It took me forever—again. I apologize—again. I hope you enjoy the chapter despite the delay [and I hope you still remember where we left off].

Albiona,
thank you for helping me with that brilliant brain of yours. You make me better.

Happy reading. Love, Jules


It's a long story

It was a close-up moment. The urgency in Felicity's voice, the way her eyes drilled into her mother as she pressed out the words, "They will be." In movies that would call for a close-up of Felicity's face looking… tense, intense.

Oliver didn't know where the thought came from. It wasn't exactly reasonable or helpful, but he couldn't help but feel like he was living a movie moment. He had seen stuff like that unfold on the big and the small screen—but such things didn't happen to him. It couldn't be real, speeding across town, fleeing from danger, adrenaline drowning out the fear that was still tugging at the edge of his consciousness. It so felt surreal.

Really, this shouldn't be his reality.

But it was.

The close-up-worthy expression on Felicity's face, the way her words hung in the air drove the knowledge home. They were in danger. A madman with super-strength had come after them with a vengeance, because the guy was… mad… at Felicity. The details were a little fuzzy. Oliver thought he knew the gist, but there were still a lot of open questions.

The way Felicity measured her breathing, the tension in her shoulders, and the intensity in her eyes told Oliver that now wasn't the right time to ask any of them. His girlfriend needed a moment, and he needed to give her what she needed.

He looked around the squared room they stood in, high up at the top of the clock tower. Each of the four walls contained a round stained glass window. The colorful pieces formed Latin numbers, circling the window, creating the clock face. The hands on the outside stood still, rooted at ten minutes to five, which was only logical since the clock tower didn't house any gears or machinery. The room was bare apart from a metal trunk and a sleeping bag. The colored glass let the city glow in, creating a much more peaceful and beautiful atmosphere than was fitting their current situation.

Oliver turned to Felicity, still standing by the hatch she had just shut. "You have a computer?"

His voice snapped her back to the present. "Yes." She walked to the trunk, entered the number combination, and opened its lid.

Oliver stepped closer. The trunk was crammed with stuff. Oliver saw clothes and wigs. As Felicity dug through the contents, he saw guns, bows, and a green suit that looked like the one back at the Factory. He saw different currencies stacked in bundles and a pile of what looked like passports held by a rubber band.

His girlfriend could become somebody else within moments and vanish.

The thought hit him suddenly, unprepared, sending a cold shiver through him.

"Wow," Donna breathed from Oliver's side, "that's very James Bond."

"I was thinking The Bourne Identity."

The words left Oliver's lips before he could stop them. Looking down at his crouching girlfriend, he told himself that Bourne was a better comparison. The original Bourne, Matt Damon's Bourne, had let that German girl in on his secrets, just like Felicity had invited him into her vigilante work, and now her safe house. She trusted him; there wasn't a better way to show him that. Oliver should do the same. He did. He trusted her. He believed that she wouldn't disappear into the night wearing a black wig and a fake name.

Felicity—probably oblivious to Oliver's line of thought—ignored both of them and instead retrieved a laptop from the bottom of the trunk. "Here," she handed it to Oliver. "It's never been on the internet. I hope it'll do."

"Let me have a look." He lifted its lid.

"I also have burner phones." Felicity said, rising. "In case you need them for… whatever. And I know you'll chide me, but the laptop's password is 141."

He didn't lecture her for using a three digit security pin, because this wasn't the time to discuss something they had already thoroughly discussed (as in: he had talked and she had listened—or, apparently, not listened), but he did send her a pointed look. She couldn't be serious about choosing the same three digit security pin she had originally used in the Factory.

"Oh," Donna's voice quivered with emotion. "You still use that code?"

Felicity nodded and Oliver's pointed glare faltered. His vigilante-girlfriend was such a huge softie, placing meaning to the littlest thing and throwing all strategy and caution into the wind for it. Whatever that number meant, it was important to both Smoak women and Oliver couldn't be angry at Felicity for that.

He placed his attention back on the laptop and entered the code. The desktop appeared quickly, showing the standard Windows backdrop because Felicity Smoak didn't care about personalizing hard- or software. But it had power. That was good. Glancing up at Felicity, he said, "Let me have one of the burner phones. Maybe I can access this area's security cameras with it."

"God," Donna breathed. "My grandkids will be genius ninja babies." Her eyes snapped between the two other people. "I'll babysit anytime. I can handle smart ninjas."

Oliver felt his face heat and, unable to come up with a single appropriate reaction, simply took the box with the phone Felicity held out to him and sat down on the floor with his back to a wall. Avoiding the two women, he stared at the screen and accessed the system searching for the safest way to enter the dark net.

He focused on that, acting as if Donna's last statement hadn't happened. It was too outrageous to even acknowledge. Felicity and he weren't there yet—actually, they weren't anywhere close to approaching that, not with a ten-foot pole. Their relationship wasn't anywhere near babies—whether they were smart ninjas or babbling Trekkies.

Right now, they were in danger due to reasons he didn't entirely grasp because his babbling ninja hadn't confided in him yet. Right now, the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he was all over the place, and he needed to concentrate on doing his part to get them out of this mess. Once they were someplace safe, or safer, he could freak out about his girlfriend's mother talking about babies.

But, again, he wasn't there yet.

"When do you think they'll be here?" Donna asked, sounding like she was struggling to keep calm.

"I don't know," Felicity answered.

A moment of silence followed, only filled with Oliver's typing and the buzzing of the laptop, which grew louder as Oliver opening a backdoor to the Factory's servers used the CPU's full power.

Donna said, "What would you be doing if you were Sara?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, Mom, I don't know!"

Oliver raised his eyes from the code scrolling down the screen. Mother and daughter stood opposite one another next to the metal trunk. Tension was rising between them and Oliver could see Felicity struggling to restrain herself. Bringing space between them, Felicity took a step backward. There was an audible edge in her voice. "I know you're worried, Mom. I know. I am, too. But telling you my strategies won't give you any insight to what Sara's doing."

"I just…." Donna's shoulders dropped. "I am close to a breakdown, Felicity. I know that's not helping and you don't need that. Hell, I don't need that. I'm really pulling myself together here. You need to give me something to do or I'll freak."

"Well, you can't babysit ninja babies, obviously." A jerk travelled through Felicity. "I mean you could. Theoretically. You'd be able to do that. But you can't. Literally. Because there are none." Her eyes snapped to Oliver and back to her mother. "I can't believe my brain latched on to that when I have so many better things to worry about."

"I think that's why your brain latched on to it." Donna reasoned, still sounding close to a freak-out. "I think that's why I said it." She sighed, maybe to calm herself down.

"Felicity," Oliver dared to cut into the women's conversation, "the numbers I told you… 57.2, right?"

"57.21," she corrected and jumped on the distraction. "What do you need them for?"

"It's the frequency their trackers operated on," he told her, already punching in the numbers. It took a second because the remote access to their main server wasn't as perfect as he liked, but then he nodded, relieved, "It's offline."

"Good new—" Felicity didn't finish. Instead, her whole body went rigid for the barest moment—then she was moving, reaching into the still opened trunk. In that tense, no-nonsense tone she had adopted in the last hour, she said, "Stay where you are."

It was different from her usual Arrow-voice, holding a different intensity that Oliver couldn't quite name and that worried him. For the first time since he had found out Felicity Smoak's secret identity, she didn't seem to be in complete control. Yes, she had brought them here, losing their pursuers along the way, directing them past security cameras, keeping them calm. But ever since they had entered this hideout high above the city, Felicity's calm seemed to have slipped a little—and that was worrying. The Arrow's calm didn't slip.

Maybe, Oliver realized as he got up from the ground and watched her position herself with a gun, Felicity and Donna had that in common. Neither seemed to be good at having nothing to do or too much time to think. Standing next to the hatch, Felicity looked collected again, in control, her hand steady, the barrel of the gun aiming at the ground.

It was an unfamiliar sight, Felicity with a gun. With the purple dress and the high heels it was also a kind of sexy sight—a realization that stunned Oliver. He would've never thought he'd be into anything like that. Pushing that inappropriate thought away, he wondered why she chose the gun over the bow.

The contemplation (inappropriate and appropriate) fled from his mind as he heard what had alerted Felicity at least thirty seconds ago. Somebody was coming up the stairs. The sound of multiple footsteps on old wood came from behind the wooden barrier in such a steady tact that Oliver was instantly sure that they didn't belong to attackers. Relief flooded him. Sara, her dad, her girlfriend. He was sure it was them.

Felicity didn't relax. Her muscles stayed tense, the grip on the gun tight. A knock sounded and then, "Felicity, let us in, damn it. It's dark in here."

A huff of air escaped Donna Smoak-Lance. She brought her shaking hands to her forehead while Felicity lowered the gun and slid the hook out of the way to open the hatch. Sara Lance climbed up first, followed by her father. Donna threw herself at her husband, who wrapped his arms around her. Donna mumbled something into his neck and he tightened his grip, turning his head to kiss her temple.

Nyssa entered last and relocked the hatch. A serene expression on her face, she surveyed her surroundings and, to Oliver's utter surprise, moved to stand next to him. She was doing what Oliver had chosen to do when he had entered this… attic, give her girlfriend space. But Nyssa never took her eyes off Sara, watching as the blonde marched to Felicity, who had retreated to a colorful patch of light next to her trunk.

"Felicity," Sara said with an edge in her voice that sounded so very much like the strange tone that had crept into Felicity's. "I need a minute."

Nyssa inhaled deeply, but stayed otherwise immobile and silent next to Oliver.

"You can have your minute in a minute," Felicity countered and looked at her boyfriend. "Is the frequency still inactive?"

Oliver glanced down at the laptop in his hands. "Yes," he confirmed. "Very much offline."

"We found the tracker," Sara countered, calmly. "On dad and his car. We're good."

"You're sure nobody followed you?"

Sara looked ready to strangle her stepsister. "Fe!" she snapped and managed to pack offense, rebuke, and a demand into that one syllable.

Felicity sighed. "Fine." She steeled herself—why and for what, Oliver didn't have the slightest idea. "One minute."

The last statement felt like a green light to Sara, whose calm evaporated in a heartbeat. Taking a step toward her childhood friend, she snapped, "What the FUCK!"

Oliver flinched. His grip on the laptop tightened involuntarily. He had never seen her lose her cool like that. That wasn't the Sara Lance he knew, and the un-expectancy of it threw him.

Sara's sole attention was on Felicity. "How is he alive!?" It was demand called out into the bare room crammed with people. Sara obviously didn't expect an answer. Instead, she continued, "He's supposed to be dead! How is he not dead?!"

Felicity's calm was wavering, too, the quiver in her voice proved it. "I don't know. He should be dead."

"Should be?!" Sara snapped.

"Well," Felicity retorted, volume steadily rising with each word, "I really thought an arrow in his eye did the trick. Plus drowning. After an EXPLOSION."

"I remember the explosion, believe me," Sara shot back while Felicity tried to compose herself.

Once more silence took over, settling heavily on the assembled people.

"Look at it this way," Felicity said, calmer, "at least we know what doesn't kill him."

"He's hopped up on Mirakuru. I'm not sure a bazooka will kill him," Sara retorted.

"That's okay." Felicity shrugged. "I don't have a bazooka anyways."

Sara looked ready to slap her but her father interceded. "That's enough!" Quentin snapped. His arm protectively around Donna, he looked at the two blondes standing opposite one another. "Tell us what's happening. Who's Slade Wilson?"

Oliver could practically see Sara pull herself together, getting over her one minute freak-out. The level-headed woman he had come to know returned. She looked at Felicity and a wordless conversation followed. It ended with both of them facing the other people present and Felicity answering, "He was my mentor on the island."

"That man?" Donna sounded confused. "He promised to kill everyone you love."

"Yeah, we kind of… had a falling out?" That felt like the ultimate understatement. "It's a long story."

"Give us the short version," Quentin demanded.

Again, Felicity and Sara shared a long look. Again, it was Felicity speaking up, avoiding everybody's eyes. "On the island…." She trailed off, swallowed, started anew. "During the first year, I was there alone, without Sara. I had three… allies who taught me things. Slade was one of them." She hesitated but made herself continue. "There was also Shado. She was the first person who taught me how to use a bow. She was… forced to work with the soldiers I told you about, because they'd captured her son… Yao Fei."

Hearing the male name and the way Felicity's voice broke saying it sent a stab through Oliver. He had heard of Yao Fei for the first time tonight, the boyfriend Felicity had on the island, the boyfriend who was dead but who was apparently still important to Felicity. The way her tongue curled around the name was proof. Oliver hated the sudden surge of something that wasn't jealousy (it wasn't) and uneasiness (it really wasn't), because Oliver had believed his own name to be the only one Felicity caressed like that.

"Shado was an amazing woman," Felicity continued, a fond but incredibly sad smile playing around her lips. "She double-… actually, I think she triple-crossed the soldiers but, ultimately, she… was killed."

"That was before I came to the island," Sara picked up the tale, giving Felicity the chance to take a deep breath. "When I joined them, Shado was already dead and they had freed Yao Fei. He continued what his mother had started and trained Felicity."

"Okay," Quentin said slowly, "and what does Wilson have to do with all of that?"

"He loved Shado—and Yao," Felicity answered. "He treated Yao like his own son. Even though the age difference was off. But, yeah, paternal feelings and all that."

"You and Yao… were together?" Donna asked and Oliver could feel her eyes snap to him. He didn't react to it, couldn't react to it as he stared at his girlfriend, watching her nod.

"For a while…. Not long." Felicity's voice was barely audible. "It was just after Ray, and I was reboun—" She swallowed heavily, not finishing that word. "It really wasn't my finest moment." Felicity still avoided Oliver's eyes. Instead she said, "The scientist we told you around, the one who rescued Sara from the water, came to the island because he was trying to create super soldiers."

Oliver could feel Nyssa tense next to him. It was the barest flexing of her shoulders but he noticed, even though the vast majority of his attention was on Felicity and Sara. They stood next to each other, more uncomfortable than he had ever seen them.

Sara's voice was small as she continued the story. "He heard a rumor about something called Mirakuru. It was invented by the Chinese during World War II. The key to recreating it was supposed to be on the island." After a heavy pause, she added, "It was."

Felicity stared at the clock face window behind her mother and her stepdad, and Oliver was sure that only pure willpower kept her voice steady. "Stuff happened and Slade got injured. Badly. He was dying and he was… a friend. So, I injected him with Mirakuru—to save him."

"I have a hole in my wall that says he did survive," Quentin stated gruffly. "So, you injected him and he turned into—what?! Superman?"

"No," Felicity corrected. "Superman's a good guy. Slade stopped being good—or rational, or sane—after he got injected. And I'm pretty sure Slade doesn't have laser eyes." She blinked. "God," she breathed. "I really hope he doesn't have laser eyes."

"The Mirakuru made Slade violent," Sara brought them back to topic. "He completely lost it when he found out that Yao Fei was died because…." She shook her head, starting anew. "Ivo… that scientist was a sick bastard. He was mad I ran away from him and he captured us—Felicity, Yao, and me. He made Felicity… choose between Yao and me, made her decide who lived and who died, threatening to kill both of us if she didn't." Sara's eyes landed on Oliver. "It wasn't like Slade said. Felicity didn't kill Yao. Ivo just…." Her gaze wandered to her father and his wife. "When Felicity refused to choose, he aimed at me and Felicity dove in front of me. She saved my life. Ivo shot Yao. Ivo shot him."

Oliver sensed that the last sentence, said with such intensity, was mainly meant for Felicity. But she didn't react to it. She stared ahead—measuredly blowing air out through her lips to keep from crying, clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking. Oliver's heart ached for her. She looked so vulnerable, more than she ever had before. Oliver could practically feel the guilt tearing at her, the shame weighing her down. The urge to cross the gap separating them and wrap her in his embrace was overwhelming, but he couldn't do that now. Not when Felicity was so on edge, when she was grasping at the remands of her self-restraint.

When Sara needed a minute, she used it to freak out. Felicity always used her minute to keep all her emotions in.

He wished she'd just let go, let it all out, but he understood why she couldn't do that in this situation, why even the freaking out had to be restrained.

Donna Smoak-Lance sniveled, tears trailed down her cheeks. Oliver couldn't even imagine what the mother was thinking about this revelation, how the father next to her felt about his daughter staring down the barrel of a gun aimed by somebody who sounded like a sadistic lunatic. The image playing in front of Oliver's inner eye turned his heart heavy: two people on the ground, facing death; Felicity diving in front of Sara, sentencing a faceless man (Oliver didn't dare imagine him) to death. It might not have been like that—but however it had been, it had been horrible. The trauma of it was written all over the women's faces.

Quentin's voice sounded strangely coated, too, when he said, "I take it Slade didn't approve of your choice."

"We didn't tell him right away," Sara confessed. "I told Felicity not to. Ultimately, Ivo told him—and, yes, Slade lost it."

"He was after us," Felicity said, her voice surprisingly strong. "We had to do something about it—which was why we sent a torpedo at the freighter Slade was on…." She hesitated before adding an explanation, "The torpedo that hurt Sara." She exhaled strongly. "And that's why he hates us—hates meme. He wants to avenge Yao's death. And Slade believes in an eye for an eye—maybe even literally." She straightened up, squaring her shoulders, lifting her chin. "Now that you know the whole horrible story, we need to focus on how to keep you safe." She turned to Sara. "Your safe house's out of town, right? We'll get them ther—"

"No!" Quentin snapped. "I will not leave town. That lunatic's threatening my family and I don't care if he's got super powers, I won't let that slide—and I won't run."

"Quentin—" It sounded like the biggest sigh possible was lodged in Felicity's throat.

"No! Not 'Quentin,'" the detective shot back. "I'm not letting my girls fight this alone."

The sentence hung in the air and Oliver saw the reaction it had on the two stepsisters, saw them pause and Sara's face soften. Felicity took another moment before she said, quietly, steadily, "That's the thing. We can't fight him. That first time I survived by dumb luck. When the torpedo hit, he got trapped under a beam and couldn't move."

"What?" Donna frowned. "I thought he was super strong. Why didn't he just lift the beam?"

"Like I said: dumb luck. I don't know if I can count on getting lucky again." Oliver knew the jerk was coming one second before it happened—and that was oddly comforting, the jerk and anticipating it. "Getting lucky as in having luck, of course." He smiled dimly, despite the situation.

"There's a way to help your luck," Nyssa stated. All eyes snapped to her in surprise. The black-haired woman didn't seem fazed at all. "A.R.G.U.S. has a cure."

Sara inhaled sharply, but Felicity simply shook her head, her blonde hair flowing around her face. "There isn't a cure for Mirakuru."

"There is." Nyssa fixed on her girlfriend. "Tell her."

"There… is," Sara repeated. Felicity crossed her arms in front of her chest and Sara took the hint to continue, explaining quietly. "I told Waller, the head of A.R.G.U.S., about the effects of Mirakuru—it was my ticket in. I didn't know that she'd go to Lian Yu, get a sample, and try to recreate it. Back then, I didn't know her and what she was capable of." Her eyes snapped to Nyssa. "I didn't know she'd try to find a cure."

"She did." Nyssa sounded completely unaffected—Oliver was a little thrown by, and a little jealous at, her impenetrable serenity. "And she did find it. That's why she sent Jenkins and his squad of imbeciles after you."

"I gave her the Mirakuru!" Sara pressed out.

Oliver couldn't exactly follow what the women were talking about anymore, but understanding dawned on Felicity face. "That's your leverage!" she rushed out. "You took the Mirakuru sample."

"Yes! I took that and all the synthesized Mirakuru A.R.G.U.S. had."

"You can trade it for the cure," Nyssa suggested. "It levels the playfield. It gives us a chance to defeat Wilson."

"It gives Waller, the fork-tongued demon-witch, access to a powerful drug," Sara argued, addressing Nyssa. "You know her. She's dead-set on creating her own army of super soldiers. I have enough on my conscious. I don't need that, too."

"I agree," Quentin cut in as Donna nodded along.

Felicity didn't agree, at least not entirely. Oliver could tell from the way her tongue flicked over her lower lip. He could practically feel the war raging inside his girlfriend, weighing the needs of the few she loved and the needs of the faceless many. She was fighting against her selfish longings and for what she believed was the right thing to do. Felicity didn't want to be that person anymore, putting others in danger because it suited her, but Felicity was also a person who'd do anything to keep the people she cared about safe. She pressed her lips together, aggravated.

"Felicity," Oliver dared to speak up for the first time. "We'll find another way."

"I don't see one," Felicity confessed, her sad and guilty eyes rushing over Oliver. "Slade's after us, after you, all of you—and our time's limited. We don't have the time or resources to come up with our own cure—not to mention that I flunked biology."

"Just because Sara hands over the samples doesn't mean that A.R.G.U.S. gets to keep and use them," Oliver reasoned.

Sara sighed. "Oliver, banking on stealing it back is a huge risk. We might not get in. We most likely won't get in. And even if we do…." Her eyes traveled to her girlfriend. "She'll blame you, because you're with me. You know Waller. You know what she'll do. Faced with that, death's the best option."

"The only one breaking in will be me." Oliver was center of attention instantly, but the stunned eyes pinning him down didn't faze him. This, he knew. He knew what he was talking about and he was all confidence. "Computers are controlling everything. Changing the temperature of a freezer—or however those samples are stored—is a piece of cake."

"This is A.R.G.U.S. we're talking about," Nyssa reminded, for the first time sounding somewhat offended. "The cyber security of their facilities is excellent."

"I can get in," Oliver stated, unwaveringly. His eyes searched and found Felicity's. "I got this."

Felicity's gaze locked with his. She appraised him shortly and then gave a nod. "He's got this."

"Sorry, Fe," Sara crossed her arms over her chest. "I know Oliver's good, but that's just cocky. He—"

"Sara," Felicity said, cuttingly. "You know Oliver—and you know he doesn't go around bragging about his skills. You know if he says he can hack A.R.G.U.S., he can hack A.R.G.U.S." Her eyes landed on Nyssa. "But Sara is right: they'll suspect you're in on this once the samples are destroyed."

"Yes," Nyssa nodded. "I am ready to accept that."

Oliver knew what Felicity would say next. She'd object to Nyssa putting herself in danger to correct a wrong Felicity blamed herself for. But Felicity never got to voice it, because Nyssa continued, "It's the best plan and I am willing to do my part. I am done with A.R.G.U.S. anyway. It holds no appeal to me without my beloved."

Tall and proud, Nyssa stood next to Oliver, projecting an air of unshakeable ease, confidence, and determination. She had made up her mind. She was stating facts, telling everybody in unmistakable terms that she was willing to face danger because she loved Sara—that she had made her decision. Everybody in the room knew it. Still, hesitancy was in the air. Everybody knew Nyssa was ready to take the risk, but nobody wanted her to actually do it.

"Okay." To everybody's surprise it was Sara agreeing. "It's your life. Your decision." The familiar phrasing rang in Oliver's ears, but he didn't get to really analyze it as Sara continued. "I don't have a better idea. Trying to cure Slade's our best shot. But I need us to make plans to extract you from A.R.G.U.S. before Oliver destroys the sample. And we need to make sure that sample gets destroyed—even if it means we have to blow A.R.G.U.S. up." She fixed Felicity. "Understood?"

"Understood." Felicity paused before admitting, "I wish we had another plan."

"We don't," Sara countered, voice hard and merciless. "Nyssa and I will contact A.R.G.U.S. to arrange an… agreement, a swap." She glanced around the room, lowering her voice. "Can you keep them safe on your own? Here? It's obvious this was never meant to be more than a quick stop to lick wounds and get lost."

"It's all I have," Felicity admitted.

"You should go to my hideout," Nyssa suggested. "It's more comfortable than this."

"Slade couldn't know about that," Sara reasoned. She glanced at her father quickly. "And I think Dad's right. I know you want to get them out of town, but they're safest close to us. We need to stick together."

"Yes." Urgency laced Donna's voice. "You were alone for too long, Felicity. You know Quentin and I are strategic thinkers, and Oliver is, too. We can make a plan together." The pained expression on her daughter's face told clear tales of the upcoming objection, but Donna wouldn't have it. "Felicity Megan Smoak, we will not leave your side and you will stop being difficult."

Inhaling soundly, Felicity glared at her mother.

"Don't try to argue with me on this," Donna stated, unfazed. "You'll lose."

Felicity's face twisted in unhappiness, her muscles flexed—and then all fight left her. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she handed the gun she had held on to all this time to Sara and turned back to trunk. "I have burner phones. Nyssa, I don't have knives."

The black haired woman finally moved, leaving her position next to Oliver. "It's fine," she stated, pointing into the trunk. "That Glock'll do."

Quentin stepped forward. "I need a firearm, too. My service weapon is at home in the safe."

"Seriously," Sara said, taking a burner phone from Felicity, "that's the last time I go to a family dinner unarmed."

Oliver watched the three people grouping around the stash while Felicity handed weapons, phones, and wigs to Sara and Nyssa. To Quentin, she handed a gun not unlike his usual weapon. Oliver's eyes travelled to Donna Smoak-Lance. She, like him, stood a little to the side, left out of these preparations, but he saw the mother's determination as she met his eyes. He understood the message she sent him with a nod: they might not know how to use a gun, but they'd do their part. As much as Felicity longed to keep them safe, it was their job to look after her, too. They'd make sure she was okay, no matter the risk, no matter the cost.