AN: Hi Flamer! You might also be interested in the finding of a new study I read recently. The study found significant correlations between people who engage in this type of inflammatory behaviour on the internet, and those who suffer from the dark tetrad of personality traits, namely Machiavellianism (willingness to manipulate and deceive others), narcissism (egotism and self-obsession), psychopathy (the lack of remorse and empathy), and sadism (pleasure in the suffering of others), with the strongest link to sadism.
Gosh, it must just be swell to be you!
To everyone else, please don't feel the need to console me, as sweet as your words are, I'm truly not bothered. Happy people don't seek to tear others down.
My self-belief and my self-worth comes from the inside, from years of struggling to fit into a system that was designed for normal people, not dyslexics. I survived almost two decades of school and Uni as an undiagnosed dyslexic, having my differences pointed out daily by very well educated people. I slayed those dragons; this is just a gnat, not even worth wasting bug spray on.
The next time you are hurt by someone on the internet, go look up that study (by Dr Erin Buckels) or articles on it. You'll soon see that the fault lies in the person wanting to hurt you, not in you. If a sadist pinched you, would you take it to heart? Or would you see that you just had the misfortune to encounter some freak who enjoys causing pain and suffering in others?
On to happier things!
Those unhappy with Oliver, please remember, he's on a character arc. See who he is by the end, and see if you like that.
And I just have one more thing to say before we get on with the story.
You're pretty f*cking awesome, keep that sh*t up! Seriously.
Chapter Five
When Felicity was awoken the following morning, to a breakfast in bed of croissants with jam and butter, and some of the best coffee she had ever tasted, she had to admit,
"This being rich thing, definitely has some perks."
Beside her, Bruce smiled. "If I'd known a few pastries was all it took to buy you, I'd have sent you a muffin basket months ago."
"A well-made pastry can work wonders," she agreed, taking another bite of the flaky pastry. "This is so good, I'm not even mad that I'll have to do the walk of shame before going into work."
And it didn't hurt her mood that Bruce was lying beside her, with only a sheet protecting his modesty.
"Ah, well, about that." He sat up. "Albert spoke to the concierge last night and had a range of outfits sent over in different sizes and styles, sale or return, so just pick what you want, on me. He also ordered a selection of makeup, I know it won't be exactly right but, well. And I had your car picked up, the keys are at the valet desk."
He looked hesitant so she smiled at him.
"That's really sweet, thank you."
"Really?"
"What did you think I'd say?" she laughed.
"Ask how many other women I've done this for."
"Well thankfully, I knew your reputation as a playboy before I met you, secondly, I know that you don't have time to be playing the field as much as the papers say, because there just aren't enough hours in the day. Third, while it would be quite a feat for an ordinary man to do that, thanks to working for Oliver, I know just how slick these top notch hotels are. But I thank you for thinking of my convenience."
He smiled. "You're something else."
"Thank you." She grinned. "So can I see it?"
"The clothes? They're in the-"
"No," she laughed. "Your hideaway, the mobile Bat Cave."
"How about tonight?"
"It's a date." She kissed him.
"You look cheerful," Diggle noted as Felicity walked into the office. She glanced into Oliver's office but he wasn't at his desk.
"I am," she smiled at him. "It's amazing what a night away from tall, dark and brooding can do for the spirits."
"Nice dress, is it new?"
"It is, actually." She sat at her desk. "How'd things go last night?"
"We planted the bugs but…"
"Uh oh, what happened?"
"Nothing with the mission, that went without a hitch."
"But…?"
"You might have to run point for Oliver in the office today, he has a little bit of a hangover."
Her disappointment must have shown in her expression.
"Look, I know you aren't one to beat about the bush, but go easy on him, he's having a hard time."
"Did something happen to set him off?" The Oliver she knew wasn't a big drinker at all.
"Nothing new but between the rift with his Mom, worry over Roy, guilt over Laurel and fear of losing you, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment."
Her features softened; she'd been so angry with him recently, she had forgotten about his problems.
"I've got his back."
"Thank you."
"So where is he?"
"In the bathroom. It seems he really tied one on last night, and didn't realise he doesn't have the metabolism of a teenager any more."
"I'll be gentle with him," she promised.
"What did you get up to last night?"
"I went to see Bruce, we spent the evening together."
"So things between you are getting serious, then?"
"It's early days, Dig. He hasn't made any promises and honestly, I'm not looking for any. It's just nice to let loose and live a little; I spend so much time in the basement, sometimes I think I'll burn up like a vampire if I spent too much time in the sun."
"I know that feeling. Luckily, I don't really need to work much on my tan."
With a smile, Diggle left and as a sign of peace, Felicity went to make Oliver a coffee, and chose to forget that he hadn't brought her normal coffee today; everyone deserves a pass when they're hung-over.
Oliver was back at his desk when she returned, but he had large bags under his eyes, a sign of a bad night's sleep.
"Morning," she said softly, and he looked up as she placed the coffee in front of him, along with two Advil.
The gratitude in his expression made the gesture worth it.
"Thanks."
She smiled in reply.
"I'll hold your calls, just let me know when you're ready." She returned to her desk.
Oliver came out of his office at noon, looking better but still haggard. "Do you have plans for lunch?" he asked.
"Not today."
"Then maybe you'd have lunch with me? Just take out in the office or something. I feel like we haven't really talked in weeks."
"I'll arrange a delivery," she assured him.
It had been a busy morning for her, not only catching up on what she'd missed the day before, but also fielding all of Oliver's calls. She tried not to hold that against him.
She laid the food out on the low coffee table that sat between the two leather sofas, and chose the one facing the windows, so Oliver could sit with his back to them.
"Thank you," he said as he sat. She'd ordered his favourite from Big Belly, the perfect hangover cure.
"So, Diggle told me you planted the bugs."
"We did but… I don't want to talk shop," Oliver said.
"What do you want to talk about?" she asked, her tone guarded, afraid he was about to ask about the Bat.
"You, how are you?"
"I'm good, thank you. Worried about HIVE but then again, when don't we have something to worry about?"
He nodded in agreement.
"What about you?" she asked.
"Oh, you know me."
"Yeah, I do," she said with a knowing smile. "And getting you to talk about yourself is like pulling teeth. So let me break it down for you; how's the apartment?"
"Okay, I guess. Don't get me wrong, it's lovely, but it doesn't really feel like home yet, then again, I'm rarely there, so I shouldn't be surprised."
"And Laurel, how's she doing?"
"Hard to say. Even if I could get in to see her, I think it's too soon. She's having some therapy sessions with her family and while she is starting to open up, it's only to hurl accusations."
"She'll come around," Felicity tried to reassure him.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because she's strong. She's letting herself be crushed because she can't live with the guilt over getting Tommy killed."
He opened his mouth to interrupt but she cut him off.
"I'm not saying it's her fault, just that she thinks it is and honestly, I know how she feels."
Oliver frowned. "You feel guilty?"
Felicity nodded.
"Why?"
"I know in my head, it's Merlyn's fault and he deserves all the blame, I just can't stop going over what I could have done differently? I should have thought to look for a second location. If I hadn't put that Trojan on his system, he wouldn't have moved the devices before we got to them. If I had been the one to disarm it, maybe I would have been faster and still had time to get to the second one…"
"I didn't know you were carrying that weight."
She mustered a smile. "I figured you were already carrying more than your share."
"You think Laurel feels the same way?"
"I do, except she feels directly responsible for what happened to Tommy because he came down there for her. That was his choice, not hers, but she will still blame herself. I have 503 nameless and faceless people on my conscience, but to have just one person that you loved on your conscience, must be so much worse."
He looked hesitant.
"I know what happened with you and Laurel and Tommy, and yes, I'm sure that makes it worse for her too."
"I don't suppose you have any handy tips for overcoming that kind of remorse?"
"Don't feel guilty."
Oliver frowned. "It's not that easy, Felicity."
"Sure it is. When you do something wrong, you have to examine it, learn from it and do your best not to repeat it, end of story. As for guilt, that's just self-pity under a different name. No one but you cares that you feel guilty and guilt won't make you a better person, if anything, it clouds your judgement. Guilt is self-indulgent and the truly repentant are too busy making up for what they did, and trying not to repeat it, to wallow in guilt."
He didn't look convinced but she hoped he would think that over.
"Only people like Merlyn don't feel guilt," he argued.
"People like Merlyn don't feel guilt because they don't accept blame, they have all sorts of rationalisations for what they do, and people can't learn from mistakes that they don't think they made. Merlyn should have felt guilty for not taking his wife's call as she lay dying. If he'd answered, she might have got the help she needed in time. Instead he blamed everyone in the glades, escalating one act of callousness that cost one life, to one premeditated act that cost 503 lives, including his son."
"How do you know so much about guilt?" he asked.
"I'm not as innocent and unworldly as I might seem," she smiled. "After my dad left, my Mom blamed my brother and me, and I started to believe her. Couple of years later, I began acting out, cutting class, shop-lifting and… I may have planted a virus in the school computers that made every screen display embarrassing photos of the teachers that I photoshopped."
"How old were you?" he asked.
"Ten. I was precocious. Anyway, rather than pressing charges, I was a minor after all, and nothing had been damaged, I had to enrol in the Big Brother program, where kids are given an older mentor. I got very lucky with mine."
"Steve Jobs?" Oliver teased.
"I wish." She didn't want to go into any more detail since the good memories from that time, were inextricably intertwined with the bad.
He smiled but didn't ask anything more about that. "How's Bruce?"
"Do you really want to talk about that?"
He opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. "No," he admitted, which made her laugh. He joined in and for the first time since she had walked in on him with Sara, she thought that there might be a chance they could go back to the (usually) easy comradery that they used to share.
Unfortunately, the clack of Isabel's heels on the marble floor, spoiled the moment.
"Isabel," Oliver got up and moved to intercept her, but she stepped around him.
"Miss Smoak, glad to see that you're feeling better today."
"Must have just been a 24 hours thing," she smiled.
"And it looks like you've given it to your boss."
"Can we help you with something?" Oliver asked.
"Yes. First, I thought you should see this." She pushed a folded newspaper at his chest, which he managed to grab before it fell. "Turn to page five. I also wanted to inform you that I'm taking some time off."
"Nothing serious, I hope?" Felicity smiled sweetly.
"A personal matter. I'll be back on Monday."
"That's rich, considering the things you just said to Felicity."
"But I'm not dating the competition. I trust you can handle things in my absence?" she asked Oliver.
"I'll do my best not to bankrupt the company," he assured her.
"Good." She turned and strode away.
Oliver sat down and look at the paper, an early edition of the evening paper. He turned to page five and felt his guts twisted as he saw a picture of Bruce kissing Felicity while they stood next to her Mini Cooper. She was wearing the same dress she had on now, so it must have been taken this morning.
"What?" Felicity asked.
Oliver knew she wasn't going to like this but he couldn't hide it from her. He passed the paper over and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as she read the headline.
'Sleeping with the Enemy'
"Oh God, what is my Mom going to say?" she wondered aloud. "It says it's exclusive, so if I call her now, I might get to tell her before one of her friends does."
Abandoning the rest of her burger, she got up and walked back to her desk, looking a little panicked.
Oliver watched as she picked up the telephone on her desk and dialled, then she got her cell phone out and began typing a message to Bruce.
"Hi Mom, have you seen a paper today?"
"Is that anyway to greet a person, let alone your mother?"
"How are you?" she asked.
"I've been better, I had to see the doctor yesterday about the possibility of gall stones."
Felicity sighed. Her mother always had to have something to complain about and this month's complaint of choice appeared to be gall stones. Over the past five years she had suffered from tinnitus, heart palpitations, Irritable Bowel Syndrome and cataracts. Each illness lasted long enough for every test in the book to come up negative, then the symptoms slowly faded as a new illness took over.
Felicity um'd and ah'd in the right places, waiting for the conversation over illness to run dry.
Felicity and June Smoak had little in common; Felicity took after her father, or so she'd been told a thousand and one times, usually with negative connotations, and she hardly ever suffered from the numerous illnesses that her mother assured her that she would feel one day, and then perhaps she'd feel a little more sympathetic towards her poor, hard done by mother.
Still, it was her mother and she deserved to hear this from her daughter, not a gossip column. Not to mention that such an oversight would be used as ammunition in any disagreement for at least a year, sometimes longer.
Bruce seemed unconcerned when he replied to her text, alerting him to the article, but he had obviously realised that Felicity was upset and as they texted back and forth, he tried to reassure her that this would blow over in a day or two.
A news alert popped up on her computer screen and she clicked through to the live feed from Chanel 7 News.
"…the Gotham City vigilante is involved in a shootout with the Starling City Police Department at an abandoned building on the edge of town." The newsreader said. "Details are scarce at the moment but we have been informed that a SWAT team are on their way, and the vigilante is believed to be cornered. We'll bring you more details as they come in. For those of you just joining us, the Gotham City vigilante is involved…"
"God damn it!" she cried.
"Felicity! Don't talk to your mother that way!"
"No, Mom, not you, sorry." She picked up her cell phone.
'Are you involved in a shootout with the police?' she texted to Bruce.
'To be fair, they're shooting, I'm ducking'
'What the hell are you doing texting me in the middle of that!'
'I'm hiding in the rafters, waiting to get the drop on two police as they come past.'
'You're insane!'
'Maybe. I'm crazy for you, that's for sure. Go to go, x'
"Did you hear me?" June Smoak asked.
"Sorry Mom, what?"
"I was telling you about the diet Lacy Anderson suggested I go on."
"The one that's good for people who suffer gall stones, I was totally listening to that. Go on."
"Well, it sounds very dull to me but I suppose if it helps…"
Felicity couldn't have concentrated on her mother's conversation if she tried, she was too worried about Bruce.
'Are you busy?' Bruce texted
'What do you need?'
'Meet me at 3rd and Perez Street'
'On my way'.
"Mom, I've got to go. You're gonna hear something about me later today. That's what I called to tell you, so you can't say I didn't try. Bye."
"I have to go." She called to Oliver as she ran from her desk but obviously, he caught up with her by the elevators.
"It's personal," she told him.
"Do you want me to come?"
"No, I'm fine, I'll call you later." The elevator doors opened and she rushed inside. "Do not even think about following me," she said as the doors closed.
Oliver watched as the doors closed, sorely tempted to follow her, despite her words. After a minute of indecision, he sighed and turned away. He couldn't risk it, not after they had just reconnected. He approached her desk, where the phone has fallen from its cradle as she slammed it down, and he replaced it, then walked around her desk to see what had upset her.
The news was live streaming but the sound was low, so he turned it up.
"… say the Gotham Vigilante has been injured and the police are in pursuit now. We'll keep you updated as more news comes in."
So she was worried about the Bat. She had run out of here with purpose though, so did she know where he operated out of?
His hands clenched into fists as he fought the desire to follow her. She would think that he didn't trust her, but it wasn't her he didn't trust, it was everyone else.
Felicity arrived at 3rd and Perez and paid the cab driver, getting her phone out as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
'I'm here.' She texted.
'There's an RV, get in. The door code is 0209'
She looked around and saw a motorhome, parked north of the intersection, on Perez Street. It was a few years old, battered and covered in stickers, everything from the Grand Canyon to New York City. It did not look like something Bruce Wayne would own. Maybe that was the point, she thought. She went to the side door and saw a covered keypad. She looked around to make sure she wasn't being watched, including the rooftops of surrounding buildings, where Oliver would probably be if he had followed her. Seeing nothing, she opened the cover, typed in the code and when the lock clicked open, she stepped inside.
It was empty.
"Bruce? Bruce?" she called, but there was no reply.
It looked just like a motorhome but when she opened the bathroom door, she was met by the sight of a weapons cache, with everything from stun guns to swords lining the walls.
She turned as she heard a noise and a trap door opened in the floor. She ran to the masked man and offered her hand to help him up.
"Thank you," he said as he collapsed on the floor, panting heavily.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"Just give me a second."
After a moment, he leaned back through he hole and she heard a manhole cover being scraped back into place, and realised that the trapdoor was perfectly assigned with the front tyres, which would help shield him from passers-by. As he pulled himself back up, he leaned against the couch and she closed the hatch.
"What happened?" she asked, kneeling before him.
"I was following a lead."
"You're hurt," she surmised from his voice.
"Yeah, the security guards had armour piercing rounds, I caught one in the shoulder and I won't be able to sew up the exit wound."
"Come on." She helped him up onto the couch.
The shades were drawn, so she helped him out of his suit, wincing as each new wound was revealed.
"What did they do to you?" she asked.
"I let them capture me, so they would think they had the upper hand and they might tell me something."
"Where's your first aid kit?"
"Top cupboard, over the sink."
She retrieved it and returned to him. She focused on the bullet wound in his side first.
"It's a through and through," she said as she cleaned it. "Bleeding isn't too bad, so I don't think you hit anything important. Do you have antibiotics?"
"Yeah, in the cutlery drawer."
"Then once I clean and stitch it up, you should be fine in a few days."
"You've had practice," he noted.
"If you hang out with vigilantes with a death wish, you tend to pick this stuff up," she answered as she cleaned the wound. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"I was following a lead, a rumour that the HIVE Mistress would going out of town, passing through here first."
She threaded a needle. "And you thought you'd say hi?"
"Something like that," he said with a smile, although it turned to a grimace as she passed the needle through his skin.
"That's a big risk," she noted.
"These people killed Julie, it was worth it."
Her hand stilled for a moment as disappointment swept through her. Just her luck, another man who was mired in the past.
Oliver was striving to make up for betraying Laurel, while Bruce was striving to avenge his fiancé's death. She had a feeling that if she looked this Julie up, she would find her birthday was the same as they keypad code, 02/09.
Neither man could commit to anyone until they came to terms with their pasts.
"I've upset you," Bruce said.
"I'm just concentrating," she assured him, tying off the last stitch. "Can you turn over?"
Not only did she have to stitch the exit wound, this would be easier if he couldn't see her reactions. He turned onto his side.
"So what did you learn?" she asked.
"The identity of the HIVE Mistress.
"Care to share?"
He looked back, over his shoulder, and she raised her gaze to his.
"Isabel Rochev."
Felicity's eyes widened. "I knew that witch couldn't be trusted!"
Bruce smiled. "You seem very pleased to be proved right."
She looked to the wound and brought her needle to it.
"This is going to hurt."
"I know."
They sat in silence until she was finished and he sat up.
"Next time I touch on something sensitive, just tell me to shut up, rather than passive aggressively stitching me to try and distract me," Bruce teased.
Felicity blushed. "I really don't like her."
"I gathered. And you really don't want to talk about it, so I won't push."
"Thank you."
She put the needle away and saturated some gauze in alcohol, which she rubbed over the stitched wounds, before moving onto to his other wounds.
"So if they captured you, where do the police come in? I don't see a sketchy crime ring calling them."
"I called them, they were the distraction to enable my escape."
"And they just let you keep your cell phone?"
"No," he smiled. "There's a gadget on my belt that was programmed to place a phone call to 911 at a specified time, with a recording. I knew they'd trace the signal to where I was being kept."
"So it was HIVE in a shootout with the police then, not you?"
"I don't like guns."
"Seeing these," she said, wiping the alcohol over a graze, "I sort of wish you liked bazookas."
He laughed.
"What did they use on you?" she asked.
"Metal bars, batons, knuckle dusters, the traditional weapons of thugs. Luckily my suit offers me some protection."
"Why didn't they take your mask off and find out who you are?"
"The catches are hidden."
"Maybe next time, call your friendly, neighbourhood Arrow for some backup?"
"I couldn't risk it, besides, I work better alone."
"Okay, so why call me? Judging from these scars, front and back, you've been stitched up a few times in the past."
"Alfred usually does it but he gave me this lead. I didn't expect to get beat up this badly and I knew if I went to him, he'd feel guilty."
"Alfred has contacts who hear HIVE rumours?" She was done with cleaning his injuries and began to put dressings over the worst ones.
"He's more than just a butler," Bruce said with some pride.
"I'd gathered, but I don't think I realised how much more."
"Few people do," he assured her. "Alfred began his career in the SAS, they're the Green Berets of the British Army, the best of the best. He was injured on a mission but although he couldn't run for miles in jungle terrain, or jump from aeroplanes any more, he was still good, so MI6 hired him and assigned him for personal protection to various dignitaries. They trained him to be a butler, so that he could blend in and go unnoticed. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but he had a falling out with his bosses; he didn't like the way they did business, so he left."
"How'd he end up working for your family?"
"He answered an ad."
She looked surprised, and he smiled.
"My parents were from the richest families in America, but they didn't have a drive for business, they left that to other people. My father was a doctor at a free hospital, and my mother devoted herself to charity work. Unfortunately, their wealth made them targets. They weren't worried about themselves, they'd grown up being targets for kidnappers and had all the necessary security in place. When they had me, they wanted me to have a protector too, and they chose Alfred. He went everywhere with me, drove me to school, to my friends. He's been with me ever since."
"He'll know you've been hurt," she told him.
"Yeah, but having to patch up the damage usually makes these things look worse than they really are."
"So, this is your mobile Bat Cave?"
"Yeah, one of them," he said with a smile.
"Have you got a change of clothes in here?" she asked. "As much as I like seeing you half naked, it makes me want to do things to you that would be very bad for your shoulder."
"In the bedroom." He got up. "I'll be right back."
"I'll get your antibiotics ready."
Felicity shook two amoxicillin tablets from a bottle, then opened the refrigerator.
"Of course," she said to herself. "Where else would you keep a computer terminal and servers?"
"Did you say something?" he called.
"Do you have any water in here?"
"There's some bottled water stored in the base of the couch."
She lifted the cushion, opened the hatch below and found lots of water bottles, protein bars and dehydrated food. Bruce came back as she lowered the cushion down. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him.
He kissed her cheek, and she turned her head so he could kiss her lips.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiled.
"Let's get out of here, shall we?"
"Sure." Felicity nodded. "But you're not driving with that shoulder."
"Have you ever driven an RV before?"
"No, but how hard can it be?"
By the time she pulled into the warehouse, there were a couple of new dings in the motorhome but nothing serious.
She stopped alongside the only other thing in the warehouse, another motorhome, and headed into the back. Bruce was sitting on the couch, working on a laptop.
"What are you doing?"
"Before they caught me, I managed to steal a flash drive, but it has the same encryption as the hard drives I stole. You never did give me a copy of the algorithm you used to decrypt it."
"No, I didn't," and her tone and smile suggested that to was not an oversight on her part. She held her hand out for the drive, and he pulled it from the side of the machine and gave it to her, then closed the lid and put the laptop away.
They got out of the motorhome, and Bruce checked both it and the warehouse were securely locked as they left.
"Who owns this place?" she asked as they walked back to the street. It was less than half a mile from his hotel, so ideally placed really.
"A shipping company, Wayne Enterprises rented it for three months."
"Three months?" She doubted that he was planning on staying that long.
"A shorter lease would have looked suspicious," he explained.
She nodded but didn't reply, and they began walking back towards his hotel. He slipped his hand into hers as they walked and she smiled at him.
"Something's bothering you," he said as they walked.
"A lot of things bother me."
"Anything specific?"
"How to convince O- Arrow that Isabel Rochev is the bad guy."
"He knows Isabel?"
"Knows of her, at least," she admitted. "Maybe it's time the two of you meet."
"I really do work better alone," he said. "Besides, the more people that know who I am, the more danger I'm in."
"You'd know his identity too," she argued.
"Mutually assured destruction?" he teased.
"Something like that. Besides, if this organisation is as big and powerful as it seems, you'll need all the help you can get."
"I want more information before I do anything. Now I know you aren't going to like me asking this question but I have to, and I want you to answer honestly."
"Okay."
"Do you think it's possible that Queen Consolidated or Oliver Queen are in league with Isabel Rochev?"
"Oliver is not the bad guy here, Bruce. Why won't you believe me?"
"Because your judgement is clouded by the fact that you're in love with him."
"I am not in love with him!" She stopped walking and turned to face him.
"Yes you are, and it affects how you see him!"
"Believe me, I know all of Oliver's flaws, far better than you do!"
"No, you don't, you have him up on a pedestal and ignore the fact that not only were his parents and his company responsible for killing 503 people, he's slept with Isabel Rochev!"
"How do you know about that?" she asked with a gasp.
"So you're not denying it?" he asked her.
"I'm not ignoring or denying anything and if you would take my advice, you'd understand why!"
"I'm just being honest, Felicity, and I don't need you to tell me what to do!"
"Fine! If we're being honest, I think your judgement is being clouded by your love for Julie Madison and your desire for revenge on those who killed her!"
Bruce reared back as if he'd been slapped.
"At least I found someone who was good and kind and honest, and who loved me with everything she had. You pine after some playboy who sleeps with anything in a skirt."
Felicity knew that they had both gone too far.
"I think we both need to cool off for a while." She turned and left, before her tears spilled over and he could see how much his words had hurt her.
"Felicity!" she heard his call but walked faster. "Felicity, wait, I'm sorry!"
She heard him running to catch up but after the beating he'd had earlier, he wasn't as fast as usual. She ducked around a corner and using a trick Oliver had taught her, hid in the first doorway. Bruce was running too fast to look back and as soon as he had passed, she went back the way she had come. By the time he realised, she was in a cab and long gone.
Felicity hadn't gone back to work, it was after five so Oliver was unlikely to be at the office. She didn't much like the idea of going to the foundry either, with Oliver, Diggle, Sara and Roy for company.
Generally speaking, Felicity considered herself a sociable person but right now, she felt like hibernating, so she headed for her apartment. Once inside, she ignored the blinking light on her answering machine, turning the volume off, then she took a shower and changed into jeans and sweatshirt. With the day washed off and her equilibrium somewhat restored, she got her phone out and texted Oliver.
'What are the plans for tonight?'
'Nothing, until I know you're safe.'
She smiled. He could be very sweet sometimes.
'Can you come over? I have something I need to tell you.'
'Be there in 10'
She realised that she must have worried him if he was coming that quickly.
While she waited, she got her laptop out, copied the data on the flash drive to it and set about breaking the encryption. She was interrupted by Oliver's knock and felt awful as soon as she opened the door and saw how worried he was.
"Are you okay?" he asked, a hand resting on her shoulder as his eyes searched her for injuries.
"I'm fine, it's just been a long day."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. You'd better come in."
She stood back and Oliver entered her apartment.
"Truth be told, I half expected to find you here, waiting for me," she admitted as she followed him into the living room.
"If you hadn't been so angry last time, you probably would have."
They sat down, both looking grave.
"What's wrong?" he asked her.
"I left the office to meet the Bat earlier."
"I realised, you left your computer streaming the news. Did you know two cops were shot?"
"That wasn't him." She might have argued with Bruce, but she wasn't about to let him be blamed for murder. "That was HIVE, he doesn't like guns."
"That's what he told you."
"And I saw his weapon cache, no guns. That's not the point anyway."
"Then what is?"
"He found out who the HIVE Mistress is. That's a real title, apparently."
"Who?" Oliver leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You won't like it."
"Tell me anyway."
Felicity knew she had to, she just wasn't looking forward to another argument. "Isabel Rochev."
Oliver's eyes widened in surprise. His mouth opened but he couldn't think of a suitable response for a few moments.
"You're sure?"
"He's sure."
"But what do you really know about the Bat? He could have another agenda here."
"His only agenda is avenging a lost loved one, a bit like you and your dad's list, now that I come to think of it."
Oliver began to pace. "You ran every background check you could think of on Isabel and came up with nothing."
"And I came up with nothing at all prior to ten years ago, that in itself is suspicious."
"I know you don't like her and want to believe this but…"
"Even if you suspect my and the bat's motives, Oliver, you can't deny that her name was on your father's list."
He blew out a puff of air. "I just… I can't…"
They were interrupted by another knock at her door, and she had a very bad feeling as she went to answer it.
Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed when she saw a contrite looking Bruce standing there, a single red rose clutched in his hand.
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere as he held the flower out.
"Me too, and thank you," she accepted the rose and brought it to her nose. "It's lovely but I'm sort of in the middle of something." She looked behind her, wondering how she could keep these two apart.
Given Oliver's dislike of Bruce, and Bruce's suspicions about Oliver, this would not be a pleasurable reunion.
"Can I call you later?"
"Who is it?" Oliver called. Felicity could have kicked him.
"You have Oliver Queen here?" Bruce asked. "Are you telling him everything?"
Felicity sighed. "You'd better come in."
She led him into her living room, which had always seemed a good size, until she had two six foot plus men facing off over her coffee table, now it felt like a shoe box.
She stood between them and glared at Oliver, then Bruce.
"I want you both to know that if anything gets broken, even just a mug, you will both be buying me a thousand dollar gift certificate from Riemann Marcus, got it?"
Neither man acknowledged her, choosing instead, to size each other up.
"I said, 'got it'?" she repeated.
"I've got it," Bruce assured her, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder.
"Understood," Oliver agreed, his eyes taking every detail in.
Felicity looked between them both as she spoke.
"Neither of you trusts the other, I don't know why nor do I care. As far as I can see, there is only one way forward for us all so, I'm sorry but…" she took a deep breath. "Bat, meet the Arrow. Arrow, meet the Bat."
Both men were shocked and rendered speechless for a moment, which gave Felicity a little thrill.
"You're lying," Bruce accused.
"There is no way he is the Bat," Oliver argued.
"Great, so you're both accusing me of being a liar. Tell you what, why don't you compare scars, or better still, go somewhere that I am not and compare ninja moves."
She seemed to have stunned them into silence again.
"Good. Now, why don't you both sit down," she said, sounding much like her 4th grade teacher.
"But-" Oliver began and Felicity quelled his words with a glare. Reluctantly, both men sat down facing each other.
"Great," Felicity said.
Oliver was on the couch and Bruce in her armchair. She could sit next to Oliver, there was a seat there and she has worked with him for longer, but that might upset Bruce, which she didn't want to do so soon after they had made up. She would also feel comfortable perching on the arm of Bruce's chair, but Oliver would assume she was taking sides against him.
Finally, she decided her best option was to sit on the floor.
"Now, who wants to go first?"
Neither of them spoke.
"Okay, looks like I'm up." She turned to Bruce, who although wary, tore his gaze away from Oliver and gave her his attention. "Oliver came to me last year, after his mother shot him, so please believe me, he is not in league with her in any way, shape or form. Not to mention, she hates Isabel, so she probably isn't involved in this one, but that's beside the point." He smiled at her tangent, which helped her to relax a little. "I know you probably only remember pre-island Oliver but that time changed him and when he came back, he was determined to right the wrongs in this city. I've been by his side for a year now, and I'd trust him with my life."
Bruce nodded his understanding, so she turned to Oliver.
"I know you have your reservations about Bruce and the Bat but I'm asking, please trust me on this, he is above board and he doesn't have an agenda here, other than trying to see justice done, just like you."
Oliver finally looked away from Bruce and into her eyes. She willed him to believe her and finally, he nodded.
"I still don't trust him, but I'm willing to be convinced," he said.
"Thank you," she told him, letting go of the breath she'd been holding. "Now I'm just going to sit quietly on the sofa and go through the data Bruce got earlier. You two play nice because I do not like my voice when it sounds like this."
Both men smiled, but they weren't quite at the point of sharing their mirth with each other.
"How much has Felicity told you?" Bruce asked.
"That you suspect Isabel."
"I don't suspect her, she ordered her thugs to kill me this afternoon. Only the arrival of the police allowed me the chance to escape."
"And you say HIVE killed those police officers?"
Bruce looked pained as he nodded. "If I had known they'd shoot at police, I would have found another way."
Satisfied that they could play nicely for a few minutes, Felicity turned her attention to her laptop.
An hour later, Oliver and Bruce had reached an uneasy truce, although it irked Oliver to see Bruce acting at home enough to make everyone coffee. He consoled himself with the fact that Felicity was sitting on the couch next to him, although given that there were only three seats in this room, it was hardly a victory.
Oliver was now willing to believe that Isabel was involved with HIVE somehow, but it wasn't a realisation that he wanted to make.
He liked to think that he had changed since the island, that he had grown there. Not all the changes were for the better, he would admit that but overall, he considered himself a better person. Now he had to face the realisation that perhaps he wasn't all that different from who he used to be.
First there was betraying Tommy and going after Laurel. Then there was Isabel. Having a one night stand wasn't generally considered morally upstanding behaviour but he felt it was forgivable, they were both consenting adults, after all. Now that there was a good chance she was the Queen (or whatever) of some global villainous consortium, he was reconsidering that logic. A discriminating man wouldn't share a meal with such a person, while he had taken that person to bed.
Finally there was his most recent mistake, Sara. Whatever way he cut it, it was a betrayal of Laurel, if not in actuality, then in spirit.
How many bad choices did he have to make in his personal life, before he admitted that he hadn't changed?
The final nail in that coffin however, was Felicity. Only when he stood a chance of losing her did he realise how very much he cared for her.
Just like he hadn't appreciate what he had with Laurel, not until he had ruined it. He had clung to the hope that they might still have a chance but they didn't, not only had he done too much damage to her faith in him, they had changed too much to work a second time.
A few mistakes were forgivable, understandable even, after five years in hell, but a pattern was emerging, and he didn't like the picture it made.
"Would you like another coffee?" Bruce asked him.
"Thanks but no. I want to check in at home." He may have formed an uneasy alliance with Bruce, but he wasn't about to tell him about 'Team Arrow'. Oh god, now he was calling them that too.
Felicity closed her laptop.
"Did you find anything?" Bruce asked her, and he turned, eager to hear her reply.
"No, everything they do is disguised in some way, as well as the encryption, they use substitution cyphers, abbreviations, partial codes and initials. What's on here appears to be a list of payments, not books or accounts, just payments. Unfortunately the names are all initials and the account numbers are missing the first four digits."
"Can you do anything with it?" Bruce coaxed.
"Nothing with finesse. I can try a brute force search. I'll have to hack into banks which have eight digit account numbers, then see if maybe I can match initials to accounts. That is assuming they're the actual initials of the account holders, not another substitution cypher, and that the banks are American. If we're looking at international accounts, or accounts in somewhere like the Cayman Isles, then we're screwed. "
"Is that likely?" Oliver asked her.
"Ordinarily, I'd say no. These people however, take paranoia to freakishly new levels. I just have to hope that they think their encryption, partial account numbers and initials are enough. To be honest though, if they disguise this data much more, then it would probably become gibberish to even them."
"There's no point disguising something so well that even you can't recognise it," Bruce agreed with her.
"Anyway, I'll get started on that tomorrow. One good thing about the Evil Queen being away, is that us mice get to play." She gave Bruce the self-satisfied smile that she would once have given to Oliver.
"I'd better go," Oliver got to his feet and paused, hoping Bruce would say something similar but evidently, he intended to stay exactly where he was.
He shook Bruce's hand, and just about kept himself from squeezing as hard as he could. Then he turned to Felicity and bent over, kissing her on the forehead.
"I'm sorry I've been such an ass lately."
Felicity gave him her grateful smile, nodding her acceptance of his apology. He liked that smile. It wasn't as bright as her embarrassed smile or her thrilled smile, but it was almost as nice as her proud smile. It was heartfelt, which was why he liked it.
"I'll see myself out," he said, nodding goodbye to Bruce.
As he closed the front door behind him, he heard Felicity shriek with laughter. He had never heard that noise before and imagined it might be the sound she'd make if she were ticklish.
He would probably never get the opportunity to make her laugh like that now.
"So, how would you like your apology?" Bruce asked as Oliver left. "I can grovel on my knees, beg for forgiveness while prostrate and at your mercy, or tickle you until you forgive me for not trusting your opinion of Oliver?"
"Umm," she pretended to think it over but before she could reply, Bruce pounced, leaping gracefully from his armchair, over the coffee table and landing with his knees on either side of her, straddling her lap.
"Perhaps I should have mentioned that if you don't choose an option in three seconds, it defaults to option three, tickling."
His fingertips danced over her sides and she laughed, first trying to keep him at bay, then deciding to fight fire with fire, and tickling him back. Unfortunately, he wasn't ticklish and when she was laughing so hard that she was breathless, she waved the white flag of surrender.
"You're forgiven! You're forgiven, just stop, please!"
He did, and luckily she didn't seem to mind his childish method of peacekeeping and while she recovered her breath, he settled beside her on the sofa.
"God, you're such a child!" she said, still chucking occasionally.
"Well, you're the one who said, what was it? That I wear 'a children's Halloween bat costume' I believe."
"Well you do!" she defended herself. "While Oliver clearly has a leather fetish."
Bruce chuckled while Felicity grew serious.
"I am sorry for what I said too."
Bruce's mirth fled as well. "Is that how you really feel?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But allowing yourself to be captured and beaten seems pretty extreme."
"She died a long time ago," he said taking her hand.
"And you ran away rather than dealing with it," she countered. "But I honestly don't know enough to pass judgement yet though, so I'm just going to chalk it up to my insecurities for now."
"Do you want me to go?" he asked.
Felicity smiled. "I don't know what this is between us," she said honestly. "I don't know if it'll grow into something more, or fizzle out after a week. All I know is that I haven't felt this happy in a long time and I don't want it to end, not yet."
Bruce smiled and reached a hand up to cup her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.
"Me too," he agreed, before leaning in to claim a kiss.