Hey guys! So sorry this update took so long but loads of things seemed to just get in my way and then finale week happened... Haha. By the way, can we talk about how awesome the finale was? I have never been so excited to see what happens for Olicity! Season 3 is gonna be good guys :) Anyway, I hope you like what you read! :)
Alas, I do not own Arrow.
Iron Heights had this claustrophobic feel to it. As with any prison, the sense of being confined, of checking your freedom at the door as you waded further into its hallowed halls, pervaded throughout, making Oliver itch somewhat. It had a weird way of trudging up whatever paranoia existed inside of you, heightening it to the point where furtive glances from left to right become the default. It even smelled clinical; dust and chemical based cleaners blended into a burning stench that whacked you in the face the moment you stepped over the threshold. Just the thought of his mother spending her days locked in a concrete cell amongst hardened criminals who observed zero degree of remorse for the crimes they had committed caused a storm of nausea within him. Could he condone her actions – the Undertaking? Lying to both him and Thea? No.
But he could appreciate and understand the duress that Malcolm Merlyn put her under. He was a murderer; he was the instigator. It was his plan. She was merely acting out as a concerned mother.
What she did the night of the disaster ending up saving more lives than she could have ever hoped for. And her standing up in front of the city relaying her wrongs in an effort so that they had a chance, that they could live, showed true character and courage. And Oliver would be damned if he didn't show her support at her time in need.
Bottom line? She was his mother, and she had been there for him more times than he could count.
He and Thea sat waiting in the visitor's area, their hands intertwined as his sister bounced her knee erratically, making the table shake. Though she had been there a number of times, and had frequently visited by herself, Thea always looked to be on the edge of her seat, her body on the cusp of taking flight just in case. All Oliver could do was offer her a small smile and a squeeze of her hand to keep her grounded. No matter how insignificant they seemed, the gestures always seemed appreciated.
Moira Queen strode into the room with confidence, a regal-like air about her as bored guards flanked her sides, as if she was a queen and them her tired servants. Only she could make an entrance in that in prison. Oliver stood and hugged her, letting himself rest in her embrace for the moment before Thea pulled her to her in an almost desperate act of assurance. The hard lines on his mother's face softened as she regarded her daughter, the severity of the situation forgotten briefly, a smile gracing her features.
"How are you, dear?" she asked as she slinked onto the seat across from them, her mother mode on full alert.
Thea looked at Oliver. "I'm okay," she said with a shrug, playing it off. "Still a little jumpy I guess."
"I demanded a call to the police the moment I caught the news but clearly the well-being of a child does not rank highly among the officers here. And neither does being a Queen unfortunately." She sighed. "It wasn't until a saw the bulletin later that I found out you were safe."
Oliver took his sister's hand again, sensing the apprehension emanating off her. Ever since the kidnapping, Thea had been having starts and spurts of panic attacks and Oliver, though not always available to help her, had been doing his best to support her in any way that he could. "The main thing is that she's safe and the men who took her have been apprehended," he contributed matter-of-factly. "We can put this all behind us."
Moira reached across the metal table and took her children's hands in her own. Her face crestfallen, she swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry that I'm not able to be there for both of you right now."
"No, mom…" Thea shook her head harshly, "…it's okay. I'm okay, I promise." Her mom shot her a sad smile, obviously not truly buying it. "And I've got Ollie," she tagged on, shouldering him and in doing so, eliciting a kiss on the head from him. "So I'm good."
"Yeah, mom. We're good."
Resignedly, Moira shuddered a sigh, nodding her head as she moved back but keeping her hands locked to theirs. "You both are so strong. I don't know where you get that strength from."
"We're Queens," Oliver remarked wistfully. "We learned from the best."
The slightest sparkle returned to the woman's eyes. Her natural fire had extinguished the more the weeks prolonged; the inevitability of trial and the highly plausible outcome hanging heavily in her depths, sapping the energy that rested in her expression. Even to see a miniscule of her spirit make an appearance allowed Oliver to breathe easier.
All around them, guards escorted handcuffed prisoners into the area to meet loved ones, the atmosphere an odd mixture of relief and sadness. A sniffle from behind them cemented the true nature of where they were seated, the weight of situation once again making itself known. Recognizing it straight away, Moira flicked the stray hairs off her face and cleared her throat. "So…what else has been going on in your lives? If I know my children, I know that there's nearly always something else thrumming on in the background," she said lightly. "How's Roy, Thea?"
Roy was two years older than Thea – making him seventeen and verging on being an adult, and while Thea's sixteenth birthday was fast approaching, Oliver did not approve of her spending so much time with him. She claimed they were just friends…but nobody looked at their friends like that. Plus, Roy was from the Glades and was known by SCPD for his frequent rough-housing; not exactly glowing references as a potential boyfriend for his little sister.
"He's okay," Thea replied, rolling her eyes at his involuntary grunt.
"Keeping out of trouble?"
Her eyes widened, lips pursed. Oliver watched on in amusement, knowing all too well how much trouble Roy had found himself in over the past few weeks. Being The Hood had its advantages when it came to keeping an eye on Thea's love interest.
"Yeah, sis, is Roy keeping out of trouble?" he goaded playfully.
The younger Queen glared at him until the corner of her mouth pulled up into an impish grin. "Hey mom, do you remember Felicity Smoak?" she asked, keeping her stare fixed on her brother. Oliver's shoulders dropped, the blood rushing out of his face in record speed.
"Felicity Smoak…" his mother echoed aloud, her forehead creased into a V, a smile lurking on her lips. "How could I forget the talkative blonde girl that had Oliver completely smitten when he was a teenager?"
"I…was not…smitten," he insisted weakly.
His mother levelled him with an Are-you-serious?-look, her head lolling to the side in that knowing way.
Thea smirked, visibly relieved that she had managed to change the subject and utilise her gossip skills all at once. "Well she's back in town," she informed eagerly as if he wasn't sitting right next to her. "And Oliver is back to completely crushing on her again."
"Oh I think your brother had a little more than just a crush on her."
"Do we really have to talk about this?" he interjected in exasperation. It was bad enough that he was constantly subjecting himself to this torture but to have the rest of his family hop on the bandwagon wasn't helping.
Moira's expression softened and she leaned forward onto the table as if ready to conspire. "You loved her, Oliver," she said simply, as if her words didn't mean anything. His breath hitched at the turn in the conversation. "It's rather difficult to forget someone like Felicity. She certainly had a hold on your heart; I knew that from the moment I met her."
Oliver sat back. "You did?"
"Ollie, everybody could see how you felt about her – it was like you walked around with hearts in your eyes! If it wasn't kinda gross it would have been cute."
He coughed a laugh. "Gee, thanks Thea."
The older woman patted his hand, garnering his attention. "So she's back in town…"
"Yes he is," he affirmed with a puff of breath.
"And?"
He turned his head toward the ceiling, shrugging. "And that's it. She's working at Queen's Consolidated and I'm trying not to…" he struggled to define what exactly he was doing, "push her, I guess. Seeing me again…it's – I don't think she really knows how to deal with it. Honestly, neither do I."
"You were both very hurt with how it ended," Moira added, now rubbing circles on the back of his hand in comfort. That was something she did when he was younger and needed his mom. She'd take his hands, anchoring him, steadying him, the simple movements a way of calming him down and allowing him to focus on them alone instead of the whirlwind that was his mind. He recalled her doing that after Felicity had left and he told her what happened between them. The gesture now seemed to conjure the same feeling within him.
"We were just kids. We felt things deeper than we probably should have."
Thea rolled her eyes dramatically. "Sometimes you are just too much, Oliver," she groaned, dropping her head to the table for a second to emphasise her point. "When are you ever going to cut yourself some slack? Just because you were a teenager doesn't mean that what you felt wasn't real."
"Your sister's right, you know," the other woman agreed with a chuckle.
He rolled his lips in. "Even if she is right, it doesn't mean that we can just go back to the way things were. You know that, mom. That's not how the world works."
"No, of course not. You're older now; you have different life...experiences." Her face wrinkled as though the word caused her actual physical pain. "But did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason she doesn't know how to deal with you being back in her life is because a part of her still wishes you both could try it again? After all, that is what you want."
Oliver tossed his head from side to side, coming up with nothing to retort. Eventually a small smile of admission broke through his stony demeanour and Moira winked in the way she used to when he was child.
Mothers: they could see right through you.
"What if she doesn't like me?" Felicity asked, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in her pink dress before moving her hands to her hair, running her fingers through the ends.
That was the tenth time she'd asked that in the time it took for him to collect her, drive them back to his house and walk up to the front door, and for the tenth time he felt the need to assure her. This time though he grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop just before they entered the almighty Queen mansion – her words, not his. "Hey," he said quietly, ignoring the bustle all around him. Her eyes darted left, right, up, down as if trying to take literally everything detail in but as soon as she heard him speak her glance shifted to his. "My mom is going to love you. You have absolutely nothing to worry about; just be yourself."
"That's what I'm worried about," she asserted, anxiously curling hair behind her ear. "You know I speak before I think; what if I say something that makes her hate me?"
"Like about how hot her son is?" he offered coyly.
"I'm serious."
He grinned. "So am I." That earned him a roll of the eyes and a playful smack on his chest. "Look, just relax. My mom barely acknowledges my existence at these benefit things, so at most it'll be a quick hello, a few minutes hanging out in the main hall, and then a trip to the study to watch a movie, okay?"
She nodded profusely, taking a large breath. "Okay, okay." She gulped. "Okay. Promise you won't leave my side?"
Oliver hooked an arm around her waist and leaned in to plant a chaste kiss to her cheek. "I promise."
Under his touch, he felt her physically relax, resting into the pressure. With a charming smile firmly in place, he squeezed her hip lightly as they entered the house, the benefit already in full swing.
The problem with being a Queen was that no matter your age, it was expected of you to show up to each and every function, event, or party thrown. When he was younger, he enjoyed the idea of staying up late and mingling with people who treated him like some kind of prince, but at sixteen he'd already had his fill of small talk and boredom and when offered the chance to bring a friend, Oliver grasped at it immediately.
Of course, his mother probably meant Tommy; the last thing she expected was Oliver's very blonde, very beautiful girlfriend…
"Seriously if you leave my side I will hack into your computer and spam your desktop with pictures of fluffy animals," Felicity warned breathily, her head facing away from him.
"You know, you're kinda cute when you're being all threatening…"
She made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and sigh. "Shut up, Oliver."
"Alright, I'm sorry," he chuckled as he guided them deftly around a cluster of tired businessman talking about golf while their wives knocked back glasses of champagne and toward the large spread of food laid out in the main room. "And I told you, I'm not leaving your side."
Weirdly smooth jazz filtered through the air; one more thing that made the whole spectacle that little bit more pretentious if you asked him.
"But what if you have to go to the bathroom and I'm left standing here in the middle of the floor with a bunch of strangers and then your mother comes along demanding to know who I am and…" she trailed off, her cheeks flushed, "I'm not very good at this, that's all."
He rested a hand on her shoulder, lovingly rubbing his thumb across her collarbone before moving his hand up her neck until he was cupping the side of her face. "I won't go to the bathroom," he insisted lightly. "I'm pretty good at holding it in."
Finally she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. Three months of spending almost every day with her and his heart still did unnatural things when he was around her; in fact, the more time he spent with her, the stronger his feelings grew. He couldn't see a day where he wouldn't feel that way about Felicity Smoak.
"I'm sorry," she groaned, twisting her bracelet around her wrist.
"For what?"
She dropped her eyes. "For acting like this. I bet this isn't how you thought this night would go."
"Felicity," he said in that way that made it sound like a full sentence, "the only part of this night I care about is being here with you, so it's going great in my book. And have I mentioned how hot you look tonight by the way? Because you do."
The girl narrowed her eyes, pink lips tugging upwards. "Always a charmer," she drawled. "And you're not so bad yourself."
A spark of heat soared through him and for the first time in his life he was glad he was wearing a tuxedo.
He angled his elbow so she could hook her arm through his. "Why thank you, milady. So…what do you say we get this over with so we can ditch this shindig – you ready to meet my mom?"
"No," she answered automatically, causing him to laugh at the abruptness. She smiled sheepishly. "But I guess you're right. Better to bite the bullet, get it over with. It's just like a ripping a band-aid off, right?"
Oliver barely knew what she was talking about but he agreed nonetheless, pumping her hand three times in assurance.
As soon as he caught sight of her twirling on her office chair and waving the pen she held in her hands, he couldn't hold back his smile. She had earphones in her ear, the sound of the music loud enough to create that buzzy noise, and she hummed out the tune, her shoulders bopping along to the beat. She always had a nice voice.
For a second he felt like an intruder, someone observing a private scene, but in all honesty, he couldn't force himself to look away. So he stood there leaning against the door jamb with his arms behind his back, one leg crossed over the other, and a smile so wide that his whole face lit up watching her become lost in her own world. There was a time after he had returned from the island where he thought he'd never really smile again; maybe a part of him believed he didn't deserve to, maybe another part of him just didn't have enough faith in himself to allow that kind of light back into his life again. Broken, unfixable Oliver Queen.
Maybe not so much anymore.
Felicity was on her third rotation when her eyes clapped to him in frightened realization, her pen slipping from her fingers and collapsing onto the carpet. With haste she ripped the earphones from her ears. "Wha - how long have you been standing there?" she stuttered, pushing loose strands behind her ears.
"Not long enough," he said smoothly.
She raised an eyebrow, the blush fading from her face. "You realize how creepy that sounds, right?"
He chuckled, stepping further into her office. "Noted."
Felicity's office space was quite the spectacle. Whereas most people preferred to leave their area devoid of their own personality aside from the odd family photograph or a calendar full of cat pictures, hers was the opposite. Neon-coloured post-its decorated the wall next to her computer, scattered around in some nonsensical pattern, her flowery handwriting scrawled across them. On the wall over the adjoining desk, random pictures of Felicity with her friends at various points in her life took up most of the space. In one corner, a pile of magazines laid sweetly, the top one crooked and lying half open. The other corner boasted decorative box of lavender scented tissues (the smell calmed her) as well as several opened boxes of candy.
"So what brings you by, Mr Queen?" she asked with the hint of a smile.
Oliver removed one hand from behind his back to reveal a steaming cup of coffee and placed it in front of her.
She puckered her lips. "You…brought me a coffee?"
"Yeah," he replied simply.
Felicity took it in her hands and swished it around a little, staring into the cup like she would find the answer to all of life's questions if she stared hard enough. She took a sip, the wheels in her head turning as she appraised him. Then, her eyes shone knowingly. "You need help with something."
"How do you do that?"
"Must be magic," she answered confidently.
He dropped his shoulders and breathed out a laugh. "It's nothing major; just a little research."
Her fingers brushed over the keyboard. "I should add 'Personal internet researcher for Oliver Queen' to my job description." She smiled. "Happily, I mean."
"Well I was hoping this would soften the blow," he said, moving his other hand from behind his back.
"But I thought that was what the coffee was fo-" Felicity stopped when she saw what he was holding, her hands freezing mid-air.
He presented her the tablet with care, silently urging her to take it from him.
A few seconds of her pointing at it and her mouth opening and closing followed. Finally, she managed to get her words out, "What…why….what is that?"
"Haven't you seen a tablet before?"
"Oliver!" she exclaimed, her loud voice making an appearance. He flinched slightly, his fingers flexing around the device. "What is this? What are you doing?"
"Will you just take it from me?"
"No."
His eyes narrowed in confusion. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"
"What I mean is that if I take that from you then I'm pretty sure I won't want to give it back but I can't do that because I can't accept it…you see?"
In exasperation, Oliver dragged over the chair by the door and dropped onto it. "Look, I know your tablet was destroyed when the hoods attacked and I know how much your technology means to you so I just wanted to…get you a new one."
"My tablet was destroyed because I decided to swing it at somebody – which now that I think of it was an extremely violent thing to do…" she shook her head, "anyway, what I'm saying is it's not your fault so you don't have to buy me a new one just because you feel guilty. Like I said, we're even. No one owes anybody anything."
He should have known how difficult this particular exchange was going to be. It was always the same story at birthdays and Hanukkah: he'd buy her something that may or may not have been on the pricey side and they'd spend who knows how long arguing over how he shouldn't have spent so much money all the while he would insist that he wanted to spend it on her because she was worth it. Most times it was difficult to tell who would come out on top.
Just like this time.
"Why can't you just accept it?" he inquired, shoving it back in her direction.
Her expression softened, a flicker of something flashing in her blues. "Because, Oliver, it's not right. As much as I would love it – and I would really love it, I can't just take it. I mean, it's really sweet of you but…" she paused, her eyes closing for a second, her hand clenching into a fist, "it's not your place anymore. Just because you feel…like you owe me, or feel like it was a good idea to get it for me…doesn't mean that you should. We're not…"
"Felicity, it's okay," he interjected evenly, hoping that he was doing a good job at hiding his deflation. Deep down he knew she would hate the fact that he went out and bought her something, but what he didn't expect was how much the rejection of it would hurt. Why did everything have to be so complicated? "You win," he said with a forced grin. "You were always better at arguing your case when it came to presents; I should have known I wouldn't win."
"You always caved too easily," she joked nostalgically, turning her attention back to her computer.
"That's true."
"So," she continued, clearing her throat, "what do you need?"
Right. Business time.
A serial killer by the name of The Dollmaker had escaped from Iron Heights after the Undertaking and lately had resumed his malevolent practices, preying on young, unsuspecting women at night and transforming them into something sick and twisted to nurse his warped mind. SCPD were hot on the case and despite commands not to do so, Officer Lance had been feeding The Hood as much information as possible; when he knew something, so did Oliver. It had taken longer than he had hoped but finally he had the link, the vital part of the investigation in his possession, to take the psycho down.
"I was wondering if you could find this particular skin cream for me-"
"Skin cream?" she repeated sceptically.
He nodded, resting his arms on her desk. "Yeah, uh Thea's birthday is coming up soon and I'm trying to get her a bunch of different things that I know that she likes…aside from the car." His gaze remained fixed away from her because he just knew she was shooting a piercing look in his direction. "Anyway, all I know is that it's called mermaid something or other."
"Wait, you want to get her a car and some skin cream?"
He hesitated. "Yep," he said, popping the 'p'.
Felicity shook her head, utter bewilderment written in her features. "Well the only skin cream I know that's to do with mermaids is Mermaiden. I use that one."
His orbs widened. "You do?"
She started back at the intensity of his question, her office chair squeaking under the surprise strain. "Yeah."
Trying to cover his outburst, Oliver sat back up straight and buttoned up his suit jacket just so that his hands had something to do. "Does that cream contain ethylparaben and sodium laureth sulphate?" At the blonde's probing gaze, he continued, "Uh, she…she has allergies and I just want to make sure that this is the right stuff. I know that those chemicals are…in whatever she buys."
So much for having an orchestrated excuse at the ready. He really needed to work on all of that.
Wordlessly, she took to the keyboard and danced her fingertips across the keys. In less than a minute, she turned the screen toward him. "You're in luck. They are Mermaiden's proprietary formula."
"Great. Any idea where I can get it?"
"Well I know that it's super high-end and only a handful of boutiques store it because it took me forever to find a place to buy it – apparently if you have an extremely delicate complexion, you have to fork out a boatload of cash just so that your skin can get its proper nourishment."
Oliver smirked at her tiny rant and watched as she clicked away again, taking rest in how elegant her swift movements were. Only Felicity could make him think things like that…
"Okay so only four stores in the city stock it." Snatching at her pad of empty post-its, she collected a pen and wrote down the addresses for him, handing the page to him when she was finished. "There you go."
He glanced quickly at the addresses. "Have I told you you're amazing?"
"I do recall that at some point," she quipped sheepishly. "But it's always nice to hear."
"That's good; you need to hear it because you are."
She dropped her eyes from his and planted them back on the screen, her hand toying with the strap on her watch. "I'm glad you brought up the cream because I've been meaning to pick some more; I'm nearly out of it. I think I'll go after work tonight."
"No, don't," Oliver blurted immediately.
Her head snapped his way.
He kicked himself for having zero restrain. The idea of Felicity putting herself in the way of The Dollmaker instantly instilled fear within him. Down to the type of skin cream she used, Felicity was the perfect target for the crazed man and knowing that she had a connection to all the other girls he had gone after did very little to ease his mind. "I mean, why don't I pick you up some when I go get Thea's? Save you the hassle."
The blonde visibly relaxed, content with his reason. "You don't have to do that. Besides, I need a few other things like lipstick and blusher and I doubt you'll be able to pick out the right ones."
"I could try."
"Try being the operative word there," she giggled softly. "I appreciate the offer Oliver, I do, but I've got it covered."
She was right – of course she was right. And there was no way he'd be able to talk her out of going to buy some without either telling her the truth or coming across as overbearing.
So as he sat there he made a decision: if she was going out at night to get the one thing The Dollmaker was looking for, then Oliver was going to make sure that The Hood would be right there alongside of her.
No doubt about that.
The thing about Moira Queen was that to those who didn't know her personally, she could be a little intimidating. Cold stares, elegant poise, blank, emotionless expressions all wrapped up in Chanel suits and pearls.
An aura of superiority seemed to encompass her wherever she went, and to many she was a woman with impeccable taste and status. She headed fundraisers and led all types of meetings and made herself known as a prominent figure amongst the Starling elite, her last name practically a brand in the city and her face a picture of wealth and power.
To Oliver though, she was just mom.
His mom that he wished he could spend more time with. As it turned out, holding such a place in the city meant far less time hanging out with her kids and more time on the phone, holding luncheons and burying her nose in date planners and calendars. He understood that she was busy, and a part of him was sort of happy that she wasn't always around to notice when he slipped up on schoolwork or came home way past curfew after a night out with Tommy, but that didn't mean that he didn't miss actually sharing a meal with her every now and again.
He didn't even get the chance to tell her about Felicity and as they weaved their way over to her, he made sure to remain the picture of ease for his girlfriend's sake.
His girlfriend…
Yeah, he'd never get tired of that.
It wasn't that he was worried that Moira wouldn't like Felicity – it was pretty much impossible to dislike her, it was more to do with how the woman would react to the news. Not telling her he had been in a relationship for three months might not have been his smartest move.
Oliver cleared his throat when they reached her, making sure to roll his thumb over the blonde's knuckles in a soothing pattern. "Mom?" he said, grabbing the attention of the woman and the two other men she was chatting to. "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Moira's eyes moved from her son over to Felicity in painstaking consideration. Her head automatically tilted to the side when she observed the girl, confusion and surprise etched into forehead. "Of course," she responded after a beat, turning back quickly to the men with a smile and a nod, who returned the gesture and went on their way. She spun around to face them again, hands clasped together in front of her frame. "What is it, dear?" she posed, keeping her eyes trained on Felicity the whole time.
He could feel the girl shrink beside him. His mom had really perfected that cold, detached gaze.
"I just wanted to introduce you to someone," he professed, pivoting his head to the side to smile at his date. Somehow looking at her made him feel all dizzy and light and right about then he didn't care about how his mother took the news or what she had to say; all he cared about was Felicity's hand clutched to his, her blue orbs seeking solace in his own and how fast his heart beat knowing that she was with him.
Yep he was so far gone there was no question of turning back anymore.
"Yes, and who is your friend here?"
"This is Felicity Smoak." His smile widened. "My girlfriend."
Felicity squeaked involuntarily, a timid smile forcing its way through. "Hi, Mrs Queen. It's really nice to meet you." Moira narrowed her view, her forehead wrinkled in concentration as though she was trying to solve an equation. "I've heard a lot about you – not that we talk about you behind your back or anything it's just that Oliver mentions you from time to time because, well, you're his…mom."
The woman's brow deepened.
Oliver coughed, flashing her a reassuring grin and tightening his hold on her.
"Girlfriend?" she repeated as if tasting the word on her tongue.
"Yep. We've been seeing each other for three months now," he informed casually.
"Three months?"
It was as if she had to echo his answers so that she could wrap her head around the information. The news ruminated in her head, conveyed through her somewhat peculiarly amused expression and squared shoulders. His mother didn't have many tells but it was easy to figure out when she was intrigued and she was definitely intrigued by the girl squirming uncomfortably in front of her.
"Yes. We met in school."
"I tripped over air and managed to cause a scene in the library. Oliver was quick to my rescue," Felicity filled in fondly.
"Every now and again I'm known to be something of a hero," he quipped.
"Oh yeah well don't let it get to your head."
"Why? I like being your hero," he smirked indulgently, taking the opportunity to kiss her temple.
The blonde just rolled her eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth again.
A tiny beginning of a smile eked onto Moira's face, the lines around her eyes crinkling in the slightest sense. "Well, Felicity, it's lovely to meet you." She extended her hand out to her and Felicity accepted it tentatively, the handshake brief but warm. "I'm so glad you could make it tonight."
"Me, too."
Oliver relaxed, letting his fingers flex on Felicity's hip and in doing so, noted how all the tension in the blonde's body dissipated in an instant. Deep down he told himself it was because his mother hadn't cast her out like some lowly peasant, but he couldn't suppress the thought that just maybe his touch had that effect on her. "We're gonna go watch a movie in the study; no offence but this party's kinda lame," he announced cheekily, that Queen beam pasted onto his face as his mother eyed him with nothing short of amusement.
"Oliver!" Felicity blurted out in shock, head shaking profusely. "This party isn't lame, Mrs Queen – it's great! I mean, everyone's having a really good time…" she threw her head in all directions, eagerly searching for evidence to back up her claim. Her face fell though when all she was met with was clumps of people looking bored, chit-chatting passively.
Oliver could barely bite back his laugh as he looked at the girl scrambling for something to say, but knowing that the flailing about was only going to cause her anxiety, he jumped in. "What Felicity means is that I'm sure they're having a great time…on the inside."
Her head whipped around to him in incredulity and all he could do was gaze at her tenderly. She was adorable when she was flustered. And from the strange look on his mother's face, he gathered she thought the same way. "Anyway, I think that's our cue to leave," he said, starting to pull her away. "We wouldn't want to cramp your style, mom; this party is just too much for us."
Despite herself, Felicity giggled at him, lightly shaking her head at his comment.
What Oliver didn't see though was the way Moira observed them as they half-walked, half-jogged out of the room with a content grin forming on her face.
Oliver and Digg had eyes on the store the whole time. The odds of Felicity being taken by The Dollmaker were just a little too high for his liking and as they watched her go into the shop, his agitation and anxiety reached a new level. They still didn't thoroughly know how the man operated other than he chose his targets for their skin cream and the mere fact that she just had to go out and get some more while he was on the rampage was just the type of luck Oliver didn't need. He needed her safe, whether he did it as Oliver Queen or The Hood and Digg didn't argue with him. That surprised him a little, but he figured that the man had grown fond of her since their meeting and understood the need to keep her protected – especially with someone that sinister on the prowl.
"Did you forward the information on to Lance?" he asked while they wanted for her.
Oliver nodded curtly. "I gave him the name of the cream and the store locations. They're thinking about using a decoy to lure him out."
"A decoy? That's a little risky, isn't it?"
"I agreed to be on site to lend a hand," he continued, his voice slightly strained.
Diggle nodded, turning his attention back to the task at hand. "You know, Oliver, I understand you want to protect Felicity but don't you think she'd be safer if she knew who you really were? Then you wouldn't have to lie to her about…well, anything. And it wouldn't look suspicious to her when a guy wearing green leather happens to shadow her sometimes?" Oliver shot the man a look. "You're right; it'll still look suspicious," he said with a huffed chuckle.
He set his jaw, annoyed that he brought it up again. "If I tell her who I am…" he exhaled heavily, "…it puts her at more risk. What I do is dangerous. And I can't put her in danger."
"Oliver-"
"I can't do it, Digg."
"No, Oliver, look." With a disgruntled expression, he pointed to the store. Felicity had just left and crossed the street, making her way back to her car.
Oliver's body came alive, every nerve alight as he traced her every move, his eyes never leaving her…until she went around a corner and out of his eyeline.
The shriek that rang out into the open night sky made his bones rattle, every atom in his core shaking as the noise reverberated around his mind. They both swept into action, sprinting toward the noise, breaths coming in panicked spurts.
Fire ripped through his body as they closed in and he saw her struggle against her assailant, pushing and pulling and scraping and screaming to get out of his grip. Using her strength, she caught him by surprise and hit him with her elbow into his throat and he released his hold on her, choking at the blow. But as she ran away from him, she tripped over a last ditch effort he made to grab her and stumbled forward, smacking her head off a crate and immediately going out cold. Teeth barred, Oliver lunged forward and fired an arrow at the man who was staggering away from them, but just at the last second, he moved an inch, the arrow missing him by a millimetre.
Too distracted by the unconscious woman, he rushed over to her, resting an arm on her side, examining the injury.
"Is she okay?" Digg asked breathlessly, catching up to him.
"She hit her head – stay with her!"
Though his heart argued with his head, Oliver took off after the man, his blood boiling to the point where he thought he'd explode.
But the trail ran cold quickly; The Dollmaker nowhere to be seen.
Cursing to himself, he raced back to Felicity and Diggle.
"How is she?" he questioned a little too aggressively. The sight of her limp body lying on the cold, hard ground unsettled him too much for him to remain calm.
John levelled him with an understanding look. "She'll be okay. Is he gone?"
He flexed his neck in anger. "Yeah. He's gone."
"Oliver, I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but if she comes to and you're wearing that," he waved his hand at him, signalling to the suit, "you're gonna have a lot of explaining to do."
"No," he cut in, "if she sees you with me, then she'll have questions but if she just sees The Hood…"
"She'll just think she has a knight in shining armour," he finished wryly.
He pulled the hood over his head, the harsh shadows obscuring the majority of his face. "I'll make sure she gets home safely."
"Are you sure?" Oliver could tell that Diggle didn't exactly agree with the plan but being his partner and friend, was accepting it regardless.
"I'm sure."
As if on cue, Felicity stirred, her head lolling from side to side. One hand fell onto her stomach, the other reaching up to her forehead.
"Go," Oliver urged to the man, who listening, glanced at him briefly before leaving the scene.
He was over to her instantly, making sure to keep a respectable distance from her. Enough cracks from his friend about how his lack of disguise was laughable forced him to look down, utilising the shadows from the crates to his advantage.
Felicity's eyelids fluttered a few times before her blue depths became present, her gaze searching until they landed on him. With a gasp, she began to clamber away from him hastily, fear etched into her features, legs kicking until she pulled herself upright.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he vowed solemnly, his voice distorted. A hand came out to assure her and she spied it warily, her eyes flicking between it and his covered face.
"What do you want? What – what happened?"
His heart tugged at the distress in her tone.
"You were attacked and you hit your head. I'd suggest not moving too much; you might have a concussion."
She gulped, seemingly remembering her ordeal all of sudden. "You saved me?" she posed sceptically.
"You saved yourself. You got away from him. I just scared him off."
"Oh…well…thank you," she said seriously, wrapping her arms around her body.
He licked his lips, hating how alien her voice sounded. "You don't need to thank me."
"Well, I am. Thanking you, that is."
It amazed him how stubborn she was even to a hooded vigilante. If the situation was different he would have even smiled at her.
She began to move away from him and he called out, "I don't know if you should be driving in your condition."
"I'm fine," she assured too quickly. Closing her eyes briefly, she shook her head. "I mean, I have a little headache but I don't live that far from here so I'm sure I can make it home okay. Plus, I've had concussions before – too many if you ask me but that's a whole different story – and this definitely doesn't feel like one…"
"You're just going to leave it to chance?" he asked incredulously, annoyed at her decision.
"If it makes you feel better, you can follow me the whole way there to make sure-"
"I will," he interjected.
"Wait, what? No – I was joking."
"Well I'm not," he answered decisively with a thunderous boom.
Felicity seemed to note straight away that there was no arguing with him. He reckoned the brooding vigilante look was paramount to her backing down that easy.
"Fine."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Fine."
And so Oliver, moonlighting as The Hood, followed her home as she drove as carefully as he had ever seen her through the streets of Starling, his eyes never leaving her until she went inside and locked the door.
Some things never really change, do they?
So what did you all think? I found it a little difficult to rearrange The Dollmaker storyline so that it would fit into this particular story but hopefully it was okay. Anywho, please drop me a review letting me know what you thought - they seriously make my day and give me motivation to continue with this story! Hope you guys liked it! :)
