What Wouldn't I Do
Part 1
This late at night, with the softest of artificial hums stemming from her already-state-of-the-art-but-still-modified-anyway-because-she-couldn't-help-herself server collection and the gentle glow of the three monitors before her, Felicity was able to relax, finally.
Or at least she should have been able to.
But Roy was sleeping right behind her.
Sleeping. She preferred that word over forceful sedation via venom. Tibetan Pit Viper Venom to be exact. Procured and facilitated by an ex-member of a beyond dangerous and mythical organisation known as the League of Assassin's. Could my life get any stranger than this? If she were a different person than the one Oliver Queen had met two years ago she'd have probably passed out from the shock a long while ago. Either that or run a mile in the opposite direction of Starling and the polar equivalent of Vegas… Maybe Canada. Or England.
Then again… Recent events led her think that maybe she possessed more courage than she thought she had. Felicity had a love-hate relationship with mysteries and it tended to make her braver. She was still the same person whose ever processing mental state had quite happily switched off its capacity for logical thought when Oliver had first walked into her office at Queen Consolidated. Tall, chiselled, built, beautiful, blue eyed… 'Handsome' did not scrape the surface.
Wow, had been the only word (if you can call it a word) swimming alone and uninhibited in her previously branded genius intellect. I'm only human.
But her virtuoso brain had switched back on, quick as a flash, when he'd presented to her his laptop full of bullet holes. And then that lame excuse… and his small smile. There was no way she'd have ever ended up not involved in this. With Oliver and the Arrow. With this crusade that she could see was slowly starting to chip at the core at what made him…well, Oliver.
The man was so much more than what he obviously saw in the mirror every day. Which was probably why there isn't one in his bathroom down here. Pursing her lips, her nails tapped in a dance that was more computer phonetics than rhythmic reminiscence. The man was insufferable. She could still see, clearly, the guilt on his face over Roy's condition. It didn't matter that he hadn't infected Roy with Mirakuru. It hadn't occurred to him that Roy too, wouldn't have blamed him for his actions if he were in the right mind to do so. There had been no other option but to seal him down in the Foundry, where she now stood, pondering to herself not half an hour after Sara's departure to who knows where. She'd turned her phone off too; GPS and all.
Hmm. She frowned.
Three minutes after deciding that Dim Sum for one was actually not such a good idea, that she wasn't anywhere near hungry enough or in the right mood to eat the delicious Chinese food of the gods (she'd only used it as a way for the team to unwind together), she'd turned around to find that Sara had left the Foundry. John had also escaped prime time via the alley exit way for a not-so-secret rendezvous with Lyla. She was alone suddenly with her comatose friend… and Oliver.
…Who had looked just as depressed as he had when he'd entered the lair.
She'd asked him, quietly, if he was alright as he'd stood there facing his Arrow suit (she'd wiped it down after his skirmish with Roy), his diner jacket already shrugged on. He'd simply let out a breath, murmuring an almost unheard, "I'm fine" before dragging himself back up those stairs. Passing her he'd met her stare momentarily. "You staying here a while?"
She'd nodded. "A little while." Then indicated towards the bag she kept safely tucked in the cabinet next to their pistol supply. "Probably do a little yoga."
The intense despondency on his face had lifted, slightly. "Okay." And then he'd left.
Oliver… he had such a large heart. The capacity for greatness. But said organ held the capability to absorb so much darkness that Felicity often wondered how Oliver moved around at all with the weight of it. She and Dig… they did what they could to lighten the load. But in the end it was up to him.
She couldn't help the way her eyes softened, the way her fingers ceased to tap, relaxing against the cool surface of her computer counter as she thought at the tender grace a man of such strength, with the capacity for brute ferocity, could sometimes display. At how much he genuinely cared about people.
She hated how he was hobbling. Blown kneecap or not, it didn't seem right how a man like Oliver Queen could be limping when Sara was walking, purposefully, away from him. "Sara-" He tried but the strawberry-blonde warrior was too far gone. Both physically and mentally.
"Your mother's rally starts in half an hour: I'd start getting dressed if I were you."
Felicity pressed her lips together. Sara's tone could have frozen a roaring fire.
Torn between standing and doing something and sitting to continue their search for Roy, felicity perched on the edge of her chair, hands gripping the sides, watching Oliver as he watched his girlfriend stomp out of the Foundry. Their home. What should she do? In this instance she agreed, completely, with Oliver. Roy was her friend. She didn't want him to die. If there was even the slightest chance he could be saved she'd take it. And in this she and Oliver were simpatico. It hadn't been Sara he'd looked to for a gesture of reassurance…
Then he turned, eyes finding hers. She stayed still, remained seated. Waiting.
He let out a weary, acquiescent exhale and moved over to the nearest solid surface. Leaning backwards against the worktable he rested his leg against the rim of the metallic coolness, his gaze falling to somewhere between the 'here' and the 'there' in that deep, dark place held in his mind. 'Here there be monsters'.
"She reminds me so much of me after I came home." The words were murmured without care or thought. He'd long since grown unbelievably comfortable sharing his thoughts with her. Felicity shifted, slowly standing as he continued. "When it seemed impossible to believe in anything even resembling hope."
Finally he looked towards her again. That understanding. Again they ere of the same mind. Or was he also wondering about her thoughts on the not-so-secret losing battle of wills between himself and woman he was sleeping with? "But you did." She reminded him, stepping closer. It was difficult not to touch him, to comfort him… "Eventually. Sara will too."
His slight nod was followed by another exhale and his gaze fell back down. Contemplative.
"I had help."
Felicity blinked, watching him as those pervasive eyes once again sought hers. It took her a moment for his meaning to sink in and her surprise must have been obvious because the sheer sincerity that immediately spread across his features took her breath away. "I had help." He repeated, low, firmly but still very gently. As he always was with her. Even when they were fighting. But his insinuation was a little difficult for her to…
And then he continued. "But so does she."
Oh Oliver…
It was like he knew, really, where his relationship with Sara could lead, was leading. Unlike himself, Sara wasn't bending, changing, and yielding to code of the vigilante lifestyle that she, Diggle and Oliver adhered to. She could almost hear his thoughts. 'She has me …and I'm not enough'. 'Am I doing something wrong?' 'Is there anything else I could do?'
It hurt. It hurt Felicity to see him in a place she couldn't reach. "Was it Laurel?"
The space between his brows crinkled. "Laurel?"
Her head tilted slightly sideways. "Was it Laurel, the woman you love, who broke through your…" Her hand gestured towards the whole of his green leather self. "Idealism?" Felicity knew it wasn't but she was reaching for a point.
The word 'idealism' seemed to offend him and she knew why. He'd never consider his aspirations to be ideal in any way, shape or form. But he let it go. "No." He shook his head, voice still soft, still quiet. "No it wasn't her." He looked her over. "I don't love Laurel, Felicity." Head slowly shaking a 'no' he continued. "Not that way, at least. Not anymore."
She nodded. "Okay." That was usually his word.
A strange smile, hinting of irony, was slow to creep up on him and he quelled it almost before she caught a glimpse of it. "It feels like forever since I felt that way…"
"Tempus fugit." It just came out.
He blinked. "What?"
Feeling a little shy at how he was just watching her, which was utterly ridiculous by now, she straightened her glasses and spoke. "It's Latin. For 'Time flies'." Her head performed a little self-conscious gestured that she immediately cursed feeling a flush already starting to spread on her cheeks-
"Tempus fugit." He repeated, nodding and he was smiling slightly, agreeing with her. "It really does."
Her returning smile was more than a little grateful. "You know who you love Oliver. Who matters to you the most in this world and who makes the most impact to you personally." Her tone made clear the distinction…
But as she observed him she silently wondered at the way his eyes seemed to… change somewhat, the confusion held there transforming with a degree of clarity she didn't understand. The jaw lines on his face hardened and softened all at once and she cleared her throat. "Whose opinion do you think matters most to Sara?"
There was nothing but silence as he stared at her.
Erm… It was a simple enough question, right? Yet there was obviously something in what she said that seemed to stop him completely. "Oliver?"
Tentative, she took a step towards him.
She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Felicity…" He licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak again… but then he just shook his head. "We should get back to work. Find out where Roy is."
And then he pushed up and away from the table and all thought, all 'anything', anything other than 'right now' disappeared into the dark corners of the lair. She'd forgotten how close she was standing to him. Unfolding himself from the workbench put him just inches in front of her face. But that wasn't the problem: they'd been this close and closer before. It was part of the vigilante job. The problem was that with their words and the silence in the lair, with the way that his eyes were now super soft and yielding, to her, with how he seemed to stare right into her, taking a long inhale, as if breathing in her presence before those unbelievably pretty blue eyes of his flickered with gratitude she was reminded yet again of the all the things her mind had endeavoured (and obviously failed) to squash down.
She hadn't moved away from him, or at all, attempting blasé as he smiled at her before leaving to change clothes. In his absence however her exhale (an inhale she'd been holding onto for over a minute) was shaky and affected. It made her feel foolish. So again, she ignored it. What was the point anyway? He would never look at her the way he looks at Sara. And she wouldn't want him to. His eyes always shone with respect and fondness, sometimes annoyance (which admittedly she knew she could cause) whenever he spoke with her. She valued their friendship. They were, all of them, family.
When all was said and done and they'd found Roy, or rather he'd found them, everything seemed to have altered. And yet nothing really had.
She rolled her eyes at herself. I'm being melodramatic.
Having already changed into her tight, three-quarter yoga pants and vest she felt the cool air of their secret lair settle down on her and brought her hands up over her arms, warming them. Instinctively, her eyes locked on a piece of fabric, neatly folded alongside the few affects Roy had on his person. Oliver's grey hoodie.
She'd taken it out of hiding when they'd brought Roy down, thinking, even though he was in a coma of sorts, that he might be cold just lying there on the metal table. But a Mirakuru enhanced body equalled a very hot bloodied Roy. So she'd left it on the side just in case. It looked really tempting about now.
She was supposed to be doing yoga but the moment she changed she knew that wasn't happening. Too much going on up here. She touched her skull as if someone was there to watch her do it- then rolled her eyes. I really am absurd.
Eyeing her beloved computers she made up her mind. Might as well get on with it. Strolling forwards she sat down in her chair, activating her tracking site. Since Thea's capture at Slade's hands Felicity had been making regular checks on the status of her team mates and the Queen siblings. Placing an anonymous tracker in Thea's phone (she'd slipped it onto her phone one late evening as the girl working away from the Verdant Office) had been easy enough and she'd been checking every 20 minutes or so to make sure Thea was where she was supposed to be. That Oliver, Diggle, Sara, Laurel even Lance – were all safe and accounted for.
Lately it was all she could think about.
She was just three seconds from pulling up a micro-feed of suspicious activity at her previous place of employ, Queen Consolidated, when her system went haywire.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!
Immediately her eyes hot from one screen to the next. "Oh no…" A message popped up, clear as day on each flashing screen: Tracking single 001OQ, signal 209TQ leaving designated zone. Oliver and Thea… they were outside of Starling. "What's going on?" Accessing GPS feed she found their locator signals were very present, crystal clear. Stable. But wherever they were it wasn't the Queen Mansion, which is where she was positive Oliver stated he was going along with his mother and sister. To have stopped outside of Starling, in a direction he didn't normally travel, if ever…
Something was wrong.
She dove out of her chair, reaching for her bag on the floor for her mobile and called Oliver. "Come Oliver, pick up." It rang. And ran. "Pick up, pick up…"
The line cut dead and the long tone sounding after it made her blood run cold. Oliver's GPS cut blank instantaneously and she stared at the monitor.
Slade?
It was her first thought. A smart one, for he'd been around all of five minutes before blowing the lid on Oliver's self-control only a couple of months prior. It made sense that he would be her first thought. Calm down Felicity: it might be nothing… "Yes, he could just be taking a much needed breath of fresher air…with his mother and sister… and he probably stamped on his phone because he wants some down time… with his mother and his sister… who he wouldn't put in harm's way for the world and they're in the middle of nowhere, frack!"
She was already typing away, already calling Dig's mobile but a groan of her rising anxiety wormed its way out of her. He'd turned his phone off. And his house number was disconnected. Of course it was: sexy times with the missus was probably a rare commodity for him these days. But she needed him. Right now.
Her head whipped around, instinctively searching for help. All she found was unconscious Roy. And Sara was still incommunicado. "Of course she is." The words came out in a quiet, self-deprecated hash of fear and insecurity. What am I going to do? She couldn't call Lance. Not now. If it was Slade there next to nothing Quentin Lance could do to help her.
She was on her own.
"Oh God…"
Standing there, in the Foundry, in her yoga gear she'd never felt so alone, so terrified as she did right then and there. The air was so still…
…And Oliver had been with his only remaining family. Anything could be happening right now. She was just standing there. It could be nothing but if it wasn't…
Closing her eyes she swallowed down the climbing panic that had engulfed her oesophagus. Biting her lip as she opened them again and made a decision, one that turned and stilled her entire being but she didn't think about. She'd curl into a ball and shake if she did. Already slipping her arms into Oliver's grey hoodie she hurried over the Roy, checking his pulse rate and making sure he had enough venom to stay down for the night.
She had to move. Now. Fast. And she actually had a plan. One half-baked but what could you expect with so little time? Almost running to the door a glint of metal caught her eye and she stopped, turning, seeing them… rushing back she grabbed at the objects of her attention and buried them in the large pockets of her (Oliver's) hoodie before almost hurling herself towards the alley way exit door: time was running out.