And he does see her again, a week after he picks up his paperwork. According to the rest of the world, he's officially Eric David Wilson, born and raised in Starling City. She kept her promises, and she started his second life in Starling City, as well. She has built a world around him, and she's chosen to write his past five years in a very remote portion of Africa, as if to explain his missing eye as poor medical options while alone. It's a surprisingly nice touch, one that she didn't even discuss with him.
Even as a new man to the rest of the world, Oliver has rarely felt as tense in his life as he does now, in the middle of Queen Consolidated's eighteenth floor. He doesn't look as though he fits in with these computer technicians, so he moves as quickly as possible toward Felicity's office. People stare, but he doesn't focus on it. After all, he may be a freak, a pariah, but he knows there's no such thing in her world, at least.
He finds her with her head in her hands, and he thinks it might be the wrong time to talk to her about anything. He turns to leave, but then realizes that he's not sure when he'll be able to see her again. His only option during the day is to catch her at work, and he's too busy with his work as a vigilante—the one they're starting to call the Arrow—to find her at night. He clears his throat before asking hesitantly, "Felicity?"
Her head snaps up immediately, and a smile grows across her face as recognition kicks in. "Good to see you again, Eric," she says, and now he realizes what a fool he was to think she wouldn't remember him. Apparently Felicity is blessed with an eidetic memory, so she knows him every time. It really should stop surprising him, but he marvels at how she's able to keep all their names straight. She waves toward her desk. "Please, come in—and shut the door behind you, will you?"
He does as she asks, then finds that the guest chair is in the middle of her workspace. When he sits, she focuses on him with those focused eyes again, her attention on nothing but him. "What can I do for you, Oliver?" she asks, using the first name he gave her now that the door is closed and they have some privacy. She bites at her lip. "Not that I think every time you show up you're in need of some assistance." She crosses her legs, smoothing down the skirt of her dress as she does so, before resting her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. "You just don't strike me as the kind to stop in to chat."
"I need your help again," he admits, holding up the battered laptop that once belonged to Floyd Lawton. "I'm having a little trouble with my laptop." He likes that he doesn't have to fake a smile or attempt to charm her to seek her assistance; all he has to do is be himself, a surprisingly rare thing in the life he leads.
She takes it from him, setting it on her desk and opening the lid. She gives off a low whistle when she sees the screen. Before she can ask, he tells her, "I was at a coffee shop, and I spilled a latte on it." It's the best he can think of on short notice, and it's all he can do to keep from wincing at his own lie.
Not surprisingly, Felicity isn't buying it, either. "Really?" she says flatly, crossing her arms, a hint of a smile still playing at her mouth. She uncrosses them a moment later to point to the screen with a turquoise fingernail. Because these"—she puts her finger in one of the holes in the screen—"look like bullet holes to me." She holds up her hands. "Granted, I'm no expert, but it's a little unmistakable, don't you think?"
Oliver offers her a tentative smile, genuine because he's with her. "My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood," is his quick reply, and somehow he manages to say it with a straight face. Maybe that's why he's a liar—he's particularly good at keeping a straight face when the rest of the world can't.
She crosses her arms again, this time no amusement in her features. Her head tilts completely perpendicular as she heaves a long-suffering sigh. This time he can't help the smile that crosses his face, and he doesn't try to mask it with anything. Smiling feels... wrong after all of these years of unhappiness, but he thinks the opportunities are going to be rare for a very long time. "You don't have to tell me the truth, Oliver," she says carefully, gauging his expression all the while, "but I'd appreciate it if you didn't lie to me."
He winces, hating that look on her face that managed to appear after that speech. She almost looks disappointed, and it's the last thing he wants her to be. "I'd rather not say where I found it," he says quietly, trying to offer an olive branch after lying to her—and so poorly, at that.
It clears up her frown immediately, and she breaks into that contagious smile. "Well, I think I can help you with it," she responds cheerfully. She examines the screen and then the bottom of the casing with a practiced eye, not moving too fast or too slow over the components as she studies it. "Components are intact," she comments finally, setting it back down on the desk. She pulls out a series of cords from a corner of her workspace, underneath a monitor mounted to the cubicle's wall. "I think the only thing damaged was the screen. If that's the case..." She trails off as she plugs in the cords and presses the power button. Her eyes light up when it immediately powers up, the operating system's logo appearing on the monitor. "We should be able to start it right up without any trouble," she finishes the thought, looking rather pleased with herself. She turns back to him. "Anything in particular that you were looking for?"
He frowns, not wanting to endanger her in this life, but, at the same time, needing her help desperately. "Anything that would tell me where the owner was planning on going next," he says finally, slowly. He shouldn't be telling her this, but he doesn't see a way around it.
She seems to understand his turmoil somehow. She studies him for a long moment before saying, "Okay, I think I can deal with that. Blueprints, maps—that sort of thing, right?" He doesn't answer, but she doesn't expect him to. She opens a black window and starts typing a string of nonsense in it, some sort of language that she understands as well as Oliver understands Mandarin or Russian. After a few heartbeats, she pulls up a blueprint, and she leans closer to study it. "Looks like the Exchange Building," she comments to Oliver. "It's where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place." She frowns. "Unfortunately, I'm getting dragged along—they're a technology firm, and they're not going to list out the patents until the night of the auction."
Oliver immediately goes on high alert because he knows that's going to put her in the middle of a dangerous situation. Lawton is targeting the Unidac auction for a reason, and Oliver knows from experience that Lawton doesn't hesitate to take out anyone who stands in the way of a contract. It's an odd feeling, concern; after three years completely alone on that island, it's just as foreign to him as the ability to smile.
He opens his mouth to speak, but he's stopped by a knock on the door. Before Felicity can answer, Diggle pokes his head in, and she immediately switches off the screen and folds the laptop down. The screen took most of the damage, so it looks mostly normal when closed. Diggle's eyes land on Oliver. "Is this a bad time?" he asks carefully.
Felicity waves a hand. "Eric and I were just catching up over lunch," she says easily, lying far better than Oliver would have ever expected. He feels guilty that he's caused her to lie to her friend, but she doesn't seem particularly upset by it. "Come on in."
"Of course," he continues slowly, "I brought a friend." A playful smile crosses his face, and it takes everything Oliver has to contain himself when Thea walks into the room. She's more beautiful than he thought possible, grown so much older in so little time. For not the first time, Oliver thinks it's unfair that five years were stolen from him, and how angry he could be if he thought too long about how much of his sister's life he's missed.
Time has stolen much from him, but, no matter how much he asks for it, he can't get it back.
"Hey, Thea," Felicity says, not missing a beat, though Oliver watches her eyes flick to him a couple of times. Thea's eyes study Oliver with hesitance, clearly upset by the man she's seeing in front of her. It's then that he knows he'll never be able to tell her; she's already horrified by him, and he won't prolong her disgust by admitting who he is. Felicity notices the silent exchange, so she breaks it with, "Thea, this is Eric Wilson. He's a friend. Eric, this is Thea Queen, but I bet you already knew that."
He forces a smile that causes Felicity to raise an eyebrow at him because she already knows he doesn't smile. "Nice to meet you," he says quietly, not offering a hand. She's already upset by his presence, and he's not going to force it on her if she's not interested.
She frowns at him, pointing to her own right eye, and it causes him to tense. "Is there actually an eye in there, or...?" She trails off, asking him to finish her sentence for her. It's not the ideal situation—him in the same room as Thea falls far short of ideal—but at least she's not calling him a freak. And, knowing Thea, she probably would.
"Thea," Felicity says gently, and it's a warning with just enough edge to show a surprising level of protectiveness. It startles him, but then Felicity offers him a secretive wink and another barely-there smile as an answer to his silent question. The message is clear: I protect my own, Oliver.
Oliver surprises himself by putting a hand on her forearm. He doesn't like physical contact since it usually ends in injury for him, but something about her feels comforting and reminds him that, maybe, the world isn't always a cruel place. "It's fine, Felicity," he says quietly to her before turning to Thea. "No," he says after a long moment. "I don't have a right eye anymore." Something about the admission is cathartic, as if he needed someone to ask about it. "I was in Africa"—his eyes flick to Felicity for a second, and she answers the look with a smile—"for my job, and our group was attacked." Finally he tells the only truth in the story: "One of the militia members threw a knife, and it went through my eye socket. There was a medical student with us and she was able to fix it, but she had to remove the eye. She sutured it closed to prevent any infection, and it's sealed together now."
Thea makes a face. "God, that's awful," is her answer, shaking her head. Oliver can't help but agree, frowning. "People are twisted."
He hates the cynicism in that statement, but he can't deny the truth of it. In his experience, people are just that—cruel, manipulative, and twisted. But he knows he's no exception. Felicity might defy that belief, but she's certainly the exception and not the rule.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, he rises, knowing he can't bear to be in the same room with Thea any longer if he doesn't want his mouth to betray him. "Thank you, Felicity," he says then, and she smiles as though she understands—perhaps a little too well for Oliver's liking—disconnecting the laptop and offering it to him. He takes it from her. "I'll see you later." It's meant to be a simple farewell, but he actually means it.
"I'll look forward to it," she answers with a faint smile, her expression and tone sincere. It's a rare quality in his world, and he thinks it's a beautiful one.
He nods before walking out the door, and he hears Thea say behind him, "Wow, he's an odd duck. You never cease to surprise me with your friends, Felicity."
Oliver admits to waiting around long enough to hear her say, "He's not odd—just jaded used to being alone. And I think he's a little tired of it, but doesn't know how to break the cycle. The world is a cruel place sometimes, Thea, and I think he knows that better than anyone." There's a short pause before saying quietly, "He doesn't share personal things, so thank you for being sympathetic—I don't think he's used to that."
He walks away then, wondering when Felicity learned how to read him so well.