"Pandora's Box"

Felicity Smoak and Thea Queen strolled down the sidewalk, just outside Glades Memorial's new Anna Loring Institute for Pediatric Sciences. Named after tech guru Ray Palmer's deceased fiancée, the institute's soaring steel-and-glass tower was the latest example of Starling City's urban renewal projects. It was a sunny spring day, warmer than usual.

"This break is just what I needed," Thea said as she savoured her double scoop of strawberry ice cream.

"Hmmph?" Felicity said, as she enjoyed a slurp of her own double scoop of chocolate ice cream.

"I've been multi-tasking like crazy," Thea said. "The Verdant is handling catering for the big medical conference this weekend." She noticed that Felicity was trying to keep the ice cream from dripping onto her office attire.

"Maybe I should have picked the milkshake instead," Felicity said. She managed to finish off the first scoop without getting a single chocolate smudge on her blouse. "Yeah, Ray was telling me about the conference. He's also hoping to poach some of the specialists and experts attending from all over the West Coast."

Someone bolted through the crowd and seized Felicity's purse, knocking Felicity to the ground. This time, most of her ice cream landed on her blouse.

"Son of a –" Felicity hissed. "I have a meeting in, like, an hour!" Thea was already chasing after the purse-snatcher.

At the other end of the street, Tara Knowles exited her SUV. Burly SAMCRO prospect Phil parked his Harley beside it. They were still in the Glades, so Phil was allowed to wear his Reaper cut in public. The MC tasked him to protect Tara and despite her initial protests, she relented to Jax's request that she bring Phil with her to Starling City.

"I'll be here all afternoon at the medical conference," Tara said. "Maybe you can wait in the cafeteria until then. The entire neighbourhood is still spooked by what went down at the port. The locals are still skittish about the MC. We can't get so much as a parking ticket here, understand?"

"That's what Chibs was saying," Phil said. "I'll be in the cafeteria if you need ... me?" He was distracted by a scruffy-looking man sprinting towards them, carrying a purse. A young woman was chasing after him.

As the man approached, intent on barreling through whoever stood in his way, Tara swung her purse into the man's face. As the thief fell, she promptly kicked him in the groin. He doubled over, but he managed to scamper into the busy noon-time crowd before Phil could grab him.

Thea ran up to them, followed by Felicity who was still trying to dab away some of the chocolate from her blouse.

"Nice work, miss," Thea said. Tara handed Felicity's purse over to her.

"Thanks," Felicity said. She immediately noticed the Reaper cut on Tara's companion, but said nothing. "I'd offer to buy you a coffee, but I've got a full scoop of Chocolate Velvet on my blouse. I've got to change. I've got a meeting to get to."

"Dr. Tara Knowles," Tara said, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Felicity Smoak," Felicity said, taking her hand. "Thea is a friend of mine. She's the girl who steered the thief into the general direction of your bad-ass purse." Tara's purse was leather with fringes and some metal studs. It was professional-looking, but with a hint of take-no-prisoners-Viking-queen to it.

Thea nodded towards the institute's impressive building. "If you're here for the conference, Dr. Knowles, I could take you to the main hall. I think they're getting started at 12:30."

"That would be great," Tara said. She noticed that Phil was admiring both Thea and Felicity. Even she had to admit that the young women were both really cute.

"Phil!" Tara said, in her 'MC old lady' voice that demanded obedience. "Go to the cafeteria - now. Get yourself something to eat. Meet me in the lobby at 5 pm."

"Yes, ma'am," Phil said. He smiled at Thea and Felicity and hurried into Glades Memorial.

Felicity watched as Thea and Tara climbed the steps to the institute's main entrance. The name Tara Knowles rang a bell in her mind. The thought faded momentarily as she noticed the contents of her purse sprawled across most of the sidewalk behind her.

"Well, that's just great," Felicity frowned. Her hands were sticky with ice cream, her blouse was ruined and now she had to collect her belongings from the dirty pavement. There were also a couple of business letters she had planned to mail over the lunch hour.

When she arrived at Palmer Tech, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had a spare blouse from the dry cleaners. Even though her presence wasn't required at the budget meeting, she felt it would be in her best interest to know more about the workings of Ray's company.

The company which used to belong to Oliver Queen, Felicity thought. Never mind that I'm currently dating Ray too.

She opened up her purse to retrieve the work-related letters, intending to mail them. What she discovered was more than she had bargained for.

She found three additional letters that didn't belong to her. The name listed on the front was Maureen Ashby and the address listed was Ashby's Provisions, Belfast, Northern Ireland. They were already opened. Could these belong to Tara Knowles? Could they have fallen out of her purse when the doctor sacked the purse-snatcher?

Then she remembered where she had heard the doctor's name. In the MC files that Laurel had given to Team Arrow, Tara Knowles was listed as an inner circle member of SAMCRO. She was a well-respected doctor in Charming – and the current girlfriend of the MC's VP, Jax Teller! Her hefty bodyguard in the Reaper cut confirmed the MC link.

She reasoned that there was no way of knowing who owned these letters if she didn't at least look at them. "Now I know how Pandora felt," Felicity said.

The letters were hand-written. "My dearest Mo," the first letter began.

The moment she began to read the letters, she knew that she was reading something forbidden. Only after reading several paragraphs did she realize who the author of the letters was: John Teller, the founder of the Sons of Anarchy MC. He had loved another woman in Belfast by the name of Maureen. He fathered a daughter with her.

A few lines near the end of the letter caught her attention. They were describing some long-ago Mexican gang ambush in northern California:

"… the Mayans came upon us like flies to carrion. One moment, I had a dozen patches guarding my flank. In the next moment, they had disappeared like morning mist. The royal guard has finally forsaken their king. They left me there to die. Clay claimed that it was the fog of war, but I know this was a lie. Only luck spared my life. The MC is firmly in Morrow's camp now. They embrace the new direction he is leading them, entrenched with guns and the IRA, even though I know for certain that it is the path to ruin and doom for us all. No one listens to me any more. I fear death, they welcome it."

"All I know for certain is that I no longer have the means to change their minds, to save this club. After last night, I have no doubt that Clay Morrow means to kill me…"

Felicity looked up at the wall clock. The budget meeting was over half an hour ago, but it was of little concern at this moment. She was holding potentially volatile information - not only for the MC, but for the whole Glades. If the MC ever got wind of proof that Clay had a hand in killing the founding member of SAMCRO, they could ignite an underworld powder keg that could explode across the entire city and beyond.

What to do with the letters was now the first dilemma she needed to overcome.

That, she thought, and accepting the possibility that my possession of them and their secrets also means I could soon be on SAMCRO's hit list too.

She pressed the elevator button going down to the parking garage, realizing that even reading the letters could be a suicidal act on her part.

She frowned. "Oh. Crap."


Felicity had no way of knowing that, at the same moment, Tara just excused herself from an interesting presentation by Ray Palmer on the potential advancements in biotechnology in the field of pediatric medicine.

Tara realized that the purse she had taken with her still contained three of the secret love letters John Teller had sent to his Irish lover Maureen Ashby. Maureen packed a stack of letters in Jax's gear when the MC was in Belfast, hoping the son would learn about his father. Tara found them first and read all of them.

They were potentially deadly letters that outlined John's suspicions about Clay, his doubts about the violent course the MC was on and his own regrets about betraying his wife and leaving his son trapped within this cycle of chaos.

When she couldn't find them, she raced to the women's restroom, locked herself in the room and emptied the contents of her purse onto the sink counter. There were no letters. Where could they have gone?

Then she remembered the purse snatcher she had clobbered with her own purse, the quirky bespectacled blonde in a ponytail with a scoop of Chocolate Velvet all over her blouse, and a sidewalk littered with the contents of the girl's purse. Could the letters have fallen out of my purse during the scuffle? Could that nerdy blonde office chick have picked up the letters by mistake?

Could she be sipping a frappuccino in her little office cubicle, reading John Teller's letters and gossiping about JT's regrets and fears with the other girls at work - right now?

"That duplicitous bitch!" Tara said, angrily slamming her hand against the wall. As she exited the restroom, Ray's presentation had just ended and he was greeting attendees at the reception table.

"Dr. Knowles!" Ray exclaimed. "I was hoping I could pick your brain about all things neonatal. Palmer Tech is about to embark on some promising new projects. I should add that there's a pretty sweet spread of sandwiches and desserts in the foyer …"

"My apologies, Mr. Palmer," Tara said, as she quickly regained her composure. "I have some pressing business this afternoon." She pulled out one of her St. Thomas Hospital business cards. "I would like to hear more about your new institute's work. Actually, I would like to explore any possible career opportunities too. My cell number's on the card. I'm staying at the Hyatt Regency in the Chocolate District if you need to leave any messages."

"Will do!" Ray said as he gave her his own business card. "I'll be at the conference this whole weekend, but if you can't find me, feel free to leave a message with my executive assistant. Her number's on the front. She'll manage to reach me somehow."

When she was outside the institute doors, she dialed her cell phone – not her professional smartphone, but her untraceable SAMCRO burner one.

"Phil? It's Tara. We have a change of plans. Remember that ponytailed blonde you were ogling earlier today, the chick whose purse I rescued? Yeah, Felicity Smoak. I want a twenty on her by this evening. I want to know who she knows, where she goes, what coffee she drinks. Everything."

The thought of a total stranger reading about the dark secrets of the Teller family – her family now – and the uncomfortable truths about SAMCRO made her worried. But Gemma taught her well. If SAMCRO was a kingdom under siege, Tara was its princess – its queen-to-be. And she would defend her household as vigorously as her fiancé Jax would. She intended to bury the destructive secrets those letters represented and she wasn't about to let some perky broad from Starling City unearth its deadly truths. Her worry turned into a focused anger, something she knew would see her through.

The clarity of rage. Jax had it, Gemma had it, and now she adopted it for herself. It was a tool for survival. It was the SAMCRO way.

Tara thought of Felicity, covered in chocolate ice cream, and figured the poor girl was probably unaware that she had just stepped into a messy pile of shit by picking up those letters. She didn't want to consider the possibility that she read the letters too.

If Felicity did read them, then God help her.

"Little Miss Smoak just made a very big mistake," Tara said. She checked the Thirty-Eight in her purse.

It was loaded.

To be continued ...