Quentin Lance
"WHEN TWO PEOPLE REALLY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER, THEY ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO MAKE IT WORK. NO MATTER HOW HARD IT IS"
How stupid does he think I am?
It's the first, last, and constant thought the infiltrates my head every time the Arrow gives me a call for a specific mission that goes beyond his ability to help.
It is prime example of how much he has grown in the past few years; from a murdering bastard who preferred to enclose himself in his darkness to a justice-seeking vigilante who tries to do good with the help of the people who bring light into his life.
However, it is more of an example on how much he has grown throughout the past decade, from the person he was before he got on the wretched boat, to who he is now, not just as the Arrow but also as Oliver Queen.
And as we sit here on the this roof, his bow out and my gun drawn out in position, I wonder if it ever occurs to him that I might just recognize the boy who I saw grow up for the better part of his life.
Because yes, I did not like him at all, but no, that doesn't mean I wasn't there. Laurel and he were friends, then lovers, and I was there to witness the entire thing.
And boy did it hurt to witness.
The kid never really loved Laurel; that was clear as day. It was fine. They didn't need to love each other at that point and they sure as hell were too young to be thinking of anything beyond that.
But Ollie Queen was as invested in that relationship as Moira Queen was not invested in The Undertaking. He was there for her birthday, brought her to his fancy parties, walked around with her on his arm, but he wasn't there when it truly mattered.
He uncomfortably stood in the background when Dinah left to Central City, visited once in the form of flowers when Laurel broke her leg, and from what I heard, drove off to Vegas when Laurel first told him that she loved him.
In essence, the boy let Laurel go, whenever they got to a point in their relationship that was slightly more difficult to handle.
But that is beside the point. The point is that it has never crossed Oliver Queen's mind that the Hood and mask may cover his identity for one who gets a fleeting glance at him, but definitely not for someone who practically seen him grow up, like me.
"Felicity," The Arrow's (Oliver's) modulated voice interrupts my inner musings, I am brought back to reality, and I tighten my grip on my gun.
Ms Smoak received information that a group of thieves would be stealing one of Starling's precious jewels at the annual gala. The Arrow contacted me to arrange for tighter security, and Felicity (being the genius she is) convinced Queen that they could use an extra set of hands.
And here we stand; on top of a rooftop of a museum, Ms Smoak and Mr Diggle cruising around inside, ready to make their exit once the thieves are spotted.
I spot Ms Smoak at the window directly parallel to our position, she looks our way, but I know that she only has eyes for the leather-clad man beside me. "Team Arrow is up and ready to go," she says cheerfully.
Queen growls, "We are not calling ourselves that."
"And why not?" Felicity walks away from the window, her green dress (I try not to think of the irony of the colour) fluttering behind her.
"Because, Felicity, I said so." Queen attempts to hide his smile when the blonde makes a short and quick reappearance at the window to give him a glare.
"And since when have I ever listened to you unless I wanted to?"
Queen doesn't even bother to hide his smile anymore, "Never. But since I'm asking so nicely, you're going to stop calling the team, Arrow."
"And what do I get from it?" The tone of her voice is cheeky and playful, and I have to appreciate the way she finds a way to bring light into a situation as such, over my awkwardness at feeling like a third wheel.
"Big Belly Burger, no onions, a chocolate milkshake with fires and a brownie." His answer is quick and immediate and I hate myself for wondering how things could have tuned out if the boy put this much thought into gifts all those years ago instead of throwing around diamonds.
Instead, I conceal my groan and ask no one in particular, "Are they always like this?"
But Diggle answers me (another clue as to who the Arrow is, Oliver Queen's supposed bodyguard is named John Diggle, and the Arrow refers to a Diggle many times throughout his mission. They should really consider giving the man a code name), "Every time man. Every single time."
Before the conversation can get any further, the museum alarm rings heavily and The Arrow has jumped down the roof and is running into the building before I can even process it.
"Felicity, get the hell out of here!" Queen yells into the comms and I spot the blonde on her tablet, making her way to the exit as I walk into the building, gun drawn, ready to fire.
And it's as if everything happens in a hyper lapse, because one minute both Queen and I are running towards the thief that came out of nowhere and the next minute, there's a loud bang, one I distinctly remember as a gunshot, and then Felicity is on the ground, and Queen is screaming and everything goes to hell.
I faintly see Diggle tackling the thief to the ground and punching him with more vehement than necessary, but I put all my focus onto the woman lying in front of me, clutching her leg in pain, the red slowly seeping through the green fabric, and I rush to her, making sure not to get too close, because as I predicted, Queen beats me to it, holding her in his arms, applying pressure onto her thigh.
"Felicity, Felicity. Look at me. Look at me Felicity." He calls her with such desperation; it makes me feel sorrier for him rather than Ms Smoak.
"Oll..iiv..errr" she slurs, and he clings onto her, whispering things into her hair, and I see a small, painful smile reach her face.
Neither of them acknowledges the fact that she just uttered his name in public. Gladly no one is here besides John Diggle and I, and we already know his secret.
I hear the sirens in the distance and I know that the upcoming scene won't be pretty. Because the Arrow can't be here when the cops are, but the Arrow has no intention of leaving Felicity Smoak. For his sake and the sake of the team and city, someone has to get him out of here.
That someone cannot be me.
Thankfully, it turns out to be Diggle who has to physically drag the man out of the museum, while I help Ms Smoak get inside the ambulance truck, sending Diggle a nod to let him know that I'll be with her. Queen and I may not see eye to eye (in the past) but I care for Ms Smoak very much, and I'm not leaving her to fend for herself after a bullet wound.
"Detective...Arr...rrow" Felicity stutters out through her pain and I have to marvel at the way the young women still thinks about Queen even when she's being carried into the hospital because of a gunshot wound.
"He's gone sweetheart. Diggle took him away as soon as the cops came." I can do nothing but reassure her.
"M'kay," she drowsily says before the pain overtakes her and she falls into oblivion.
Felicity is immediately wheeled into an emergency room when we reach Starling General and I can do nothing but wait patiently.
When I spot a nurse leave her room, I pull her aside, asking her the question that has been bugging me throughout the entire trip to the hospital "Is there anyone that needs to be notified of her injury miss?"
The nurse, Marley, hurries away after rushing her answer, "Her emergency contact has been notified. He will decide who to notify Sir."
And by the blush that stains her cheeks as she scurries away, I have a good idea as to who Ms Smoak's emergency contact actually is.
The man in question comes rushing in soon after, and I wonder if maybe he should have just kept the hood on.
He's a mess. His hair is dishevelled, clothes wrinkled and torn, Felicity's bloodstains on the side of his hand, and his eyes have a wild, desperate craze in them, which causes everyone in the building to jump out of his sprinting way. At the moment, I can't help but think that the Arrow looks and seems less crazy and scary than Oliver Queen.
When he spots me, he breaks to an even faster run (Something I didn't think was possible) and grabs me by the shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that to his knowledge, I hate him.
"Where is she? Is she okay? What did they say?"
"Get your shit together kid, she's still in surgery." I gruffly tell him, despite the similar questions that constantly float through my head.
"Detective," John Diggle interrupts the mini not-so-pep talk I was going to give the kid, "They want me to tell you that you're needed at the precinct." He looks calm and composed, stoic, like any bodyguard is supposed to be, but I can see the undercurrent of fear and grief in his form and it clearly displays the strong bond the three of them have developed throughout the years. It would be hard not to, after everything they have been through.
With that knowledge, I leave the hospital, walking away from an inconsolable Queen who has managed to get it together in the past minute, and a scared John Diggle, both expressions telling me that I am leaving Ms Smoak in the best hands.
I find myself parking in front of the hospital quite early today. I hope to pay a quick visit to Ms Smoak before heading towards the precinct to finish the case files and damage plan after last night's hectic events.
I take the steps to the fifth floor (walking helps clear my head), to where I was informed that Ms Smoak was moved to after a successful surgery with no casualties.
When I reach the room at the end of the hall, I find that I have arrived the same time that the nurse from yesterday, Marley, comes out. Instead of her previously rushed, hurried state of yesterday, when she walks down the hall today, she seems to be in some sort of daze, muttering loudly enough to herself for me to hear.
"Oliver Queen staying up all night keeping vigil at a woman's bedside. Must be a day of miracles."
When I finally reach the entrance of Ms Smoak's room, I'm surprised at the sight that greets me, even though the nurse muttered it to herself in awe.
Felicity Smoak rests in the middle of a gigantic room (one of the Queen's private healing rooms), a series of monitors attached to her small, pale frame and a variety of colourful bouquets (quite apt for the young woman) placed carefully throughout the room.
And Oliver Queen is sitting on a tiny chair that is placed so close to the bed; I wouldn't be surprised if it were glued together. The boy is holding her hand gently; bloodshot eyes never leaving her face, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.
With slow, deliberate movements, I open the door and throw my hands into the hair when Queen's instincts kick in and his head shoots up, ready to assess the potential threat. When he sees me, he immediately relaxes, and proceeds to tell me about Ms Smoak without my asking,
"She's doing well. They said she should wake up soon." His voice harbours hope, guilt and grief and I feel sorry for both Diggle and Smoak who have to deal with this one later on.
Up close, I can see the evidence the nurse gathered to guess that the boy stayed up all night. He has the same clothes on from yesterday, the bloodstains aren't wiped out from his hands, there are tired lines on his forehead, and his hair looks tousled and messed, as if he ran his hands through them a countless amount of times.
He looks like shit, and it's what prompts me to say, "Maybe you should go home. Get yourself cleaned up."
He still doesn't look away from his blonde, "I want to be here when she wakes up."
The fact that both Oliver Queen and the Green Arrow won't be caught dead saying something remotely similar to this is full on proof of how much this incident shook him.
We lapse into an uncomfortable silence, the two of us watching the steady breathing of the heart and soul of team Arrow.
Unwilling to let the boy stay and disintegrate in this hospital room (however luxurious it may look) I walk out of the room to get the two of us some coffee, despite how crappy the hospital coffee is. I wonder where Queen's bodyguard is, the two of them always seem glued to the hip, and the man seemed pretty distraught yesterday, doing his own share of mourning for the young IT expert.
Carrying two coffees in both hands, I make my way to Felicity's room once again, opting to take the elevator this time, not expecting for the woman to have woken up within the twenty minutes that I was gone.
"You can leave you know. Go home, get dressed and do your other stuff. Like QC stuff. Or your green stuff." Felicity's throaty voice stops me in my tracks.
I probably should either; walk in and alert them of my presence, or leave, but I can't help but eavesdrop, because for all I know about Oliver Queen, this is his opportunity to leave. This is his out. This is the part where he takes the out and flees. If something like this was said to him years ago, he would have jumped up immediately and ran out the door. But I've come to realize that the most parts of the man that left on the boat died there, and I'm curious to see what this new, improved man will do.
He doesn't disappoint.
"Felicity I am not going to leave your side until you get better. We don't leave the other, no matter how hard things get. That's what partners do." He pauses to assess his partner's beaming face before he adds, "besides I can't do anything without you. Not QC work or Team Arrow work."
And if him vowing to stay by her side doesn't make her happy enough, him calling the Team, Arrow, definitely does.
And then I find myself walking down the streets of Starling City, idiotically holding two cups of coffee, smiling like a lunatic to myself, too lost in my thoughts to consider the odd looks given to me by the citizens on the streets.
I was under the illusion that if Oliver were like this, a decade ago, then my baby girl could have had the chance at the happy life she had imagined with Queen.
Now, I know how wrong that was.
Queen wasn't willing to fight for Laurel; for anybody. He wasn't willing to put in the 100 percent into the relationship because it didn't matter much to him, it didn't matter enough for him to hold onto it.
With Felicity, he doesn't have to think, or remember to make an effort. He doesn't have to set reminders for her birthday, or tell himself constantly to listen to her, to consider her feelings, or to stay with her when she's unwell. All these things come instinctively. They're a part of his compulsion to hold onto her with everything he's got. His desperate need for the relationship (whatever the relationship may be classified as) he has with this women, his need to preserve what he considers the one pure thing in his life, causes him to panic and go into overdrive when it is threatened. For the normal eye, it may seem obsessive, but the normal eye doesn't know Oliver Queen.
The normal eye doesn't know about the way Oliver looks at Felicity.
The way he won't make any decisions pertaining to both Oliver Queen CEO and the vigilante without consulting her.
The way she is the only person that can get away with nagging him when he's on a mission.
The way her safety is his top priority. The way he will risk his identity if it means staying with her when she's injured.
The way he stays up all night by her bedside.
The way Oliver would do anything to ensure that she stays by his side, healthy and well.
And then I know that even if he never got on that boat, even if he didn't make a complete character change. I know that he would have met Felicity Smoak, maybe at QC or maybe at a coffee shop, and they would still be where they are right now. The boat and who Oliver is has nothing to do with the way he feels about Ms Smoak.
And he tells me they're just friends. Just partners. Nothing more.
How stupid does he think I am?
"A PERSON THAT TRULY LOVES YOU WILL NEVER LET YOU GO, NO MATTER HOW HARD THE SITUATION IS"
Quentin Lance knows that according to Oliver Queen, there's no letting Felicity Smoak go.