"BE WITH SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO SEE YOU GROW" –Toni Payne
Dinah Lance
There's a reason why I chose Central City to move to after the divorce. The city, unlike Starling, is clean. Yes, there are crimes. Yes, there is evil. Those two aspects are inevitable regardless of place. But there is just something so serene about being in Central City that gives me a feeling that I could have never found in Starling, in any circumstance.
It also helps that I love my job here in Central. Helps that I love the bright minds that I get to teach, the institution and people I surround myself around, the fact that I can leisurely stroll around the newly paved sidewalk on a bright day after I have finished my lunch, having half an hour more to spare.
Today is one of those days. One of those days where I'm casually walking through the sparsely populated city, this time of day not being as crowded. I take a seat on one of the street benches, the position of the seat allowing me to watch the rare citizen scurrying across the path with their heads buried into their phone, hands holding a cup of coffee, or earplugs in, listening to music or talking to a friend. Nobody notices me and I find myself preferring it that way.
And as I turn, I spot a familiar face, and have to stop a bittersweet pang that resonates through my heart when I do.
Oliver Queen walks down the sidewalk, donning a brown leather jacket, his hands in his pocket, face tilted towards the ground.
I'm genuinely glad he survived the island. I mourn for the poor boy every day for what he must have endured for five years without proper food, sleep or company. And I, have never and will never, blame him for the death of my daughter. Laurel and Quentin may, but I don't. Sara made her own choice to get on that boat and she subjected herself to her own fate. Blaming Oliver will not bring her back, nor will it help the man who is surely plagued by the demons that he was infected with during his time away, and I refuse to be another person who adds to the list of demons; to the list of hurt.
And I watch him; my lips tilting up when I spot two others catch up to him. One is a tall bulky man, tanned skin and the posture of a soldier. He walks slightly in front of Oliver, but close enough for me to see the trust and familiarity between the two of them, something I'm glad for; Oliver needs more genuine friends besides Tommy Merlyn.
However, it's the second of the two that actually brings a smile to my face. On the other side of Oliver walks a blonde woman, hair pulled up into a ponytail that swings as she speed-walks in order to catch up with her two companions, the heels she adorns making it slightly difficult. Everything about her makes me want to smile, from her bright orange dress to bubblegum lips, and fuchsia fingertips.
The trio stop in their tracks just a few feet away from me, enough for me to hear the dark-skinned man tell his friends, "Hey, do you two mind if I catch up with you in Starling? I have a friend here that I haven't seen in a long time."
Oliver nods at his friend wordlessly, and doesn't see his blonde companion 's hesitation and nervousness.
The other man does though, and he wraps his arms around the girl, "See you soon Felicity."
Felicity. What a beautiful name for a lovely girl.
And soon, it is only Oliver and Felicity (is it just me or do their names sound perfect together?) that is left, the former resuming his mindless stare onto the ground and the latter looking at anywhere but the man beside her, fingertips playing with the tablet in her hands.
Felicity clears her throat, "I...um...found some information on the name you needed." She trails off unsurely, and I frown at the thought that such a bright and lively girl seems so timid.
I found the reason for it when Oliver gruffly nods and curtly says, "Tell me when we get home."
She nods silently, slowing her pace down a bit so that she's not shoulder-to-shoulder with Oliver, putting some distance between them, confirming my doubts that Diggle was the icebreaker in the relationship. They walk closer towards me and I spot Felicity stop at the shoe shop, probably staring at the beautiful red heels that I had also drooled over when I passed it.
When he realizes that his friend isn't following him, Oliver turns around, calling for her, "Felicity, what's wrong?"
She spares one last look at the shoes and smiles at Oliver, shaking her head to his oblivious self, "Nothing. Nothing. You know...just things in here. A lot of things in here." Her index finger circles around the crown of her head and I can spot the tiny smile on Oliver's face before the breeze swipes it away faster than it came.
And as they come to a stop at a black van pulled over right in front of me, as Oliver gets into the driver's seat and Felicity gets into the back, I think, with absolute sorrow, that this is the Oliver that the island created.
It's ironic, to think of it that way. All my life, I had spent hearing from Laurel and Quentin every day that "Oliver needs to grow up," "That Queen kid better grow a pair soon before I shoot him." and now here he is, grown up, mature, and so very sad.
I suppose that was the problem. Laurel, was so determined to help Oliver 'grow up' that she thought the best way of doing that was to make him do things that will somehow push his growth. The only thing that did was make him cling on to who he was harder and drift further away from her. It was what inevitably caused him to take my youngest daughter on a boat and die. Laurel was so desperate to be with the Oliver that was mature, responsible and grown up, that she wasn't willing to settle for Ollie.
And within a single second, within a single boat ride, Ollie was murdered and replaced by this new man.
It makes me wonder what would have happened if someone, anyone, stayed with the boy and let him grow and thrive and accepted him for who he was, patiently waiting for him to grow up on his own terms.
Makes me wonder who is going to stay with this Oliver, waiting for him to break out of his shell and his dark cloud, staying with him through his worse today and accepting the person he will become tomorrow.
...
"Thank you, for waiting so patiently," I tell the father-daughter duo in front of me, handing them their well-earned tickets and watching as the little girl clings onto her father's arm, her brunette pigtails flying in the air as she skips towards the elevator, presumably to the dinosaur exhibition, if her t-shirt was any indication.
I enjoy volunteering at Central City Museum; have been for two years now. While on most days I'm leading the tours and teaching kids, adults, and adolescents, today I've decided to lay it back a little and do some front desk work, simple ticket printing and location directing.
Rachel, the events coordinator taps my shoulder to gather my attention, "We need more pamphlets," She tells me, looking slightly guilty for asking me.
I smile at her before bending down to the lower cupboard and shifting through the stacks of papers to find the remaining pamphlets I know I placed in here before closing yesterday.
Rachel taps my shoulders again, this time faster, with much more urgency and enthusiasm, "Oh my God, Dinah, It's Oliver Queen!" She squeals in a high-pitched voice.
I shoot up from the ground in an instant, but not for the reason that most of the viewers and workers in the museum are staring at Oliver for.
No, I shoot up because I haven't seen him in a year. I haven't seen him since he lost his best friend, his mother went to prison, and he inherited the family company. I haven't seen him since that one time in Central City, where his eyes were dead, posture haunted, and no happiness in his stance. Haven't seen him since the day I watched him and the timid blonde-haired woman skitter around each other uncomfortably, not sure what to do in each other's presence without the bodyguard with them.
He walks through the door in a tailored business suit, something I faintly remember he wouldn't wear unless his mother and father had to force him into it. But he walks through the doors wearing a tailored business suit, and I notice, with a light feeling in my chest, that his eyes aren't dead anymore. His posture has a purpose. His being radiates a smile. No, he's not perfect; there is still darkness in his eyes, he is still tense, and the aura of lifelessness still surrounds him. But he seems so much lighter, so much happier, eyes so much brighter, and it's only when Rachel moves to the right and clears my view that I see why.
His eyes, focus, attention; his entire being is fixated on the rambling blonde woman beside him. The same blonde woman that I saw with him the last time in Central City, over a year ago.
She's talking a mile a minute, if her fast-paced mouth is any indication, and he's looking at her as if she's hanging the stars and moon in the sky. There's a small smile that graces his lips, and his head tilts in a way that specifies fascination.
They walk over to the painting hanging on the wall nearest to me, and the woman, whose name I don't remember, turns to Oliver and exclaims,
"What are we doing here?"
Oliver's gaze doesn't leave the painting and he shrugs to downplay his gift, "You rambled about the new museum a couple months ago. Thought we should visit it since we're here anyway."
She tilts her head slightly, her eyes never wavering away from Oliver, "I didn't think you'd..."
Oliver's eyes leave the painting and pierce hers, "I always listen to your rambles, Felicity."
Felicity. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl!
They stay like that for a moment, just staring at each other, a sense of peace enveloping Oliver, the kind of peace that I haven't sensed around him since he came back from the island. Then Felicity clears her throat and smiles playfully,
"You're going to regret it one day when I say something embarrassing and insult your face or something. Not that there is anything to insult about your face, it's a really pretty face...everyone thinks so, it's not just me, I'm not trying to come on to you or anything," She closes her eyes and counts down from three.
It's because her eyes are closed that she doesn't notice how big Oliver's grin has gotten, big enough to almost pass for an actual smile.
He bumps shoulders with her gently, "Keep going. You were complimenting my face."
I'm trying to wrap my head around that fact that this is the same man Laurel called and told me about, the man who shied away from touch and flinched when receiving it. The same man who huffs out a slight chuckle when Felicity slaps his chest lightly, "Shut up, Oliver."
She then grabs onto his hand and tugs him towards the elevator, and he willingly obliges. And it's only because I'm focusing so intently on her that I see the way her eyes flicker to the right to gaze upon the painting of a green emerald for one millisecond before she looks away and resumes her trek to the upper floor, Oliver letting her drag him along.
Half an hour later, and I'm back down at the cupboards, stacking the new copies of the pamphlets at the front of the space so that it will be easier to find next time. A familiar clearing of a throat interrupts my work, and I shoot up just as Oliver says, "Excuse m...Ms. Lance?"
He seems shocked to see me, but I just pleasantly smile at him, noticing with glee that the bags in his eyes aren't as prominent and his cheeks aren't that sunken anymore. "Oliver!"
"You work here?" He asks curiously, looking behind me.
I bob my head from one side to the other, "More so volunteer. How can I help you?"
He puts his hands in his pockets, fishing for something as he says, "I want to buy a painting actually," I know which one he's talking about even before he points to the one of a kind painting of the large emerald, surrounded by so many different shades of green.
I smile and nod at him, "Sure, that'll..." I trail off when he hands me his credit card before learning the price, and I note that this used to be Oliver years ago, with booze and drugs and cars rather than a thoughtful gift for a girlfriend, "...be $5000"
I swipe the card, and page one of the workers, who rush down after hearing Oliver's name and make a quick work of removing and packaging the art.
As we wait, I ask him, "Where's your girlfriend?"
His eyes widen with surprise and...longing, "Felicity is in the car, I wanted to surprise her. And she's not my girlfriend. She's my...she's..." He struggles with his words and I pat his hands gently, not missing the way he answered where she was first before correcting my thoughts on their relationship.
"It's okay. Some relationships are hard to define. She works for you at Queen Consolidated right?"
He nods in affirmation, "She works with me. I can't do any of it without her," And while we're talking about QC, I can't help but feel that he's talking about so much more.
The painting reaches his hands and he smiles at me one more time, "Thank you, Ms. Lance."
And as he's walking away, I call out for him, needing to say something, "Oliver," He turns around, "I'm happy for you."
He confusedly smiles, before walking to his car, which is parked in front of the Museum entrance, and I watch as Felicity rolls her windows down from her seat in the front, curiously glancing at the covered painting in Oliver's hands before they drive away, probably talking about a million things.
And it hits me at how different, but similar the two of them are; how much they've grown over the past year.
Oliver who was cold and distant, unable to exist comfortably around Felicity without his bodyguard as a buffer is now taking her to Museums, smiling and teasing her, looking more at peace and comfortable than he does anywhere with anyone. Oliver, who didn't notice her smiling longingly at a pair of shoes for a full on minute last year, notices a quick flick to a painting that lasted a fraction of a second.
Felicity, who seemed so unsure of how to act and what to say around Oliver, keeping her distance from him, walking quietly the last time I saw her is now rambling a mile a minute with Oliver, saying everything on her mind, walking close to him, grabbing onto his arm and mock slapping his chest. Felicity, who didn't feel comfortable going on an hour car ride sitting beside Oliver in the front, now automatically gets into her unofficial spot beside him, rolling down the windows to talk to him even before he climbs on.
They've grown. They've grown together. They've allowed the other person to grow; grow at their own pace, to their own comfort. It's the reason why they're so comfortable around each other, the reason why they can spend so much time together, the reason why Oliver doesn't sag under the pressure of being someone he's not as he used to all those years ago.
Oliver and Felicity allowed each other to grow.
Neither of them realized that during their growth, they've also grown to fall in love with each other.
"A LOVER DOESN'T DISCOURAGE YOUR GROWTH. A LOVER SAYS, "I SEE WHO YOU ARE TODAY, I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE WHO YOU BECOME TOMORROW" –DONTE COLLINS
Dinah Lance knows that the reason why Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak love each other so much is because they are willing to grow with each other.