Chapter: 2 - Restoration
Word Count: 6507

Notes: Good morning, all!

I'm absolutely blown away by the response on this fic. Holy crap, Batman! I've been screaming over it since last Friday, and I'm not sure I'll ever stop. Consider me floored and astounded by that. Thank you so much for your awesome response! You guys rock and I always appreciate it. :)

Thanks again be to leviosaphoenix for being an epic beta, and to willowpelt for awesome art.


Wincing as he pulls himself onto a bench in the mess hall that morning, Oliver watches as several people turn and promptly find a seat at another table. To say he hasn't made friends here would be an understatement; they don't like his way of doing things, and the ones who don't hate him are terrified of him. The only people that dare speak to him are Marshal Diggle, who never comes down to the mess hall, and his sister, who has been spending most of her time in K-Science or trailing after the kid with the Kaiju tattoos. (Oliver can see the writing on the wall, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.)

He knew when he signed up for the job that it would be a thankless task, but he didn't take this job for the thanks. Instead, he took it because leaving the Jaeger program was his worst mistake; he missed the Shatterdome and the lousy food and the hangars full of war machines that, if not for the neural link, he would be piloting again. Oliver was certain they wouldn't like him here, but the Jaeger program is starting to lose funding and people are starting to lose hope. He wanted to give them reason to hope again, to continue believing in the Jaeger program and the work they do.

Otherwise, all the sacrifices that they make—the ones that Tommy made—mean nothing.

From across the room, Oliver watches as Thea sits down at a table next to Roy. People are starting to pile in, and they'll no doubt need the space. So instead of sitting alone at the table, he rises from his seat with another wince and takes his tray with him out of the mess hall, heading for the only place that makes sense to eat his breakfast in peace.

He can feel eyes on him as he does so, but it's probably because of the spectacle he made last week when he threw Laurel and Sara into the ring with him. He has more than a few bruises because of it—and possibly a couple of broken ribs—but now the Black Canary is only a trial run away from being out in the field again. They kicked his ass by teaming up most of last week, and now their combat trials are looking better than ever. In Oliver's opinion, that's worth a few broken ribs.

Slowly, he walks out of the mess hall, navigating through the launch bays to the hangar. The only noise comes from the welding and repairs, but otherwise the hangar is predictably quiet. A J-Tech crew works in the background, but they take no notice of the former Ranger. Instead, he takes the elevator up to the third level circling the open space, sitting down against the against the wall. There he's met with one of the best views in the Shatterdome as he watches the J-Tech crew restore the Green Arrow, and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.

He's almost finished with his meal by the time heavy boots start clomping across the floor. Oliver doesn't even bother to look up—it's probably just another J-Tech officer there to oversee restorations. Naturally, he's surprised when the person sits down next to him with a tray. "I see you've found the best view in the Shatterdome," Felicity tells him in a conversational tone. She holds up her hands. "I understand if you just want some peace and quiet, Mr. Queen. I promise I won't bother you."

"Oliver," he corrects automatically, disliking the formality of their conversation. No one calls him Mr. Queen, especially not behind his back. "Mr. Queen was my father, Miss Smoak." He adds truthfully, "And I'm glad for the company."

Felicity snorts as she takes a bite of the apple from her plate. She swallows before declaring, "The only person who calls me 'Miss Smoak' is John—and only when he's pissed. So I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that." She nods toward the emerald Jaeger in front of them. Unlike the others, the tinted glass that forms its eyes isn't yellow or orange; it's black as night. Even dented, sparking from the repairs, and covered in rust stains, it's a sight to behold. "Do you ever miss it?"

Oliver's expression hardens immediately in self-preservation, and she winces. "Oh, God, of course you don't—you've lost three partners." She cringes so hard his face hurts for her. "And you probably didn't need to be reminded of that. Not to mention that you probably didn't want me to come in here and remind you of bad times while you listen to me babble. Which will end in three… two… one."

In spite of the situation, Oliver chuckles under his breath. She seems genuinely surprised by that, but he doesn't dwell on it. Instead, he answers her question. "I miss it everyday," he says in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. Felicity turns to look at him, and louder he continues, "There are certain acts of nature we know we can't fight. If there's a hurricane coming, we have to get out of the way." He turns to stare at the Arrow. "But when you're in a Jaeger, everything changes. Not only can you fight the hurricane, but you can win." Only then does he turn to look at her. "There's nothing like it. It gives you the feeling that you're unstoppable.

"But then something happens," he continues in a softer tone, "and it reminds you that whether you're in a Jaeger or not, you're only human. You can still be injured. You can still die." Oliver hesitates, not wanting to scare her but also unable to leave the thought unfinished. "And when it happens, it's worse.

"But I would do it again." Felicity turns to look at him, her eyes wide as though she's startled. He can't look at her right now, so he stares at the Green Arrow in front of him. "Because no matter what, when you've been in a Jaeger, there's no going back." Now he does look at her. "The only reason I won't go back is because I'd have to link again. Once you link with someone, a part of of them stays with you. When they're gone, it's just an empty space."

Silence lapses between them for a long moment, Felicity electing not to say anything. And how could she, after that sort of statement? A flare of frustration passes through him, aimed at no one but himself. This is the first time anyone has actually tried to carry on a conversation with him in the week he's been here, and he ruins it by talking about unpleasant things.

Knowing he has to be the one to break the silence, he continues, "If I could pilot one by myself, I would be out there right now." He shovels a bite of what he think might be mashed potatoes and gravy Into his mouth before deciding to move to a safer topic. "I heard what you said to Diggle. You want to be a Ranger?"

"No," she corrects firmly, "I am going to be a Ranger." Felicity starts waving her hands wildly as she speaks. "Maybe it's not going to be tomorrow or next week, but I am going to pilot a Jaeger before the world ends." She slams her apple down too hard on the metal tray, and they both startle a little at the sound. "For years I have been designing Jaegers and their weapons. I love my job, Oliver. Don't get me wrong. But I have worked most of my life on the Jaegers and the Drift program and I'd like to see what all the hooplah is about." She winces. "That's a weird word, 'hooplah.' I'm never using that again."

Oliver can't help but wonder how someone can be so passionate and so… inherently charming at the same time. "Digg said you were having trouble finding someone to link with?" he asks, genuinely curious. With a smile he adds, "He said something about it being difficult for people to keep up with you."

Instead of the response he expects, Felicity simply rolls her eyes. "He would say something like that," she grumbles. Apparently Digg is not yet forgiven. "Not being able to link up is just the excuse John is using for now. First it was concern over my simulator scores, but I have seventy-three jumps, seventy-three kills and that's not valid anymore." Oliver's eyebrows shoot up; even he doesn't have a simulator score that high. "When I do manage to get through the combat trials, he'll say that I'm too valuable to go out there in a Jaeger." She waves her hands again. "And while I love John—like a friend, I mean—I don't need him to protect me."

"You sound like a Ranger," is all Oliver says. Instead of answering, Felicity only salutes him with her bottle of orange juice. With a need to fill the silence, he nods to Eureka. "That one seems…" Suddenly words fail him because it seems untested. The other Jaegers have fought Kaiju and won. But Striker Eureka hasn't been in the War. He'd had the same unease the first time he stepped into the Green Arrow.

Fortunately, Felicity seems to understand. "Too shiny?" she asks with a knowing look. "I build mechs, Oliver, not Jaegers. Right now, it's just a piece of machinery. But when they come back with a Kaiju kill, that's when they become Jaegers." She shrugs. "A Jaeger is only as good as its pilots, you know. I've built a lot of good Jaegers over the years, but even the best ones are just metal and clockwork." There's a moment's hesitation before she says, "You and Tommy… you were what made the Green Arrow a legend."

Before he can dwell on it, she waves a blue-painted fingernail in the direction of Eureka. "Have you decided on the pilots yet?" Two men walk into the hangar as she asks, the more charismatic and arrogant of the two saying something about Eureka's gonna be ours. Felicity scowls at them. "And please tell me you're not thinking about those two. Because while Coop is a computer expert, he's already an arrogant ass. Strapping him into a Jaeger would make him more insufferable than he already is."

Smirking, Oliver shakes his head at the Jaeger designer. "I take it you're not a fan," he states. Truthfully, he wasn't much impressed by the pair of Seldon and Forest himself; they didn't mesh as well as they could have. And then the two of them are brains and nothing but: they have no combat training. Their simulator scores weren't very high, either.

"I was once," Felicity admits. "I was a very big fan." The suggestive tone of her voice leaves little room for doubt what she means. "But then I came to my senses. He didn't want me—he wanted my Jaeger designs so that he could work his way up the ladder." She shrugs as she takes another bite of her apple. "We fell in love with the tech first and then with each other. Our connection was intellectual, not emotional." She snorts again. "And it sure as hell wasn't physical."

Oliver tries very hard not to choke on his food at that, and Felicity immediately turns crimson. "That's not what I meant. That kind of stuff is private, and I don't talk about my sex life with anyone, especially someone I just met." Her explanation isn't helping much, either. "What I was trying to say is that there was never that spark of physical attraction."

Deciding that he should avoid this entire section of her conversation like a deadly plague, he responds instead, "They aren't going to be in Eureka." Her brow furrows, and Oliver explains, "They might understand how a Jaeger works, but being a pilot isn't about intelligence or strength. It's about heart." He breathes a humorless laugh, speaking more to the emerald mech than Felicity. "As a Ranger, you put your life on the line to save cities. Normal people don't do that. Heroes do that." He gestures at the two in the hangar, staring up at Eureka. "And those two aren't ready."

It surprises him when her shoulder knocks against his. "You can tell me—who are you interested in sending out into the Breach?" she asks, a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. Before he can answer, she guesses. "It's Nyssa and Isabel, isn't it?" Her perception is uncanny, Oliver can't help but think. "I mean, I know Nyssa is kind of scary because her dad is head of the last independent Shatterdomes—and, well, he's called the 'Demon,' which is kind of ominous. She introduces herself to people as 'Heir to the Demon'—which is terrifying—but she's really not that bad. Isabel is the one that bothers me. Very passive-aggressive."

"Raatko and Rochev would be my ideal choice," he admits slowly.

Again, Felicity somehow manages to read him like an open book. It's actually a little disconcerting in some ways. "But?" she prompts, crunching on her apple. It makes Oliver smile against his better judgment.

"But Raatko has Drifted before with someone else," he answers. The thought makes his stomach drop, reminds him of all of his Drift partners. Bringing baggage into the Drift jeopardizes the neural link—he knows that better than almost anyone, how it messes with the strength of the link. The two are going to be pushing it anyway; they haven't known each other all that long.

With anyone else, he'd have to explain that sentence, but then he's reminded that Felicity helped create the Drift program. "When you link with someone, you link with all the partners they've Drifted with," she states, finishing his thought. She thinks about it for a minute. "But it's different with Nyssa. She's going into the Drift with someone new, sure, but her last partner is still alive." She smiles. "And her and Sara are deliriously happy together. It's not like bringing trauma into the Drift. Happy memories aren't what throw partners out of alignment."

It gives him something to think about, and Oliver ponders it for a moment. Before he can speak again, Felicity adds, "Not to try and influence your decision or anything. You're the master of the Jaeger pilots—I'm just trying to point it out because you seem like you want to pick Nyssa and Isabel and I don't…" Her voice dies off as they open the heart of the Green Arrow, exposing an amber glow. "This is my favorite design plan," she admits in a quiet voice. "They thought I was crazy for putting a double-core nuclear reactor in her and going analog in a digital world. But the flaw of a digital Jaeger has always been that it's susceptible to an EMP. They're harder to control from command, but they're worth it. It makes her one of a kind."

"She always was," Oliver answers, staring at the machine with more than a little awe.

Felicity laughs at him, a bright happy sound. She isn't making fun of him, rather enjoying his genuine appreciation for the machine. Still, it makes him clear his throat and look back to her. "The Gambit and Deathstroke were good Jaegers, but nothing compared to this."

"Well, to be fair," the blonde answers, "the first Jaegers were launched fourteen months after the first attack. It took us two months to come up with a feasible concept design and another year to build the first ones. Queen's Gambit was one of the first to go out. I didn't know what I was doing yet. But back in the days of Mark Ones? She was brilliant. She wasn't Romeo Blue or anything, but—"

"Talking about my Jaeger, Smoak?" a rough voice growls, and Oliver turns to see Quentin Lance heading toward them. He looks more tired and ragged than ever, his hair sticking up at odd angles and bags under his eyes. The man pulls up short when he sees Oliver, and he prepares for the worst.

"Marshal Lance," Oliver greets evenly, waiting for the shoe to drop.

It never comes, though. "I'm not the Marshal anymore, Queen," Lance states in a frosty tone, and it's infinitely more than he expected from the man. "I don't know whether to hit you or thank you for getting my girls ready to go back into the Breach." Oliver braces himself for the punch that he would more than deserve at this point. "As it is," the former Marshal continues instead, "I'll just call us even."

Diffusing the situation, Felicity answers his question. "I was only saying good things, Mr. Lance," she assures him. "I was saying that Romeo Blue was the best Jaeger of the Mark Ones." She nods to its hangar. "It's the only Mark One still used in the War—I think that says something about it and its pilots."

"Yeah, that we're getting too old for this crap," Lance retorts in a dry grumble. Still, Oliver can tell by that slight smile that he has a soft spot for the blonde—something that the former Ranger is beginning to feel himself. "I'm tired of watching good men getting killed in this war. Figured I should put my money where my mouth is and join them." Then he follows Felicity's gaze out to the Green Arrow. "That's a good piece of machinery. It would be better served going into the Breach again, instead of a vault in the middle of nowhere. Shame two good Drifters are hard to find."

Though it pains him to admit it, even to himself, Oliver can't help but agree. As Felicity told him only moments ago, a Jaeger is only a Jaeger when it's in battle. The idea of the Arrow becoming a multi-billion dollar statue troubles him a little, but truthfully, he'd rather see it that way than to see anyone else in the pilot's seats. The idea of someone trying to replace Tommy is unfathomable.

Before he can put much more thought into it than that, a wailing siren roars to life, complete with flashing red lights. Though he knows the call isn't for him, Oliver still feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the sensation of his body gearing up for a fight. He's forgotten the thrill—and how much he enjoys it. Maybe that's the worst part of being a Ranger; just because he stopped linking with someone else doesn't mean a part of him wishes he was. It's a high, an addiction greater than any of the others he experimented with in his youth, before the world went to hell.

Oliver is on his feet in an instant, Felicity scrambling up beside him. Their trays are forgotten in the shuffle, and he can't help but notice that the blonde has an eerie calm about her—the same as any Ranger on the site. "They're playing our song, I guess," she says to no one in particular, watching Lance descend the stairs toward the bay that houses Romeo Blue. The blonde starts to walk off, but then she grabs Oliver's arm. "I'm on comm duty during Kaiju attacks," she informs him. "You should probably come with—maybe you'll be able to come up with some suggestions since we're only going to be running two mechs."

Between the wailing of the alarm, Oliver can barely make out the words Category Four on the broadcast system. Only then does he get a nervous flutter in his stomach as he starts to follow the mech engineer through the corridors. "They're not going to take down a Category Four with two Jaegers," he states, mostly to himself. "Not without losses." The proper formation for a Category Four requires three Jaegers, and there's a reason for it: there's never been a two-Jaeger takedown of a Category Four without casualties. In fact, there's never been a successful two-Jaeger takedown of a Category Four, period.

"Are you always this optimistic?" Felicity snaps back at him. She runs through the halls, not even panting, as though she does this often. "We may not have much to work with, but, like you said, you have to put your life on the line to save cities. What we're doing might not always be effective, but it's all we have."

Oliver remains quiet as they enter the comms center, watching as Felicity powers on the devices with expert hands. A few others enter after a moment, the Marshal himself standing in the background as a man with long hair sits down next to the blonde and listens as she barks highly technical orders at him. Cooper Seldon enters last, going to his station without a word. His hands are shaking, but he doesn't hesitate. Maybe Oliver was wrong; maybe he does have what it takes to be a Ranger, after all.

Clapping the Green Arrow's former pilot on the shoulder, Diggle says, "I'm glad you're here, Oliver. You know as well as I do what happens when you run a two-Jaeger formation on a Category Four." The set of his mouth is grim, but otherwise, the Marshal portrays an oddly calm exterior. No wonder he was selected to fill Lance's shoes. "I was hoping you might have some suggestions."

With the leave from his boss, Oliver turns toward the 3D, holographic map of the Shatterdome and its immediate waters. "Is there any way I can zoom in to see where the launch bays are located?" he asks of no one in particular.

"Mr. Ramon," the Marshall barks in response.

The man with the long black hair rises from his seat, moving the picture around at his will. Unlike Oliver, he seems to know the technology well. The bay doors on the map aren't marked, but the man picks up a holo-pen to point to each in turn. "There are eight launch bays," the J-Tech officer tells him, "and we mark them A through G." He points to the right side of the screen and starts labeling them with the holo-pen. "A is on the far left and G on the far right, going clockwise around the dome." Zooming out, he also indicates, "The Kaiju is about one hundred miles out from us, south by southwest. If he continues at a straight line, that puts him on the side where A through D are located."

Nodding once in thanks, Oliver orders, "Launch Crimson Typhoon through Launch Bay Bravo and make sure she's first." Over the flurry of action in the comm tower, he thinks phonetics may add to the clarity. Miscommunication is the enemy, too. "Typhoon has mostly short-range weapons—she needs to be in the action to be most effective." Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Felicity's smile, and he realizes too late that her knack of referring to Jaegers with a feminine pronoun has caught on. "Romeo Blue has a series of long-range weaponry, such as missiles. She can do just as much damage at a distance. Launch her out of Delta. Lance and Hilton work well in a support role."

There's a pause in the flurry of movement, and the comm officers turn back to the Marshal, waiting for confirmation. While Oliver appreciates that, he doesn't have time for it now. Neither, apparently, does John Diggle. "What are you looking at me for?" he demands of them, and they all turn back to their screens with the orders. "Mr. Queen has piloted four Jaegers and has one of the best records in the Rangers. He has worked alongside both of these mechs and knows what they're capable of. When we're in this room, his command is as good as mine." As he finishes, Digg turns to Oliver, inclining his head as if to promise, I'll back your play.

For a long moment, he has nothing to do but watch as the comm tower crew works efficiently, working as a well-oiled machine. For the most part, it's quiet in the tower, but banging on the door makes Oliver glance toward it. Laurel stands on the other side, and the Marshal himself opens it. "Miss Lance, what are you doing here?" he asks her flatly, laced with the edges of authority. "Your place is in the bunker, with the rest of the Shatterdome's inactive personnel."

"You need another Jaeger out there," she answers, her tone hard. "There's never been a successful two-Jaeger assault on a Category Four, Marshal." Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver can see Felicity's multicolored ponytail swing around, her eyes turning to him. She probably remembers him voicing the same sentiment earlier, though he was a little more optimistic. "You need Sara and me out there if—"

"Miss Lance," Diggle cuts through her, "you have not been cleared for duty." He crosses his arms as she opens her mouth to protest, but something must suggest to her that arguing with the Marshal isn't her best idea. "At this point, we aren't sure if you two wouldn't be another liability in the field yourselves. And there is the small fact that I'd have to answer to your father if anything happened to the two of you." She doesn't move and he adds, "And you are not authorized to be in the tower."

She motions wildly to Oliver before voicing the same thought most of the crew is likely thinking: "Yet he is."

"Mr. Queen is here in his official capacity as a Ranger instructor," Diggle answers in an even tone. "If you would like to give up your pilot status to do the same, we'd be glad to have you here. We'd stand a better chance of winning the war if more former Rangers offered their expertise."

Laurel backs down, but Oliver doesn't expect anything less. No Drift-compatible Jaeger pilot would give up their status to stand in this room or make these calls. Once you've piloted a Jaeger, there's nothing to compare. After a long moment, she leaves with a huff. The former Ranger doesn't blame her; he'd give anything to be a part of the fight, too.

Rangers aren't the kind of people who sit on the sidelines.

The neural links slowly initiate, and Oliver watches the pilots' status monitors come online. Crimson Typhoon: 89.2% alignment, the first reads. The number surprises him; Shado and her father have always done well together. From his own experiences, he knows they've just barely met the minimum link percentage of 87.25%. The number grows stronger with every successful link, and he realizes that it's a miracle they're Drift compatible at all.

The comms start buzzing to life, and it's only then that the former pilot brings himself to full attention. Now is when he'll be needed most, and he sees no point in bothering a tower control team who knows what they're doing. "Crimson Typhoon reporting for duty. What are our orders, Marshal?" Shado's voice asks through the crackling speakers.

"Mr. Queen," Diggle barks, motioning to the mic next to Felicity's station. "This is your playbook, so you're coaching."

With several eyes upon him, Oliver walks up to the mic, adjusting it upward. It's still too short for him to be heard clearly, so he leans forward, his hand on the back of the blonde's chair. She gives him a tight smile in encouragement, but otherwise says nothing. "Crimson Typhoon, this is tower control," he responds. "You're point on this one—permission to engage at close range. Romeo Blue to offer support as needed."

"Affirmative," Shado answers without missing a beat. He's surprised when she adds, "It's good to be working with you again, Oliver." Because she and Yao Fei are linked, he knows the thought came from both of them, and he only hopes he can live up to it.

"Romeo Blue to tower control," Lance's gruff voice barks out. At the same time, their feed comes online. Romeo Blue: 91.9% alignment. Not exactly the best alignment there, either. "Tell me where I need to be, Queen." It's the closest he'll probably get to a show of respect from the former Marshal, and it takes Oliver aback for a moment.

"Tower to Romeo. You're support in this mission," Oliver orders, starting to get comfortable in his new role as command. "Hit it with everything you've got from a distance—rocket launchers, heat seekers. If you've got it, use it when Typhoon is clear."

"Roger that," is Lance's only response.

For a while, the lines are silent, and Oliver paces. It isn't useful, nor does it do the Jaegers any good, but this feels inherently wrong. He shouldn't be sitting in a tower listening to the battle. He should be out there, in the middle of the action, doing something other than sitting around and waiting for the report. One glance at Diggle tells him the Marshal feels the same way, but it doesn't make it any easier to handle.

In fact, it only gets worse as the screams begin. They're chilling across the lines, and everyone in the room pales a few shades. Running to the mic, Oliver demands, "Typhoon, Romeo, report now."

"Tower, this is Romeo," Lance's voice cuts in, his tone somber. "The Kaiju is down, but Typhoon's gonna be out of commission. We're carrying the cockpit back to base, but pilot conditions unknown."

"Tower… this is Typhoon," another voice calls out. Shado. "I'm bleeding but alive." She's quiet for a long moment. "The other side of the cockpit is destroyed. We fell out of alignment when he was hit." She sounds dazed, probably a concussion forming at the very least. "I'm attempting to reach him." She must leave the speaker on because they can hear as she shifts through the rubble of the area. "Father?" she asks quietly into the space. From there, her questions begin in Mandarin, mixed with screaming and crying. Even though she taught him Mandarin years ago, he doesn't need it to know the answer.

Suddenly it's too much, and he can't breathe. It's too hot and he can feel his heart pounding. All he can see for a moment is Tommy, how it felt to have him ripped out of the Green Arrow's cockpit with a scream. He felt it when the Kaiju sank its teeth into Tommy, what it was like for him to die such a horrific death, the giant teeth both impaling him and tearing him apart at the same time—

"Oliver?" a voice calls out gently. He barely can hear Felicity over the roar of his own mind.. There's shouting throughout the control tower, but even that sounds far away, as if he's moving through water. "Oliver, there's a locker room that connects with the tower. It's quiet. I'm going to take you there, okay? Is it okay if I touch you to lead you there?"

Quiet sounds good, so he nods. "I can't—" he manages between breaths. He has no idea what to tell her because all he can see is Tommy, dying over and over and over again. "Can't breathe," is what he finally manages.

"It's okay," she assures him, her hands on his arm as she leads him forward. Oliver can hear her muttering something to someone else, but can't make sense of the words. "There's nothing wrong with being upset. I'll stay with you."

At some point they manage to collapse into the locker room, and the former pilot tries taking deep breaths as he leans against the lockers, but they won't come. Instead of asking questions he doesn't know how to answer, Felicity just talks to him in a quiet voice. "I know we don't really know a lot about each other, but I think that makes it easier to find stories to tell you. I ate a pot brownie when I was in college this one time. I didn't know it was laced, and I guess it would have been fun, but someone used peanut oil and I'm allergic to nuts." The absurdity of the story would make him laugh under different circumstances. Instead, he reaches out to take her hand, and she weaves her fingers between his. "So instead, what happened was…"

It feels like hours, but Oliver closes his eyes and Felicity continues talking to him the whole time, her tone cheerful and calm. At some point, someone else walks in, and soon she's also pressing a wet washcloth to his face while continuing to talk. She doesn't ask him to do anything, instead focusing on the conversation that she's managing to carry by herself.

When the sense of confusion finally subsides, Oliver feels as though he's run a marathon. "Thank you," he says to her, not trusting himself to say anything else. In some ways, he finds it embarrassing; he's supposed to be a Ranger, to be able to keep calm through anything. This is why he shouldn't be back here.

"Of course," is all she answers. He opens an eye, turning his head to study her, and Oliver is relieved not to find pity written over her features. For the most part, Felicity just looks a little concerned.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had Roy come in with a washcloth—I didn't want to leave you like that." Something must show on Oliver's face because she adds, "I thought you might feel comfortable with someone who's more discreet—not that you should be ashamed. I knew he wouldn't say anything, though." In a quiet voice, she explains, "Roy and I shared a room in the bunker during the first Starling City attacks. His parents were killed by the Kaiju when he was ten. He still has nightmares."

She squeezes his hand, and it's only then that Oliver realizes he's still gripping hers like a lifeline. He can't find it in himself to let go, though. "I know you probably don't want to talk right now," Felicity adds, "but if you ever do, I promise to listen. No questions."

"I saw Tommy," he declares with no warning, flinching at the name. "I knew what happened to Yao Fei, and it reminded me of losing Tommy." He turns to the blonde by his side, deciding that he might just have a friend in the Starling City Shatterdome. "It might be harsh, but Shado is lucky she was thrown out of alignment first. Feeling someone die through the link is… horrific."

"We tried the Drifts with one person at first, you know," Felicity answers as he releases hand. "It didn't work." The three words send chills up his spine. Her eyes turn glassy, and he wonders what horrors are playing in her mind. She might never have lost a co-pilot in a neural link, but something tells Oliver that she's seen her fair share of tragedy on a Drift team. "But we needed a way to pilot a Jaeger—something that could be learned quickly and easily. People were dying, so we didn't think about the repercussions.

"I always remember one of my favorite movies from before this mess," Felicity declares out of nowhere. "I don't even remember the name or what it was about—it's been forever since we've had movies. But I remember a line in it: 'You spent so much time thinking about if you could, you never stopped to wonder if you should.'" She turns toward him, angling herself slightly. "That's what we did with the Jaegers and the Drift. We were so focused on trying to build this equipment to save ourselves that we never thought about what trauma it would inflict on our pilots."

Quiet understanding passes between them for a long moment, and neither feels the need to fill the silence. It's an odd kind of quiet, the kind Oliver used to enjoy with Tommy just before going into the Jaeger together. After Drifting together, they had been in each other's minds, and there was nothing left to say. That's how it feels now with Felicity.

"We're down to two functional Jaegers," he comments to her after a moment. "Canary and Romeo are all we have."

With a grim set to her mouth, Felicity nods once. "I have a couple of designs that I'm working on, but they aren't completed yet." She turns to him. "After Green Arrow's success, they wanted to reassign pilots to her." Oliver tenses; he hadn't thought about that, and no way in hell does he want anyone else in his Jaeger. It's probably an irrational thought, but there's just something special about the Arrow.

One corner of the mech designer's mouth quirks up, pointing to his expression. "That was what I said," she agrees. "Only less grr face and more expletives and yelling." He chuckles, the sound odd to his own ears. It's been a long time since he's had anything to chuckle about. "I told them that the success with Green Arrow couldn't be repeated with another set of pilots and that it designed specifically to the two of you, down to the way you two were docked in the cockpit. Remodeling it would cost a fortune." She shrugs. "So I suggested building another one with a few changes—smaller, faster, and a Mark Five."

"Then there's another design Ray helped me with," Felicity continues. "One of the flaws of the Jaegers has always been that they're too heavily armored to have any sort of speed. They're slow and inefficient." She grins at him. "With the exception of the Green Arrow, of course. She's big and fast. My kind of Jaeger." Waving a hand, she goes back to her original point. "Ray and I were talking about it, and he suggested going with a diamond-reinforced metal that's lighter so it can move faster. Short-close range weapons because it can handle them." She grins. "I call her Coyote Tango."

Though he hates the thought, Oliver still admits, "But that won't help us now. We have Romeo Blue and the Black Canary, but that isn't enough to take down a Category Four without casualties." As much as the thought forming at the back of his mind gives him pause, he realizes, "But we have the Green Arrow."

Felicity's lips part, her mouth forming a small O of surprise as she realizes what he's getting at in record time. "You want to get back in the Green Arrow," she declares. If anyone else was speaking, it would be a question, but somehow she understands him with an uncanny amount of insight. Oliver nods once, expecting her immediate protests, but she thinks on it for a long moment, cautious.

Her answer is simple and declarative: "I'll make a list of candidates for your new co-pilot."


Playlist:

"We Don't Have to Dance" - Andy Black
"Earth" - Jesper Kyd
"Pain" - Three Days Grace
"Last of the Wilds" - Nightwish
"Here's to Us" - Halestorm
"You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" - Cher