Chapter 3: The True Beginning
She was yanked up by her shoulders quickly, the shock from the sudden sensory change jolting all of her senses back to the present. Her eyes struggled to focus, the wires laying around her wrapping around her wrist tightly at the sudden upheaval. As she looked up from her gasping position she knew she shouldn't have when she was met with the angry face of John Diggle staring down at her.
"What do you think you're doing?!" He demanded with a small shake, almost as if he could physically shake some sense in her.
The disoriented woman looked around quickly, her now sloppy ponytail hanging loose at her neck. She glared up at him with a sway and weakened voice, "What does it look like I'm doing?"
He released her arms suddenly and she slumped forward, catching herself on her unsteady hands and feeling a small shake run up her limbs. She couldn't resist the slow downward slumping of her body to the ground, her muscles still too weak to hold her.
"We can't make irrational decisions! You can't make irrational decisions!" He scolded angrily, pacing back and forth and giving the girl time to collect herself. She huffed and regained her composure, glaring back with defiant blue eyes. "We have to take our time on this," he stated while rounding on the woman again.
"We're running out of time!" She retorted angrily.
She was sure she looked like a lunatic in that moment, ponytail skewed, clothes rumpled in her fall and wires dangling around her limbs like vines from a plant. She certainly felt like a lunatic, and from the look John was giving her, he would probably agree she was a lunatic.
It didn't much bother her in the moment, Felicity had been called worst names in the past.
It was a tense stare off before the bulking man slammed something hard against the table to her left, the crashing metal ringing in her already sensitive ears.
"You need to be more careful," he scolded definitively, folding his arms across his chest, "before you decide to make any more contact you had better come to me first. We can't blow our only chance."
It wasn't something Felicity was normally accused of, acting without a fully formed plan, letting her emotions get the best of her, but she was beginning to feel the sharp edge of desperation.
"We've already been compromised once, and look at where that got us," Diggle continued, motioning widely towards the shamble of a factory they were hiding in.
The memory of how they got here and all they'd lost made Felicity's heart hurt. She sat up slowly, watching as Diggle resumed his pacing, crossing his arms again in agitation. "You don't need to be messing with that thing alone," he spat after a minute, looking at said machine with barely concealed disgust.
Felicity knew how much John hatted the circumstances, but it was a necessary evil. They had already exhausted all the careful measured steps, and they were none the better for doing so.
It was another half beat before she nodded softly in agreement. She smiled sheepishly up at him, and looked away, beginning to unwind the wires twisted and wrapped around her wrist.
"Then I should probably tell you what I just did."
It was a beautiful day in Starling, one that made you stop to enjoy the breeze and feel the life in the air.
Oliver was blind to it though as he marched steadily to the entrance of QC, nodding to the occasional bow and keeping his eyes forward.
It was all he could do to keep from snapping at the persistent eyes on the back of his head, always watching him.
He knew who it was, the silent bodyguard had been sliding his eyes towards him every time he thought Oliver wasn't looking. And Oliver couldn't describe it, but he just knew the man was looking for something. Watching him knowingly, waiting silently. He didn't know yet if he was working with someone, but he probably was. With the intensity of his stare there was no way he wasn't involved in something bigger, someone bigger. He just hadn't decided who it was yet. Oliver didn't know if whatever was going on with his bodyguard had anything to do with office politics, or his family, but he had a feeling that figuring it out would start to answer some of his many questions.
It was just another thing to add to the list.
At the thought he felt the familiar pain zap through his head, catching himself mid-step quickly and regaining his composure.
It was a constant reminder of his newest mystery.
The bottle given to him by the doctor was now being tested by Curtis, and Oliver was almost certain it was something more sinister than he'd initial suspected. It started to add up as he counted the days from his headaches to the time he'd dumped his earlier prescriptions. The only conclusion he could lead to being some type of withdraw from whatever the doctors had given him.
It was a dangerous thought and one that enraged him on a primal level. He could feel his fists clenching at his side, his thumb coming up rub his finger.
After three days of taking not even an aspirin the headaches finally started to dial back in intensity, though the nagging feeling was persistent in his gut. He still wanted to know why they were given to him, and for what purpose?
The buzzing in his pocket pulled him from his musing, the caller ID showing Curtis' face.
Oliver looked over his shoulder, seeing Diggle's eyes ahead, but knowing he was just looking at him.
"Curtis," Oliver answered swiftly, the blast of cold air hitting him as he entered the elaborate lobby of Queen Consolidated.
"Mr. Queen!" Curtis rushed out, Oliver could tell he was flustered, "my analysis just came back from, uh, the numbers-."
"Curtis, I'm in the building we can talk about it in a second," Oliver interrupted his rambling.
"Okay great!" He huffed, knowing he'd feel better telling this to Oliver face to face. "Ms. Rochev is on the prowl." He explained, feeling twitchy in his own chair. The woman made him nervous.
Oliver took in a deep calming breath. He really didn't want to deal with her today. He wished his dad would buy her a house somewhere already and ship her there permanently.
That would ruin the Queen name, of course, so that would never happen.
But Oliver could still wish.
"That's just great," he muttered into the receiver, "I'll be up in a second." He finished, ending the call and slipping the phone back into his pocket.
He strolled up to the executive elevator and saw Diggle press the button to his right, the doors opening immediately. Oliver stepped in and watched as the bodyguard slipped in and selected the appropriate floor, taking them to the top of the building. He could see Diggle's eyes staring straight ahead in the reflection of the embellished walls.
He stared hard at the man, wearing his distrust on his face unflinchingly even as John's eyes flickered over to catch his gaze.
It was a tense stare off before Diggle gave with an unsuspecting smile and a tilt to his shoulder. Oliver's eyes flickered to the strap slung on the appendage, noticing it for the first time.
"Computer's fixed." He explained simply before turning his gaze forward again.
It agitated Oliver.
"It feels like you don't trust me Mr. Queen." Diggle spoke into the silence, never moving.
Oliver stared hard at the man, watching his body for any type of sign.
"Should I?"
Diggle smiled and looked at the numbers scrolling across the indicator screen. "You should trust yourself."
It was a cryptic response that Oliver wasn't going to let slide.
"Does it seem like I don't trust myself, Mr. Diggle?"
Oliver didn't know what response he was expecting, but the bulking man spinning suddenly and aiming the laptop bag at his head was not one of them.
With a grace he didn't know he possessed Oliver ducked and reached his arm out, twisting it around the bag and Diggle's wrist, pulling him forward and aiming his own fist towards his face.
At the last second Diggle reached out with his other hand, capturing Oliver's wrist and applying his thumb to the pressure point before twisting the appendage to the side, off balancing the man. Oliver quickly regained his balance, ducking behind Diggle in a flurry of movement and twisting his arm back with the laptop bag he still had tangled around his wrist. He shoved, none too gracefully, and pressed his face swiftly against the reflective doors, the elevator swaying with the force of their tussle.
It all happened so fast, and by the time it was finished Oliver was panting in surprise, his adrenaline rushing through his veins.
He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, his throat dry and his fingers turning cold. He wasn't feeling this way because he was scared. He wasn't, and that's what terrified him.
That was muscle memory.
A memory that he didn't have.
Oliver was so zoned out that he didn't hear the warming chime of the elevator doors until the body he had pinned against them was suddenly moving forward and spinning out of his reach.
Diggle turned slowly and looked at the stunned man standing in front of him.
"I'd say by the shock on your face you don't know yourself." He stated, and Oliver could catch the double meaning to his words. He could feel his own slack shocked face looking at John, his hand still extended when the elevator chimed in warning.
Oliver shook himself, composing his suit quickly, and stepped up dangerously to the bodyguard. His glare was hard and unwavering, his body tense and ready fight.
"And what makes you think I would trust you now?" He threatened darkly.
Diggle held his hands up with a small wave and half step back, "I meant no disrespect, Mr. Queen."
"It's Oliver!" He snapped, and for the briefest of moments a fuchsia smile burned through his mind, followed quickly by the desperate blue eyes of his nightmare before it was gone.
Oliver gave a chocking gasp and took a step away from Diggle, ignoring the flash of concern that darted across his face.
Why would he be concerned for him? He just attacked him in the damn elevator!
"Oliver are you okay?" Diggle asked, stepping closer and hopefully blocking anyone's view of him. This was dangerous and making Diggle nervous, the whole senate was up here and anyone could stumble—
"Mr. Queen?" A voce from behind Diggle made him freeze up, his body tensing in preparation for anything.
This was exactly was he was afraid of.
Luckily, it seemed as if Oliver had enough sense to know that Ms. Isabel Rochev was still bad news.
"Is something wrong?" She probed sharply, an eyebrow arched in warning.
Oliver straightened and smiled tightly at the woman, taking a deep breath to get his heart under control.
"Ms. Rochev. How nice to see you." It wasn't and he couldn't make his face pretend it was either.
She cocked her head in mockery, a small smirk lining her lips.
"Mr. Queen, you seem like you feel unwell today?" She asked, watching him closely.
"I hate to disappoint, Ms. Rochev, I'm feeling fine though." Oliver bit out. He wasn't going to give this woman the satisfaction of running to Robert with anything.
Isabel smirked and sauntered her way up to him, stopping just a breath from his chest and reached around suggestively, pressing the button behind his back. The doors swished open from behind him. "I do hope you feel better soon Oliver," she parted with, a finger trailing along his chest that made his skin crawl in its wake.
As the doors closed and began their decent Oliver felt like he could finally breathe again.
He looked at the man still standing before him, his stare serious.
"In my office," Oliver pointed at Diggle angrily and walked past him, seeing the confused look on Curtis' face from his desk down the hall.
For the first time since exiting the elevator Oliver looked around and saw just how many people were roaming the halls. He hoped no one saw any of the exchange, but especially the grand exit his bodyguard made courtesy of him.
There was a lot of explaining to do, and this was quickly becoming a very interesting morning.
Curtis stood from his desk and rushed over, meeting Oliver halfway and walking with him down the hall, keeping his voice low and speaking quickly, "I was running my tests on the medication and discovered two things really quickly, the first was that all the pills were the same compound, it didn't matter if they were a jelly or powder, they were all the same—varying dosages, but still the same chemical makeup." Oliver flicked his eyes to Diggle, seeing the man walking calmly just a couple of paces behind them. Curtis continued without a breath, rolling his hands unconsciously as he spoke, "and the second thing I found was that whatever they were giving you has never been approved by any drug agency and wasn't recognized in their system."
Oliver didn't know how he was supposed to feel, realizing that everything going on around him really was a lie. It wasn't like he was surprised, he just felt so confused in the midst of it all with his half-truths and spotty recollection that he didn't know what he should be focusing on. There were still too many variables on the table, and he was suddenly apprehensive of what his next move should be.
As they rounded the corner into Oliver's cabin, Curtis was still speaking, "So I ran an analysis on the drug and get this, it came back with large traces of histidine—which in theory is a protein that can attach to the brain cells that record memories. It's only been talked about, but if you could weaponized that you could potentially control anyone, erase anything, and create the ultimate weapon!"
Oliver chanced a look back to see if the ever stoic John Diggle had heard what Curtis was saying, though from all outward appearances it seemed he hadn't.
Oliver knew better than to overlook him though. He still wasn't sure where his place was in all this.
He glanced at Curtis and leaned forward, lowering his voice so only the assistant could hear him, "If I stopped taking them could I regain my memory?"
Curtis grimaced and looked away, "I'm not so sure on that," he started slowly, "the drug effects the DNA of the brain, if it runs its course, so to speak, there's no guarantee that after the withdraw you regain anything. Not only that, but Oliver, this was all in theory, to know that you've been given these is a big deal!" He muttered angrily and Oliver stared blankly at the man.
"I am well aware of that." He said shortly and Curtis jerked away, rubbing the back of his head, "right, sorry, this is strangely exciting. Is that bad? I'm going to stop talking now. I'll run some more test and see if I can send this off to a friend for an antidote."
Oliver raised his hand, stopping him for going into another tangent, "This needs to be as contained as possible."
Curtis nodded at the warning, "I know, but I don't know medicine Oliver, I can't make you an antibiotic. I'm not that super."
Oliver took a deep breath and nodded.
"I trust you Curtis." The words reminded him of an earlier conversation, his eyes seeking out the quiet man in the corner.
Diggle stepped forward, holding the disjointed strap of the laptop bag up and out towards him in a peace offering.
"Oh wow!" It was Curtis that stepped up and took the bag from Diggle, "what happened to this?" he asked after securing it and struggling with the bent clasp for a moment.
"It got caught in the elevator door." Diggle answered after a silence that stretched too long and took the truth from his words.
"Okay," Curtis drew out as he finally freed and laptop and turned it over to inspect it for any damage and then on, admiring how it was remarkably untouched.
He turned and handed it to Oliver, who took it from him and walked towards his desk. Project Overwatch was flashing on the side of the tablet on his desk and he minimized the tab. While everyone these days preferred the tablets, he still preferred the old keys of a laptop.
As Diggle turned to leave Oliver called out to him, "Did you find out who hacked me?"
He stopped and turned back towards Oliver, shaking his head, "Unfortunately we were unable to trace it back to anyone. It was thoroughly scrubbed and reinforced with stronger firewalls. I have a feeling you won't be hacked again."
He seemed a little too sure about that to Oliver.
Oliver shifted his eyes to Curtis, silently asking him for the room. With a quick nod and snagging the empty bag Curtis made his way towards the door, Diggle's eye following his retreat. "I'll get this…fixed," he told Oliver as he closed the door, staring at the indention on the bag and thinking twice about the excuse Diggle gave for its damage.
The soft click of the door made the air thick as Oliver stared at Diggle unflinchingly.
"And will what happened in the elevator happen again?" He asked into the silence, raising his brow at the small smirk Diggle gave him.
"Well, I can't make any guarantees."
Oliver didn't know if he liked that answer, but oddly enough it lessened his suspicion of the man. Maybe it was the truthfulness in his words or his ability to lash out at him and still have a civil conversation in the same breath. Whatever it was, it started leading Oliver to believe there was something more to their relationship. He didn't think Diggle was just a simple bodyguard.
It would explain the way he watched him, as if looking for something. Oliver was beginning to think Diggle was looking for the same thing he was. His memories. Or at least the person he was with them.
The only thing Oliver remembered about the bodyguard was he was hired for his mom, and under her request would follow him from time to time. Then the void was there and he couldn't remember, but when he woke up Diggle worked only for him. He couldn't even remember when that happened.
Diggle had to know what was going on then.
That didn't explain why he wouldn't just tell him though. It seemed the distrust was mutual then.
But Oliver didn't know why Diggle would distrust him. Why he would withhold something so important to him.
A flash in the corner of his eye drew his gaze down to the tablet he had just put in sleep mode. At this point Oliver found himself equal parts of surprised and suspicious as he saw the familiar alert for a new message flickering erratically. He didn't know how he knew it was from the ominously timed hacker, but he knew even before he opened the message, only mild hesitation filling him as he saw the contents.
Ask him about Oracle
Oliver didn't know why he would listen to anything his stocker technology would ask of him, but he found himself willing to give it a try, his eyes sliding to the man standing in front of him. He was ready to stare the questions down.
"What's Oracle?" He asked suddenly, his question clearly surprising Diggle before he saw his eyes flicker to the tablet on his desk and sudden understanding and then irritation flash in rapid succession across his face.
"Sorry man, I don't know," Diggle tried to supply.
'Yeah, I don't think so,' Oliver thought. There was more to that reaction, and for him to play ignorant was just irritating.
Oliver placed both his hands on the table, slowly sinking into the chair behind him, arching a brow at the stoic man before him.
"You want me to trust you," he began, "and yet you lie to me." It was more of an observation than accusation and they both knew it.
Diggle was serious, his face watching Oliver closely.
"It's for your safety." He finally supplied, the words measured.
Oliver scowled, echoing the sentiment back in mockery, "For my safety?"
Diggle nodded slowly, his sharp eye keeping watch on Oliver. "It might not come as a surprise that there's a lot going on, and things have already gone bad for us once. If we don't handle this carefully then it could get even worse. We're protecting you, and in turn it protects the others."
"Others?" Oliver echoed sharply, his mind racing with the possibilities, with wonder of how big this was and how deep it ran.
Diggle just stared at him in silence, and Oliver could feel his anger rising.
He stood up quickly and slammed his hands on the table, sick of everyone around him playing games with his life.
"I don't much appreciate this crusade for my life going on behind my back and without my knowledge. It's already bad enough to know that my memory gone and to think that it could be purposely withheld from me? Did you have anything to do with that Mr. Diggle?" He asked lowly, feeling the bite of ice to his words. He didn't know where this animosity was coming from, such unchecked rage, but he knew he could go even darker if he had to. It was a startling revelation in the many things he was learning about himself.
Diggle shook his head sharply, his eyes hard and unwavering as they clashed with Oliver's. It was something Oliver noted, how he wasn't scared of him.
"No." Diggle denied, "And if you would trust me I might have something that could help with that."
Oliver cocked his head to the side, feeling his rage wane at the new turn. "Help me with what?" He probed, still trying to figure out what angle Diggle was playing at.
"Get off whatever meds they've been pumping you with."
Oliver sat down again, his anger gone and his curiosity peaked.
"Why?" He counter asked.
Diggle grunted in frustration and threw his hands up, sitting down in the chair before Oliver's desk and and imploring him to understand. "I really can't tell you until after you take it. I know that sounds suspicious and bad, but we have our reasons. One of them being, if you don't regain your memory from before then it would be safer to never have. If this doesn't work then it could cost you your life, and a lot of innocent people"
"Innocent people?" He echoed. He knew there was something going on around him, an undercurrent he couldn't catch, but he never imagined it would be something as dramatic as this—innocent people, his life. It wasn't his he was so concerned with, it was always on the line to some degree, being a Queen, but the way Diggle was saying it implied more danger. Something in the works was already going on, and for him to know it could cost him his life? What had he gotten himself into? When did he get into it? It was obviously during the spots in his memory but now more than ever he was feeling the urgency to know what the hell he was forgetting.
He looked at Diggle with a new burning determination in his eyes. It didn't matter what it would cost him at this point. It didn't matter if he needed to knock every door down to find it, he was going to figure out what was going on. And regardless of what Diggle said about his safety he was going to re-discover it even if he never got his memory back. There was a reason it was withheld from him and that was reason enough for Oliver to get it back, or die trying.
Oliver chucked and held his hand out towards the bodyguard, "Well Mr. Diggle, it seems I have nothing left to do but trust you."
Diggle clasped his outstretched hand firmly, shaking it strongly.
"Just Dig." He replied, and Oliver could feel himself trusting the man a little more. He didn't know why he would, but his gut feelings hadn't led him wrong yet and he wasn't about to start doubting it now.
Oliver finally let himself relax a bit, smiling at the man and reaching over to page Curtis back in the room.
Once Curtis has scurried back in Oliver motioned him towards Diggle.
"Curtis, Diggle here is going to assist us." He explained to the assistant, "You can give him any information on the medication you were testing and see if he can help you come up with a solution." Curtis nodded as Oliver spoke, his face serious and eyes skirting to the larger man in question.
"Do you know anything about medicine?" Curtis asked Diggle in curiosity. He was in the body protection business so he hadn't assumed he knew much.
Diggle smirked slowly, raising an eyebrow towards Oliver, "Yeah you could say I know a thing or two. If its what I think it might be, we already have a solution"
Oliver tried not to get too excited, but the thought of getting this wretched drug out of his system faster than he first thought—assuming he wasn't poisoned in the process—made him ready to do what it took now.
"Oliver there is one thing you need to know," Diggle cut in suddenly, sobering the mood. "The counter drug we're giving you is ancient, predating the Darhk Dynasty, and it's not pleasant. This wont be an easy experience."
Oliver paused on the sentiment, looking off to the the wide glass windows that covered the entirety of a wall, allowing him an unobstructed view of Starling. He felt like he was in an ivory tower already, and he'd been trying to knock it down since he arrived back. If not for himself, than for the people of Starling. It might not be an easy experience but it was something worth fighting for. And if it was worth fighting for it would never be easy, he'd learned that lesson at a young age and it was one lesson he was grateful for.
"This isn't easy," he told Diggle, frustrated that everyone seemed to think his life was the easiest thing already.
"Alight then." Diggle conceded easily, nodding to himself. "I can drive you to our location tonight if you're ready."
Oliver shook his head, "If its alright with you I'd rather drive myself."
Diggle smirked and nodded softly. "I'll text you the address," he told him, stepping away from the desk and shaking Curtis' hand. "Welcome to the team." He said cryptically with a small secretive smile. "I'll be heading out then."
Before Diggle could close the door behind him he looked over his should to Oliver, a serious expression on his face.
"I hope you're ready Oliver."
The swish of the closing door sealed the room in silence again and Curtis looked over at his boss, not knowing what he should do in this situation. Sure, he'd been helping Oliver out with looking up some pretty shady stuff, but this just got a whole lot deeper and he wasn't entirely sure what the protocol here was.
"Are you ready?" He chose to ask instead, not knowing where to pick up the conversation.
Oliver stared blankly ahead before sighing deeply and looking back down at the tablet sitting on his desk, the previous message and all trace of it gone. He didn't know what was going on with the technology around him, but it was definitely from the same person, that much was clear. Its odd timing and willingness to be seen with Diggle also led him to believe that it was someone from his 'we' he was talking about earlier. Oliver didn't know why he'd asked the question without any hesitation either.
All of it gave him an entirely different kind of headache.
'What the hell is Oracle?''
"Would you like a coffee?"
"What?" Oliver asked, confused by the sudden question.
"Well, you know, to get ready for work…"Curtis trailed on, feeling a little out of step with the brooding man.
"Oh right, work." Oliver huffed, looking around the suit and collecting his thoughts. It really had ended up being one hell of a morning, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to wrap his head around it all while trying to keep things at QC running smoothly. "Yes, coffee please Curtis," Oliver muttered, running a hand over his face and hearing Curtis scurrying out the room.
He groaned to himself and sat heavily in his chair, the air whooshing around him.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath.
This was going to be a long day.
'Who do I know that wears fuchsia lipstick?' The thought fluttered through his mind before Curtis was walking back in, bringing with him a hot coffee and the reports coming in for the upcoming launch of Overwatch.
And hours later as Oliver was listening to another senate member drone on to him about money endeavors he couldn't help but wonder again who the bright shade could possibly belong to.