"BEFORE I MET YOU, I NEVER KNEW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO BE ABLE TO LOOK AT SOMEONE AND SMILE FOR NO REASON."
Moira Queen
I finish signing the last of the papers before placing them neatly into the purple folder marked 'PR'. Placing it into my briefcase, I crane my neck back and rest it against my plush chair, letting out a relaxing breath that easily calms me. The past few days have been extremely chaotic, with me giving out full permission for Oliver to run QC and my decision to run for mayor; the latter information only known by Oliver and Thea. I have decided to take a trip down to the law office to get their input on things, not that their input is going to deter me from my path, but I need to know whether I will have their full support.
I open the bottom drawer and place the folder neatly on top of the various black and blue files that already reside in there; Robert's old files. I'm about to close the drawer and retreat to my room for a good night's sleep, when I spot a sparkly blue at the very end of the drawer; completely different from the other plain files.
I pick it up out of curiosity, and let out a laugh, when I see our family photo stuck on the front page of the sparkly photo album using butterfly stickers and small gemstones. Thea's sixth-grade project. I tentatively open the book, looking through the various pictures, not realizing the tears in my eyes until they slip and fall onto a picture of Oliver (which is quite fitting since the tears are for him).
In the middle of a cupcake washy tape border, sits a picture of Tommy, Thea, and Oliver. The two boys have got Thea hoisted on their shoulder and while Thea and Tommy are in mid-laugh, Oliver smiles at the camera happily, his mouth opened in a wide grin. If this were I seven years ago, I would have casually chuckled at the picture and moved on, putting it back in the drawer. Now, I sit crying in my office, mourning the loss of two sons.
I lost Oliver five years ago to the Gambit. Then, I got him back. However, he wasn't the Oliver that left, and I fear that he will never be.
The Oliver that I used to know smiled as if he couldn't stop. No matter what he did, no matter how tired he was, he would always smile. The smile was a permanent fixture on his face. Even after he learned to perfect his public face (that horrible charming smile I hated), he always had a genuine smile around us. He even smiled when he was sleeping (though I preferred not to dwell too much, on what made him smile in his dreams.)
Now, it seems like Oliver receives physical pain whenever he smiles. When he does (during those odd rare moments) it's fake and forced and I hate it more than the smile he gives the paparazzi. He seems lifeless, as if he's actually dead, like he died on that godforsaken island. He never sleeps, and when he does, nightmares wake him up almost immediately. He's juggling two jobs at once (and trying to keep the second a secret) and I don't know why he's putting so much stress on himself. I would do anything to see him smile just one more time.
I hear the creek of the steps, indicating someone is walking down, and I quickly wipe my tears and shove the book back into the drawer, well aware of who would be awake at this late of an hour. I expect him to walk out the door as he usually does, or get a drink of water, but he does neither.
Instead, he stands a few feet in front of the massive doors and paces nervously.
In all my life (before and after the island), I have never, ever seen Oliver pace so restlessly before. And why on earth is he pacing in front of the door at this late of an hour?
Unable to compress my curiosity, I gingerly get off my chair and walk out of the office, but nowadays, it's like my son has a sixth sense because, despite the silence of my steps, he turns around immediately, relaxing only when he confirms to himself it's me.
"Mom, what are you doing up so late?" He asks me, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I could ask you the same." I counter back, knowing that I have a very good excuse for staying up and curious for his.
"I'm waiting for someone." Is his curt reply and I know that he's not going to elaborate.
I nod. "Don't stay up too late." I need to keep up with the oblivious (to the fact that he moonlights as a hero every night) mother act.
I walk back into my office, and close the door partially, so that I have a clear view of the foyer without the foyer having a clear view of me. My curiosity is just too threatening.
When a quiet, soft (most definitely feminine) knock fills the silence, I almost drop the file I pretend to read at the way Oliver runs to the door as if it's miles away rather than a few feet.
When the door opens, it doesn't reveal a leggy brunette I expected, or fake redhead, but rather a petite blonde, with glasses and cupcake pajamas that I immediately recognize as Felicity Smoak.
When I first heard that Oliver had promoted the IT employee as a secretary, I was instantly disappointed in Oliver for using his southern regions rather than his brains. Moreover, as a mother, I instantaneously disliked Felicity Smoak for being able to manipulate my son in order to get to a higher position at work. Even then, when meeting the blabbering, flustered blonde, it hit me that she wasn't actually Oliver's type. A few weeks later, I learn from Thea, that they are not indeed sleeping together but are close friends (never knew Oliver had any female friends), and then had to listen to a lengthy speech on how Felicity was amazing for Oliver.
"Felicity, I didn't mean right now." Oliver reprimands her, worry lacing his tone.
"No, you said, and I quote, 'Felicity, I can't sleep. Do we have any important records I need to catch up on?' and we did. So I brought you the financial records and a cinnamon bun." She holds up a red file along with a brown bag.
"Cinnamon Bun?" And I see him trying to fight a smile (and I find so ironically bittersweet. With us he forces a smile, and with this woman, he fights it back). But his eyes are filled with some sort of emotion I can't even begin to decipher. Nevertheless, as fast as it came, it goes away, replaced with a regular closed off look.
"It always helps me sleep. But you don't have to eat it tonight. Or ever. You can just bring the cinnamon bun to the office tomorrow and gift it to me for being the best unwilling Executive Assistant ever." Her voice is as cheery as it was the second time I met her (the first was at the hospital), even at two in the morning.
This time, my boy doesn't even try to fight the smile. It just stretches across his face, genuine and real, and for the first time since he came back, I can see traces of the Oliver I lost. And I forget to breathe.
"You're not my Executive Assistant Felicity. You're my partner. I wouldn't be here without you." He tells her and it's the first time Oliver has given someone a compliment (although he has never given anyone a compliment as deep and as genuine as that) with such honesty and no hidden intention.
"Well me and Dig of course. But, you'd probably be dead without me. I mean, you let Dig operate behind the scenes on your crusade on your crappy computer. That man doesn't know how to hack for his life. He's much better out in the field with you." She rambles and I want to smack my forehead on the table for not realizing it sooner.
The whole secretary, driver, and CEO act was all a ruse. An excuse to slip in and out easily from work to their other work. Moreover, Felicity Smoak is a part of it. My son trusts this girl enough to bring her into his mission and put his life in her hands. I find myself asking for the hundredth time today; who is Felicity Smoak?
"Yes and you're better out of the field and behind the computers," Oliver states firmly, his protectiveness for the girl making a short, but evident appearance.
"I know. But you're always there when I'm in the field. You and Diggle both. So, I'm not too worried." Felicity states confidentially.
"Right I remember. It felt really good having you inside me."
I'm sure (and hoping) that it was supposed to be an inside joke, because 's mouth widens in an 'O' and my son laughs. I cry.
Because it's been six years since I have heard Oliver laugh. He never laughed when he came back from the island. He chuckled (half-heartedly), and grinned (it looked painful) but he never laughed the way he is right now. A genuine laugh from the heart that causes his eyes to crinkle and his hands to hold his stomach, making him look years younger.
Ms. Smoak notices too, because once Oliver finished, and stares at Felicity with a teasing smile on his face (somehow different from all the other teasing smiles he gives to other girls) she beams at him.
"You've definitely been holding out on everyone Mr. Queen. We just found a simple and definite way to ensure your success within the company." Felicity says.
At, Oliver's raised eyebrow she continues, "All you need to do, is go into the boardroom and start laughing. Everyone will be on your boat in seconds." She winces. "Oops, sorry bad metaphor. I meant they would definitely support you if you start to laugh. You probably don't want them coming on a boat with you. You probably don't ever want to get on a boat yourself. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"Hey, its fine. And besides, if I ever have to get on a boat, you and Dig will have to come with me." He ignores her verbal throw up and teases her once again.
"Ya, won't bode well for me since I'm seasick. And airsick. I'm hopeless." They just stand there, awkwardly staring at each other for a few minutes and I wonder if I have to walk in there and interrupt before the go at it on the floor.
Nevertheless, Felicity, (as expected) breaks the silence. "Sooo, I'll just make my leave now. It'll probably take me an hour to get out of your driveway itself. I mean, who needs a driveway that big. You literally have four people in your family." As she rambles, she walks towards the door, and I can see Oliver's worried face follow her.
"Are you sure it's okay for you to drive this late. Do you want me to drop you?" He asks, stopping her in place.
She turns around and smiles at him. "Believe it or not Queen, I was here long before you met me. I've driven in the dark many times. No need to worry."
Before he can protest and offer again, she gets on her toes and gives him a peck on his cheek, and I watch in wonder and Oliver closes his eyes, as if he's savoring the moment. I faintly hear the words 'sleep, bed, and you need it' but as quick as she came, she goes. However, Oliver stays. He stares out the door, for a very long time, longer than the time it would take for her to pull out of our driveway and drive out of sight. But Oliver stills watches, as if he can see her from our foyer.
The chiming of a phone fills the silence, I panic, thinking its mine, and rush to turn in off before it inevitably blows my cover (the fact that I am sitting here spying on my grown ass son and a girl whom he claims not to love). However, the ringing doesn't come from my phone but my son's who is still worriedly staring out the front door. He pulls out his phone and smiles at the screen and I immediately know who the caller is.
"Felicity." He says and I take a moment to contemplate the way he says her name, it's different every single time.
His eyes widen, and he looks sheepish, "No, I'm not. I'm in my room, going through the file. I can't see you from my porch Felicity." He lies and I have to hide my smile. I haven't seen the sheepish, guilty look on my son's face in a very long time along with meeting anyone who can read post-island Oliver so well.
I faintly hear the creek of the steps but more so Oliver's murmuring voice as he climbs up the stairs to his room, still talking on the phone.
And a few minutes later, I myself, make my way to my room, not expecting the door to Oliver's room to be open and the lights to be shining into the hall. Unable to quench my curiosity, (I must admit; the Oliver that came back from the island is much more interesting and surprising than the Oliver that left) I creep near his door, and peek through the doorway, only to find my son still engrossed in a conversation with .
He's lying on the bed (for once) facing the ceiling and his phone is placed on his bedside, softly put on speaker.
And I realize that he's not having a conversation with Ms. Smoak, but rather listening to one of her rambles, this one much toned down and soft compared to her usually chirpy ones.
"The last thing I remember was getting into a cab. I passed out after that. Thankfully, the driver turned out to be a sweet old man in his 50s who wasn't a pervert and booked me a motel. I woke up and swore to never get drunk again." She shares.
"Did you?" Oliver's voice is drowsy and I can see him hold back a yawn.
"Nope. But in all fairness, that was over a year ago. A couple months before I met you."
This time, the yawn bellows out of Oliver's mouth loudly, and I hear Felicity giggle.
"Goodnight Oliver." Her tone is knowing, and I see a fleeting moment of panic on Oliver's face.
"Are you tired?" He asks and I realize that he doesn't want her to leave. For the first time, my boy is chasing after a woman and not the other way around.
"No…do you want another bedtime story?" She says after a pause and this time, it's me who is the one fighting a smile at the way she phrases her words.
Oliver closes his eyes but doesn't say anything despite the unsure smile on his face.
I've come to realize that words aren't necessary between Oliver and Felicity (despite only seeing them converse for the first time tonight) because I listen as Felicity recites another story and watch the exact moment that my son falls asleep. With a smile on his face and Felicity's voice as his lullaby.
Moments later, in my own bed, I take the silence and sudden peace in my heart to consider all that I have witnessed in the past hour.
My son smiles with Felicity Smoak. He laughs with her, laughs at her and is just comfortable to 'be' with her. No false facades, no lies, no strained smiles. He's genuine with her. He's genuinely happy with her. Maybe it's because she knows his secret. Or maybe it's because there is something about Ms. Smoak that I just missed. But whatever it may be, I didn't think that my son would smile after coming back from that island, and so I am thankful for whatever Gods are up there, for Felicity Smoak. The woman who brings a smile to my son's face.
"THERE IS ALWAYS THAT ONE PERSON WHO CAN MAKE YOU SMILE, EVEN WHEN YOU'RE AT YOUR LOWEST."
Moira Queen admits she never saw it coming, but Felicity Smoak has that effect on her son.