"It's too early for this. Isn't it too early for this?"

Oliver's wife is a bundle of nerves, which isn't entirely unusual these days. It's not just concern this time, though - agitation underlies every syllable. She taps her fingers against the back of his hand, shaking her head where she stares absently out the window. He can see the thoughts whirling through her mind as she answers herself.

"I don't think she's old enough," she murmurs as the limo pulls to a stop.

He's well aware that pregnancy brings out some of her quirks in full force, and her tendency to spiral into a babble is one of them. He learned a long time ago that sometimes those trains of thought go completely off the rails, and he doesn't always quite follow her trail of logic. But sometimes he does, like right now.

And he's right there with her.

"I didn't think so either." Oliver opens the door before Frank can, stepping out in one smooth motion - as smooth as he can, that is, considering the wear and tear he subjects himself to is starting to take longer and longer to heal from. He scans their surroundings, mentally checking off everything in sight before turning back to her. He offers Felicity a hand out of the car. "But apparently we're wrong."

She's big enough that she grudgingly accepts his aid.

Felicity's carrying their son right up front, and it's thrown her balance off since somewhere around her fourth month. She lets out an aggravated huff as he helps her out, having to pull herself up by gripping the side of the car. While she might occasionally bemoan her size and gripe about the inevitability of stretch marks, he quietly loves it. And he's sure it shows in the soft smile he feels on his face as he wraps his other arm around her waist, steadying her, his hand finding her stomach for a split second.

He does that a lot these days. Sometimes he just needs to touch her - usually her beautifully extended belly - just to make sure.

After those months where everything was so touch-and-go, after she'd spent six days in a coma with a head injury and an unknown poison in her system, after waking up with his own nightmares of what'd happened and watching his daughter do the same, after so much anxiety-ridden waiting on ultrasounds and amniocentesis results…

Having the evidence that his son is still here, right in front of him, it's… It's everything. That he's growing and thriving in spite of what happened, what he's already been through - and not even out of the womb yet…

Well, Oliver simply loves that. How could he not? And the way he shows that is with loving touches and soft words. With long embraces and happy smiles. With nights spent talking to his son while Ellie and her mother fall asleep, the little girl contorted between them so her feet press into his chin where his face is lined up with Felicity's stomach.

It's a miracle, and he damn well is going to touch that miracle and reassure himself that it really happened, as often as possible.

Felicity takes a moment to steady herself. Her grip on his hand is most definitely more than a gesture of affection as she wobbles on her high heels - the ridiculous high heels she insists on wearing while not-quite-eight-months pregnant. He'd made the mistake of suggesting she give them up exactly once. Considering how that'd gone down, he has the sense not to bring it up again. The temptation is still there, although he'd be lying if he didn't admit to loving the way she clings to him for support while pretending she doesn't need it.

He will always, always be there, and he loves that she knows that.

"I mean," Felicity continues, slightly more breathless than a moment ago as she releases her grip on him. She stretches, settling her palm against the swell of her stomach. Oliver's hand automatically drifts to the small of her back where he knows her muscles are over-taxed and hard as a rock. This pregnancy has been hard on both of them - not that Ellie's had been exactly easy either - but Nathaniel, he's… well, his son is a challenge. "What could she possibly have done? Drawn outside the lines?"

Oliver presses his thumb against a solid knot of muscles that's going to require a whole lot more attention than he can offer from the sidewalk in front of Queen Incorporated. "I don't think they call parent-teacher conferences for coloring outside the lines, honey," he says.

A quick blur from the corner of his eye has one hand freezing and the other moving to pull her closer as he looks back…

It's just Frank closing the door behind them. The driver offers him a warm smile, to which Oliver gives a small grateful nod.

"Well then what did she do?" Felicity demands. He meets her gaze, pressing his thumb into the knot again as she starts waving a hand around. "She's three, Oliver. And she's pretty much the best person in the world, so they can take their 'concerns' and shove them where the sun don't shine." That has him huffing out a chuckle, which seems to amp her up more. Her voice rises as she continues, "I'm serious, Oliver! I'm already offended that we're being called in and I don't even know why yet!"

He couldn't hide his smile even if he wanted to as his wife gets fiery and incensed on their daughter's behalf.

"This is ridiculous."

"I know, sweetheart," Oliver says, kissing her temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. It's a move that would usually placate her, at least enough for her to take a deep breath and reel some of the insanity in, but that isn't happening right now. She's in full-on hormonal Mama Bear mode today and as she leans into his lips with a little too much force, he's pretty sure there's nothing he can do to dial that back.

He almost feels bad for Ellie's teacher.

Almost.

"Our daughter is a goddamned angel," Felicity insists, her voice taking on a tone that's usually reserved for one place. She's going to go all CEO on this teacher, he realizes. He can already see it happening. Some of it is probably residual fight, since she'd been in the middle of a hostile and incredibly important meeting with Kord Industries when the daycare had called, but most of it is definitely extreme loyalty to their daughter. She isn't done. "And if this so-called 'teacher' doesn't know that, I think maybe we need to look for another daycare."

"Felicity, we literally own this daycare," Oliver reminds her. "It's QI's daycare. We own about seventy percent of the company, last I heard, and you're the CEO."

"Well, maybe I need to have a look at restructuring."

She says it with an aloofness that he knows she sometimes has at work, but never at home.

"Honey, you can't fire Ellie's preschool teacher," Oliver advises her quietly.

"I'm pretty sure you'll find I can," Felicity replies, with just enough snap that he almost believes her.

"No," he says, and it's the very worst thing to say. Her eyes widen, ire filling them - at him - and he instantly backpedals, holding a hand up in placation. "Ellie loves Miss Susan," he points out. "We were the ones that hired her after you interviewed possibly everyone in the tri-state area who was remotely qualified. She has a doctorate in early childhood development, a masters in childhood psychology and fourteen years of experience."

He leaves out that firing a preschool teacher for being concerned about their three-year-old is a surefire way to kill his reelection campaign. It's already off to a rocky start, he doesn't need the shove into a full-on collapse.

Felicity narrows her eyes, pointing at his face as she says, "That's dirty, using me against me." Poking him in the chest, she turns to make her way towards the office building. It doesn't escape either of their attention that she doesn't storm away from him - she doesn't stray far, keeping him at her side. He follows her lead, his hand still supporting her back. "And you'd think with all that experience that she'd recognize that Ellie is amazing and perfect and that it's totally okay to draw outside the lines." She gestures at him for emphasis. "Drawing outside the lines is a good thing, Oliver. It's a sign of creativity and intelligence."

"How about we see what this is actually about before you start calling HR," Oliver suggests, holding the door open for his wife. "Okay?" She damn near growls under her breath as she steps through the door. He follows, sidling up next to her again. He leans in so only she can hear as he adds, "And maybe keep in mind that she knew she was calling the CEO of the company she works for and the city's mayor for this conference. That had to be difficult for her."

He gets through to her with that. Some of the fight drains away, her shoulders falling slightly. She's too empathetic of a person to not see the truth behind his words. He wonders if she's remembering when she went to Walter all those years ago, with what she'd found out about the Tempest. It's likely, he decides, because she suddenly sighs, and nods with a barely audible, "Yeah."

As they slowly make their way through the lobby, she reaches for the hand resting on her back and twines their fingers together. He misses the feel of her spine against his fingertips, but the soft warmth of her hand is almost as good.

Oliver pulls their joined fingers up to his lips to kiss the inside of her wrist.

It earns him a soft little smile.

No one bats an eye at the display of affection. The QI lobby is filled with the typical post-lunchtime bustle of workers, but everyone's used to their presence at this point. And it's not like he's often not touching his wife when they're in each other's proximity. He'd been blatant before, but now, after everything that'd happened, he finds he's even more tactile, seeking out the reassurance of her skin, her warmth, most of the time without even realizing it until the moment's passed.

She isn't much better, closing the minimal distance between them and leaning over as much as she can without losing the precious little balance she has to rest her head against his shoulder.

He nods to a security guard - Nancy - who gives them an almost maternal smile as she buzzes them through.

"Stop worrying so much," he tells her as they make their way down the hall toward the company's daycare facilities.

That's at the core of his wife's indignation and he knows it. For both of them to be called during the middle of the workday - in the midst of incredibly important meetings at that - and be asked to come in as soon as possible? To be assured that Ellie is perfectly fine and it isn't an actual emergency? Well, that raises more than a few questions.

He's worried, too.

Felicity's shoulders stiffen. "We're parents, Oliver," she replies crisply. "Worrying is part of our job."

She's not wrong. Especially with lives like the ones they lead.

Oliver thought he'd understood fear and worry during his time on the island, when he'd been a pawn for Waller, when he'd turned to the Bratva after escaping her clutches. And that doesn't even touch on what he'd experienced when he'd gotten back to his city, when he'd taken on a mantle with a cost he knew absolutely nothing about.

None of that comes close to the constant gnawing concern and fear that comes along with having a child.

But that's not what she needs to hear right now, so he squeezes her fingers instead as the hallway gives way to the daycare section of QI.

The walls are made to look like Lego blocks, all primary-colored basic shapes that only break for displays of preschool-aged art behind glass. One of the things both of them had been clear about from the beginning was that Ellie was not to receive special treatment just because her mother owns the company that employs both her teachers and all of her classmates' parents. This means her drawings aren't the only pieces displayed on the walls, but it still makes up a good portion of it. Ellie loves to draw, after all, and she can definitely be a show-off.

Oliver knows his daughter is fine. He knows that. It would have been a very different phone call otherwise. There isn't any blood or mortal injury and she isn't missing - thank God. But still, when he catches sight of their three-year-old through the window into her classroom, the knot of worry that's been living in his stomach since he heard Miss Susan on the other side loosens.

He lets out a quick sigh of relief, and it's Felicity's turn to squeeze his hand. He hadn't been hiding it as well as he thought, apparently.

Ellie's fine. She's absolutely fine. She's not crying or hurt or sitting in the time-out chair. She's by herself at a small table, a neon green crayon in hand and a look of fierce determination wrinkling her brow as she chews on her upper lip.

The sight melts his heart. Ellie alone can do that to him. It's different with Felicity, different than it will be with Nate. He knows that. Because Ellie is his little girl, his baby, and their bond has always been unique. It's something he'd never realized he needed until he had it.

Before they reach the classroom door, Felicity asks, "Where are the other kids?"

Oliver starts at that, his eyes flying around the room. She's right. Ellie's the only child in class. It's just her and Miss Susan, who sits nearby with an unreadable expression on her face that doesn't sit right with Oliver. He doesn't care for it, really, especially because it's just them.

His eyes scan the room. Where the hell is everyone else?

The second Oliver pulls open the classroom door, Ellie's head shoots up.

Pure delighted glee covers her face as she cries out, "Daddy! Momma!" Ellie drops her crayon and rushes across the room, launching herself at Oliver's legs. She wraps herself around one of them with an excited, "You're here!"

Oliver instinctively scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her soft little cheek as Felicity runs her hand through Ellie's increasingly untamed mop of blonde curls.

"Hey, baby," he greets her. He looks around again, checking every nook and cranny in the room, but once again, he sees it's just them. It makes the fact that everything seems so normal all the stranger. He smiles at the toddler. "How's your day been?"

"It's okay," Ellie answers with a one-shouldered shrug. She purses her lips into the beginnings of a scowl. "Justin called me a liar and I didn't like that. I don't lie. Lying's naughty."

He's about to agree with her - lying is very naughty, and it's something they've harped on since the beginning - but a tremendous sigh from Miss Susan cuts him off. And dear God, Oliver wishes he could just call her Susan, but Ellie's constant chatter about Miss Susan has cemented that in his head. It leaves him feeling like he's the one being called to the principal's office all over again as both his and Felicity's eyes fly to the teacher. Her lips are pinched tightly as she watches Ellie with blatant concern.

"You have a very active and vibrant imagination, Ellie," Miss Susan tells her.

"It's not imagination!" Ellie says, her voice instantly spiking. She makes a tight little fist and throws it down, and Oliver's pretty sure she'd have hit it on a table if she could. Or at the very least she'd be stomping her foot if she were on solid ground instead of in his arms. The change in her is stark as she whips from happiness at seeing them to a heady bit of anger. "I don't lie, Miss Susan! Tell her, Daddy. Tell her I'm right. You shoot the bad guys and make it so they can't hurt people no more."

Oh. Dear. God.

Oliver's jaw drops and he freezes stock still. He stops breathing. He stops thinking. His stomach hollows out at the realization of what his daughter just said. At the very specific words she used. At the notion that she just said what he thinks she just said.

Judging by the strangled little noise that comes from Felicity and the way she suddenly digs her nails into his side, he thinks she's only faring slightly better.

After how many years of successfully concealing his dual identity, has it really just been outed on the playground?

He tries to speak - and by tries he means he tries to form words - but his lips are numb as he stares dumbly at Miss Susan.

"I drawed him a picture, even," Ellie says. Oliver's heart leaps into his throat, shocked eyes flying to hers. Oh God, that's so much worse. "It's of the bad man who hurt momma after you beated him. Remember, Daddy? I didn't have time to finish you yet," she continues, and some part of him wishes he had the ability to even shh her, but he doesn't even have that as she throws her hands up, illustrating her words. "You're standing on top of him and you're smiling, 'cause he's gone and he can't hurt us no more!"

He's completely and utterly speechless and for a split second, he's pretty sure the air's turned to something less like oxygen and more like quicksand that slowly fills his lungs. They've never lied to her, never. It was something both he and Felicity had agreed on from the very beginning - no more lies, not to each other and not to their children. And while they'd been careful not to say specific things around her and to make sure she didn't see anything overt, some bits and pieces still seeped through. Obviously.

Like the fact that her father is the Green Arrow.

"I drawed you for him, Daddy, because Justin didn't believe me that you beat the bad man!"

She's so proud. She's so exceedingly proud and he has absolutely no words to reply with, something she very quickly picks up on, because he doesn't do this; he doesn't hesitate like this. But he has to, because of where they are and who they are and what their daughter is saying in public - rather, drawing - and…

He watches the confusion happen, the puzzled look that washes over her features.

Ellie's brow furrows, her mouth turning into a little pout.

"I don't lie, Daddy," she says again. She grabs the collar of his jacket, tugging on it as she turns back to her teacher. "Tell Miss Susan. I don't lie. Tell her! I'm not lying. I'm not naughty. I'm not!"

"Uh…" he manages in a choked voice. He rubs her back and he hopes she doesn't feel him shaking.

How the hell is he going to explain this? There's nothing he can say. He can't possibly out himself as the Green Arrow to his daughter's preschool teacher. But he also can't say Ellie's lying or making things up, because she's not. He can't do that to her, and he won't. Especially not about this, not about something that's so big in their lives. But… oh God, he has no idea how to handle this. At all.

Oliver clears his throat, whispering, "Sweetheart…"

When he doesn't back her up after a second, Ellie's face shutters.

That absolutely guts him.

Amazingly, it's Miss Susan who sort of saves the day.

"Ellie, darling, I'd like to talk to your parents alone for a few minutes," her teacher says, smiling kindly, but still somewhat patronizingly at her. It sets Oliver a little on edge, despite himself. "Miss Denise knows you'll be joining the others on the playground. Why don't you head out there and we'll talk some more later."

Before the little girl can do anything, Felicity says, "C'mere, sweetie," as she takes her from his arms. She presses a loud kiss to her cheek, holding her awkwardly around her large stomach. "We love you lots and we can't wait to see your picture. But let's do it later. Go play with your friends. We'll come say goodbye before we head back to work, okay?"

It takes her a long moment to respond, but she finally does with a subdued, "Okay." She looks terribly perplexed by the whole thing. It disappears for a second when Felicity kisses her cheek again, but when Ellie looks at him again, it's back, that look tainted with a hint of distrust.

He almost grabs her back and tells Miss Susan everything.

Instead, Oliver forces out, "Have fun, Ellie-bug," as Felicity lowers her to the ground.

She gives them a barely perceptible nod before she scurries towards the door.

He can't escape the feeling that something just ruptured between them. And maybe it has. Because what happened with Malcolm, what he did to Felicity, it didn't just happen to Felicity and Nate, or to him, but to Ellie as well. And for a while, it felt like Oliver and Ellie against the world as they waited for days for Felicity to wake up. Their bond had been unique before that, but that had solidified it, shifted it onto another plane entirely.

But this… this is uncharted territory. He never imagined that Ellie would bring any of this with her to school, which he now realizes is incredibly dumb.

There's a very long moment of silence where Oliver can practically feel the weight of Miss Susan's stare burning a hole in the side of his head. He doesn't look at her though. He keeps his eyes on the path his daughter took.

He's the mayor. He wants that to bolster him… but it doesn't. He's the mayor and his wife is the CEO of the company this woman works for. They're incredibly powerful people, and yet he doesn't know the last time he felt quite so nervous about someone's judgment as he is of this just-past-middle-aged preschool teacher.

It's made worse because he's not sure if that's because of what their daughter's been drawing, or his lack of answers, or the fact that he's pretty sure he just betrayed his daughter's trust.

Felicity's hand snakes into his, and she squeezes it tightly. He holds on for dear life, wanting badly to turn to her and ask her what he's supposed to do now. But he can't, because Miss Susan is right there… and when he finally glances back at the teacher, he knows she didn't miss a single thing.

How did this day turn so upside down, so quickly?

"Why don't we have a seat?" Miss Susan offers, gesturing to a pair of too-small plastic chairs.

They don't look like they're comfortable for a three-year-old, much less a grown man of his size. Oliver privately thinks he might crush one if he sits on it; even more privately, he's certain Felicity would. Luckily for all of them, there's a few oversized bean bags right next to the chairs and he lowers himself down onto one awkwardly as Miss Susan takes a chair.

Felicity just hovers for a second.

"You think you can manage?" Oliver asks his wife, offering her his hand.

"I think I might pop the bean bag," she laments. "If that's a thing. Is that a thing? Pop is probably the wrong word." He has to wonder if she's babbling on purpose, because it lessens the tightness in his chest as she starts maneuvering herself to sit down. "And oh wow, would that be messy if I broke it. All those little plastic beads spilling out everywhere. They'd be finding them for months."

She eases down somehow, with Oliver's help, her maternity dress straining against her middle as she lowers herself. The bean bags have got to be more pregnant-lady-friendly than the terrible little chairs, but that doesn't make it any less awkward for her. She finally ends up falling back in one, making the pleather material groan, which in turn makes her huff. She's past the stage of being embarrassed, and he's pretty sure if the bag did pop as she described, she'd just land on the floor and say, 'This is as good a spot as any,' before urging the meeting to continue.

Felicity shifts, re-centering her weight repeatedly in an attempt to get anywhere near comfortable, but she obviously fails. She needs more support than the bean bag chair can offer.

"Hang on a second," Oliver says, sliding off of his so-called seat just enough so that he's pressed up against her. He curls one leg in front of himself and stretches the other one out next to her, urging her back so she can lean against his shoulder as a brace. His suit is going to be worse for wear from this, but it's a small price to pay, and one he really doesn't care about paying. With a satisfied sigh, Felicity relaxes - as much as she can - and he asks, "Better?"

"Much," she replies, settling one hand against the small of her back and the other atop of the swell of her stomach. Felicity smiles at him. It's tight, but he sees the gratitude shining through. "Thank you."

"Of course," he murmurs, just for her, kissing her temple.

With a steadying breath, Oliver looks back to Miss Susan, feeling a bit like he's awaiting a firing squad.

There isn't any judgment, though, when he finally faces her. There's only sadness, something he wasn't expecting. It makes him feel oddly better - maybe it's not that bad - although he doesn't know what to make of the peculiar look in her eye.

Miss Susan laces her fingers together in her lap, leveling them a look that suddenly has him right back on edge. "This is not going to be a comfortable conversation and I'm sorry for that," the teacher starts. Yeah, if he hadn't already been a little bit terrified, Oliver would be at this point. "I would never dream of broaching this topic, because it's not my place, but Ellie's recent behavior has been concerning."

Oliver can't escape the feeling that this is coming out of left field, because what behavior?

"What topic?" Felicity asks, every bit as wary as Oliver. "What recent behavior? Is this… is this because she said…" She lets out a short nervous laugh and mimics a gun with her fingers, which is a hysterical and terrible idea. "Because she said Oliver…"

Shoots bad people?

His stomach drops all over again and he barely keeps himself from making a noise at that.

"Mrs. Queen," Miss Susan says, looking thoroughly unsettled. "Trauma manifests itself very differently for different people. And while Ellie may not have been directly involved, I think it's obvious that what happened to you several months ago has affected her deeply."

White noise rushes through his ears. That hadn't even occurred to him. No, that's a lie. It had. He'd thought about it endlessly when Felicity had been unconscious, when they hadn't known if she was going to come back. He'd spent more time than he was comfortable admitting trying to prepare himself for a world where he had to tell their daughter why her mommy wasn't coming home to her…

But he'd never thought about after. Because she'd been so… fine.

Oliver feels rather than hears Felicity suck in a ragged breath and hold it. Without even thinking about it, Oliver's hand shoots out to touch her stomach. When his son kicks solidly back against his palm, it grounds him.

"The attack, you mean," Oliver clarifies, the words coming out in an unnatural croak. He swallows hard, as if he's trying to force the words away. "You think it… that it's still affecting her?"

"Yes," Miss Susan agrees. "Ellie is a bright, happy little girl and most of the time that's what I see." The phrase 'most of the time' is a rusty blade cutting through Oliver's chest. How could they have missed it? No, how could he have missed it? "But," the teacher continues, "I don't think she can make sense of what happened to her mother, or that her baby brother was in danger. She's three. She can't understand that, no matter how you try explaining it to her. So she copes in the best way she can."

Oliver nods, because it's all he can do. He tries to soak in her words. Because he knows they're true as well as important. There's no doubt Miss Susan knows what she's talking about; it's evident in her somber tone and the gentle way she tells them. She's thought about it, that much is obvious.

Has he been willfully ignoring it? How could he have been so blind?

"Mr. Queen," Miss Susan says, pulling his attention back to her. "It's evident that Ellie adores you. You have a tremendously strong relationship with her. And, like most little kids who have strong relationships with their fathers, you're her hero, the best man in the entire world in her eyes." Emotion clogs his throat. "So it's natural that she's cast you in this light, as her mother's savior. She's developed this role for you as a protector, and," she adds with a pursed smile, "she has cast you as someone the news outlets brand as a hero. Something tangible, something she can see. She needs that security, to know she's safe."

"She's my daughter," Oliver says, his voice deep with meaning, completely sidestepping the issue of her drawings. "I will always protect her."

Felicity's hand settles over his, their fingers threading together over her stomach. She's quiet; he told her what it was like, as best he could, while she was in her coma, but they both know there aren't words to capture it. She knows this is something he went through alone, and that this is something she can only be supportive to him about now. He's been keeping some of it from her, he realizes, because of the pregnancy and their busy lives. He hasn't wanted to overwhelm her more than she already is. It wasn't easy for her either, waking up after almost dying, swimming in fear for her unborn son. She'd woken up to her husband looking like death himself, their daughter curled up in his arms, time lost… only to learn about what Malcolm had tried to do, what he'd almost done, and that Ellie had seen all of it.

Some part of him wonders just how much they haven't been letting themselves talk about recently.

Oliver's grip on her tightens as he continues.

"I'm glad Ellie knows that," he reiterates. "She needs to know that she's safe. That I'll protect her. We're… we're public figures, with notoriety and money. There's never going to be a complete absence of danger. We're too high profile for that."

Miss Susan tilts her head in quiet agreement, but the somewhat pitying smile on her face tells him that she clearly thinks he's missing her point.

"You are correct," she says. "And if it were just drawings of you in a larger than life role and tales of you in a role of a protector, that would be fine. Though I would be concerned at how much news coverage she apparently watches because some images are most certainly influenced by the local press…"

But it's not just that.

"I'm concerned with the level of violence in her drawings," Miss Susan continues, the gravity in her voice echoing in the room. "And the stories she tells. It's cruelly unfair that a sweet little girl like Ellie has to be aware of how brutal and senseless this world can be, but there's nothing that can be done about it now. That awful man ensured that much. What we can do now, though, is help her cope with it. In a healthy way."

"Because of what happened to me…" Felicity starts, realization coloring her voice. "Because she… because she saw some of it?" Oliver has to clench his jaw at that, because Ellie more than saw some of it. His wife grips his hand tighter, her voice wavering as she says, "You think she needs therapy?"

The idea is obviously unsettling to Felicity - it's not the therapy itself, but the notion that Malcolm Merlyn might have left his mark in one last hateful way before Oliver had ended him for good.

Oliver presses a kiss to his wife's shoulder.

"Mrs. Queen," Miss Susan says. She takes a moment, licking her lips in obvious discomfort and looking down at her hands for a moment, gathering her thoughts before looking back up. "Forgive me for saying so, but after what you've been through… I think you all do."

An uneasy silence follows. It's only punctuated by a stuttered exhale from Felicity when she seems to remember how to breathe.

There's truth in her words. He's well aware of that. After everything they've been through - all of them - it's taken its toll. How many times had he been told he should talk to someone after he'd gotten back from the island? Dozens. Probably more. The ship going down and losing Sara that first time would have been reason enough, just like this is reason enough for them. Especially with Malcolm's attack hitting so close to home - his wife, the mother of his children, had almost died, and their daughter had been right there with him every step of the way.

But, just like before, it's not like he can divulge everything to some random therapist. None of them can, despite Ellie's obvious desire to work through what happened. Talking in half-truths and code words to keep his identity concealed would be useless. And he's pretty sure doctor-patient confidentiality doesn't extend to disclosing crimes, no matter how well intended they are.

Felicity's hand tightens around his and he kisses her shoulder again, knowing similar thoughts are going through her head and they aren't any more palatable to her than to him. There is nothing they wouldn't do for Ellie, but there isn't a nondisclosure agreement in this world that's binding enough for him to trust a therapist with his little girl. Despite all his money and all his power, the truth of what he does could cost him everything.

What if they thought him a dangerous or unfit parent? What if they thought both he and Felicity were? What if they lost Ellie? Lost Nate?

The thought of what that could mean for them has a wave of nausea slamming into him and he clenches his jaw. He doesn't realize he's squeezing Felicity's hand too tightly until she looks back at him. The second their eyes meet, he releases his grip on her, only to have her grab him back just as tightly. She's biting her lip, a haze of concern shining from her eyes.

And then she smiles, and the hand she places on his knee is reassuring.

We'll figure this out, she's telling him. We'll handle this, like we do everything else.

Together.

A solemn solidarity fills the space between them.

While Miss Susan can't possibly understand what their eyes are saying to each other, she can surely recognize the weight of it.

"I apologize for dragging you out of your meetings," she tells them. Felicity's head whips back around at that. She'd forgotten anyone else was in the room for a moment, he suspects, and given the reminder she's honed back in on Ellie's teacher. "After what happened, I thought it best this be addressed immediately. For Ellie's sake."

"Of course," Felicity says, a new vehemence ringing in her voice. "We appreciate it. Ellie always comes first."

A flash of approval colors Miss Susan's face and she gives a short, kindly nod before standing.

Oliver follows suit, offering Felicity a hand up. It's not easy and despite the fact that he basically lifts her up off the ground, she still has to exert a lot of effort to get herself back on her feet... especially in the heels she's wearing. He briefly wonders how the hell someone who doesn't routinely use a salmon ladder manages to help their pregnant wife in situations like this.

"If there's nothing else," the teacher says, clasping her hands in front of her in a clear sign of dismissal, "I'll let you two get back to your days."

"Actually…" Oliver says, his eyes darting to where Ellie's drawing sits a few tables away. "I was hoping we could take her art with us."

"Of course." Miss Susan nods. "I'll get the stack."

Felicity freezes mid-stretch, leaving her belly looking larger than usual. "Stack?"

"She's quite the prolific little artist," the teacher responds as she walks over to her desk. She rummages through a drawer until she pulls out a manilla envelope with Ellie's name written on it in sparkly purple crayon.

Miss Susan strides over to Felicity and hands her the folder, saying something else, but Oliver doesn't hear. His feet have taken him over to the table where Ellie had been sitting when they'd first arrived.

Her unfinished art stares up at him.

For all her love of drawing, Ellie isn't particularly skilled at it. Half the time he has no idea if she's made a kitten or a mermaid, but she's always so joyful about it. This picture is no different. Yes, just as Miss Susan had said, it has a stick figure with two large X's in place of the eyes and a scribble of red beneath his body that is obviously meant to be blood. But that's not the only thing it has. The half-finished attempt at drawing him as the Green Arrow has a tremendous smile on his face. There's a sun shining in the sky and lively flowers on the ground, and there's a happy kid, who is absolutely meant to be Ellie herself, with arms raised up in a cheer.

Is it morbid? Probably. For someone who doesn't live lives like theirs, anyhow. But Oliver sees past that in this picture. He sees joy, too, sees that his daughter isn't afraid despite what she's been through, and he thinks that maybe Miss Susan missed that part. Not that she could see it, he realizes, considering she doesn't live half her life under the cover of darkness, battling the ugliest parts of this city's evils.

Her intentions with Ellie are pure and well-meaning, but she doesn't have the full picture.

"I'd like to take her home early," Oliver says abruptly. He looks back at Miss Susan and Felicity, who'd been talking in quiet tones. They both fall silent at his words. "I want to spend some time with her."

"Of course," Miss Susan replies with a nod and a smile. "I think that's a wonderful idea. Why don't I just go get her?"

It's not really a question, so Oliver just smiles in response as she heads out to the playground.

Felicity raises an eyebrow at him, but it does nothing to diminish the small smile on her lips. "Don't you have more meetings today?"

He does, but it's just his own staff and they can wait. He shrugs, looking back at her drawing. "Like you said, Ellie always comes first." He picks it up and makes his way back to his wife. "And we both know our options are limited. There aren't many people she can talk to, but she can talk to us. And I want to make sure she knows that."

Emotion floods Felicity's face at that, and she nods, her smile growing.

"You are a good man, Oliver Queen," she says, "And a fantastic father. You know that?"

"Well…" He winks at her. "I've got an amazing wife and a pretty incredible daughter. They make it easy."

She huffs out an amused laugh, shaking her head affectionately at him in response just as Ellie barrels back into the room. There's dirt smudged on her cheek and a grin on her face. Her hair is an absolute mess and there are bark chips stuck to her legs.

"Wow," Felicity says. "Did you declare war on the playground? Was there a battle against nature in the ten minutes you were out there?"

"No," Ellie replies, as if what her mother just suggested is the most ridiculous thing ever. "I played. Silly Momma." That has Felicity mumbling something under her breath along the lines of, 'Oh right, silly me for wondering how you manage to get so dirty so fast,' as Ellie looks up at Oliver. Every inch of disquiet and unhappiness she'd had on her face when she'd left a few minutes ago is gone. In its place is a huge smile and bright, excited eyes. "Miss Susan said we get to have a family day! Can we go swimming, Daddy? Can we?"

"Maybe after ice cream," he tells her, because he's an absolute pushover, as his wife would say.

Felicity follows that up with a confirmatory snort, shaking her head at him. He knows it's not genuine - she probably wants ice cream as badly as Ellie does.

Ellie practically vibrates with newfound energy at the notion of a pending sugar rush and family swim time, and she squeals with delight as she hugs his leg tightly.

Oliver chuckles and he picks her up, pressing his lips to her dirty cheek. Her skin is so soft, the ever-present smell of her mango-scented shampoo drifting from her hair, and her smile is so very bright. Instantly, he knows he made the right call to take her home early. He loves this little girl so much and this kind of joy on her face is absolutely breathtaking. He will cancel any and all of his meetings if this is what he gets in return.

Outside the sliding glass door, Miss Susan waves her goodbye to them.

Felicity waves back as their little family heads out of the class, Ellie in Oliver's arms and Felicity at their side, her fingers tangled with Oliver's free hand.

They'll be okay, he realizes, because in spite of everything that's happened, in spite of everything that will happen, they are unwaveringly there for each other. And they always will be.

"We can get ice cream and swim?" Ellie asks excitedly, like she can't quite believe her luck.

Oliver nods. "It sounds like a good afternoon to me," he tells her. "But first, let's have a talk about what the word 'secret' means, shall we?"