"You know I'm on board with our mission, Oliver, but if your room on Verdant isn't soundproofed, I quit."
Oliver winces at the voice before turning to see the hulking form of his first mate standing down the hall with his arms crossed and a grim line to his displeased brow. He'd expected this. He just hadn't expected it now.
"Digg…" Oliver greets, feeling a little bit like he's sixteen again and has just been busted by his mother sneaking back into the house reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume at some ungodly predawn hour. Only, this time he actually has the sense to feel bad about it.
This isn't that, though. He's not that person anymore. He knows that. Digg knows that. Hell, the whole 'verse knows it. But that doesn't mean he isn't ashamed at how he treated Felicity this morning. Even if she doesn't object. He does. Being with her like that… it reminds him too much of who he was before. Selfish and focused entirely on his own needs. She deserves better than that.
"I love that girl like she's my own sister, Oliver, and there are just some things I never in my life wanted to hear out of her mouth," Digg berates. "You got me?"
"Yeah," Oliver agrees, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"You got me?" Digg asks again, his voice heavy with emphasis and his gaze piercing.
"I got you," Oliver agrees, looking him in the eye. "I'm not… It wasn't…"
"Oliver, however you're planning on finishing that sentence - don't," Digg tells him. "I already know way more than I wanted to about what it was and wasn't. I'm glad you two have gotten your act together and that you're both happy, but man… I really don't want details."
"That's not where I was going with that," Oliver says with no small measure of annoyance.
But… yeah, maybe expecting Digg to realize that he's not exactly in his right mind at the moment is a bit much. They're just usually so in tune, usually have each other's back without needing to say anything, that it surprises him to find that for once Digg isn't seeing the danger right in front of him.
"Believe me, I'd much rather you didn't know that much of our business either," Oliver says with a sheepish curl to his lips as he runs one hand through his hair.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest you learn how to have sex more quietly then," Digg deadpans.
Oliver sighs and flinches a little, glancing to his toes before looking back up at Digg. He has to tell the other man what's going on. He has to. But that doesn't mean he likes it.
"I'm not… recovered yet," Oliver ventures.
Digg's eyes narrow, the lack of context serving only to confuse him.
"From the waters, I mean," Oliver continues. "It's… I can feel it in my veins. And it pulls at me, makes things more… I don't know… extreme, I guess. It's not there all the time, but when it is… Digg, it's like it floods my mind, dilutes who I am and takes over."
The stern, berating look falls away from Digg's face and a curtain of concern pulls across his features.
"Is Felicity-"
"She's fine," Oliver interrupts, taking the edge off of Digg's sudden, fierce surge of fear. "Sleeping, I hope. But, John… this scares the hell out of me."
"That's what earlier was about?" Digg asks, closing in on Oliver and looking every bit as on edge as he should given the situation.
Frankly, Oliver's glad to see the other man on edge, ready to protect or attack as necessary. It's a relief. He doesn't trust himself right now. He's grateful Digg doesn't either.
"It wants me to kill Nikita and the others. When I don't…"
"When you don't then what, Oliver?" Digg asks, muscles coiled and face wary.
"Then the waters want her," Oliver admits.
"If you hurt her, Oliver, I swear to god-"
"I didn't," Oliver snaps, the very notion chilling something to his core. "I wouldn't. You don't need to threaten me over that, John. If I hurt her, you wouldn't have to do anything to me. I'd do it myself. But that's not what the water wants from her anyhow."
"So this magic water you poured on your leg, it makes you want to kill someone or sleep with Felicity?" Digg asks, his voice dripping with skepticism.
"It's more than that," Oliver elaborates. "It's primal. Something instinctive. It doesn't just want me to sleep with Felicity. It's… possessive. It wants me to claim her. Completely. In any way I can."
"So the Lazarus Pit waters turn you into a stereotypical caveman, basically?" Digg questions.
It's not the worst comparison in the world, but Oliver still hates it. Because it's not him. It's the waters. He's a bystander in his own mind when its influence is at its worst. He loves Felicity, cherishes her and her independence. He wants her to be with him, but he's never wanted her to belong to him. Not in the way the waters demand.
"That's as good a description as any of the waters," Oliver says.
"You've gotta stop with this third-person thing, Oliver," Digg shakes his head. "'The waters,' 'the Arrow,' 'the Hood,' 'Ollie,' 'Oliver Queen'... it's all you. If you think this is some kind of alien life force possessing you, making you act like someone you're not, I think you're kidding yourself."
"I'm not like that," Oliver bristles, very much disliking Digg's implications.
But Digg isn't about to concede his point.
"No?" he asks. "How many times have you put that ring on her finger now?"
"That has never been about claiming her, John," Oliver counters. "Not once."
"Sure it has," John tells him. "In the same way that it's been about you wanting her to claim you right back. So maybe these waters dial back your restraint and make your judgement murky, but you can't tell me that it's not all you underneath that. I know there's a big part of you that wants Nikita to bleed and I have no doubt that Felicity being in danger has heightened how much you want to hold onto her. Your reason and self-control might be compromised, but I don't believe for a second that it's not still all you."
That notion is haunting, it slides beneath his skin and sinks into his bones leaving a chill that slices through him in its wake. John is rarely wrong. And as much as Oliver would like to insist that this time he is, this time he doesn't get it… he knows better. The darker parts of Oliver's soul, the baser bits that have made people bleed and scream as his shadows swallowed them whole, he's tried for years to bury those sides of himself.
But buried things have a way of surfacing when it's least convenient.
"Whatever you want to call it, we need to get this water out of my system," Oliver says after a moment. "Even if it is just a lack of reasoning skills and control, those are things I need."
"Okay," Digg nods, mercifully choosing not to push. "So how do we do that?"
"I've got an idea or two," Oliver tells him. "But first we need to get off this damned planet."
"I'm all for that," Digg agrees. "And it might not hurt to put some distance between you and Nikita."
Maybe. Maybe not. Oliver's not sure on that one. It's entirely possible that the further he gets from the would-be usurpers, the more the waters will pull at him to come back. But that's a concern for later. Ultimately, they have to leave. And sooner would be significantly better than later.
"I'm gonna go find Anatoly… see if our ship is ready to go," Oliver announces before hesitating, shuffling his feet slightly and looking back at Digg. "John, if you could-"
'I'll keep an eye out here," he agrees, practically reading Oliver's mind and cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Thank you," Oliver breathes out as relief washes over him. "We have no way of knowing if we really got all the conspirators. I don't want to leave her alone."
He also doesn't trust himself at all right now. He's got a long history of making terrible choices when his judgement is impaired - and quite a few even when it's not - and his faith in Digg far outstrips his belief in himself at the moment.
"I got it," Digg says with a thin smile that easily shows he hears everything Oliver isn't saying. "She won't go anywhere without me and nobody is going to get past me. Go see Anatoly. No offense, Oliver, but if we don't visit the Bratva again anytime soon, I'm more than okay with that."
Truth be told, he is, too.
The constant strategizing and machinations of the Russian mob are exhausting and they distract from his mission. He trusts next to no one here and he longs for the security of his ship and his crew and the open sky.
"It's a plan," Oliver says, gripping the other man's shoulder tightly in solidarity before moving past him.
He trusts Digg like no one else and the waters are calm right now, but it still isn't easy for him to leave Felicity sleeping in their room by herself. The pull toward her is ever-present but it feels especially strong after last night, after this morning. He wants to watch over her, to see with his own eyes that she's okay, to be there when she wakes so he can tell her he's sorry and he loves her and he'll find a way to fix this.
But this is how he fixes it.
It's the first step, anyhow.
And the faster he can get them off this planet, the faster he can drain the waters from his soul and the safer she'll be. That's the plan, anyhow, and he's going to see it through. So, he lets his feet walk the familiar path toward Anatoly's office.
He'll be there. Oliver has no doubt. To the others, Anatoly might seem a wild card, unpredictable and bold. But Oliver knows better. The mobster might be brash and authoritative, but he's also a creature of superstition and habit. Whether that was true before Lian Yu, Oliver has no idea. Maybe it's something borne of the daily fight for survival. But regardless, Oliver knows with certainty where to find him now.
And he's not wrong.
The door to the Pakhan's office is wide open - an anomaly for sure - and it leaves Oliver wondering if maybe he's just as predictable to Anatoly as Anatoly is to him. In some ways, their mutual stay in purgatory has given them a unique understanding of each other, the likes of which he sees shades of only in Sara and Slade. Lian Yu does something to people, works a sliver of darkness into people's souls even if the Reavers don't get them. And he's not sure that's a mark that will ever fade away.
Maybe River had been right all those weeks ago when she said he'd left but a piece of him had stayed behind. Maybe all of them had. Maybe darkness had carved out a home for itself in his being way before the waters ever touched him had done the same to Anatoly, to Sara, to Slade. Maybe it shifted them all the same way, making them creatures of survival first and a person second.
Or maybe his head's just in a weird space today and he's thinking entirely too much about this.
"Oliver! Come in," Anatoly says, his voice booming and his gestures broad and intentionally distracting as he stands. "I have been expecting you, my friend."
Something itches under Oliver's skin and he surveys the room as he enters it like he's looking for threats. There's none, save perhaps for Anatoly himself, but that doesn't put Oliver at ease. There's little that could right now. Because, quite frankly, the greatest threat is inside him. He knows it. And that terrifies him.
"It is good to see you up and about," Anatoly assures with a lightness to his voice that Oliver doesn't quite buy. "You are feeling well?"
The question is a loaded one. And Oliver instantly recognizes it for the well-placed concern that it is. Anatoly doesn't trust him. Not now. Not after he used the waters. And he hasn't stepped from around the desk. There's a gun beneath it, a hand's reach away. He's sure of it. And - friend or not - Anatoly is more than ready to shoot him if the rumors he's heard about the waters prove true.
Oddly, there's something reassuring about that.
"My leg is as good as new," Oliver tells him, wholly sidestepping the greater issue at hand.
"This is good," Anatoly nods, watching him with calculating eyes. "I have heard whispers of the waters you used, you realize? They are the stuff of legends… or of nightmares, depending on who you speak with."
"If you're asking if I want to kill Nikita, the answer is definitely yes," Oliver replies. "But that would have been true without the waters, too. Murderous impulses aren't exactly new to me. I'm used to controlling it."
He's downplaying things for sure, but that's decidedly in his best interests at the moment. And he's pretty sure he's not fooling Anatoly anyhow.
The mobster nods, takes his seat and gestures for Oliver to do the same, but he doesn't relax at all.
"I have many uses for a man with that skill set, Oliver," Anatoly points out. "If you are looking to step back into the fold, you need only say so."
"No," Oliver says immediately. "We both know I don't belong here, Anatoly."
"Is a pity," Anatoly says, pursing his lips as he tilts his head appraisingly. "There are answers I need from Nikita. I think perhaps no one could extract them from him as you could."
And that… that wakes something inside Oliver that he'd much prefer stay sleeping. The very idea of it is so enticing that it makes him jolt. He can see it. Nikita bleeding in front of him, writhing in pain that he only relieves because he knows it will be so much worse when he hurts him anew. The image calls to him, pulls at him, makes his mouth water in anticipation. But he shakes it off. He blinks it away with a huff of controlled breath as he reminds himself that despite all indications to the contrary, that's not actually what he wants.
"As appealing as that is, my crew needs me," Oliver forces out. "And we've taken advantage of your hospitality long enough."
He hides it well, but Anatoly is surprised by Oliver's response. He'd been expecting his interrogator back. He'd been counting on the waters pulling at Oliver enough that he'd cave, drown himself in Nikita's blood and secrets. But Oliver has more than the waters fighting for his soul. Felicity, Digg, Thea, Sara - even Mal and his crew - they all buoy him, keep him afloat and refuse to let him drown.
"I will leave Nikita in Sasha's hands then," Anatoly announces, which honestly makes Oliver twitch. "You and your crew always have a home here, Oliver. You know this. There is no hospitality to be taken advantage of in your own home. But, as you say, you have your crew that needs you and I know how the stars call you to them."
"Thank you," Oliver manages, ignoring the notion that Sasha - of all people - is the one who gets to spill Nikita's blood. It grates at him in a way that it really shouldn't. But he's always hated Sasha and he can't help but be jealous that the other man will get to be the one to make Nikita scream.
He really needs to get away from this planet.
"Are the repairs done?" Oliver asks, concentrating on focusing on the issues that actually need his attention. "We'd like to leave today if we can."
"They are," Anatoly nods. "Your engineer - the little one with the overalls, not your woman - she's going over the repairs now. But I think she will be satisfied with what she finds. My repairmen are very good."
"As long as none of them were actually working for Nikita," Oliver says dryly.
"Nikita would not prize such men. He does not understand the value of men who are not like him," Anatoly points out. "There is a reason his supporters at Sasha's home were all stupider than him with slightly worse aim. He does not tolerate being one-upped. It is a fault of many men, who cannot value those with differences from themselves."
"And one of the reasons you're an excellent Pakhan," Oliver acknowledges.
"An enforcer is important, but so is an engineer, a surgeon," Anatoly tells him. "These are not interchangeable men. Any of them might save your life. A surgeon should not be dismissed because he cannot shoot any more than a bodyguard should be dismissed because he cannot stitch your wounds. This is something Nikita has never understood. No… he will not have had any men working on your ship. He does not plot well enough for that."
"You'll understand if I say I'm going to be a whole lot more comfortable after Kaylee gives it the all-clear," Oliver tells him.
"It is important to have people you trust in your employ," Anatoly agrees as he obviously mulls over how to say something. "I am going to have to rely greatly on Sasha in the near future. WIth you gone, I have no better interrogator."
"Glad you have a use for him," Oliver manages, suddenly even more on edge and trying to see precisely where Anatoly is going with this line of thought.
"It is hard to retain the loyalty of a man whose wife you have given your blessing to leave him," Anatoly says finally.
Oliver sits stock straight and freezes at that as the implications rolls through him.
"You promised me that Alina could leave with us," Oliver reminds him, his voice heavy and threatening.
"And you promised me widows, Oliver," Anatoly points out.
"I could still make you some," Oliver grits out. "But Ally is leaving with us."
"Oliver…" Anatoly shakes his head. "This girl. She is nothing, unremarkable. You do not love her. She isn't useful to you. She has no skills to use in your crew. Why make a big deal out of this?"
"Because she's nothing here," Oliver replies immediately. "Because she's trapped and alone and hopeless. She deserves better than this. You made a deal with me Anatoly. Ally's coming with us. I'm not leaving her behind. Not this time. I made that mistake once. I'm not doing it again."
"She has my favor for her loyalty," Anatoly counters. "This is no small thing. Had she not come to you when Nikita acted… things might have gone very differently. I will not forget that. I can make things better for her here."
"But she'd still be here," Oliver points out. "If you want to reward her loyalty, let her go, let her be free."
Anatoly grunts and shakes his head, looking down at his desk like there might be some kind of answer written before him.
"You make things difficult on me, Oliver," he says after a moment. "I do not understand why you fight for this woman."
"Because she needs fighting for," Oliver replies immediately without having to think about it at all.
It really is exactly as simple as that.
"Fine," Anatoly relents. "I gave my word and I will keep it, as difficult as that will make things with Sasha."
"If he's your current right-hand man, his position is rising at the moment," Oliver points out. "With him newly single there will be plenty of social climbing Bratva daughters happy to take Ally's place. Any one of them would be more suited for a spot at his side than Alina, who has never had any desire to be there."
"Perhaps," Anatoly agrees. "And perhaps in time Sasha will accept this as something for his benefit. But he is a jealous, possessive man. I cannot see him taking well to losing his wife, even if he appears not to care much for her."
Oliver finds he really doesn't care about this at all, but he says nothing. That's okay because it doesn't seem like Anatoly is waiting for any kind of an answer anyhow. And, regardless, they're interrupted by a squeak of a voice near the still-open door.
"Sorry 'bout… well, I'd say interruptin' but the door is open an' all, so maybe it ain't exactly requirin' an apology so much."
"Kaylee," Oliver says, turning so he can see the engineer lingering in the threshold to Anatoly's office. "How'd the inspection go?"
"Fit as a fiddle, cap'n," she replies cheerily. "Better than new, even. She's real shiny. You're gonna be happy with her."
"I want to be clear about this, Kaylee… you checked out everything?" Oliver asks.
"Course I did," Kaylee says, looking a touch affronted. "I ain't gonna leave nothin' to chance, cap'n."
And, indeed, Kaylee has bits of oil and coolant and transmission fluid all over her. There's plenty of evidence she's done a thorough job. But, in Oliver's experience, a little paranoia isn't exactly misplaced.
"See?" Anatoly asks. "I told you this. My repairmen, they are excellent and none of them loyal to Nikita."
"We can leave anytime, cap'n," Kaylee tells him. "Got the new core for Serenity on board already an' everything. Restocked supplies, too. An' while we were at it, we converted two storage rooms to temporary livin' quarters. They're small, but we figured we ain't got room for everybody as it is. An' takin' Alina on, she might want somewhere to lie her head."
It's a good idea. To be honest, Oliver hadn't given much thought to precisely how overcrowded their ship has become. Taking Ally on board was going to be taxing enough, but given his current mental state and the likelihood that they'd need to take on at least one more person in the near future to help with his struggles against the influence of the waters, Verdant was definitely well past capacity.
"It's a good idea," Oliver agrees. "Thank you, Kaylee. Would you go let Digg and Mal know? Have everyone pack their things if they haven't already."
"Will do!" Kaylee agrees with a chipper tone before turning and flouncing out the door in the general direction of the wing the extended Verdant crew has taken over.
"This is goodbye, then," Anatoly says, rising and extending his hand toward Oliver.
"For now," Oliver agrees, standing and grasping the man's hand firmly. "I do appreciate everything you've done for us, Anatoly. We wouldn't have made it if not for your help."
"This is what one does for family, Oliver," Anatoly dismisses. "And it has worked out well for the both of us, no?"
"It has," Oliver agrees. "But thank you all the same."
He turns to go, but Anatoly's voice calls his attention back as he steps toward the open door.
"Oliver… we have not truly discussed this, but your Felicity…" Anatoly ventures.
He tenses, bristles in a guarded way as he worries over the mobster's attention turning toward her.
"What about her?" Oliver asks, tense and obviously on edge.
"It is nothing of concern," Anatoly says, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "You needn't worry. It is just… I am glad for you, my friend. My Inessa, she used to look at me as your Felicity looks at you, like even the rougher edges were worth loving. It does my old heart good to see that kind of partner for you. Cherish her. Every day. And do not let her go for anything. That kind of love, it comes but once a lifetime to those of us who are lucky enough to find it."
Oliver had never met Anatoly's wife. She'd died before he'd ever wound up on Lian Yu. But looking at the mobster now, he can see shades of her influence on the man. There's a sadness that's etched into his features that even long-borne acceptance of the loss hasn't managed to erode.
"We'll invite you to the wedding," he says after a moment, an agreement on every level.
"See that you do," Anatoly nods.
Oliver tries not to think about that as he leaves the room and heads back to their wing, to Felicity. Not the notion of a wedding, of course. He'd marry her tomorrow if she'd have him and if he could say with certainty that he was in his right mind. No, it's that slightly haunted look that took over Anatoly's face that sits poorly with him. He would be like that if he lost her. He would be worse. He might exist without her, but he wouldn't live. Not at this point. He knows that, feels it as deeply as he's ever felt anything. And it's that, more than anything else, that drives him to focus on fixing whatever it is the waters have done to him.
He needs to know she's safe with him and she deserves better than a man who loves her but is sometimes overwhelmed by the basest of instincts.
Felicity is still sleeping when he gets back to their wing. He knows that immediately upon seeing John leaning against the wall outside their door.
"We good to leave?" Digg asks as he closes in.
"Yeah," Oliver tells him. "Just as soon as everyone is ready."
"You gonna wake her?" Digg asks.
"Not yet," Oliver tells him. "Let her sleep. I have something else I need to do first."
Oliver glances down the hall, eyes fixed on a doorway toward the end.
"What's going on?" Digg asks, curious and wary.
"Nothing," Oliver says, trying to sound dismissive and failing horribly. "I just need to talk to Simon. That's all. I'll be back in a moment to finish packing up our things and wake her up. Thank you for keeping an eye out."
"Anytime, Oliver," Digg counters. "That's my job. You know that."
"All the same…" Oliver replies, his eyes earnest and genuine. "I appreciate it, Digg."
Digg gives a little nod as Oliver walks past him, heads toward a room down the hall and knocks solidly. It takes a moment, a bit of shuffling before the door creaks open a sliver and Oliver looks down to find River staring up at him through the crack with too-insightful eyes.
"Your edge is dulled," she says in a floaty voice with a fixed gaze and her face half-hidden by the doorframe.
"It's just as well," he tells her, communicating on the strange other-worldly level the girl often seems to have. "Sharp things tend to cut the people holding them when they aren't careful."
She nods, eyebrows raising in agreement as a little smile works its way across her face as she holds the door open wider.
"It's smarter to just stop touching the blade," she tells him sagely before turning toward the room behind her. "Simon, you have a visitor."
The doctor wanders out from the bathroom, still drying his hands with a towel as his sister brushes past Oliver out into the hall, leaving Oliver blinking back toward her and trying to figure out - momentarily - precisely how the brilliant, crazy woman's mind works. It's probably better that he can't.
"Captain, what can I do for you?" Simon asks, pulling his attention back.
"Doctor," Oliver nods, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "We'll be leaving shortly. And I'm going to have to ask you for a favor..."
Felicity stretches languidly before she's even fully awake. Her body is sore in the best possible way and she's rested and happy, if a little bit worried about Oliver.
They have to find a way to help him regain his sense of control. Obviously enthusiastic, somewhat possessive sex on a regular basis isn't the best coping strategy ever. But… well, it's not like it's the worst strategy either, right? She's definitely not complaining. But she also understands that Oliver can't quite stand feeling out of control. That he's terrified and unhappy with himself. And she doesn't want that for him. At all. So… yeah, this problem needs fixing.
"Hey," she says, rolling onto her side and watching as Oliver pulls some clothes out of a drawer and puts it in a suitcase. "I take it things went well?"
"I was trying not to wake you," he says, abandoning the suitcase to cross the room and settle on the bed next to her, leaning down for a quick kiss. "The ship's ready. We'll go as soon as everyone's packed up."
"Oh! That's great!" Felicity says happily. "It'll be good to get back to our own room."
"Does that mean you're moving back in with me?" Oliver asks, smiling down at her with sheer adoration that makes her melt a little.
"What are you-" she starts before she thinks things through and cuts herself off. "Huh… I guess I had moved out. It's been so long I'd actually forgotten."
"So you're done bunking with Sara?" Oliver questions, clearly already knowing the answer.
"I dunno…. she's a really good roommate," Felicity muses with a light tone as she taps her chin. "She never leaves wet towels on the bed."
"That might be true, but she's a terrible cuddler," Oliver points out, leaning down and kissing her again. "And you, my love, are a cuddler."
"You make a surprisingly valid point," she grins against his lips.
"So you'll come back?" Oliver asks, pulling back slightly and stroking the side of her face with naked affection.
"There's nowhere I'd rather be," she assures him, leaning into his hand.
"Good," he says heavily. "Now we just need to fix this thing with the water and figure out who's after the alpha-omega."
"Well as long as we have some kind of agenda," Felicity replies, pursing her lips as though she's thinking very deeply. "I was worried we might get bored."
"With our life? Unlikely," Oliver laughs.
She loves the sound of that. Both his laugh and him using the term our life. It would be impossible to say which thrilled her more. But there is a more sobering thought to it all. As much as they might both be making light of their 'agenda,' it's more serious than that.
"So… we have a plan then?" she asks.
Strangely, unexpectedly, he tenses at that. She knows him well enough to be more than a little concerned at the way he suddenly kisses her shoulder instead of looking her in the eye.
"Oliver?" she asks worriedly, scooting back so she can sit up.
"We do have a plan," he tells her. "I'll… tell you about it once we're away from here. Okay?"
"Why am I suddenly super concerned about your plan?" She asks, anxiety leaking out of her voice with every word.
"You don't need to be," he reassures her, leaning to kiss her bare shoulder again. "I promise."
Two hours later, she's going to be reminded quite thoroughly that their definitions of concern are vastly different.