Welcome back to Faith Forgotten Land! This definitely wasn't meant to take so long to update so if you've come back after all this time, thank you! I hope that this chapter is worth it — and a huge happy birthday (albeit slightly belated) to the wonderful darknightfrombeyond / daystorm, who has encouraged me every step of the way in creating Ivy and her story, I hope that this lives up to your expectations!
For anyone interested, the official song for this chapter is the epic orchestras cover of A Thousand Years by Christina Perri, I can't tell you how many times I listened to it while writing this!
Disclaimer, as always, I don't own Arrow, any DC characters, or the plot, all I own is Ivy and her media team (who are all named after other ocs of mine because I ran out of ideas)
Oliver is alive. Oliver is alive. No matter how many times she read Walter's message, the words just didn't feel real. After all these years, how could Oliver have even survived? But Walter wouldn't lie to her. Especially not about this. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Oliver was alive. There was no other option. And Ivy had work to do.
Faith Forgotten Land
I Have Died Every Day (Waiting For You)
Oliver is alive. Oliver is alive.
No matter how many times she read Walter's message, the words just didn't feel real. After all these years, how could Oliver have even survived? But Walter wouldn't lie to her. Especially not about this.
Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.
Oliver was alive.
There was no other option.
"Ivy? Yvette?"
Ivy blinked, suddenly noticing how James had leaned into her, waving one hand in front of her face in an attempt to pull her out of her daze.
She blinked again.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, seeing that her attention had returned.
She shook her head, forcing a bright smile to her face.
"It's just work, Love," she told him. "I won't be able to make it to dinner."
It was only her tight grip on her phone that kept her hand from shaking as she asked their driver to pull over, apologizing to James one last time before she was out of the car and finally, blessedly, alone.
She stumbled, leaning against a nearby tree as she lost her lunch in the dirt. She was still dry-heaving when she unlocked her phone, frantically pulling up Tommy's contact page and hitting 'call'.
Her phone was still clutched to her stomach as Tommy answered, but his voice rang out just loud enough for her to hear in the quiet street.
"Ivy? What's up, didn't you have that dinner tonight?"
Hearing Tommy's voice was enough to break through the last of Ivy's walls, pulling a choked sob out of her.
"Ives?" he asked, far more urgent.
"Tommy?"
"Yeah, Ives, I'm here. What's going on?"
"Oliver — I — can you come get me?"'
"Of course, Ives. Where are you?"
Ivy rattled off the street signs, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wasn't quite processing anything that Tommy was saying, but his voice was still soothing enough to quiet her sobs.
"Ives," he said again, and she made a small noise of acknowledgement. "I'm in the car, shouldn't be more than ten minutes. Do you want me to stay on the line?"
Ivy nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Please. Just keep talking, about anything."
Well, let it never be said that Tommy wasn't good at talking out of his ass. From his latest flings to fights with his dad, upcoming parties to old nostalgia, Tommy kept a constant stream of mindless chatter going until, barely five minutes later, his sleek black car was pulling up in front of Ivy.
He had barely shifted into park as he jumped out of the driver's seat, running over to Ivy. At a glance, she didn't appear injured, but the tear tracks through her usually flawless makeup and the puddle of bile on the ground spoke to a serious crisis.
He pulled her into his arms, digging a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe her mouth. "I'm here, Ives, I've got you."
"Tommy?"
"Yeah, it's me. I'm here, what happened?"
She didn't answer that, pressing her phone into his hand.
He looked down, it was open to her text messages with Walter. Oliver is alive.
"Oh. Oh, oh shit. Is this—"
"It's real," she said, voice thick from tears. "I don't know how, but I know it. In my heart, Tommy, I know it's true."
"I believe you, Ives. We can worry about how later, alright? For now let's get you home."
He had guided her towards the car as they spoke, opening the passenger door and getting her buckled in before crossing over to the driver's seat.
"Not home, Tommy."
"What do you mean, not home? You need to shower, get some sleep, the rest can wait until tomorrow."
"It can't. It can't, Tommy, none of it can wait. We need to get to the Queen Mansion, there's so much to do. Announcements to draft, interviews to schedule… I need to get the whole story from Walter and Moira, and fuck, Thea needs me. They won't tell her right, this could break her. I need to be there, they can't… They need me."
"Ives…" the look that she gave him was firm, intense even with mascara staining her still-flushed cheeks. "Okay, fine. Do you need to pick up your computer or anything first?"
She bit her lip, considering. "We need coffee. I have my agenda with me, and I have a laptop there, coffee is the only stop."
She pulled the sun visor down, using the small mirror to clean herself up with a generous amount of concealer while Tommy drove them to the nearest 24 hour coffee shop. A cappuccino for him, a latte for Moira, an americano for Walter, and a sweet cold brew with a shot of espresso for Ivy. After a second, he added another latte for Laurel, knowing that she would be joining them as soon as he told her about the situation.
It wasn't long before they were pulling into the familiar driveway, Tommy carrying the coffees as Ivy let herself in.
They found Moira and Walter in the main living room, the former pacing the room and the latter looking rather overwhelmed on a phone call.
As soon as Moira spotted Ivy, she let out a gasping breath, all but running to her.
"Ivy," Moira started, choking up. Ivy pulled her into a tight hug, and Moira crumpled.
"Walter told me," Ivy explained. "I'm here, what do you need?"
"Oh, Ivy," she sighed. "Thank you for coming."
"There's nowhere else that I could be." She gave Moira one more squeeze before passing her over to Tommy, who handed her one of the lattes and gently nudged her towards the couch. "Okay, talk to me, what do we know and what needs to be done?"
"A group of fishermen found him," Walter said. "They brought him back, he's in the hospital now."
"Confidentiality?" Ivy asked.
"The fishermen were paid well for their silence, the hospital received a generous donation for their discretion. However—"
"It's only a matter of time," Ivy finished, nodding to herself. "Which means that we have to be on top of it."
Tommy handed Walter his americano and then claimed one of the armchairs, settling in for what he knew would be a long night. He sent Laurel a text, telling her that they needed to talk and to come to the Queen Mansion, and then turned back to Ivy. It was incredible, watching her work. Concerning, at times, but incredible all the same. She pulled a small notebook out of her purse, clicking her pen, and started to write.
"Have you told Thea, yet?"
"Not yet," Moira said, "I don't know what to say."
"Good, that's good. Leave that to me. And the company?"
"They have no idea," Walter confirmed.
Ivy hadn't taken her eyes off of her notes, only nodding to acknowledge that she'd heard them.
"Alright," she said, a couple of minutes later. "We have twelve hours, at most, before the whole world knows. Moira, you'll need to go to the hospital. Ask for any information they're allowed to give you on how he's doing, estimated recovery time and release dates, and if his mental facilities have been in any way affected. Then you need to talk to Oliver. How is he feeling, does he want to do a press conference himself or have us handle it, does he want to return to the company and if so, in what capacity? We'll need to know all of that within the next two hours.
"Walter, you need to handle the company. We want to be preemptive, so gather all of the paperwork that we'll need if Oliver does want to take his rightful spot. We need to know the protocols too, who else might need to sign what. Don't contact anyone yet, just organize the papers based on what signatures they require, and label each one with a sticky note, the names and contact information for anyone who needs to sign, and identify anyone who is not presently in the city."
She was gearing up to continue when Laurel came into the room, looking between them in confusion.
"Tommy texted me," she said, "he told me to come over."
Tommy himself was trying to think of a gentle way to break the news to her when Ivy took a small breath, took Laurel's hands in hers, and told her.
"Oliver is alive."
"What?"
"Oliver is alive," she repeated, pulling Laurel into a hug as the news — and shock — sunk in. "He was found by some fishermen, he's in the hospital now, and we're sorting out a game plan."
Tommy would never stop being in concerned awe of how strong both girls were. Ivy, shutting out her own emotions and taking control of an unprecedented situation as if she'd done so a hundred times over. And Laurel, still trembling but squaring her shoulders back and meeting Ivy's gaze head on. "What do you need from me?"
Ivy squeezed Laurel's arm one last time, looking between her and Tommy.
"I need your dad. I know how he feels about Oliver, but we need security. Constant guards around the hospital, the main entrance and his room, to make sure that no one can get close without our approval. Officers that he trusts, that know how to keep a secret. This has to be kept quiet."
"I'll talk to him," Laurel said. "I take it Tommy's with me?"
"He is. Drop your car at your place and then he'll drive. Talk to your dad, and then Tommy knows what comes next."
And he did. She hadn't told him, but he could see the faint trembling in her right hand. They would pick up takeout, ice cream, and a few movies, and then he'd bring Ivy back to Laurel's, where she would be able to let her guard down and, hopefully, get some rest.
"What about you?" he asked instead.
"That's a long list," she warned. "I'll draft the press releases, call in some favours to get tomorrow's front page updated, and call some of my most trusted reporters in to cover the morning announcements. Once I hear back from Moira and Walter, I'll start filling out whatever paperwork we need so that Walter can contact anyone who needs to sign, and I'll organize it all for Oliver. I'll prepare the second news round once we have more information from Moira and Oliver, coordinate the appropriate interviews — Moria, when you ask Oliver about press conferences, could you also ask him how he feels about one-on-one interviews? If he doesn't want to do any, I'll take care of them myself, that won't be a problem. Oh, and Walter and I finish managing the paperwork, I'll coordinate the 6 o'clock news for those announcements."
"Are you sure you don't want help?" Laurel asked. "That sounds like a lot."
"That's the easy part," Ivy said. "After that, I talk to Thea."
Silence. No one spoke, no one knew what to say. Ivy was right, after all, telling Thea would be the hardest part of her plan. There was nothing to be said, no one else could do it for her, and Ivy wouldn't let them if they could.
Ivy clapped twice, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Let's go, we don't have time to waste. I have my business phone and my personal cell when anyone needs to get in touch, and I'll be in the office when you get back."
Well. Ivy's word had always been law, and everyone was quick to jump to attention, heading out the front door to start their respective tasks. Once alone, Ivy collected her purse and notebook and climbed the stairs up to the office. It had been Robert's office for as long as Ivy could remember, absolutely beautiful with its dark wood and golden accents, though far less imposing than it had been when she was little. After the Gambit, after Ivy had first taken over Queen PR, Moira had insisted that Ivy turn it into her own office — despite having both an office in her home and at the Knight Media Corp building. Ivy was part of the family, she'd said, and it was what Robert would have wanted. Moira hadn't taken no for an answer, and Ivy had found herself with a third office. She had refused to redecorate in the slightest, the only signs that it was even hers were her laptop on the desk and the espresso machine that she had bought.
She took a seat in the brown leather chair, opening her laptop, and unpacked her purse. Her notepad to her right, where a mouse might have been for a desktop computer, and both of her phones went face up on her left. She didn't bother with her usual earpiece since it only worked with her business phone, and everyone other than Walter was more likely to call her personal number. Once she was properly set up for a long night, Ivy got to work.
Her first step was to call her printers, calling in a solid handful of favours to secure herself a three hour extension for the final copy, enough time to prepare a new front page and to move and cut other articles accordingly. Deadline confirmed, Ivy's next move was to email her most trusted reporters, apologizing for interrupting their evenings and asking them to see if they could make themselves available for a conference call in half an hour — she wouldn't share the reason over email, and she knew that they would understand the significance of that.
As she waited for their replies, Ivy got started on the official releases. One for the papers, one for TV and radio, and one for the board members of Queen Consolidated. They weren't particularly difficult to write, Ivy hadn't had the top marks in her program for nothing, so all three first drafts were complete by the time her staff were calling in for her impromptu meeting.
"What's up, boss?" Connor James, her best anchor, was the first to speak up.
"Connor!" Eliza Burton, his co-anchor and equal parts best friend and rival, had never taken to his casual workplace demeanor, particularly towards Ivy herself.
"It's alright, Eliza," Ivy said. "I know this is particularly unusual for our team, hardly the usual Monday morning check in. Now, what I'm about to tell you is as confidential as it comes, so I am trusting that you all remember the NDAs you signed upon your hiring."
She looked at the screen, watching as each member of her top team nodded in agreement. In a normal workplace, this sort of meeting might have been between department managers or a board of directors, but that wasn't the culture that Ivy had worked so hard to cultivate. Instead, her top team consisted of chief editors, primary anchors, content writers, journalists, and technicians, all of whom had earned her trust with both their strong work ethics and undeniable professionalism. They were the ones who would be telling the stories, so they were the ones who would hear them from her. It wasn't often that she had to call emergency meetings with the entire team, those were usually reserved for a team meeting every Monday, and private or semi-private daily debriefs. But this was different. This was Oliver.
"Good," she said. "There's no way to break this to you gently, so I'm just going to say it. I will, of course, answer as many questions as I'm able to, but this isn't easy for me so please let me get through it first."
She took a breath.
"Oliver Queen is alive."
On air and in the newsroom, Ivy's team was as professional as could be. Nothing would ever be seen as fazing them, no matter how surprising, scandalous, or outright horrific it might be. Apparently, Ivy had just found their limit. The shocked silence was overbearing, weighing heavily on the emotions that Ivy was trying so hard to ignore, breathing through the familiar burn of tears about to fall. It was a relief when Connor finally broke it, a whispered "what the fuck?" that seemed to echo across the call.
She allowed herself one last second to collect herself, to let them process her announcement, and then continued.
"He was found by a group of fishermen and has only been back in the city for a couple of hours. He's currently in the hospital, and we have a twenty four hour window of confidentiality at most, which is why we're breaking this story first thing in the morning. Captain Lance is arranging security with his most trusted officers, and Moira is there now with a list of questions that we will need to be able to answer. Walter Steele is currently collecting all of the paperwork that will need to be filled out for both the company and the legalities of returning from the presumed-dead, which will be filled out once Moira knows Oliver's plans for the company. This is our new front page, and our six o'clock leading story. I know this is asking a lot of you all, running a new story so late in the evening, but I have to ask for all hands on deck. If any of you have prior commitments, I fully understand and you're free to go, but for those of you who are able to help tonight, you will of course be getting paid a bonus for your time and you'll also be compensated in vacation days.
"So. Any questions?"
Hands were raised immediately — of course they were, one of the things that made her team so exceptional was their attention to detail and thirst for knowledge.
"Eliza?"
"What time do you need the new paper ready for? And are we all collaborating on the entire thing or do you want us dividing the work?"
"We have until ten to get it to the printers. And I trust all of you. There's a lot to be done, edits to the paper, the article itself, an updated script for tomorrow, interviews to schedule and film… I trust all of your judgment and all of your skills, however you all feel you can be your most productive, go for it. I've already written up initial drafts for everything, I'm sending them to you right now, but they'll all need final revisions, the rest of the paper layout will need to be adjusted to account for the new front page, and as always, I want Eliza and Connor to give their voice to the script."
"Is he returning to Queen Consolidated? How did he survive? How long will he be in the hospital, is he doing interviews or a press conference? Who else knows?"
Annika Cade, a recent college grad with more front page bylines than almost anyone else in the company.
"This is why you always get the front page," Ivy told her. "You always know the right questions. We don't know if he's returning to QC. That's on Moira's list of questions, so I will be sure to let you know as soon as we have the answer. Walter is gathering the paperwork that they'll need if that is his plan, meaning that if he does choose to return, it will be finalized first thing in the morning when he can get the necessary board signatures, so leave a space to include details on that when we have them. No one knows how he survived, he hasn't even told his mother." Moira hadn't told her as much, but Ivy knew that if he had, Moira would have told her. "Moira will also be asking about both his hospital stay and interviews. He will be doing a press conference whether he likes it or not—"
"How?" Connor asked.
"Oliver Queen is a man of many talents. Telling me 'no' has never been one of them. He will be doing a press conference, and if he chooses not to do private interviews then I will take some myself to represent him. Of course the primary one will be with Jaden—" her best interviewer, also on the call and flushing at her acknowledgement — "but once I hear from Moira I will also be outsourcing a handful. As for who else knows… I know, Moira Queen knows. Walter Steele, Captain Lance, and a handful of Captain Lance's officers. The hospital staff and the fishermen, Tommy Merlyn, and Laurel Lance. Thea Queen will know before the story drops."
"She doesn't know yet?" Jaden asked.
Ivy sighed. "I'll be the one telling her." Her team already knew how close she was to the Queen family, the entire city knew, so she didn't have to explain more. "I want to have everything organized before I talk to her so that I can give her my truly undivided attention."
Jeremy, her best editor, spoke up. "If we have a ten o'clock deadline for the printers and we go live at six, when do you want us to have everything for your check?"
"I know this isn't our usual, but I don't need a check. I trust all of your judgment entirely, and I would rather you all focus on having everything perfect for the printers and tomorrow's segment than feel the need to rush to get another check from me first."
Connor raised his hand next.
"Connor?"
How are you?" Connor asked, uncharacteristically serious. "Work aside, is there anything else you need from us?"
She really had the best team.
"I'm holding up," she said with a small smile. "Right now I'm just focussing on the work. I won't be coming into the office tomorrow though, the Queens will need me. Can I ask you all to maintain focus in the office and to put out the fires for me?"
"Of course, boss," he said, back to his usual charming grin. "You can count on us."
"I know I can."
Her phone started ringing, a quick glance showing that it was Moira.
"I have to take this. I'm sure that I'm about to have a lot more information to share so instead of hanging up, would you all take the next few minutes to assign jobs and come up with a game plan for the next twenty-four hours?"
They all nodded, so Ivy muted her computer microphone and answered Moira's call.
"Moira, hi. How are you?"
Moira let out a wet laugh, which Ivy took as a good sign. "He's awake, he's talking a bit. He remembers me, I didn't know that I was afraid that he wouldn't until he did."
"Good, that's so good, Moira."
"He'll be out of the hospital tomorrow afternoon. The doctors say that he's showing no signs of any brain issues, he's fully responsive and aware, even if he's not talking much, and there's no signs of any memory loss."
Ivy hummed quietly, acknowledging but not interrupting, writing Moira's reports down in her notepad.
"He said he'll do a press conference and a maximum of three interviews," she continued. "But only if you moderate the conference and are there for the interviews."
"Oh. Oh, did you tell him—"
"I didn't really have a chance to explain your entire job, everything you've done for us. He knows that you went to school for this and run Knight Media, and I told him that you're handling the media side of his return."
Every side of his return, if she was going to nitpick. She didn't object, it was probably easier than explaining the full story, but she would still make sure that Moira didn't use the oversight to try to control Oliver's return.
"I'll get everything organized right away. I'll have to do a conference call in the morning, probably before he's out of the hospital, but I'll schedule his interviews and a press conference to take place over the next few days. A week, at most. What about Queen Consolidated?"
Moira paused, and Ivy's hand tightened on her phone.
"We weren't able to discuss it." So, either Moira or Walter was intentionally trying to keep Oliver away from it, probably Moira. "We weren't able to talk for long."
No wonder Moira wasn't telling Oliver that Ivy was managing everything. Ivy loved Moira, she really did, but the woman was too self serving for her own good. Ivy could work around it, of course, and she had Tommy to step in where she would need to appear unbiased. She forced down her argument — it wasn't her place, and it definitely wasn't the time.
"Has Captain Lance set up a security patrol yet?" she asked, instead of commenting on the woman's manipulations.
"He has, they're already here. I'm not sure I completely understand why it's necessary, though. Wouldn't it be safer if they didn't know?"
"In theory, maybe. But my plan banks on a minimum of twelve hours before anyone — the fishermen or from the hospital — starts talking. If anything gets out sooner, we want to be entirely sure that no one is able to get to him or leak the news. Not to mention, we're breaking the news at six, and if Oliver's release isn't expected to be until the afternoon, that's a minimum of six hours still in the hospital, it's always best for security to be in place before it's needed, a precaution rather than a cleanup."
A moment of silence, not comfortable but not quite tense.
"I should be done talking to my team shortly, and then I'm going to talk to Thea. If I'm not with her when you get back, I'll be with Laurel and Tommy. Tell Walter to leave all of the paperwork on my desk if I miss him, you know I don't like going through Robert's personal files to find the originals."
Another beat.
"If I miss you tonight, when should I expect you in the morning?"
"I'll be here before the news breaks, try to sleep in, I have my key and I'll just be in my office."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then."
After Moira hung up, Ivy made another note to herself to double check that Walter brought her all of the papers that she would need — she wasn't ready to trust he or Moira to cooperate with company matters.
Actually… she sent a text to Tommy, asking him to touch base with Walter. If anyone would be able to tell if anything was missing, it would be he and Laurel, and Walter wouldn't expect it the way that he would with Ivy. She didn't phrase it quite like that, but she knew that Tommy would understand what she meant with her request for them to collect the paperwork from Walter and organize it for her before picking her up.
There was something to be said for having known someone for as long as she'd known Tommy and Laurel. Not to mention the strategic advantages of Laurel's law degree and Tommy's understanding of family businesses and deliberate loopholes in paperwork.
She returned to her computer, smiling to herself as she listened to her team. They had, as they always did, gone above and beyond her requests, well past the planning stage and already into the brainstorming and editing stage of their preparations.
"Ivy," Eliza was the first to notice her. "What do we need to know?"
Always practical, always to the point. Her no-nonsense, work then play mentality, like looking at herself in a fun-house mirror, had stuck out to Ivy from her very first interview, one of the many qualities that had brought her into Knight Media's innermost circle in under two years.
"Oliver will be out of the hospital tomorrow, he's doing remarkably well with no physical or mental concerns, but they want to keep him overnight for observation. He's agreed to a press conference and three interviews — Jaden, I'd like yours to be the day after tomorrow, and once the news breaks I'll schedule the rest and see if I can negotiate him up to five, three televised and two printed."
"What about his company?" Connor asked.
Moira would be pissed, but Ivy could smile her way out of anything. And Ivy knew Oliver like the back of her hand, she knew his answer without ever asking the question.
"He's eager to return to Queen Consolidated, but he isn't looking to make any definite plans until he can touch base with Walter and the board and get a better understanding of the current state of the company. His father's legacy is important to him but he knows that his return creates unprecedented and extenuating circumstances, and he doesn't want to destabilize anything by waltzing in as if the past five years never happened. Ideally, he'll visit the office before the end of the week and start to get a sense of what he's missed so that he can come up with a sustainable plan for his return; my personal hope is that he'll have more of an idea in time for Jaden's interview.
"Unfortunately I don't have much time tonight, I'm sorry for putting so much on all of you. I don't want to sign off until I know that you have all of the tools you need, does anyone have any other questions?"
No one said anything, and Ivy nodded. "I'll have my phone nearby all night, feel free to call or text if you think of anything and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you all so much for taking this on. Can everyone be on at 5:30 for a last debrief before the story breaks?" Everyone nodded. "Perfect. I'll see you all in the morning, then."
And with that, she hung up the call.
One task done, too many to go. She glanced down at her notebook, crossing off everything that had already been done. Moira talked to Oliver. Ivy wrote the drafts, the story passed off to her team. Walter had collected the paperwork, with Tommy and Laurel taking care of the rest of that for her. Laurel had talked to her dad, security was in place.
As overwhelming as it had all felt when she put the plan together, it had been a surprisingly easy job, and there was only one point left on the list.
It was time to talk to Thea.
She kicked off her shoes, shut her laptop, and tucked her notebook and agenda back into her purse. She brought her phones with her, vowing to drop them on Thea's dresser so that her attention could stay on the youngest Queen.
Ivy knew Queen Manor as well as she knew her own home. She had spent her entire childhood in its walls, she knew every inch of it. She could walk to Thea's room, all one hundred and thirty seven steps from her chair to Thea's doorway, with her eyes shut. And yet, the walk had never felt so long in her entire life.
The door was shut, as it always was, and Ivy knocked three times – a lifelong habit that differentiated her from the four knocks that all of the Queens had always favoured.
"Ivy?" Thea said, cracking the door open. "What are you doing here, I thought you had a date?"
"I did… I was supposed to," she said, following Thea into the room. She put her phones down, turning to face Thea. "But Walter texted me."
"They never let you have a night off." Thea rolled her eyes, and Ivy smiled fondly.
"It was worth it…. Thea, you might want to sit down."
Thea's eyes widened, but she sat down on the edge of her bed, and Ivy sat beside her.
"Thea… Oliver is alive."
"What?"
Thea's voice cracked, eyes welling with tears. Ivy pulled her into a tight hug, Thea's head tucked into the crook of her neck as Ivy smoothed down her hair.
"He was found by a group of fishermen, he's in the hospital now. Your mom was just there, they say he'll be let out tomorrow."
"How?"
"No one knows… Oliver hasn't said anything, I'm not sure he ever will. But they did all the testing, it's definitely him."
"And dad?"
"I'm sorry, hon."
That was the final straw, and Ivy could feel the moment that a few tears turned into sobs, Thea shaking in her arms. She held her tighter, kissing the top of her head, and let her fall apart.
"I always believed… I always hoped that he would come back somehow. He was Oliver, he was always so invincible to me, I couldn't imagine that he was really dead, even after we buried him."
"I know, Thea. And you were right. Oliver has always been too stubborn to die, hasn't he?"
Thea laughed. It was wet and choked, caught around another sob, but it was a good sign.
"Does he… did he? I mean–"
Ivy knew what she wanted to ask, it was the first question that had come to her when she saw Walter's text.
"He remembers. He recognized your mom, no sign of memory loss or any brain trauma at all."
"Oh… oh, that's good."
"It is," Ivy agreed, letting Thea sit upright but still keeping an arm around her.
"What happens now?"
"Well, the news breaks first thing in the morning. My team is already on it, we've got a new front page for the paper and they're updating the script for the morning segment. Your mom visited the hospital to check on Oliver, that's when they told her that he'll be out tomorrow. Laurel's dad set up a security patrol in the hospital, Walter went to get any paperwork that might be needed if Oliver wants to go back to the company. Now we just wait for him to come home."
"You did all of that, didn't you?"
"Everyone had their jobs—"
"And you did three times more than anyone else, and put together the entire plan, comforted mom, told Laurel, and now are telling me. I'm not stupid, Ivy, I know how this works."
"Okay, yes. Walter wouldn't have any idea where to start, and your mom was too emotionally invested. It wouldn't be fair to expect her to be rational right now. Besides, it's my job."
"You're emotionally invested too, Ivy! It's Oliver! You can't tell me that doesn't still mean something to you."
"Of course it does. Oliver will always mean the world to me, Thea. He was my best friend long before he was my first love. But someone had to take care of everything, and no one else could do it. You don't need to worry about me."
"Someone has to, while you're too busy worrying about everyone else."
Ivy sighed, pulling Thea closer and pressing another kiss to the top of her head.
"I love you, honey, but I'm okay, really. I'm just relieved, happy that he's alive, there's nothing to worry about at all."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
They stayed there, in their cocoon of silence, for at least an hour, until the emotional toll caught up to her and Thea drifted to sleep against Ivy's shoulder. Careful not to disturb her, Ivy lay her down properly on her bed, pulling a blanket over her and kissing her forehead. She tiptoed out of the room, grabbing her phones and shutting the door as quietly as she could, making her way back to the office. From the whispered voices down the hall she could tell that Moira and Walter had both returned, the soft glow of light from under their bedroom door only confirming it for her. She couldn't tell what they were saying and she wasn't going to snoop, tempting as it may have been.
She shut the door to her office, not even flinching when she noticed the other person in the room. Tommy would never be able to surprise her, not really, and she had expected him to be waiting there to pull her away from doing anymore work for the night.
"So, the paperwork?" she asked in lieu of any greeting.
"He had everything. If something weird is going on, Moira hasn't told him yet."
"Well, they're whispering pretty intensely right now." As she spoke, Ivy was finishing packing her bag, pulling her shoes back on, and confirming that she hadn't missed any important calls or texts. "Whatever is going on, I'd assume that she's telling him now."
"Do you think it's something… bad?"
"I doubt it. Moira is a bit of a control freak, we all know it. She probably just doesn't want Oliver going back until she's ready."
"Which won't stop you from making sure that there's nothing else going on."
"My job is to know everything that's going on at all times," she said with a smirk. "I would be slacking if I didn't follow up."
"You scare me sometimes, you know that?"
"A little fear is good for the soul, Tommy. I'm not going to do anything bad or even invasive, I just like to keep my ducks in their rows."
Tommy laughed, picking up her purse as she opened a text that Moira had sent an hour earlier. It hadn't been urgent or time sensitive, thankfully, just letting her know that she'd brought Oliver a new phone and sharing the number in case Ivy needed it for any of her media arrangements. She saved it into the contact lists on both of her phones, following Tommy back down the stairs and to his car.
He opened the door for her before hopping in the driver's seat and taking off down the familiar route to Laurel's apartment, his speeding cutting at least ten minutes off of the drive.
When they entered Laurel's apartment, they were welcomed by the familiar sound of the Legally Blonde menu and the smell of Italian takeout. Laurel was pulling the takeout containers out of the oven, waving for them to let themselves in. Tommy went to open a bottle of wine and, at her friends' insistence, Ivy went to Laurel's bedroom to change into something more comfortable than her date-night dress. They'd clearly planned ahead, a pair of Ivy's pajama shorts and an old t-shirt of Tommy's already set out for her, so she dressed quickly and rejoined them in the living room. There was a plate of garlic bread sitting on the coffee table along with three individual pasta dishes, each of their respecting favourites, along with three glasses of wine and two unopened bottles with very familiar Chevalier De La Reine labels – her family's label, from the case that she'd gifted to Laurel only a month earlier.
She found herself nudged into the middle of the couch, Laurel and Tommy pressed against either side as they ate.
It was nice, after the last few hours, to lose herself in one of her favourite movies with her favourite people and one of her favourite meals, even the merlot they were drinking was one of her personal favourites. They finished their meals as the movie drew to a close, Tommy refilling the wine, already opening the third bottle, while Laurel grabbed three cartons of ice cream and Ivy switched the DVD out for Clueless.
Laurel flipped the lights off on the way to the couch, the relative darkness and wine allowing Ivy a chance to sit with the knot of feelings in her chest, tugging at the threads of hope and heartbreak, longing and fear until it unraveled, and Ivy with it. She didn't even realize that she was crying until Tommy handed her a handkerchief.
Ivy had always been a quiet crier. Not a pretty one, her mom had always told her, but silent as could be. Her shoulders shook and Laurel pulled her close, a mirror of how Ivy had held Thea earlier that night.
Tommy was the first to drift off to sleep, his hand still warm on Ivy's ankle, where she had tucked her feet under his legs. Laurel was next, her head leaning against Ivy's and an arm still around her waist. Alone in the darkness, TV switched off to let them sleep, Ivy curled into the warmth of her two best friends, the weight of the day settling over her like a blanket. Oliver was alive. Somehow, Oliver was alive.
It was all that she had wanted for five years. For Oliver to walk back into their lives, smirk on his face, you didn't really think I was that easy to get rid of, did you? She had dreamed about it, far more than she'd ever admit, but now that it was a reality, the dread was setting in. It had been five years since the Gambit had sank. Five years since Ivy had begged him to choose her, since she had offered to throw her entire life away if he only asked. Five years since Oliver had smiled sadly and boarded the Gambit with Sara Lance. Ten years since they broke up. Since they graduated high school, ready for the best summer of their lives. Ten years since Oliver had broken her heart, saying that he couldn't handle long distance but wouldn't keep her from her dreams. Ten years since she had moved halfway across the world and rebuilt her life around the Oliver shaped hole in her heart, one that had been filled for far longer than she could remember.
It had been a decade since they were last in each other's lives, really. And now, after everything that they had each gone through — alone, separately, without each other — she didn't know if there was any place for her in his new life. She didn't know if she wanted him in hers, either, if she could trust him with any part of herself after everything they had been through.
But Oliver was alive, and Ivy was only human. They could be friends. They had been friends for years before they had ever dated, they could do it again. She couldn't give up hope, not now that he was so close.
It was to that thought that Ivy fell asleep; the only light left in the room coming from the phone in her hand, still opened to the last message she had sent.
To Oliver Queen: welcome home
Oh, Ivy…. My poor girl is going through it right now… So that's chapter 2, I hope you all enjoyed reading it! As we've now seen, Ivy is a very internal character, she represses her emotions to take care of everyone around her, but this is such an emotionally driven chapter that it was a very difficult balance to strike — hopefully it worked, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
I can also promise you right here and now that it won't be this long of a wait for the next chapter. It's actually already 90% done, it was written to be a part of this chapter, but my beloved themildestofwriters (an amazing writer you should all check her out!) suggested ending the chapter here and then starting a new chapter and expanding on a couple of scenes, so I'm currently working on that and will hopefully have it ready soon!