be okay, that everything will be okay. Because it has to be. With a soft sigh under his breath, Oliver turns back to Lyla. He nods, giving her a quiet, "Thank you."
"That's what family's for, Oliver," she replies.
Oliver pauses at that. Lyla slides the door open for him, looking back with a knowing smile, very aware of the meaningful impact of her words.
So of course Isabel chooses that moment to speak.
"Sleep with one eye open, Oliver," she advises. "He's going to make you pay."
"Maybe," Oliver agrees. "But you won't be around to see it. Goodbye, Isabel."
"Rot in hell," she hisses as he steps off the helicopter.
Oliver huffs a small laugh as he looks back at her where she's huddled - she looks so small all of a sudden, attempting to sit up tall but failing. She's terrified, despite the vindictive look in her eyes. She's so cold, so lost and hopeless.
She deserves it entirely.
"You first," he counters just as the door slides shut.
It shouldn't feel as good as it does, putting Isabel in her place, but wow does it ever. She's been a festering splinter in his side all year and he's finally rid of her. It's such a relief that it almost feels like he can stop and breathe in spite of the fact that Zoom's still out there, that Slade's on the loose. They've at least checked Isabel off the threat list and - per a text from Laurel - Blood's in police custody as well.
So that just leaves Zoom and Slade. It's still daunting, but this tiny accomplishment somehow makes it feel more manageable, and that's more than he could ever ask for.
Detection systems are in place for Zoom, both at the house and portable ones, and Slade's blind, friendless, probably injured and possibly - hopefully - affected by Cisco's attempt at a cure.
It's okay. They'll be okay, he tells himself as the helicopter lifts off again. Oliver steps back, squinting as the blades brush up a tiny tornado of dirt, grass and leaves. He glances around quickly, taking in his surroundings - he's in a field, surrounded by nothing but empty black space. He catches Lyla offering him a wave, which he responds to with a nod, just as a car pulls up.
Oliver looks back and frowns when he sees Frank stepping out. Frank - his family-driver-of-more-than-a-decade Frank - has come to pick them up… after Lyla just told him an ARGUS agent was coming.
He doesn't quite know what to do with this.
"I'm told you require a ride, sir," the other man says, rounding the town car to open the back door. "Do you need any assistance with Miss Queen?"
Oliver doesn't budge. "You're…" he starts cautiously.
"A rather long-term covert agent," Frank finishes. "I apologize for the deception, Mr. Queen. ARGUS's interests are quite varied and their interest in your parents' business predates your time away by quite a bit." This in no way makes the situation less jarring. "If you'll allow me, I'll drive you and your sister to the safe house and reunite you with your wife and daughter."
Not only is Frank an ARGUS agent, but he's also well aware that Felicity is not his wife. Oliver's keenly aware that this is a way to remind him of what he wants in this moment, and that a discussion of this magnitude can actually wait. His interests lie elsewhere, and Frank knows it. And damn it if it doesn't work.
Frank waits patiently, holding the door open. His face remains calm and open. He's the driver who's been in his family's employ for years… but he's not.
And now really isn't the time to dive into that can of worms.
Still, Oliver moves cautiously, even though his gut tells him he doesn't have to. He trusts this man, despite the obvious long-term lie.
Oliver leans into the car, taking extra care with Thea. He places her gently in the middle of the seat before taking off his bow and quiver and scooting in next to her. Once he's settled, he looks back out at the driver with an appraising eye. It doesn't escape Frank's attention that Oliver has his hand up, keeping the door open for the moment.
"I think we should have a chat later, Frank," Oliver decides aloud.
Frank smiles with a nod. "Of course, sir. But for the time being, we should get moving." He glances up at the sky, blatantly leaving himself open for attack, if Oliver so wished. It's another jarring move, and this one works, too. "The helicopter is useful, sir, but not particularly subtle."
With a short nod in agreement, Oliver pulls back and Frank shuts the door. He quickly rounds the front of the car, but by the time he reaches the driver side door again, he's no longer Oliver's concern. All of his attention is back on Thea. She's slumped at an awkward angle, caving in on herself against the seat. Oliver frowns, moving to wrap his arm around her before seeing how dirty he is. His jacket's coated in dust, some parts of it charred and blackened. As Frank starts the car, Oliver whips his jacket off, tossing it on the floor along with his mask. His t-shirt is significantly cleaner and despite how dirty she is herself, he now feels better wrapping his arm around her, pulling her into the crook of his shoulder.
The steady rise of her shoulders as she breathes settles him some and he holds her closer, as if his arms alone can offer her protection.
He wishes he could do more. He wishes he'd done more, and not just for Thea.
"Is Roy there already?" he wonders aloud.
"Mr. Harper is receiving medical attention at the safe house as we speak," Frank informs him. "He's certainly worse for wear after his experience. It will take quite some time for his recovery, but he will survive. Your Mr. Ramon and Doctor Snow are tending to him now, monitoring what the attempt at a mirakuru cure is doing to his body."
Oliver blinks because oh wow, is it weird having this conversation with Frank.
"Have they, uh… have they made any progress?" he asks. The memory of the rooftop of QC eradicates the confusion Frank's new position has in his mind, and his voice darkens as he adds, "It clearly didn't work as expected with Slade."
"You'd have to ask Mr. Ramon and Doctor Snow." Frank smiles in the rearview mirror. "I'm just the driver."
"Sure you are," Oliver replies dryly, not believing him a bit. But he lets it slide. Looking out the window, he notes that they've taken a side road and are quickly headed towards a freeway, one he doesn't immediately recognize. It's a testament to either his exhaustion or his trust in Frank that that knowledge doesn't freak him out. "How far out are we?"
"Less than ten minutes," the driver replies. He glances back at Oliver again, and his eyes are warm. "Tend to your sister, sir. I'll have you back to the rest of your family before you know it."
Despite his wariness, Oliver finds himself offering a tight smile back. "Thanks, Frank."
"Of course, sir."
He'd felt it earlier, the relief at having her back, but now that things are quiet, now that he can fully take stock of what had happened, of what he'd gotten back, it hits him even harder. Oliver drops a kiss to the top of his sister's head, brushing away bits of ashy debris that's stuck to her skin and clothes. She's wearing the same thing she had been the day she'd disappeared. It looks like it's been washed more than once, but her hair is matted, her skin sallow, like she was kept somewhere dark, away from the sun. And maybe she was. He thinks back to finding her sunglasses in that warehouse and Isabel's bold claim about having kept Thea and Roy in Queen Consolidated this entire time - had those been planted then? Had she been right there all along?
Oliver pinches his eyes shut, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. He breathes her in - she smells like smoke and cheap acrid soap - and vows silently that this will never happen to her again. He will never let her be taken, never fail her, not ever.
He half expects her to stir, but she doesn't. She's perfectly still, save for her steady breathing. Oliver wishes desperately that he could wake her up. Memories take him back to before the island, when he'd tickled her awake - much to her annoyance - or taunted her with the smell of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls kept just outside her reach. He's always adored his little sister, even when he was a jerk about how he showed it. But now… Now he'll do better. He knows now how to be a good brother, how to be a good partner and father and son. It's a constant learning process, he's discovering, but it's one he's more than ready to take on. He's not done improving, but he's on the right path and Thea - as much as anyone - is due the best of him.
"I'm sorry," Oliver whispers against her temple. "I'm here. You're safe, Speedy, and I love you. I promise nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I've got you, okay? You're safe."
A flash of light distracts him momentarily. Oliver opens his eyes, looking around. They're off the freeway and are now in a neighborhood, an area with street lights. Raising his eyebrows in curiosity, he holds Thea closer as he cranes his neck to look over her head and out the window.
Wherever he'd thought the ARGUS safe house would be - a warehouse somewhere maybe, or a dingy apartment, or an underground bunker - this isn't it. His memories of working for them are full of places with more rats than rosebushes and more automatic weapons than Accords. This is something else entirely.
This is suburbia.
"Where are we?" he asks, his brow furrowing as they go deeper into the housing development. They're passing house after house with perfectly manicured lawns, decorative ornaments and windows filled with warm, bright lights. There are bicycles on porches and people walking dogs.
"Ivy Town, sir," the driver replies as he turns onto a side street that looks much the same as the last. If Oliver had been driving in here for the first time, he would've gotten lost.
It's strangely fascinating. His life has been a series of extremes from the very beginning - he'd grown up in a castle-like home and come of age on a not-quite-deserted island. He's always known that for some people life is like this: suburbia. It's the stuff of television, stuff he's seen hundreds of times, stuff that's idolized by people looking for the right person to marry and settle down with the two point five kids and a white picket fence… but it's foreign to him. And he finds himself soaking it all up with a sense of wonder that would probably be a bit ridiculous to anyone else.
The car finally rolls to a stop. Frank's out and around before Oliver can take in his surroundings, opening the door for him and Thea.
Oliver gathers his sister into his arms and when the driver-slash-ARGUS-agent offers to take her from him, Oliver just shakes his head. He isn't ready to let her go, not yet. When Oliver stands up again, he finally feels the remnants of the explosion, radiating through him like his body is one giant walking bruise, but he still doesn't let her go. She's light, waiflike in his arms; it's no burden, especially considering how much lighter his heart feels for his ability to protect her.
The brick driveway is oddly smooth. The sprawling ranch house is set on a cul-de-sac, well-lit and surrounded by large, mature trees. The neighbors across the street have a pair of tricycles still on their lawn and their front door is open, giving him a view of their house through their screendoor. He can smell a barbeque somewhere nearby. There are windows open everywhere with curtains that flutter in the light breeze and laughter echoes down the street.
It's peaceful, happy in a way he's never quite known. It sort of takes his breath away.
"Daddy! Momma, Daddy's here!"
He'd know Ellie's voice anywhere - it's ingrained in him at this point - and he instantly spins towards the house Frank had parked in front of. The second he sees her, a grin splits his face. His daughter's waving excitedly from the front window, her hair up in a high, completely lopsided ponytail that swings with her movements.
The door swinging open catches his attention next.
Felicity runs down the front steps, not pausing for anything until she reaches him. The second she does she wraps herself around him, as much as she can. It doesn't matter that he's still holding Thea or that he's filthy from the building coming down or that they're out in public or anything - they're both here, and they're both alive.
It feels like he's stepped into his own daydream.
"Oh thank God," Felicity breathes out against his shoulder. It's awkward, the way his sister is more-or-less pinned between them, but Oliver wouldn't have it any other way. That's doubly true when Ellie dashes out the open front door and wraps her arms around his leg, too.
"I'm okay," he whispers.
Felicity pulls back to look at him. Her eyes dart over every bit of him she can reach. They rest on Thea for a second before darting back to his face. She pushes up onto her toes, cupping his face, and he bends closer, knowing without needing to be told what she needs. The kiss is simple, it has to be, but it's a reassurance that they both desperately need. He feels her desire to linger, and it matches his one hundred percent, but now is so not the time.
When she pulls back, worry is still evident on her face.
"I'm okay," Oliver stresses. "I promise."
"I know, I know," she replies in a rush, shaking her head. She caresses his face, like she's really making sure what she's seeing and feeling is real. "I just…"
"I know." He nods, his head falling forward, needing to lean on her, but the angle is uncomfortable with Thea in his arms. "Come on, let's get inside." She doesn't let him go for a second, and he knows exactly how she feels… but when he whispers, "I know, honey," she finally relents.
With a quick nod, she says, "Let's go back in, Ellie." Felicity clears the tears from her throat and leans down to pull her away. "Now that Daddy's here, we gotta get you ready for bed, little girl."
A frown is quick to fix itself to Ellie's face at that, but it's gone in the blink of an eye when their daughter looks up.
"Aunt Thea!" Ellie squeals delightedly. "Aunt Thea's here!" She's bouncing on her toes with so much energy that Oliver has to wonder how many people have snuck her sugar this evening. It's going to be near impossible to get her to sleep. When Thea doesn't respond though, Ellie tilts her head, worry incredibly reminiscent of Felicity coloring her little face. "Is she napping? Uncle Roy's sleepy, too."
"How about we go inside first, okay, Ellie-bug?" he asks, readjusting his grip on his sister.
"Okay," she replies simply.
Felicity scoops Ellie up, balancing the toddler on her hip before one of her hands returns to his shoulder. It's like she has to touch him, needs to reassure herself that in spite of an actual building nearly exploding under his feet he's here, he's whole.
Given the way he can't stomach the idea of letting Thea go just yet, it's a feeling he fully understands.
"Daddy," Ellie says, leaning closer, lowering her voice to what she probably thinks is a whisper. "You still have Green Arrow pants on."
She's not wrong, and he hadn't even thought to grab his gear from the car. If he was being perfectly honest, the idea of the neighbors seeing The Arrow walking into a suburban house hadn't even crossed his mind. Really, the idea that the safe house was in a suburban neighborhood called Ivy Town hadn't even been a possibility. He's glad he'd taken some of it off; he very well could have gotten out of that car in more than just his green leather pants and oh, what fun that would have been.
"I do, don't I?" Oliver asks her with a little smile. She nods gravely and he tilts his head towards the front door. "Let's get Thea taken care of and then I'll change, okay?"
Ellie nods, obviously approving of his decision to follow her sage advice. "That's a good plan, Daddy."
He glances back toward Frank, but the other man is already saying with a small proud smile, "I'll have your things brought to your room, sir."
With a grateful nod - really, the more time that passes between Frank's little revelation and the present is making it a little too easy to forgive and forget - he heads into the picturesque little world of domesticity that stands before them.
As he walks into the cozy living room, the front door falling shut with a soft snick behind them, it's oddly perfect.
He hears Digg and Cisco rattling around in the kitchen, instantly notices half-finished drawings scrawled in crayon on the coffee table, and Felicity's tablet tossed onto the nearby sofa. There are jackets on the coat rack already, an empty glass on a dining room table he spies when he cranes his neck. Like so many other things he's discovered since Ellie showed up in their lives, it feels like everything he never knew he needed in his life. Wanted, yes, most definitely, in some deep dark recess of himself that he'd never let see the light of day, but needed? Oh yes, he needs this. He needs this future. And it's right here, it's right within his reach.
A quick stutter of steps coming from the kitchen area prefaces a sharp gasp.
Moira freezes, her hand flying to cover her mouth in shock as she takes them both in, and then she's rushing towards them with an agonized, "Oh, my baby." She's in front of him in an instant, her hands running over Thea's face. Her fingers are shaking, her eyes glassy with unshed tears as she brushes the dust from her daughter's slack features. There's so much anguish in those simple movements that it's physically hard for Oliver to watch. Felicity squeezes his shoulder, lending him her support as much as sharing his grief. He wants to look at her, but he can't look away from his mother and sister, not yet. Moira's breathing is uneven, coming out in short gasps as she cups Thea's cheek, biting her lips together, trying to contain the emotions welling up inside her.
The sight of mother and daughter being reunited brings back the rest of the night. It's a reminder of what they gained… but also what they lost.
"Mom," he whispers. Moira doesn't respond; she only has eyes for Thea. "The building…"
"I know," Moira replies, her voice cracking. She nods a little too rapidly. "We have a plan in place, rescue crews and I've already instructed campaign funds be reallocated, and we're figuring out who was still in the building… but…" She takes an uneasy breath. "Let's take one thing at a time, shall we? That'll be for tomorrow. Tonight…" She finally meets his gaze. "Tonight I just want to be with my daughter."
It's a sentiment he understands perfectly, and one that has him glancing at his own little family. Ellie's watching Thea with worried eyes, her head nestled in the crook of Felicity's neck, her fingers playing with her mother's necklace. Felicity instantly meets his gaze, giving him a smile that's equal parts support, worry, understanding, and love.
Diggle and Cisco wander into the room behind her, the latter munching on a strip of beef jerky while the former stands with folded arms, his face subdued with quiet compassion.
"Before you say anything," Cisco says, shattering the quiet moment. He holds up a piece of jerky for emphasis, seemingly oblivious to the emotional tension in the room. "I think I know what went wrong. And I fixed it. Probably."
"We'll talk about that in a moment," Oliver replies tightly. "First, is there a spare room I can put Thea in? Frank said Dr. Snow is here to help? Thea needs medical attention."
Moira's eyes fly up to his, panic lacing her voice. "Is she okay?"
"We don't know what happened to her," he reminds her gently. "At best she's dehydrated and undernourished. And drugged, but we don't know with what. She needs a doctor and with Slade on the loose, a hospital isn't exactly an option."
"Come on," Diggle says, nodding towards a hallway off to Oliver's right. "We'll put her with Roy. It'll be easier for Dr. Snow to keep an eye on both of them at once."
As much as the thought of putting his sister in bed with a boy - any boy, even with both of them unconscious - makes him frown, he realizes it's also smart. With a silent nod, he follows Diggle, Moira close behind him.
"I wanna go with Aunt Thea," he hears Ellie say.
"How about we see her in the morning, okay, sweetie?" Felicity replies. "She's sleeping, remember?"
"But I wanna go with her," Ellie replies, her voice rising slightly, a very specific pitch that Oliver has learned the hard way. "I wanna go with Daddy."
He barely catches Felicity's sigh - she gets it, Oliver realizes, she understands Ellie's need to be near him because she's feeling it herself, just as much as he's feeling it with them, too - before she says, "Okay, but just for a minute, alright?"
"Okay."
The house seems small in comparison to the Manor, but then most places do. Still, it has to have at least four bedrooms, considering the size of it. It'll be a tight squeeze for the team - especially with Dr. Snow and Cisco and Frank joining them - but it will suit their needs for now. It's not forever; it's just until they get Slade. Which will be sooner rather than later, if Oliver has anything to say about it.
The room they've put Roy in is clearly meant as a kid's room. There's a Jack-and-Jill bath, and with all the doors open, Oliver can see into another room connected through the bathroom. It's obviously meant for kids as well. There are two twin beds in that one, where Cisco and Dr. Snow have settled their things. That's probably smart - the bathroom counter is covered in medical supplies, all laid out, organized for easy access.
But the most striking thing about the room is its occupant.
Roy is positively gaunt, ashen to a worrying degree, and Oliver immediately knows his survival is more touch-and-go than he'd been led to believe. Guilt swamps him, unexpected and staggering in its intensity - he did this. His choices, his decisions, led to this.
Oliver suddenly feels a whole lot better about lying his sister down next to his team member. As he sets her down next to Roy, the spike of regret that joins his guilt is daunting. He should never have driven them apart in the first place. He should have been there for Roy, should have seen what was happening with him, should have done so many things… but looking back does little good. The past is done and it's right now that matters.
That thought does little to assuage the guilt though.
Oliver doesn't go far, unwilling to let Thea's hand go. Moira's of the same mind, kneeling next to the bed next to Thea's head.
"Oh!" A willowy brunette pauses at the entrance to the bathroom, a clean cloth in her hands where she's meticulously drying them. "You're here. Hi. I'm Dr. Snow. Caitlin, if you'd prefer. Um…" With a quick gesture, she turns to grab a bag from the bathroom. "If you all don't mind stepping back, I'll take a look."
Instinct has Oliver holding Thea tighter. If there's one thing his experience has taught him it's that new people are dangerous, no matter how good their intentions are. And it certainly doesn't help that the last time he'd let his sister out of his sight, she'd disappeared into thin air. But Dr. Snow - Caitlin - is here, and she's already treating Roy…
Despite that, Oliver glances back at Felicity. She nods subtly, and that's all he needs.
With a quiet hum of agreement, he relinquishes his hold on her hand and steps back. The second he reaches Felicity's side, her hand grips his, their fingers twining together tightly. Somehow everything seems more solid, by virtue of her presence alone.
"How long has she been out?" Caitlin asks, draping a stethoscope around her neck before picking up Thea's wrist to check her pulse.
"I don't know," Oliver replies.
"What was she dosed with?" Caitlin continues, glancing at her watch, keeping her fingers pressed firmly to Thea's wrist.
Oliver grits his teeth, hating the taste of the words as he repeats, "I don't know." They're slightly harsher this time, but he can't help it. He's done what he can to save his sister, but she still has a long ways to go. And knowing he can't be the one to carry her through this part feels like a knife to his lungs.
His mother hasn't moved, he notices absently. She merely presses herself out of the way, forcing Caitlin to move around her, not that the doctor seems to mind. She understands, and for that at least, Oliver's grateful. Moira strokes her daughter's brow with quiet, motherly affection that makes Thea seem even smaller, even younger.
He's so distracted by the sight that it takes him a moment to realize Caitlin is watching him appraisingly.
"Okay," she suddenly announces, her voice both kind but also closed off, clinical. "I'm going to need some room to work. There's too many people in here."
His immediate gut reaction is: no.
"I'm not leaving," Moira says instantly, beating him to the punch. She moves to sit on the bed before anyone can argue. She runs her fingers through Thea's hair, smoothing it back off her forehead.
Oliver glances around, realizing that Caitlin is right. The room is remarkably tiny-looking with so many bodies in it. And as the young woman starts moving around, gathering more supplies for Thea, he knows it's time to leave.
Still…
"Is it safe?" Oliver asks. Caitlin's eyebrows shoot up at that. "I mean, with Roy. With leaving her next to him. We know he's dosed with mirakuru, and the cure didn't work on Slade. What if he wakes up and…?"
"He's being kept under heavy sedation until we know if Cisco's new formula works," Caitlin tells him. She brings over a thin-looking rack that she hangs a saline bag on next to Thea before grabbing an alcohol wipe. She pulls Thea's sleeve up, cleaning away the dirt on her arm. She looks as nonchalant as she sounds, which is a little more reassuring. "I'm monitoring his vitals very, very closely. We should have a better idea by morning how the cure is interacting with his system, but he won't wake up until we're ready for him to." She glances back at him with a small smile. "I promise."
Oliver knows she means it, but the idea of leaving her here still makes his stomach feel hollow. There's a hundred other things he should be focusing on other than his sister being so completely helpless, but he can't help it. It doesn't matter that she's in a safe place and surrounded by people who are more than capable of taking care of her, he doesn't want to leave. Not yet.
It's a notion that's made even more unbearable when Ellie suddenly slithers out of her mother's arms and crawls up over the foot of the bed. Felicity's, "Wait," is echoed by Oliver's strained, "Ellie, baby…" as their daughter scurries up the mattress and under Thea's limp arm.
"I'm staying with Aunt Thea, too," she asserts, wriggling herself right up against her aunt's side, her face twisted with consternation. "She needs me. Hugs help everybody. Remember, Daddy? It's good medicine. Doctor Caitlin always says so."
"I do, do I?" the doctor asks with clear amusement in her tone. "Well, that is true, but first I need to examine her, to make sure she's ready for medicine. Let's save your medicine for a bit later, okay?"
That is the opposite of what she wants to hear. A pout sours her little face. It's not meant to be funny, but it is, and Oliver has to press his lips together to keep his smile at bay. Her petulant frown is all lower lip and pinched eyebrows and it really shouldn't be half as cute as it is, but he is a sucker for that little face. He thinks he probably always will be.
Squeezing Felicity's hand tightly, he lets her go and moves to collect his daughter. "How about first thing in the morning, we check in on her and you can give her hugs then, okay?" he offers.
"No," Ellie replies with way more demand than he'd expected. She pulls Thea's arm around her like it's a seatbelt meant to keep her in place.
Oliver sighs, his amusement with her quickly draining. "Ellie…"
"No!"
His shoulders fall. It's late, way past her usual bedtime, and it's obvious the fumes she'd been running on are quickly expiring. He'd seen the signs outside and in the living room. She's overtired and has had an incredibly emotional day - so has he, for that matter - and even as a relatively new parent of an exceptionally great child, he can see the temper tantrum mounting. He just also doesn't have the experience to know quite how to deal with it, mostly because he still feels the urge to give in, especially because it's clear she's missed her aunt.
"Ellie," he starts again, but the little girl just burrows deeper into Thea's chest. He's about to pick her up, come hell or high water, when Caitlin kneels next to the bed, just enough so she's eye level with the toddler.
"Did you know it's important to have the right treatment at the right time?" she asks.
Ellie narrows her eyes at the young woman. She's not fooled; she knows this is a trap, probably because she recognizes the doctor's genial tone, but she obviously can't figure out how to avoid it either.
After a beat, she replies, "Yeah."
"Good," Caitlin tells her. "Then you know what it means when I tell you that we aren't ready for hug treatments yet. What your aunt needs right now is rest. And I need to run some tests on her. But I think we might be ready for the hug stage tomorrow."
Her little face crumbles. Her eyes fill with tears, her lower lip trembling as she says, "But I haven't seen her in a hundred years! And she needs hugs! Hugs make everything better! She needs hugs 'cause she got so mad last time." And then, in a quiet whisper as the tears spill over, she adds, "I don't want Aunt Thea mad at me anymore."
That thoroughly guts him.
"Oh, Ellie." Felicity steps around him and scoops her up off the bed. "She's not mad at you, sweetheart. She's not. I promise."
But Ellie isn't listening. She shakes her head violently, her cheeks red and her nose runny as her springy blonde curls bounce around her face. "She doesn't like me anymore," Ellie insists through barely-intelligible sobs.
Oliver feels like his heart has been ripped right out of his chest and crushed in front of him. The kind of pain that's branded itself on his beautiful little girl's face is something he never, ever wanted for her. Not once. And something inside him dies a bit as he realizes that she's gotten this from him, that his penchant for self-blame is something he passes along to his daughter.
"She loves you," Oliver counters, wrapping himself around both of them. Felicity's shoulders are shaking a little, and he knows if he looks at her he'd see her own tears in response to Ellie's. He cups the back of her neck with one hand, his thumb brushing over her hairline while the other rubs over Ellie's back. "She was never mad at you, baby. She was confused and a little angry at me and Mommy, but none of this is your fault. Okay?"
Ellie just shakes her head again, not believing him, still a mess of tears and strain. But she does reach for him and he instantly responds. She wraps her arms around his neck, burying her crying face in his shoulder. She shakes against him, little gulps of air puffing through her lips as she cries.
He wants to make this better, wants to fix it, but there's nothing he can do to ease the ache in his daughter's heart other than this, other than being the rock she can rely on, the arms that comfort her. It doesn't matter that he just narrowly escaped with his life earlier, or that there is another mass murderer on the loose. Nothing matters but this moment. Oliver cups the back of her head and makes hushing noises as Felicity strokes the little girl's back. Her eyes are red where they watch Ellie, and he wants to wrap them both up, protect them from everything - from Slade and Zoom, and from emotional gut punches like this one. It's not realistic, and he knows that, but he doesn't care.
By the time Ellie finally stops shaking, his shirt is thoroughly stained with snot and tears. It's only when her breathing evens out and her head grows heavier that Oliver realizes she's cried herself to sleep.
A heavy sigh punctuates the air and Oliver glances up to see his mother watching him with sympathetic eyes. Her hand is still drifting through Thea's matted hair, just as his is tangled in Ellie's curls. It's still strange, finding this common ground with his mother, but even absent any words it feels like they've reached a level of understanding he'd never expected to find with her.
"You should get her to bed," Digg offers up quietly from the doorway, reminding Oliver of the other man's presence. "Frank and I will keep an eye on the security system for a bit. They've got a hell of a set-up in the basement. We've got it covered. Go get cleaned up, get some rest. Take a breather."
"It hasn't exactly been easy for you either," Oliver points out. He might have been accepting of Frank's presence on the drive over, but he's not exactly ready for the notion that Frank - the family driver since he was about ten - is probably in the basement right now keeping watch over all of them.
"You kidding?" Digg scoffs. "I've been sitting in suburbia with my feet up sipping lemonade all day while you and Sara went up against Isabel, Slade and the SCPD. Pretty sure you got the short end of the stick, man."
He's oversimplifying things, obviously, but there's some truth to his words nonetheless. And the imagery brings a tired smile to Oliver's lips, something Diggle had obviously been aiming for.
"Okay," Oliver finally agrees. He hoists Ellie up a little higher so that her head rests on his shoulder more comfortably. "Okay, but just for a few hours. We need to regroup as soon as Lyla and Sara are back, figure out what to do about Slade, get more information from Cisco about what, if anything, his first cure actually did."
"Cisco's running some tests and ARGUS is on it," Digg reminds him. "Waller doesn't want him out any more than you do and she's pissed as hell that the chip is offline."
"Offline?" Oliver repeats, wariness edging his voice. "Is that why it didn't work? Does that mean the tracker isn't working?"
"She is adamant that there's no way that the chip wouldn't work," Diggle replies, his face growing grim. "She thinks he found it and dug it out of his own spine."
Oliver closes his eyes at that, whispering, "Damn it."
It's only in that moment that he realizes how much he'd been banking on that chip working, on using that to find Slade.
Without it, he's just gone.
"There's still the possibility that he was in the building," Diggle adds. "That he didn't survive."
"We both know that's not likely," Oliver says, unconsciously cradling Ellie closer.
"Yeah. Well… you can imagine this is all the more reason Waller's pissed as hell right now."
That's not comforting in the least. He'd been hoping to keep this off Waller's radar entirely, but given that she lost several men and Slade all in one fell swoop, that hope had most definitely been in vain.
"So you heard from Lyla?" Oliver asks.
"Briefly," he replies, and the tight line to Digg's smile says more than his lack of words does. "Just enough to hear about the chip. We'll know more when she gets back, but I don't think we should get too settled here. I'm not sure ARGUS is going to extend us the favor of letting us stay very long."
Oliver narrows his eyes. Digg's just as good at dodging as Lyla. "How much trouble is she in?"
"Don't worry about it," Digg replies offhandedly.
"John…" Oliver starts again.
"Pretty sure she's gonna end up a stay-at-home mom for a bit," Diggle interrupts. "It's okay, Oliver. We knew what we were getting into."
That's a small comfort. It bothers the hell out of him that they might have to pay a steep price for their part in helping save his sister. But there's also nothing he can do about it. Not right now. Maybe not ever. His pull with Waller isn't what it used to be.
"If you need anything…" Oliver begins again.
"We know you got our backs," Digg replies, talking over him. "That's not even a question. Now go find that girl a bed and take a shower. No offense, man, but you need one."
Oliver's eyebrows raise at that, a move that Diggle mirrors in response. He's not buying the other man's flippant tone, but Digg's definitely cut through the tension that had been mounting, which had undoubtedly been his goal.
"Come on," Felicity says, laying a hand on his arm. "I'll show you where our room is."
He hesitates, glancing briefly at his sister and Roy before meeting his mother's eyes. He's relinquishing control of both the home's security and his sister's care. It's not easy in the least, but it's the right choice for the moment, and he knows it.
Moira nods, indicating she has Thea, just as much as Digg has the security.
Still, it's only when Felicity's hand drags down his arm and she interlaces her fingers with his that he nods, relinquishing control to the others.
They're both silent as she leads him back down the hall. He follows her, taking in their surroundings.
They pass two bedrooms - the doors are open, and while it's still tight, it's obvious everyone has found a place to sleep for the night, which makes him feel better. There's one bathroom in the hall that he can see, two linen closets, and a discreet entrance in the ceiling that must lead to the attic.
Felicity leads him to the bedroom at the end of the hall, to the wide double-doors opening into a spacious master suite. It's right in-line with the neighborhood appearances and looks nothing like a safe house. It's bright and airy. Ellie's shoes are behind the door and her doll is on a nearby chair. Felicity's laptop is on the bed and he can see through the open closet door that she's hung some of their clothes up for their short-term stay.
It feels like home. It feels like the future. The only thing missing is family photos, really.
"Let me get the computer out of the way," Felicity says, hurrying forward to grab her laptop and put it on the dresser instead.
Watching her move around the space like it's familiar - like it's routine - takes his breath away. He hopes it always does. The way she fits into his life, the grace and ease she's taken to this role of mother and partner absolutely floors him whenever he stops to think about it. That alone might have been enough to make him fall in love with her, if he hadn't already been.
Felicity looks back just in time to catch him staring. She brushes some hair behind her ear as she asks, "What?"
"Nothing," Oliver replies with a smile. "You're beautiful. That's all."
The pleased flush that crawls across her cheeks makes it intensely clear to him that he needs to tell her this often. Not just because she obviously loves to hear it, but because he'll never tire of watching her skin turn pink as she bites her lip to hold in a smile.
She steps forward, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him gently. It's soft, more affection than heat, but still somehow a balance of the two that's pure perfection. He craves this as much as he does the passion between them.
"You're not so bad yourself, you know," she whispers with a grin as they part, their noses brushing together.
Oliver hums under his breath. "Maybe after that shower. I'm literally covered in pieces of my family's legacy right now."
He means both the ash and dust from Queen Consolidated and the tears and runny nose courtesy of his daughter. When he strokes his hand down Ellie's spine and the toddler lets out a little contented sigh, it's very clear that Felicity understands what he's saying on every level.
"We'll put it back together, Oliver," she says softly. "We'll rebuild it all."
"I know," he agrees. And he does. His belief in them is staggering in its strength sometimes, especially when she's looking at him like that, her eyes darkening, trust and confidence and love shining back at him.
"For now though," she says, holding out her hands. "How about you hand her off to me. I'll get her to bed. You go clean up."
As he shifts Ellie into Felicity's arms, he whispers, "Thank you." Her answering smile is pure light and he can't resist one more kiss, one to Felicity and one on top of Ellie's head, before heading off to the attached master bathroom.
He hears the soft rustle of sheets as Felicity pulls them back for Ellie, followed by the toddler mumbling something in a sleep-laden voice and Felicity making gentle shushing sounds. It pulls his attention for a moment and he nearly heads back out to help, but then he catches his reflection in the mirror.
"Wow," he breathes out.
He's still completely coated in bits of debris. His head and hands are the worst, but a lot had snuck into his jacket, blanketing him. Much of it has turned solid after being caked with sweat and Ellie's tears. He winces thinking about peeling off the leather pants with the state they're in right now, but there's no other option, so he gets to work. By the time he's stripped down, he wonders if it's even worth saving them.
Leaving them in a crumpled mess on the floor along with his boxers and t-shirt, he turns to the shower. The fate of his leather pants is a decision for another time. It's oddly comforting knowing he doesn't have to think about what to do with them now, which is ridiculous considering everything that's happened tonight alone. It's just easier to postpone, which is probably part of the appeal.
Oliver doesn't takes time to appreciate how huge the shower is - he barely notes the built-in bench, the towel rack along one wall lined with fluffy towels, or the presence of their shampoo and conditioner crowded in the caddy, Felicity's body wash and loofahs, Ellie's shampoo and an odd mixture of bath toys in some kind of mesh netting suction cupped to the corner of the slate-tiled walls. He's only intent on turning it on.
He sets the water temperature to slightly hotter than comfortable - years of nothing more than lukewarm ponds on the island that had the ability to drop down to ice cold has made him relish the luxury of a water heater.
When he steps in, the heat instantly melts away the aches he hadn't let himself feel. The blast from the building exploding had felt like a concussion bomb, and every inch of him was starting to reverberate with it. It wouldn't last, that was the good news, but he was definitely feeling it now. The water stings his hands, making him hiss and he looks down to see the metal rope he'd held Slade with had burned through his gloves, cutting through his palms slightly.
He grits his teeth against the pain.
The water is murky as it rinses off the worst of the debris.
Oliver moves to clean himself off, wanting to get back out to Felicity and Ellie, but the lull of the heat has him pausing. With a soft groan, he bows his head into the spray, letting his body finally relax.
He's had worse battles. Nothing's broken or punctured. He's not even that bruised, all things considered. It's just the abrasion on his hands, really, and that's a minor thing. But he's exhausted, as if so much more happened. Which it did. Lives were lost, battles were waged - some won, but the casualties tipped the scales completely.
Thinking about how many people were lost tonight has his stomach clenching painfully, acid churning in his gut.
It's worse because he's so damn grateful he survived.
Tears burn his eyes and Oliver inhales slowly, tilting his head back, letting the water hit his face and run through his hair. It washes away worst of the grime, but it's going to take far more than that to get rid of it completely… if that's even possible.
He's never felt this battle within himself before - it was easier, before Ellie arrived, because it was simple: he was here to save people, to risk everything in order for those around him to survive. He hadn't had anything to live for, save for the mission. But now, things are so different - everything is different, and he doesn't know how to handle this new brand of guilt. He's alive, but so many others aren't. It's not that he doesn't care, that's far from true, but he's also happy, happy that he got to come home to his family, to his Felicity, their daughter.
How is it right that he feels happy knowing he survived and others didn't? Other people who had no part in this war, who had no reason to lose their lives tonight, especially compared to him.
It's not right.
He failed this city again tonight, and not just by letting that damn building fall, letting God only knew how many fall with it, but because he's grateful it was them and not him. It'd been an easy decision at the time - he'd done what he could, he was so sure of it - but now, feeling the consequences of his actions… of his heart…
The shower's loud, but it's not that loud, which is why he's surprised when a voice breaks through his thoughts.
"So, is the water that hot or are you steaming up the shower all on your own?"
It's absolutely amazing how her voice has the ability to eradicate everything but her.
Oliver wipes the water off his face and looks back to find Felicity's pulled open the frosted glass shower door. It's impossible not to smile when he sees her. Her glasses are missing, her hair is out of her usual tight ponytail, leaving it in loose waves falling down her back… and she looks incredibly amused with herself, if her grin is any indication. But it's the darkening of her eyes that has him pausing. She brazenly takes him in, her eyes trailing down his form. Just the feel of her stare is enough to make him start to harden, but it's the way she bites her lip and flushes that has him tightening with a surprisingly urgent arousal. It streaks through him, leaving a trail of burning need in its wake, which is only amplified by the hot water cascading down his chest.
Still, he can't let a line that bad go by without comment.
"That has got to be the worst pickup line I've ever heard," he says. Her eyes drift back up to his. "And I was Tommy Merlyn's wingman, so that's saying something."
Felicity shakes her head. "I disagree." She pulls her shirt up and over her head - oh God, she's not wearing a bra. She drops it carelessly behind her before tugging the zipper of her jeans down. Oliver's breath gets caught in his throat as he watches her every move. His fingers itch to do the work himself, but watching is oh so much better. She shimmies her hips, pushing her jeans and panties down, leaving her bare to his gaze. "If it were that bad, it wouldn't work. And I'm pretty sure it's working…" She steps in, closing the door behind her. "Don't you think?"
She pushes her arms around him, pressing her front to his back.
"Maybe," he manages.
She's so warm and soft, the perfect antithesis to everything hard and uneven in him. The power of his craving for her is frightening, but he doesn't turn away from it - he can't. He needs her, he needs this. He needs to know it's okay, that it's right…
Oliver takes an unsteady breath, forcing himself back to reality. "Ellie?"
"John's watching her," she replies breathily.
His brow furrows at that, the idea that his best friend is possibly right out there while she's in here naked with him making him pause. "Is he…?"
Felicity cuts him off with a soft humming noise before whispering, "The water's so hot."
He blinks, instantly moving as if she'd asked him to. "I'll turn it down…"
"No," she says, shaking her head against his shoulder. "It's okay."
Humming softly, she reaches around him and grabs her body wash. He watches her with hooded lids as she squeezes a healthy dollop into her palm before putting it back. The thought of what she's going to do with that makes him swallow hard, his body tightening with anticipation.
"C'mere," she whispers, wrapping herself around him from behind again.
She angles him away from the water slightly, just enough before splaying her hands over his stomach. His eyes slip shut, his hand flying out to the wall for support. Felicity runs her fingers over his muscles. She takes her times, letting them get amply sudsy before she starts moving further. One slides up his chest, curling her fingers in so her nails scrape over his nipples, while the other slides down.
Oliver chokes on his next breath, his head dropping forward as he leans back into her.
She wraps her hand around him.
"Felicity," he gasps, his shoulders falling, his hips jerking forward. She holds him tighter, twisting her wrist, sliding her soapy fingers down his length. The sensations are intense, rocketing through him, and he's sure it's because of the night they've had, but he doesn't care. He just lets them wash over him. It feels good, so good. As she drags her fingers back up, Oliver whimpers, and the second she hears him, Felicity picks up the pace.
She strokes him, pressing a series of soft kisses over his back. She squeezes, just right, making him shudder as her lips move over his shoulder blades. Some part of him remembers that he's still dirty, that he should clean off before letting her do that, but a larger part of him doesn't care. It feels so good, so perfect, and he gives in completely, needing to lose himself in her.
It's like she knows that, because she doesn't stop.
Oliver melts against her and she accepts every bit of it, holding him up as much as she can.
The combination of her behind him and the water at his front is intoxicating. Her other hand moves over his chest, wrapping around him tightly, hugging him close as she tugs on him. His free hand comes up, covering hers over his chest, his other curling in against the wall as he slips under her spell. Felicity squeezes the head of his erection, tightening her hold on him at the base when she goes back down. With each downward stroke, her fingers wander, slipping over his balls, making him sigh with pleasure. She works hims slowly, and he grows harder with each passing second, filling her little hand.
If she's aiming to distract him, or to make him forget even for one second, it's working…
But he needs more.
He needs her.
With a desperate sigh, Oliver's hand drops to cover hers, stilling her motions long enough to let the water rinse the soap away. He relishes the feel of both their fingers wrapped around his length; it's quietly intimate in a way that rocks him to his very foundations.
"Oliver," she moans, arching her back, pressing her breasts into him. She tries to move her hand again, but he stops her, squeezing his hand over hers. Oliver hisses through clenched teeth as it sends need burning through him and in the next second he's spinning to face her.
She barely gets the chance to whisper his name before his lips are on hers.
It's the exact opposite of the chaste kisses they'd been exchanging all night. This, this is the passion he knows they're capable of, the passion he needs right now; he needs it to burn through him, to reaffirm what he's feeling. She is the light to his darkness, she always has been, and right now he needs that light like a drug.
Felicity opens for him and he takes complete advantage, slipping his tongue in to find hers. They both let go of his hard length, leaving it pressed up between them, slipping against their slick stomachs. She's so smooth, so perfect, and he needs her so badly. They wrap themselves around the other, holding on so hard it hurts.
It's not enough though. He needs to be inside her.
Oliver plunders her mouth, angling her head to go deeper, moving them so he can press her back against the wall. His muscles ache with exhaustion that has nothing to do with lack of rest and everything to do with the weight of what happened earlier, but that doesn't matter, not with her. He drops his hands down her slick curves, digging his fingers into her waist, ready to lift her up just high enough so he can thrust home…
But they don't make it.
Felicity pulls back, stopping everything with a gasped, "Wait, hang on. Hang on."
"Are you okay?" he replies breathlessly, pulling back to look at her. Her eyes are closed, her head lolling back, looking like she's in the complete opposite of pain with her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He cups her face. "Felicity, did I…?"
He was moving too fast, being too aggressive.
Oliver lets out a harsh breath.
Felicity shakes her head, her brow furrowing like what he'd just asked was the most ludicrous thing in the world. She wipes her face, smearing some of her makeup as she looks up at him.
"I'm perfect," she replies, cupping his cheek. "You're here, so naturally things are pretty darn amazing."
"So then…?"
"It's just…" Felicity licks her lips, grimacing slightly. "You taste a little ashy." She makes a face, her mouth opening as she continues speaking, rambling, "It's that weird taste when you kiss a smoker, you know, and since we don't smoke - which thank God for that because I have a feeling we're already going to have our hands full with Ellie and our nightly activities based on what she was doing earlier… alright, side story real quick because it was cute, she was…"
But he doesn't hear the rest of it.
It takes far too long for her words to process, but when they do, they hit him like a shotgun blast straight to his chest. She's tasting the ash and dust and debris from the building collapsing, from his family's building… from the people he'd left behind, the failure he'd left in his wake.
Oliver jerks back, cutting her off as he lets go of her abruptly.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, I didn't… think. I…"
Without another word, he turns back to the water, pressing his face into the water.
He'd kissed her without hesitation, without a single thought, because all that had mattered was being with her, was reclaiming that feeling that only she could give him. He hadn't even thought.
Oliver scrubs his face roughly. He pulls back, wiping the water off before grabbing a bar of soap sitting in the shower caddy hovering in front of him. He washes his face roughly, concentrating on his lips and beard. He does it twice, in quick succession, before he lathers the bar. He has to clean off. He relishes the burn when the soap sinks into the shallow wounds on his palms. He hadn't felt them a second ago - hell, he hadn't felt anything a second ago, save for her. It was so easy to get lost in her, to forget anything outside this single moment.
And he can't do that.
"Whoa, hey, hey," Felicity says, grabbing his shoulder to turn him back to her. "I didn't mean it like that." Her hands cover his where he's going to town on the bar of soap. She's looking up at him, he knows that, but all he sees are their hands - the soap suds cover them both, but his are dark from dirt while hers are clean and pristine.
He'd touched her with those hands.
The thought is vile.
Oliver pulls away sharply, turning back to the water, but she doesn't let him.
Felicity digs her nails into his hands, stopping him as she says, "Hey, look at me."
He bites the tip of his tongue, his eyes still on their hands. His nails are dirty, ash caked against his cuticles from sweating in his gloves. Hers are so clean.
"Oliver." She reaches up, gripping his jaw, trying to force him to look up, but he doesn't budge. "Look at me." He closes his eyes instead, and her voice is sharp when she says, "Hey!"
That has his eyes snapping open and meeting hers. The instant they do, she cups his face, stepping closer. He tries to take a step back but he's unwittingly pushed himself into a corner, his back to the tile, leaving nothing but her.
"Tonight wasn't your fault," Felicity says. "This is all on Isabel."
"I know that," Oliver replies instantly, his voice harsher than he'd intended.
Her face pinches, but she doesn't move. She keeps holding him. That somehow makes it worse, because he doesn't want her to move. He understands that tonight was a series of events put in place by more people than him, and if he was being brutally honest with himself, he didn't entirely regret it, because it got him Thea back… but that's not it, that's not what's making his insides clench in disgust with himself.
Oliver pulls her hands off his face. "I'm gonna clean up first."
Because he has to. He can't touch her like this.
He doesn't wait for an answer, stepping around her, forcing her to move back… and she relents. Felicity steps out of the way, letting him step into the water. She doesn't speak, his moves robotic as he scrubs the soap up and down his chest and then his arms. He presses it down hard, ignoring the ache in his skin when it starts to hurt.
It's not just the dust he's removing, he's well aware of that. It's more, something he can't put a name to, something he doesn't want to.
He just wants it gone.
Oliver doesn't hear her moving until it's too late.
Felicity hugs him from behind, wrapping herself around him, burying her face in the middle of his back. He freezes. His hands fall to his sides, his eyes slipping shut, his muscles stiffening as she curls herself around him as much as she can. She takes a deep breath, and it comes out in a shaky sigh. He feels the hard press of her nose against his spine, her lips pressed to his skin, her fingers digging in, like she can't bear the thought of letting him go.
God, he knows that feeling. He knows it so well, and having it come from her…
"Oliver…"
Her tears burn hotter than the water.
"I'm so glad you came home to me," she says softly. She sniffles, shaking her head like she's working through what she wants to say before giving up. She just speaks. "Things could have turned out so bad, and it wasn't… It wasn't just Ellie anymore, Oliver, not like before. These last two weeks, they've been everything and… I was so scared, because it wasn't just losing Ellie… It was that I might lose you." She holds him tighter. "It was that you might not come home to me, that I wouldn't be able to see you, be with you, experience anything with you again." She takes a tremulous breath. "I was so scared that I might never see you again, and that… This scares me, Oliver, so much. It's terrifying how much I love you. How the only thing I could think about when that building was coming down was you, only you. And… for a few seconds there, I didn't care about anyone else. I mean, I cared, of course I cared, because what happened tonight was horrible, but… the thought of not seeing you again?" She pauses. "You come first."
He's completely frozen. Her vulnerability cuts through him, and it's all he can do to just breathe.
Felicity takes advantage of it.
She lets him go, just enough to step around him. He doesn't stop her, only opening his eyes when she's in front of him again. The water beats down on them, hot as ever, as she tilts her head, her face softening when their eyes meet.
"It's okay to be glad you survived, Oliver." She stares at him, willing him to hear her. And he does. "Because I'm glad you did. I'm glad it was you."
His face crumples slightly as he whispers her name before yanking her into his arms.
Oliver holds her, just as tightly as she holds him. He buries his face in her neck as she presses hers into his chest. They don't say anything, because there's nothing to say, not anymore, because she did the one thing that somehow broke through the wall of guilt that'd been rebuilding itself inside: she reminded him he wasn't alone. He has her, just as much as she has him. And her confidence in him - her confidence in his ability to be there for her - it astounds him, in the best way possible. As long as he has her, things will be okay. And God, he hopes she feels the same way. No… he knows she does.
After a long moment, Felicity pulls back. She doesn't stop touching him, and he's so grateful for that. He feels raw, and her touch soothes him.
"May I?" she whispers, her hand falling down his arm until she reaches the bar of soap in his hand.
He gives it over without argument.
She lathers her hands and starts with his chest. Oliver closes his eyes, leaning into her gentle ministrations, sighing, his muscles slowly relaxing one by one as she works her way across the surface of his skin. She cleans off all the physical remnants of what happened earlier, just as much as she helps quiet the emotional ones. They're not gone, they'll never be gone, but with her… it makes it easier.
When she's done with the soap, they work together to rinse it off before she grabs the shampoo. Her hands massaging his scalp feels amazing. He sighs, leaning into her even more, making her let out a little laugh when they nearly topple over. Oliver has to bend over so she can reach all the way around his head, earning him a quirky little smile from her.
It's like a fissure in the tension filling the bathroom, and just like that, the air is suddenly lighter.
"Close your eyes," she says, biting her lip in concentration. "I'm not using Ellie's shampoo so this will hurt if it gets in your eyes." He does as she asks, his hands finding her waist, holding onto her as she works his hair into a lather. "That supposedly 'tearless' shampoo still burns mine, you know. Ellie doesn't seem to mind it, which I don't really get, because that stuff hurts. Maybe she gets her freaky soap immunity from you." Her hands stop. "Should we try it?"
Oliver chuckles, shaking his head. "We really, really shouldn't."
He can hear the smile on her face as she says, "I'm just saying, it's good to know these things for the future."
Needing to know about tearless shampoo hurting one's eyes is damn near illogical, and they both know it, but the meaning behind it has his heart skipping a beat. Oliver shifts closer to her, his hold on her tightening. Her response is to relax her hands for a second, caressing him softly, holding him against her.
She finishes with the shampoo.
The future.
It feels good to think about, and instead of running away, Oliver lets himself feel it.
She directs him back under the water, but he doesn't let her go, pulling her with him. He bends at the knees, giving her access to his entire scalp. He ignores the sharp ache in his joints and the way his muscles scream with overuse. Ignoring it is very, very easy to do with her right here. As Felicity moves closer, he lets his hands slide around her waist. Oliver presses the full width of his hands across her back. She shivers, her fingers in his hair faltering just enough for him to notice.
He sighs audibly, pushing his face into her chest, forcing her to bow her back slightly. She goes willingly, knowing he'll hold her. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn't need them to know her breasts are right there. Oliver presses his lips to her skin. She's hot and slick from the water, slightly salty, evidence she hasn't showered herself since that morning. She tastes delicious, and his tongue darts out for more.
"Oliver," she says in warning, but he just smiles, his mouth rooting around until he finds a nipple. She hisses, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oliver. Conditioner."
"I don't use conditioner," he replies before flicking his tongue over the hard nub. She gasps, her grip on him loosening so she's pushing him closer.
"You really should," she whispers, her head falling back. She's distracted by his mouth, he notes with pride, her words blurring together as she adds, "Your scalp needs nourishment because shampoos…"
He doesn't let her finish.
Oliver stands up, his hands sliding up her back until he reaches the nape of her neck. He grips her tightly, the other sliding around to cup her face, his mouth covering hers. Felicity moans and holds on to him, following his lead. He kisses her deeply, exploring every inch of her, rediscovering; he loves the ardor with which she kisses him back. Her nails dig into him as she pushes herself up onto her toes, trying to get closer, almost like she needs it, and God, does he know that feeling.
This time nothing stops him from spinning them, moving them until her back hits the tiled wall. The steam from the hot water has more than warmed the slate. Felicity sighs when her skin touches it, using it to arch her back, to press her hips into his.
The second her naked skin brushes over his erection, he gasps against her lips. His arousal had fallen to the wayside for a while, and even her delicate handling of him while she'd soaped him up had been easy to ignore in favor of just feeling her touch. But now heat fills him in a heady rush, making his flesh feel like it's on fire.
"Felicity," he moans, slipping his hands down her sides.
She whines, angling her head to deepen the kiss even further. Not letting her mouth go, Oliver dips down and grips her thighs, yanking her up off her feet. Her breath hitches as he presses her up against the wall. Felicity winds her legs around his hips, locking her ankles over his ass, effectively tugging him closer. The move has his erection sliding right against her wet sex and Oliver's eyes roll back into his head. He's so damned sensitive, and that slight touch has his knees shaking.
Using him as an anchor, Felicity arches her back, rotating her hips, pressing his length firmly between his slick abdomen and her wet heat.
Oliver chokes out a curse, his hips thrusting up as he crowds her against the wall, pushing himself right along her tender little pearl. Felicity cries out, moving her hips again so she's rubbing herself up and down his length. With a harried, "Oh my God," Oliver falls against her, his forehead dropping into the crook of her neck, reveling in her soft cries of pleasure.
He surrounds himself with her, focusing on her, feeling only her…
It's not long, though, before his body starts to fight him. His muscles tremble, his bones ache, but he ignores it, concentrating on her. He has plenty of time to feel the effects of that explosion, and now is so not one of those times.
Still, as much as he wants to sit there and work her up until she's in a frenzy, until all she's capable of is holding onto him as she falls apart, he knows he won't last long, on multiple fronts.
"Hold onto me," Oliver grunts, digging his fingers into her thigh, sliding her further up the wall.
Felicity lets out a breathy chuckle. "Hold onto you tight?"
"Yeah."
"You know…" She winds her arms around his neck, doing exactly as he'd asked. Their noses touch, their lips brushing against the other, their breaths mingling. "This is exactly the situation I imagined you saying that."
He grins. Oliver doesn't need a reminder to know exactly what she's talking about. He remembers with perfect clarity standing in that elevator shaft, his heart dropping when she'd said that. He'd turned to her and it'd taken everything in him to remain still as she'd babbled on about different circumstances.
It feels like just yesterday as much as it feels like it happened a million years ago. He never dreamed he'd get here, to this moment.
Oliver hums, sliding her higher until she's at the perfect angle. He closes his eyes at the effort it takes, pressing his hips up until the head of his erection slips over her. She chokes out his name and it's all he needs to hear to ignore the exhausted trembling in his arms.
He just holds her tighter.
"You know," Oliver whispers, his voice uneven as he brushes over her wet slit before finding her entrance. "I had a feeling."
And then he thrusts into her.
"Ooh!" Felicity cries out. The sound fills the bathroom, echoing his own loud groan as he sinks into her. It overwhelms him. Some part of him is vaguely aware of the hot water still hitting them, of the steam making the room humid, of the slick floor, but all he feels is her… her wet silken walls clenching around him, pulling him in deeper.
His hands are shaking where he grips her tight, and it only gets worse when he pulls out with a growled, "Felicity," before thrusting back in. She whimpers, hiking her legs up higher around his waist. She fits against him perfectly, her breasts pressed to his chest, her arms around his neck, her back arched, her hips meeting his thrusts.
Oliver wants to shove her up against the wall and pin her there; he wants to slip his hands down and around her legs, dig his fingers into her soft thighs and pull them up, spread her open for him, knowing when he hits that very right angle he can make her scream…
But he's tired, more tired than he thought possible. It's not just the explosion or the people lost or the knowledge that Slade is back out there. It's learning that the last two weeks he could have lost everything. Discovering that Zoom was so close to his daughter that he could touch her. That he learns with each new day that it is possible to love this woman more.
He's gotten more rest in the last two weeks than he has in the last seven years combined, but all of a sudden it's like he hasn't slept in a week.
The last day has been a brutal reminder of how frail everything is, how quickly he can lose it all.
Oliver doesn't realize he's stopped moving altogether until Felicity whispers his name. She shifts slightly, her legs tightening around him, her fingers sifting through his wet hair. Their hips are fused together as tightly as he could get them and he's buried his face against her throat, holding her up just by virtue of the fact that he doesn't want to let go.
"You're trembling," she says, one hand ghosting down his back, the other staying in his hair.
He takes a quick breath, whispering, "I didn't…" before pausing. He has no idea what he wants to say, and when she doesn't say anything, just holding him, he tells himself to at least move… but he doesn't. He can't. And God, he is trembling. "Felicity…"
He drags her name out - Fe-li-ci-ty - and they both know he's saying so much more. She knows. Somehow she always knows.
Felicity turns her face into his, pressing her lips to his temple, kissing a soft line down until she reaches his ear. She kisses the shell gently before whispering, "I see a very nice bench right over there with our name on it."
He smiles. The movement has his beard scraping against her sensitive skin. She shivers and her inner walls clamp down on him, making him jerk against her, which in turn makes her mewl. That little sound gives him a renewed sense of energy and he stands up a little taller, wanting to hear more…
But she stops him by unwinding her legs, for all intents and purposes forcing him to let her go.
Oliver slides out of her, and the loss of contact has them both gasping with displeasure as he sets her back on her feet.
She instantly grabs his hand, leading him over to the bench. He's close on her heels, and when she lets him go to grab a towel off the rack, he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. He's still wet with her arousal and as his erection slides over her back, she gasps and giggles in the same breath, especially when he curls around her, his lips finding her shoulder.
Felicity spreads the towel out, dropping it on the bench.
"C'mere," she says, grabbing his arm, pulling him in front of her, urging him down. When Oliver sits, he lets out a heavy sigh because God, it feels good. He lets himself go, lets himself fall into her safe embrace.
She wastes no time, instantly following, lifting her legs so she's straddling him.
Oliver feels himself hardening, growing taller at the sight of her wet body hovering over his. Her breasts sway softly before him, her hard nipples a dusky pink, her inner thighs so warm where they're pressed against him as her feet curl in behind his knees. Felicity pushes her hands into his hair, scraping her nails over his scalp as she angles his head up to hers. She pushes herself flush against him and he feels her delicious heat all over again, waiting for him.
He doesn't wait - he can't.
She kisses him, softly, delicately, gently sucking his bottom lip between hers, eliciting a gasp from him. It only makes him harder.
Oliver reaches between them and positions himself perfectly. He moves back to her hip, ready to push up into her, but she doesn't wait either.
Felicity sinks down on him, taking his entire length in one thrust.
"God," he groans, his eyes squeezing shut. He's deeper, so much deeper, and she's so tight.
She starts slow, lifting herself up just enough to move, but it's like she can't stand the idea of being away from him. The thrusts are small, intimate, perfect… and then she starts moving more. She grabs his shoulders for leverage, using him to lift herself higher, her hips falling down harder… leaving him completely free to explore every inch of her.
His hands circle her waist, slipping over her wet skin, before sliding up to her ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. It elicits the most beautiful breathless little moan from her and he does it again before finding her nipples. Oliver watches her face when he flicks them, marveling at her parted lips, the way need twists her features, how her skin flushes…
"You are so beautiful," he rasps. So pure, so light, and it's all washing through him. "Felicity…"
"Yes…" she sighs, her voice drugged with pleasure, managing a ragged, "Oliver…" before her lips cover his again.
Oliver wraps himself around her, holding her tight, one hand slipping down her back, urging her down harder as his other tangles in her hair. They moan in tandem, moving together, building with each other, their cries growing louder.
His pleasure builds fast, alarmingly fast. He feels the beginning burn at the base of his spine, feels it coiling tighter and tighter, his need for more slicing through him.
He's completely lost in her.
"Oh god…!" Felicity gasps with a shudder, her grip on him suddenly tightening.
"Yes," Oliver whispers, holding her closer. He's spent so much time over the last two weeks learning her body, and he knows the second she's close. He breathes her in, whispering her name over and over, urging her over as his body starts to shake with his. Her walls clench around him, the beginning ripples of her orgasm making his eyes roll in the back of his head. He pushes her down harder, guiding her when her hips lose all rhythm, holding her when all she can do is hold him tighter and tighter, lost in her pleasure. Pure elation fills him that she can let go so much with him, that she lets him have everything, knowing he's there to catch her. That thought has his own pleasure spiking, and he digs his fingers into her, rocking up into her as hard as he can. He's so close… "Felicity… please…!"
His voice is her undoing. She falls to pieces in his arms with a series of sharp shouts that echo through the bathroom, and he's right behind her. Oliver comes, spilling into her with a heady cry that's even louder than hers. He thrusts into her wildly, her walls coaxing more out of him, until he has nothing left.
Oliver falls forward into her, and they both hold on, riding the crest together, gasping for air in breathless moans.
Felicity's breath hitches, and with a surprising amount of strength hugs him harder. She digs her face into the side of his, her pants loud in his ear as she gasps his name. It's imploring, laced with everything they've been through tonight. Oliver chokes out a barely audible, "I'm here… I'm here…" as he hugs her with just as much vehemence.
She nods, hearing him, but she doesn't let go, not for a long, long time.
"I love you," he whispers, the words muffled against her skin. "I love you."
Felicity finally lets out a heavy exhale, and just like that, the tension in her body disappears. Oliver pulls his face along hers, blindly seeking her lips. The kiss is wet and sloppy, their uneven breathing making it shorter than he'd like, but it's everything at the same time.
"I love you," she breathes, her lips moving over his. She kisses him again. And again… The kisses grow longer, deeper, and her movements almost have him sliding right out of her. His hand slips down to her backside again, pressing her close, ensuring he doesn't leave her wet heat just yet. She whimpers for him.
Oliver's not sure how much time passes before they pull away from each other. She doesn't go very far, pressing her forehead to his.
"I gotta say…" she says. "The water heater in this house is kind of amazing."
Oliver pauses at that - it's the last thing he was expecting to hear - and then he laughs, because it actually is. They've been in there way too long already and the water is still hot as hell.
Felicity grins at the sound and it's absolutely gorgeous. She runs her fingers down the side of his face, her nails rasping over his wet beard as she continues, "We should probably get back out there."
Oliver sighs. "Yeah."
He doesn't want to move, he really doesn't… but he also does, if just to see his daughter. The thought of crawling into bed with both of them, curling around his girls, creating a cocoon as he holds them…
It's exactly what he needs.
"Plus," Felicity adds, scrubbing her fingers over his scruff, making a face. "My fingers are getting pruny."
With a breathy chuckle, he kisses her once more before nodding. It's honestly all he has the energy to do right now, but the tired feeling in his limbs is the very, very good kind. The bone-deep exhaustion is gone, leaving him feeling like he's floating.
Felicity doesn't move though. Instead she pulls back and cups his face. She studies him, running her thumb over the corner of his mouth. The move has him smiling in response as he looks up at her.
She meets his eyes, her voice quiet as she asks, "You okay?"
Oliver almost answers with his usual, 'I'm fine' - it's instinctual, really, deeply-ingrained, even with her still - but he notices the instant she sees right through it. Her tensing minutely and the tiny tick of her eyebrow going up makes him pause.
"I'm… better," he replies. Her shoulders relax, and he knows she's seeing the truth in his eyes. It warms his chest in a way he's never felt before. Oliver presses a kiss to her thumb before whispering, "Thank you."
Felicity just smiles.
"And you?" he asks, running his hands up and down her spine.
Her smile grows. "Better." She kisses him, lingering. "Mm. Much, much better."
It's a long moment before they finally move. When she announces, "Okay, this pruniness is getting ridiculous," Oliver's hands drop to her hips and he helps lift her up and off him. They both make unhappy noises as he leaves her warmth, but they're short-lived because Oliver's quick to stand right along with her, a renewed energy coursing through him as his lips find hers once more.
They rinse off, having to clean up all over again in some instances. It's something Oliver finds an obscene amount of joy in when he takes cleaning between her thighs with his fingers a little too seriously. That joy doubles when she grabs onto him, her legs quaking as he slips over her swollen flesh, pausing to rub the tender sides of her clit. He only relents when she hisses his name and smacks his hand away, reminding him that Digg is still out there. That actually makes him blush slightly and he mumbles a curse under his breath - because they'd both been loud. Felicity giggles when she sees the color rising in his cheeks.
By the time they leave, the water finally starts to cool down.
Felicity purses her lips as they dry off, eyeing her discarded clothes with displeasure. She makes her way over to them as she wraps the towel around her chest, tucking in the end to secure it. "Didn't plan this very well, did I?"
"I don't know," Oliver replies where he's standing behind her. His eyes are on her as she leans down to pick the clothes up, giving him the perfect view of her backside. The towel pulls tight around it, making him lick his lips. Without a second thought, he comes up behind her and yanks on the bottom of the towel, effectively unwinding it.
"Hey!" Felicity yelps, spinning back to him. "Oliver!" He gives her a smile that makes her whack his arm as she adds, "I don't think Diggle wants to see me naked right now."
"But I want to see you naked right now," he says, trying to wrap his arms around her waist but she dodges away from him.
"You just did," she reminds him, holding the towel in place. "A lot, I might add."
He wants to play with her, hear more of that gorgeous, addicting laugh of hers and see the way she flushes when she gets exasperated with him, but they have later for that. And it has to be later - they need to fight now to get those moments later.
With a soft sigh, Oliver ties his own towel off around his waist, giving her a meaningful, "I'm sorry," before kissing her chastely.
Felicity snorts. "I'd believe that if you weren't ogling my butt right now."
Oliver chuckles at that. "How about I go relieve Digg and get you some clothes," he offers. "Okay?"
"Okay." Felicity kisses him, right through his breathy, "Okay," before he turns to the door. The second his back is to her, she slaps his ass, and it's his turn to jump, spinning around to face her. She just winks at him. "Hurry up."
He narrows his eyes, fighting the urge to go to her again. "Do you want me to take you back into that shower, Felicity?"
She bites her lip, her eyes dropping down to his naked chest, her pupils widening all over again.
"I was just being helpful," she says, and neither of them miss her voice dropping an octave. "Encouraging you to hurry up."
He has to grip the doorknob to keep himself in place as he says, "You're trouble."
"And you love it."
"Yes," Oliver answers honestly. "I do."
Felicity's grins is instantaneous and playful and it almost has him moving back to her. She must read the intention on his face because she waves at the door. "Go."
He winks at her, letting his eyes drop down her body once more, earning him a healthy blush, before he does just that.
