(A/N: I wrote most of this before last night's ep aired. We all had a lot of feeeeeelings after 2x20, and I've read a lot of one-shots/drabbles about it. This is just my take on how it could have ended.)
I Want to Help—post 2x20
It was all a mess. Everyone was a mess. Oliver was dealing with the cops and funeral arrangements. Thea had been sedated because she was hysterical. Diggle was at the lair, baby-sitting an unconscious Roy. Felicity had been with him, but there was nothing she could do for Roy or Thea or Oliver, and it was driving her crazy. So she grabbed her jacket and her purse and left the relatively safe location of Verdant, venturing deeper into the Glades than she'd ever been.
The clock tower Sara had made her home when she first came back to Starling City wasn't a secret. There'd been enough fights there that Felicity was surprised the cops hadn't tried staking it out to catch the Arrow and/or the Canary. Of course the elevator didn't work. The building was technically condemned, but no one had gotten around to turning it into a parking lot yet.
Felicity stuck her foot out, wishing she'd worn flats. The bottom stair seemed stable enough, so she took another step and bounced a little to see how it would take her weight.
"So far, so good," she muttered.
She made her way up the stairs and stepped out into a large room. Scaffolding was evident here and there, and plastic sheeting hung from the walls, but it was clear that whatever the renovation project was, it had been abandoned a long time ago.
"If you're looking for the Canary, don't bother."
Felicity shrieked.
Sin ducked around a piece of plastic sheeting and approached her. "She took off," she said.
The girl still sported the bruise that Roy had given her, and with her usually spiky hair flattened and a Spongebob blanket draped over her shoulders, she looked much younger than eighteen.
"I'm not actually looking for Sar—I mean, the Canary," said Felicity.
"No need to lie, since you clearly suck at it," Sin said. She sounded congested. "I know who you are and that you know Sara's the Canary. You're the Arrow's girl."
"I'm not his girl," Felicity replied. "I mean, I am in the sense that I work with him, but I'm not his girl girl. Sara's his girl. Well, she was, until she broke up with him right before she left. And oh my God, I basically just told you who the Arrow is." She sank down on a nearby box, putting her head in her hands.
"Oh please, like that's a big mystery."
Felicity looked up. "Did Sara tell you?"
"No. I knew she knew who it was, and I bugged her about it for a while, but she'd just say it wasn't her secret to tell."
"Then how do you know?"
Sin rolled her eyes. "A hood and a tiny little mask? It's not much of a disguise. Anyone who's paying attention could figure it out, but most people aren't paying attention. They're too busy being all 'Agh! It's the Arrow!'" Her voice cracked on the last word. "Look, I've known for a while and I haven't said anything, so you don't have to worry about me."
"But I am worried about you," said Felicity. "That's why I'm here. I want to help. Since Sara's taken off, someone needs to keep tabs on you while we wait on a cure for Roy. He's sedated right now, but the stuff we're giving him—It's strong stuff, but there isn't an unlimited supply. When he's awake, he seems to be going after the people he cares about."
"Aw, that's sweet. And incredibly messed up." Sin began to cough . . . and cough, and cough.
Felicity brought forth a bottle of water from the depths of her voluminous tote bag and handed it to Sin.
"So," she began as the girl drank, "I'm Felicity Smoak, vigilante tech support. And you're coming home with me."
Sin did a spit-take, spraying out the water she'd just sipped. "What?"
"You're coming home with me. Are you really going to make me argue about this? Because arguing will just make me grumpy, and I'll win anyway."
"You think so?" Sin asked, wiping her chin on her sleeve.
"Absolutely," Felicity replied. "I know you've been squatting here since you met up with Sara. But are you really going to turn down the chance to stay somewhere tonight with running water and a fridge?"
"I have a fridge." Sin nodded toward the far corner, where Felicity could see attempts had been made to make the place more livable. A hot plate and a mini-fridge were hooked up to a heavy-duty extension cord. There were also two cots strewn with blankets, but Felicity knew Sara hadn't been sleeping there since she'd hooked up with Oliver again.
"But my fridge has booze in it . . . which you will not have because you're obviously underage. It also has a freezer fully stocked with ice cream. I have an intimate relationship with Ben & Jerry's. Not sexy intimate, just yummy intimate."
Sin scoffed in what might have been a cynical approximation of a laugh.
"Running water, seriously," Felicity said. "What could be a bigger selling point than that? Plus, you're sick. You should be getting rest somewhere that's less ventilated." She eyed one of the holes in the ceiling.
The young girl sighed heavily. Felicity took it as a sigh of acquiescence. Sin tossed the Spongebob blanket aside and put on a black leather jacket, then headed for the stairs.
"I'm not a stray puppy, you know," she said as she walked past Felicity. "I was the kind of kid that got kicked out of foster homes."
Felicity followed her down the stairs. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? Because I work with vigilantes, and I'm not afraid of them . . . Well, maybe I'm a little afraid of Sara sometimes."
Sin laughed, a real one this time.
"So what kind of car do you drive?" Sin asked once they were outside. She glanced up and down the street. "Pink plastic convertible?"
"Should you be cracking a Barbie joke?" Felicity retorted. "Doesn't it hurt your street cred?"
"Nah, you're too small. More like Skipper than Barbie."
When they reached Felicity's red Mini, Sin was coughing too hard to make any sarcastic comments. Felicity tried to picture the contents of her medicine cabinet and then decided a run to the store was in order. Sin grumbled, but Felicity made her come with her into the open-all-night drugstore.
"I wouldn't jack your car," Sin said. "I wouldn't be caught dead behind the wheel of that little roller skate."
"I'm not worried about you stealing my car," Felicity replied as they entered the store. "I just don't want you out on the street by yourself with a huge target on your back."
Later, on the steps in front of her townhome, Felicity juggled her tote and the shopping bags, trying to unlock the door. She dropped the keys. Sin picked them up.
"You could ask me to help, you know," Sin said as she fitted the key into the lock. "I have a cold, not hooks for hands."
"I'll remember that," Felicity said.
Once inside, Sin seemed uncomfortable, though Felicity could tell she was trying not to show it.
"It's either my place or the Queen mansion," Felicity told her. "Those are your only options. That mansion is creepy and fancy and intimidating, and my place isn't."
"Well, you do have all the cold medicine and the ice cream."
Sin followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen. Felicity set the bags on the counter and pulled out the decongestant and the cough syrup she'd bought.
"Do you have a fever too?" Felicity asked, leaning toward the girl. "I have plenty of Tylenol."
Sin dodged her. "I swear to God, Skipper, if you feel my forehead, I will bite off your hand."
Felicity narrowed her eyes. "You're a really bad patient. But lucky for you, that's the only kind I have experience with." She measured out a dose of cough syrup and handed the little plastic cup to Sin, who tossed it back in one swallow. Then she popped two pills out of a blister pack and gave those to Sin with a glass of water.
Felicity didn't feel like having ice cream anymore. She wanted something warm and comforting, so she made coffee, filling her biggest mug.
"So is this the part where we have a heartfelt, musically accompanied conversation where I tell you my story and you tell me yours, and then there's crying and hugging?" Sin asked.
"I don't really do sitcom moments," Felicity said. "And I already know your story. Well, most of it. Once you fell off the grid after that last foster home, all I had to go on were police reports."
"How'd you get hold of police reports?" Sin asked.
"Easily. I first hacked their system when I was twelve, and I put in a back door in case I ever needed to get in again. Of course I had no idea that I'd eventually hook up with a leather-clad vigilante and practically make the SCPD's servers my second home."
"You're a little scary yourself there," said Sin.
"Thanks." Felicity beamed. She pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer—Chocolate Peppermint Crunch—and a spoon and shoved them toward Sin. "Enjoy," she told the girl. "I'm going to change into my comfy clothes."
Felicity had stopped at the bottom of the stairs to take off her heels when she heard Sin cough loudly. It turned into a long coughing fit that worried Felicity enough to return barefoot to the kitchen.
Sin leaned against the counter. "I just had one bite," she said when the coughing had tapered off. "I guess maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Which sucks because this is really good." She dropped the spoon on the counter.
Felicity put the lid back on the ice cream and returned it to the freezer. "It'll still be here tomorrow," she said. "You should go to bed."
Upstairs, she found some clothes that Sin deemed acceptable for sleeping purposes—cotton pajama pants and a gray MIT sweatshirt. She set up the younger girl in the guest room, with a glass of water and an array of medicines on the night stand.
"Do you have a fever?" Felicity asked. "I don't have a thermometer, so there's no way to know for sure, but I do have Tylenol here too," she said, pointing to one of the medicine bottles.
Sin rolled her eyes. "You already asked me that, and you mentioned the Tylenol too."
"Well, it's there if you need it," Felicity replied. "I'll be right across the hall."
"Okay, Mom," said Sin, one side of her mouth quirking up. "Big Sis. Aunt Felicity."
"I liked it better when you were calling me Skipper. Or I disliked it less."
It took Felicity a long time to get ready for bed, between constantly checking her phone for messages from Oliver and peeking in on Sin twice—"You're going to come in here in the middle of the night to see if I'm still breathing, aren't you?" When she came out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth, she found Sin curled up on the foot of her bed, wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket and snoring softly. Felicity snapped a photo with her phone. As she was admiring what was sure to be future blackmail material, her phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Everything okay? Oliver asked.
Fine, Felicity typed back. I'm the one who should be asking you that.
Just wanted to check in before you go to sleep. You ARE going to sleep, right?
Yeah, soon. You?
Probably not.
Well, take Sin's example and give it a try anyway. Felicity sent him the photo.
Taking in strays now? Oliver asked.
Someone has to. Might as well be me.
You are amazing.
Felicity smiled as she typed her reply. Don't you mean remarkable?