/
"I'll bring her back," promised Oliver.
"It's been three years since... we last saw him," said Felicity shakily. "Three years since he packed up his bags, left the company to Tommy and just left. Never looked back."
"Any idea where he went?" Oliver was surprised how even his voice sounded when internally he was ready to put an arrow through someone's head. more specifically Malcolm's.
Felicity shook her head. "No," she replied, shrinking into her chair. "We never bothered looking into Malcolm's whereabouts." Her eyes watered. "Tommy didn't want to. He wanted to leave his father alone. He didn't let me track him down... and I never thought it was necessary..."
"We were better off without the bastard," supplied Tommy, making his presence known as he headed towards Felicity. He knelt, taking her hand into his larger one, her bright blue nails shining under the light, while his other tenderly cupped her slightly bruised cheek. "Felicity, I swear to God, I had no idea-"
"I know," said Felicity, sitting up, alarmed at Tommy's tone. "Tommy, no one and by no one, I actually mean no one is suggesting that you knew Malcolm was in the city. The last you heard from him was..."
"On Amelia's third birthday," finished Tommy grimly, connecting the dots.
Blood drained from Felicity's face while Oliver looked on in confusion, wondering what he was missing and why he hadn't exited the building the moment he heard who was responsible for taking Amelia. Killing his father's best friend who happened to be his best friend's father as well wasn't the most ideal ways of beginning his mission but if the man he'd once calledUncle had caused any harm to Amelia, there would be a price to pay.
His father had warned him about Malcolm.
This wasn't going to end well, thought Oliver, a frown marring his face as he considered his next move.
Before Tommy had shown up, Felicity had hacked into her buildings surveillance footage and that of nearby traffic cams as well and as far as they could see, Malcolm had disappeared into the night the moment he'd left with Amelia.
The hair on the back of Moira's neck stood upright as she took a sharp intake of breath. Her palms were suddenly very clammy as she did a double take over what she'd just heard. Lingering outside the study, she shakily raised a hand to her mouth, covering it in fear of letting out a scream. She liked to think of herself as a composed woman. Even when her husband and son had died, well, her husband had died, she had cried silent tears when she first heard the news. Then she'd wiped her eyes, washed her face, pulled herself together and dealt with the situation. She'd maintained perfect composure.
She'd held it in. She always did.
However, now, she was ready to fall apart. Because Malcolm was involved. Malcolm Merlyn; her husband's friend, a man who'd held a place in her heart and had spent a fair share of time in her bed, behind Robert's back- the man who was Thea's biological father.
This was the man who had essentially been controlling her life for the last two years.
A bulb clicked in her head as a number of possibilities danced before her. He was on to her. He was on to them. This was her fault. Her wasn't because of Tommy. Or Oliver, for that matter. This wasn't about Amelia either.
This was only about her- Moira- and she couldn't deny it. This was a message and warning of sorts for her disobeying his orders. This was him showing his anger at her for not complying to his demands, for not speeding up the process that would ultimately lead to his supposedly grand master plan.
She wasn't supposed to be in contact with him, she thought regretfully, venturing out into the balcony. Guilt poured through every portion of her body. Her family would hate her for deceiving them; for going behind their backs and being secretly in contact with a dangerous , they hadn't known he was dangerous till now.
She knew what he was capable of and it frightened her. One, he was dead serious about carrying out his agendas. Two, family ties didn't matter to him. Number three, he was truly twisted.
The sinking of the Gambit was sufficient proof of that. She hadn't been able to prove it but it all her suspicions led to the conclusion Malcolm was responsible for whatever happened to Oliver, Robert and everyone else that'd been on the yacht.
/
"What did you do?" Moira let out a scream, slapping her hands onto Malcolm's desk, a wild glint in her eyes as she grabbed the man's neck. "I demand an answer!" She thundered, looking him in the eye as he remained seated behind his desk.
"Moira..." he gasped, as her hold tightened around his neck.
"Don't," she said, her voice cracking as she let go of him, backing away against the glass wall of his office at Merlyn Global. "Don't." She suddenly didn't want to hear him confess. "My husband and child are dead."
"You're hurting," he said gently,closing the distance between them. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "It's a lot to deal with but-"
"You killed them," Moira flinched at his touch.
"You're grieving and I can relate. Losing Rebecca-"
"I'm going to kill you," she stated plainly. " I'm going to expose you."
"That would also expose you," Malcolm replied easily."I don't think anyone will be interested in doing business with QC if there was a scandal in the equation. A dead CEO is troublesome as it is but a scandal-" his voice trailed off.
Moira whitened. "W-what?"
"I was thinking that this could be the perfect time for Thea to know that she isn't fatherless as she thinks she is." He smiled. "I'm sure Tommy would be pleased to know he has a little sister."
"N-no-"
"Why not?" Malcolm flashed a set of beaming white teeth."In this troubling time, I'm sure your -our-daughter would be ecstatic to know she's got me and Tommy; that everything isn't as dark as it seems to be..."
"No, you can't," Moira pleaded. "She can't know. Malcolm. I'm begging you. Please." She couldn't allow this news to leak. Not only would it destroy Thea... It would destroy everything else as well.
"You know what you have to do," he replied. "Keep quiet and keep doing what I tell you to do."
/
Oliver slipped out through the door the moment he knew Felicity and company's attention was occupied elsewhere. He pressed his thumb down against the flat of his phone screen, not only to un-lock it but to attend a call. From an unknown number.
It had to be Merlyn.
"What do you want?" he gritted out, tightly clutching the iPhone in the palm of his hand, ready to crush it into pieces. If only that would help in any way.
"It's been too long, Oliver," came the reply.
"What do you want, Malcolm?" repeated Oliver. He had to remain calm. "You have my daughter... and I want her back. Now."
"Your daughter?" a snort escaped the older man. "They've roped you into believing that bullshit, as well, eh?"
"She's mine." Amelia was his. He knew that. "You better hope to any and every God that exists that I'll show you some mercy..."
"Empty threats won't get you anywhere..."
Now it was Oliver's turn to let out a snort. "I'm not threatening you," he said. "I'm man of word." He hung up, knowing it was futile to speak any further. He knew what to do (and it didn't require tracing back to the caller id's location)
His father's words rang through his head.
"You need to stop Malcolm even if it kills you in the process, Oliver. He's going to destroy the city and everyone else in it... that son of a bitch won't stop at any cost."
"You need to stop him, Oliver."
"You need to get him. Take him down, son. That's the first step to undoing..."
Oliver shook his head, heading back to the room he'd previously exited. "They're calling me down to the station," he said, lying through this teeth.
"At 1 AM in the morning?" asked Tommy incredulously. "What the fuck?!"
Felicity eyed Oliver suspiciously. "I'll go with you," she volunteered, instantly heading over to stand by his side. "I want to go."
"I'd suggest that you stay here," interrupted John. "You're not in any state to leave the house, Felicity. It won't do you any good to go through-"
"Go through what, John?" said Felicity, sarcasm dripping every word as she inched closer to the bodyguard, wagging a finger at him. "It's been a perfect day, you see. My daughter was kidnapped. No biggie. Everything's fine, isn't it?" Her shoulders dropped. "It can't get worse than this. It can't."
"That's why you should stay with me," said Tommy, looking between his friends and John. "Diggle," he turned to John. "You'll go with Oliver, right? Keep us posted?"
John nodded. "Of course," he said.
"You can't go!" burst out Felicity. "We know who it is. We need to stop him. Tell the police what's going on."
"Just leave this to me," were Oliver's departing words as he and John made their move.
"You know where she is?" asked John, hands firmly placed on the steering as he took the car out through the Queen estate gates.
"I've a hunch," replied Oliver.
"A hunch?"
"Yes. A hunch."
"Based on what?" John sounded skeptical. What was this man getting them both into?
"Words from a wise man," answered Oliver, diverting his eyes back on to his gear.
"Where are we headed?"
"To hunt down a sick bastard."
"I hope you know what you're doing," muttered John.
"I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into, Diggle." A look passed between the two men. "I'll do anything to get my daughter back."
"I get that." He did get it. More than he liked to admit.
/
Tommy handed Felicity a steaming mug of coffee. "Thought you'd need this," he said, loosening his tie and rolling up his shirt sleeves, as he dropped down next to her.
"Something stronger would've been better," she said, although she accepted the mug, only to keep it in between her hands, not once lifting it up to take a sip.
"Fel-"
"I feel sick-" She couldn't focus on anyone or anything, knowing that Amelia was at risk.
"I know," his head hung low.
He loved Amelia as though she was his own flesh and blood. Cherished her the way a father would treat a beloved daughter. If the past five years had proven anything, it was the fact that Tommy was capable of loving, of growing up and being a man worthy of being a presence in a little girl's life. She was his everything. She'd gotten him through what was the toughest time of his whole life, what with his best friend dying at sea, along with said friend's father (the only father figure Tommy had ever had) dying as well. Laurel's younger sister just added to the death toll.
The older Lance girl's reaction hadn't exactly helped in bringing any of them closure, either.
Putting those thoughts aside, Tommy reached for the chain around his neck, carefully pulling out a small circle pendant that contained a picture of him and Amelia.
They were a family or so he liked to think; it had been that way from the moment Felicity discovered she was pregnant.
Even though she didn't know it, Amelia was his rock- his saving grace. One smile from her was enough for him to think he'd done some good in the world- that maybe he wasn't as bad of a person as he'd declared himself to be.
He could vividly remember the day he'd arrived at the Merlyn mansion, only to find a set of documents awaiting him in a corner of the wine cellar. Obviously his father knew him well enough to leave important papers in the place where he'd surely come across them. He remembered the way he'd burst into laughter once he saw the deeds to the house naming him as the new owner, accompanied by signed sheets that suddenly stated that he, Thomas Merlyn, solely owned Merlyn Global.
He'd gotten so drunk that night that he'd forgot to pick Amelia from day-care. He'd only remembered when he got a call from a furious Felicity (who was away for a two day conference) that she'd just been informed that her child was still waiting to be picked.
A drunk Merlyn then ran, cursing his father to the pits of hell while deciding that he was going to hire a nanny for Amelia. Enough of all this day care nonsense.
/
"Gooo tooo sleeep, baby girl," Tommy groaned, clutching his head in agony.
Amelia lay on top of his chest as he urged the two year old to get some sleep.
He needed sleep too, if his pounding head was any indication. Between his night of sordid drinking and mulling over his father's sudden departure (without so much as a goodbye note), he really wasn't in the mood to entertain the kid. He needed...no, he craved sleep and Amelia wasn't making things easier for him.
She absolutely detested taking naps.
That usually made him happy because it meant spending extra time with her but in his current state, he really didn't want to deal with anything- even her.
Weren't kids just supposed to eat, sleep and poop? Then again, he'd lived a majority of his years with the exact same routine (with the addition of sex, of course) but it'd been a simple way of existence.
So much for simplicity. Child rearing was so much more complicated.
The tiny blonde toddler blinked at him as she moved up his chest to grab his nose. "Nosey!" she cooed happily.
"Yes," muttered Tommy. "That's Uncle T's nose and he'd really like to keep it, if ya don't mind."
She smiled at him as she let go of his nose and instead chose to reach for his ear.
Tommy let out a resigned sigh, tightly shutting his eyes. He'd let her do her own thing while he tried to shut his 'd get tired eventually. Always did.
He'd give her an hour.
In the end, it took two.
But when she did tire down, she shifted in to the crook of his neck, using her small hands to make space for herself against him, incoherently mumbling words as he tried to understand what she was saying.
"Love you, Unca T."
And for the first time in twenty four hours, Tommy's lips broke into a wide grin, headaches be damned.
/
"You sure this is it?" questioned John, swiftly removing a gun from his back pocket.
Oliver raised an eyebrow at the object.
"I'm a bodyguard," dead panned the other man, internally wondering why the man with a bow and set of arrows, was questioning his choice of weapons, when he (Oliver) was the one looking like a lunatic in leather. "It's standard protocol for me to carry this, Queen. For your safety."
"He's in there," Oliver pointed at the warehouse.
"What makes you say that?"
"Instinct," he replied, arrows in hand. He didn't really have the time to explain everything to Dig, not now at least.
"Amelia's with him?" continued John as he followed Oliver's lead to the back of the building.
She better be.
"Let's find out."
/
"There's no such thing as morals absolute, son," said Robert, his whole body aching as he looked up at Oliver.
The younger Queen's jaw snapped. "Yeah, only a man with morals would be faithful to his wife," he shot back.
"I deserve that," replied Robert. "I've always been a bad husband. " He cleared his throat uneasily. "I know that. You know that. Your mother knows it too." He turned away, angling himself such that his face wouldn't meet Oliver and his accusatory glares. This time around he'd truly fucked up and there was no use denying it. It was his fault they were in this predicament, he thought.
Although he was quite sure that there was foul play, he couldn't pin point who was to blame...even though his supposedly close friend and business acquaintance, Malcolm Merlyn's face kept on popping up before him.
Robert liked to think he was discreet in disclosing his relationships with other women; that maybe, just maybe, he was covert enough in his actions that his wife was in the dark about his ongoing activities. But that was definitely not the case. That would've been an ideal scenario, wouldn't it? Big shot business tycoon having an affair every now and then; a secretary here and there, female business associates and what not.
Moira knew. So did Oliver. Thea was too young to know (or care, for that matter)
Even if both chose not to comment on his indiscretions, both were aware of what went on during his trips out of the country, long nights at work...
Jesus, his own son had been tumbling down that same dark road, thought Robert, not finding the situation funny at all. The old adage 'father like son' sent a shudder down his spine-
He didn't want his son to be him.
The boy was (or rather had been) what you'd call a commitment phobe- the type who had a string of nameless women warming his bed every other night, every now and then. The longest girlfriend he'd had had lasted for what, two months?
Fidelity was certainly a problem even though he wasn't going to point out how hypocritical Oliver sounded at the moment. There was a time and place for everything, after all.
Most people would've been proud to know that their children were following them and had perhaps inherited their traits...but Robert Queen was not one of them. He'd prayed that Oliver would be different. His son frightened him at times. Between the binge drinking and one night stands, it was like taking a glance at his younger self. Which was bothersome and more than slightly concerning for any father (even if said father wasn't the best role model either).
But then again Robert had cleaned up his act to an extent and it wasn't like his wife was faithful either. So no harm there, eh? It wasn't like anyone else was being affected or anything. It wasn't like they had two children, or did they?
He'd had his doubts when he came across a rather suspicious letter, only to have his suspicions confirmed after sending a private investigator after Moira. The PI had looked into her and had brought him a doisser filled with pictures. Of his wife. At Merlyn Global.
It didn't take Einstein to figure out what was going on behind his back. Between his wife and supposedly best friend.
His prayers for Oliver had gone unheard until that one fateful summer when his offspring had been expelled from yet another college. This was the second one. A few more and he'd disinherit the not so little shite butt that was besides the point.
Enraged, Robert had lashed out on Oliver.
The twenty two year old had scoffed, rolled his eyes and packed up a duffel bag filled with clothes. Reaching for the keys to his Aston, he'd shook his head at his father while his mother stood on the staircase, looking on in disappointment as a fight unraveled below her.
Next thing his parents knew was that their oldest child had dialed Tommy Merlyn's number and the two were off, not to be seen for the entirety of the summer.
After a few weeks, Moira lost count of the amount of pictures she saw in the tabloids. There were some things a mother didn't wish to be privy to and snap shots of her naked son was one of them.
That was the summer that changed everything. It was the summer that Oliver Queen met Felicity Smoak and fell head over heels for her; the same summer Laurel Lance realised that she was in love with Tommy Merlyn; the same summer that Tommy Merlyn rented out a football stadium to play ball with a bunch of exotic, long legged models.
It was a summer to remember, indeed.
"Of all the people you had to choose..." continued Oliver, "Of all the people you could have chosen, you had to chose one that was barely legal." He cringed internally. "You had to choose Sara Lance."
Robert exhaled deeply, unable to voice words that could explain or justify what he'd done. But...he had to admit that out of everything that he regretted, he didn't regret his relationship with Sara. It may have been wrong. It may have been immoral and if he'd been a better man, he wouldn't have allowed himself to be seduced to by such a young girl, who was barely a woman, as his son had put.
Then again, he'd never claimed to be a good man.
"You were old enough to be her father! She was younger than me- your own son. How could you do this?" Oliver shouted through the silence. "She's dead now and it's all your fault." Laurel's little sister was dead and no one other than his father was to blame.
"Oliver, you need to get out of here," whispered Robert. "I need you to do something once you're back home, safe and sound. I need you to be the man I never was."
An image of Sara's lifeless body sprawled out on the deck of the Gambit came before his eyes while an illusion of a teary eyed Moira, holding a young Thea's hand, appeared in front of Robert's eyes. "I need you to do something big," he pressed on. "I need you to be a catalyst for a change bigger than anything you've ever thought of. I need you to live up and beyond the Queen name."
Oliver glared at his father. "I've told you before and I'll tell you know, I'm never going to be fucking CEO of QC-"
"You're capable of great things, Ollie...I want you to save Starling." Reaching down to remove a small ledger from the back of his pocket, Robert tossed it over to his son. "Read this." He took a deep breath of air, as the sun shone on them from above. "It contains all that you need to know."
"1. I think you've lost your mind. 2. We're not getting out of here and 3-"
"You can't think that way!" shouted Robert, startling Oliver. "You're not allowed to give up on your family. Think of all those that need you: your mother, Thea and even Felicity, to name a few... Your family needs you and so does your city."
"You're insane," Oliver stared at his father, not at all understanding what he was saying. Maybe the heat was finally getting to the old man. Maybe he was finally lose what little sanity he had left.
"You can't fail Starling!" Robert's tone became more than slightly aggressive as he shook Oliver by his shoulders. "You're going to go back and you're going to un-do those wrongs that have been carried out and those that are yet to have been carried out-"
"Dad-"
"Just watch out for trouble," warned Robert, noticing how Oliver seemed attentive. "Malcolm is trouble, do you hear me? He is trouble and I need you to watch out for him. You need to stop him Oliver."
"Malcolm?" Oliver's voice expressed incredulity at the thought of his best friend's father being involved in something supposedly dangerous.
"You need to get him," Robert forced out. "Take him down, son. That's the first step to undoing a series of wrongs."
"If you're so sure we're getting out of here alive, then you do it."
Robert smiled weakly. "I'm damn sure you're gonna get out of here," he clarified. "You've always been a fighter."I believe in you." 'I love you' went unsaid.
Next, he reached for his gun only to pull the trigger a second later.
Oliver let out a strangled cry, jumping to his feet, his heart beating uncontrollably as tears spilled down his cheek. His father, with his ambiguous advice, was dead. He was all alone.
/
Oliver and John tread into the warehouse, fully armed. "I'm going to kill Malcolm with my bare hands," announced Oliver seconds before he knocked down the back door, promptly making their presence known to whoever was inside.
"Bare hands, eh?" muttered John under his breath. 'To think I had anger issues.'
"MALCOLM!" thundered Oliver, his voice echoing through their surroundings. "Show yourself."
A cackle could be heard from the distance as a cloaked figure approached them, arms folded across his chest with an eerily inviting grin on his face. "So, the prodigal son returns," he said almost pleasantly. "Welcome back, my boy." He moved forward as if to open his arms for Oliver.
John shot a look of incredulity at Oliver. Was this guy for real?
"Where is she?" demanded Oliver. "Where is she?"
"Now, now, Ollie," Malcolm clapped his hands together. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."
"You've really lost it, haven't you?" Oliver raised an arrow in Merlyn Senior's direction. "Now, tell me where my daughter is."
Malcolm tilted his head. "You really believe that, don't you?" he said slowly. "You really think she's your daughter? This just got interesting."
"I know she is."
"Women have a habit of lying," replied Malcolm, his smile widening. "They lie. About all sorts of things. Everything, in fact. From how much their clothing costs to the paternity of their child. I would know..." His voice trailed off. "I've had my fair share of encounters with such women. The blonde ones are always the worst. Their lies... are almost believable. But smart men like you and me, we don't fall into their traps, do we?" He pointed at himself and then at Oliver. "What if Amelia isn't your daughter? What if Tommy, good ol' Tommy, was messing around with yet another one of your girlfriends? He had a habit for that too, didn't he?"
Oliver marched towards Malcolm. "She isn't here, is she?" his voice was low, as he considered pounding Malcolm's head into the wall until he revealed Amelia's whereabouts.
Malcolm shrugged. "Killing me won't provide you an answer."
John watched with round eyes as Oliver snapped at the man next to them. He felt his eyebrows hike up into the top of his head as Oliver towered over Malcolm, holding the back of his shirt as he threw the older man against the wall. "I'm going to stop you," Oliver spat, trying to think of the numerous places in the city where Amelia could have been hidden at.
He needed to find her.
Malcolm's casual attitude was indication enough of how he was pretty sure that Oliver wouldn't attempt to kill him as long as Amelia's life was still in his hands. The sicko had thought things through.
"I'd like to see you try, party boy," Malcolm replied seriously, sliding a punch to Oliver's mid-section.
Oliver reacted instantly, just as John rushed to him, grabbing Malcolm by his neck, shoving him higher against the wall. "Where's the little girl?" he demanded.
"Want her back?" he struggled, attempting to regain his composure."Deliver this message to Moira..."
/
"Mom, a word please." Oliver's voice was strained as he walked by his mother's side, then guided her to the kitchen, where they could get some privacy.
Moira turned to face her son, expressionless. "What does Malcolm want?" she asked as calmly as possible, trying to ignore the frantic thrumming in her chest, feeling as though she would jump out of her skin any moment. She liked to think she was a smart woman, and any smart person would know that Oliver had made contact with Malcolm the previous night (the excuse about heading down to the police station was absolutely false, and she knew it)- which meant a number of things could have possibly transpired, none of which would have a favourable outcome.
Her stomach churned at the thought of her precious grand-daughter being in harm's way and that too because of her. Malcolm wouldn't cause bodily harm to a child, would he? Her mind went back to Tommy's childhood and the time when Rebecca was still alive...Malcolm Merlyn hadn't always been a monster. Distant? Sure. She'd give him that. An arrogant bastard in the business world? She'd be lying if she denied that as well. But never would she have called him a monster. Not before her husband and son's supposed deaths. Not before the moment when he roped her to do his bidding. Not before-
She cleared her head. "I need you to tell me what he said," she said quietly.
"What have you gotten into?" Oliver demanded. "He's insane and you've been working with him, Mom! He wants you to 'continue things as planned'. What the hell does he mean by that?"
Moira whitened. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied. "I'll fix this, okay. Okay. I'll deal with him and he'll return Amelia and she'll be fine. We'll be fine, Oliver. Leave this to me."
"I'm not backing down," he announced. "You're hiding something from your family. Your son and you're involved with Malcolm? I don't like the sound of this and I expect an explanation."
He hadn't been able to retrieve his daughter the previous night and hadn't slept a wink either and it wasn't the lack of sleep that was bothering him, it was the broken look on Felicity's face as she hopelessly and helplessly sat in Thea's room, with Thea's arm wrapped around her shoulder.
Oliver didn't like it at all.
"Well, there's nothing that you can do here," Moira's voice was suddenly cold and detached. Straightening her back and pulling herself upto full height, she gave her son one last parting look before heading in the other direction. She knew exactly what she had to do and she'd do it.
Malcolm would get what he wanted even if the price was too much for her to bear later on.
Nothing mattered as long as he held his side of the bargain and brought Amelia back home.
/
"What am I even supposed to say to Felicity?" yelled Tommy as he and Laurel sparred side by side, as per their usual Saturday morning routine. Over the years, they'd realized the significance of self defence and martial arts (or maybe Detective Lance had insisted that his daughter take up classes, and Tommy being Tommy had tagged along) and they had signed up for a course or two (which hadn't brought about the kind of immediate results they'd been hoping for- but that was besides the point, although Felicity liked to point it out often).
Laurel barred her fists. Her shoulders dropped. "Nothing," she offered, wiping a trickle of sweat off her forehead.
Her partner made a face at her. "Thank you for that piece of wisdom," he said, aiming a punch her way, only to have her duck and reach for his shoulder and conveniently pin him to the mat.
"This isn't your fault," she said seriously, sitting on top of his stomach. "There's nothing you can do, Tommy." She knlet on to the mat, and grabbed her water bottle. "There's nothing you can do besides be there for Felicity...like you always have and as for Oliver, well, no one can get through to him. He's shut himself off...It's like he expects himself to be the one to rescue Amelia and the fact that he hasn't found her yet-on his own- is killing him."
"This is my father we're talking about," Tommy shook his head, and snatched Laurel's bottle from her. Taking a sip, he made a face. "This shouldn't have happened. Why would he do that? I just-"
"I get it," came her reply, "but that's about it. Malcolm made his own choice and let's just call him insane, alright. Because there's no other reason why he'd do something like this to them (and you) but you're not responsible sojust let it go. We'll get our girl back and never speak of this again. Felicity doesn't hold this against you, you know that, right?"
"With Felicity, it's different. You know that. It's always been that way. She's always been more than my best friend's girl to me. She's-" Tommy struggled with words as he tried to make sense of his thoughts.
"She won't blame you, if that's what you're worried about," promised Laurel.
/
How'd you all enjoy 3x20? ;) Lemme know. Drop me a PM or a review. (Reviews are love) and in honour of tonight's Olicity hook up, can we please help this fic hit 400+ reviews? Come on, there are 682 of you that are reading this. I'd love to hear what's on your mind. I love you guys.
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