Soft and Warm Epilogue
Donna stayed busy working a second job as a weekend cashier at an all-you-can-eat buffet near the Stratosphere. Felicity had received a scholarship, but she would have a lot of incidental expenses, like clothes and pocket money. The girl also had expensive hobbies that included buying computer parts. Donna wanted to make sure she fit in and had everything needed to be successful.
Despite the distractions, Donna was still feeling low. Her brilliant girl was beginning a new life without her and she missed seeing her around the apartment. It had been five weeks since Felicity had backed her bags and headed to Boston for her first semester at MIT. She had also chosen to remain man-free for the time being. At least that part of her life was simple and manageable. She didn't have the energy for losers any more.
At the end of a particularly sweltering, late September day, Donna returned home to find a note on her door about a package. She collected a large box from the building manager and brought it into her modest living room. It was wrapped in brown paper. Since it wasn't her birthday, Donna was particularly intrigued and immediately ripped into the paper like a child. She opened the box lid and spotted a card. Opening it, she saw read following:
To the shiny Miss Goodleigh. Best regards, 007
She bit her bottom lip and smiled, recalling that night with fondness. She pulled open a layer of white tissue paper and sight of the contents caused her to clap her hands over her mouth.
Over the past months, Malcolm Merlyn had occasionally recalled his steamy tête-à-tête with a cocktail waitress as the highlight of his return. He considered it a necessary step in transitioning back to his life in the west. More importantly, the woman had impressed him with her character. Donna Smoak - that was her name - hadn't been hard to track down. There weren't too many 16 year-old scholarship recipients enrolled at MIT, so finding a guardian's name and contact information was relatively easy. What he knew of her situation suggested that a small extravagance would be appreciated. Besides, it seemed like good karma to do something nice for someone who expected nothing, particularly when he knew they would never have occasion to cross paths again.
That night Donna Smoak initiated a ritual she would repeat many times in the future when she was feeling low.
The apartment was dark, except for cold, curious light in the kitchen. There, Donna leaned strategically between the counter and the open refrigerator, cooling herself, holding a glass of port, which she now routinely stocked in her liquor cabinet.
Donna had peeled off every stitch of clothing and donned the contents of the box – a knee-length red fox coat with a caramel silky lining that slid luxuriously against her naked skin. It was the most ridiculously unnecessary thing a woman like her, living in the desert, could own. But she loved it. Combing her fingers sensuously through the soft fur, she practically purred. Her problems belonged to another woman that night.
Unable to contain her smile, Ivana paused to raise her glass in a silent toast to a certain dangerous man and took a sip of the sweet nectar that reminded her of a searing kiss.
First, thank you again to all of the Readers, especially those who take the time to write a comment. It means a lot.
Second, I have decided that this story should be dedicated to John Barrowman. At first I wasn't sure I could write a story like this about Merlyn, but his performances have inspired me. He's also super hot, really, and has such an appeal that transcends labels. I am definitely a fan.
So, many of you may know that this story began some time before Mr. Guggenheim made comments at Paleyfest about how pairing Malcolm Merlyn and Donna Smoak. He seemed to think it was a funny idea, but I think we know better, don't we? J
Thank you again for your ongoing encouragement. Next story will probably focus on Oliver Queen…