Chipped Blocks
An Olicity Flash Fic Story

Flash Fic Prompt #37: Trapped!

Chapter Nine

In the past, when Mia would eventually find her way home, it was never heralded by a knock on their apartment door. 'Sorry, Mom. I forgot my keys.' Instead, Felicity would get a call in the middle of the night to come down to the police precinct to, at best, pick her up and, at worst, bail her out. Sometimes, it was a local shelter who recognized a starving Mia from the flyers Felicity sent around, and, on more than one occasion, it had been the hospital, 'we're sorry to inform you, Mrs. Smoak' – it was almost Mrs., never Ms. – 'that your daughter was brought into the ER this evening having overdosed.' No matter who called, they never failed to apologize to her... as if they didn't realize that, after days, a week, sometimes even longer of not knowing if her little girl was alive or dead, even another arrest or a hospital bill was better than the alternative. So, it made no sense for Felicity to experience a jolt of hope when, not even twenty-four hours after discovering Mia was gone – again, someone knocked on her door that evening. She knew it wasn't her daughter, yet, if she stopped believing that it could be Mia, then her only child was already lost to her.

As her left hand disengaged the deadbolt, her right was already reaching to twist the handle open. Even as Felicity was still pulling the door back, that bubble of anticipation burst. Words died on her abused lips, her entire posture slumped. Although she was surprised to find Oliver standing there – what, after that scene in her classroom that afternoon?, it wouldn't have mattered who had knocked. Anyone but Mia was a disappointment. Her shock then bled into confusion. "Oliver, how did you...?" Before he could respond, she was already answering her own question. "Connor."

"I hope it's al..." That's as far as Oliver could get before Felicity gave up all pretenses of strength and confidence. His arms weren't open, but he reacted quickly, and, by the time she crossed the threshold of her apartment and joined him out in the hallway, she was falling into his embrace. Felicity wouldn't allow herself to cry, but she did accept his comfort. It was unexpected but certainly not unwelcome. And, as Oliver, who must have sensed her desperation, said nothing but tightened his hold around her just that much more, Felicity burrowed her face into his granite chest. His overwhelming strength was reassuring and comforting, and, in that moment, in those precious few seconds during which Felicity allowed herself a reprieve, she realized that Oliver Queen gave the best hugs.

But the reprieve couldn't last. She wouldn't allow it. Stepping back away from him, Felicity avoided Oliver's gaze as she apologized. "Sorry about that." Without waiting for him to respond, she turned to indicate that he should enter. "Please, come in."

As soon as the door was closed and locked behind them – the twisting of the deadbolt a habit and not a conscious action, Oliver was talking. "I should have called. I shouldn't have just shown up without..."

"I'm glad you're here," Felicity interrupted him. Her forthright confession made Oliver snap to attention. His strikingly blue eyes captured hers and refused to let go... even when Felicity felt her palms start to perspire and her cheeks heat with a potent combination of anticipation and anxiety. "Completely baffled as to why you're still not running in the opposite direction. But glad."

"Why would I...?"

"Loud voice," Felicity cut off him with a clarification before Oliver could talk himself out of staying. Because surely that was going to happen at any minute. "Not yours. Mine. Earlier. It can be pretty scary."

A smirk played on his full mouth. (Really, it was ridiculous for a man to have such pretty lips. Ridiculous, and amazing, and Felicity had no business thinking about, let alone looking at, Oliver's lips.) "Did you forget who my mother was?"

"Right," Felicity agreed with him, shaking her head as if to clear away the cobwebs. "Moira Queen. Terrorist." Oliver seemed taken aback by her blunt description, so Felicity tried to soften the blow. "I mean, accomplice to a terrorist?" Rushing, she added, "but she totally tried to take it back in the end, though there's really no take backs when it comes to mass murder." Rethinking that as well, Felicity rationalized, "that she was totally coerced into committing. So, she was more like an apologetic rat accomplice to a terrorist." Remember that prediction about Oliver leaving and not looking back...? Cringing, she tacked on one last fragmented thought. "With a heart of gold?" There was no saving... any of that, so Felicity decided to just change the topic. Sighing in self-recrimination, and embarrassment, and regret, Felicity cluelessly queried, "why are you here, Oliver?"

He shrugged his shoulders, his hands slipping into the front pockets of his dress slacks. It was then that Felicity realized that Oliver still had on the same suit he had been wearing that afternoon. "I want to help."

"But why?" Deciding that her question sounded rude, and she certainly was in no position to turn down any help, Felicity clarified, "why do you want to help? Why are you even still here, Oliver? I mean, we've known each other for just a single day, yet you had your son commit about a dozen felonies to get his hands on my address for you."

"In defense of my barely there parenting skills, I just assumed that your information was available to anyone online."

"Yeah. No. I'll have to talk to Connor about that once Mia's... home safe."

Nodding acceptance of her offer and of its timetable, Oliver returned them back to the issue at hand. "Honestly, Felicity, I don't really know why. All I know is that, when you look at me, I don't see expectations – good or bad, and I don't see regret. Everyone else in my life, for one reason or another, looks at me with disappointment. But not you." Regrouping, Oliver paused, his brow furrowing with concentration and in thought. He licked his lips before resuming his explanation. "Earlier, Connor said something that stuck with me. He said that you're the only person in his life who sees him as his own person... and I get that. I know it's horrible timing. The last thing you need in your life right now is the kind of complications I bring to the table. Or, well, to your doorstep." For some reason, Felicity suspected Oliver was talking about more than just Mia's addiction, Oliver's celebrity profile, and Oliver's rocky relationship with his son, but, for the life of her, she had no idea what else he could be referencing.

"Even this afternoon before I walked into your classroom, I planned on staying detached. I can't, though. More than that, Felicity," Oliver confessed to her, shrugging his shoulders in surrender, "I don't want to. For the first time in too long, you make me want to be selfish." There was a lump in her throat, and tears in her eyes, and Felicity marveled at the fact that, even in times of great distress, the human heart was capable of feeling such immense joy. When Oliver kept talking, she found herself sinking her top teeth into her bottom lip – this time, not as a deterrent to emotional pain but simply to keep herself quiet. "But it's more than just about you, and me, and even the possibility of an... us; it's about your daughter as well."

Felicity felt her brows furrow with confusion. "How do you mean?" Offering more, she said, "you've never even met Mia."

"Before..." Oliver paused, swallowed roughly, and regrouped. "Years ago, I might not have gone to rehab, and maybe I wasn't an addict, but I was on a course that made it only a matter of time. If it wasn't for... for the... intervention..."

"You mean when you died." She corrected herself. "I mean, when you drowned." She shook her head. Between Mia, and her worry, and her exhaustion, and Oliver's... everything, she was well beyond the point of her usual social ineptness. "But not. Because you came back. Not to life... because you're not a zombie. But back back. To Starling, so, ten years later, I could make a complete fool of myself in this moment."

The only thing that prevented Felicity from running away from her own apartment, from herself, was the small yet beautiful and genuine smile that tilted up the corners of Oliver's mouth. "With your permission, I'd like to bring in... an associate of mine to help with the search for your daughter."

The abrupt topic change caused Felicity to start. It was the impetus she needed to realize that they were still standing by her front door, that she hadn't offered to take Oliver's coat. Or to get him a drink. Hell, she never even offered Oliver a chance to sit down. As for the apartment itself, every available flat surface was covered with papers – printouts with contact information for every hospital, shelter, and police department between Starling and Las Vegas. Felicity had expanded her search outside of their hometown after going all day without word from any of the local authorities. "I... what?"

"His name is John Diggle, and he's QC's chief of security. More than that, though, he's my friend. I trust him with my life, with Connor's life. There's no one better at what he does, and he's discrete."

"Oliver, I don't care if you put out a press release; I just want my daughter back. I want her back, and I want her safe, and, if John Diggle can do that for me, then, please, ask him to help." Laughing without humor and shrugging her shoulders, Felicity commented, "maybe I should feel bad for taking advantage of your resources, but I don't. I can't."

"It's not taking advantage when I offered, Felicity," he reassured her. Oliver approached her then. When he pulled her arms away from her torso, Felicity realized that they had been so tightly crossed and wrapped around her abdomen that her hands had started to go numb. Before he continued to speak, Oliver gently yet with the warmth of his conviction gripped her forearms, held them. "In order for Digg to do this, I'm going to need you to tell me more about your daughter, about Mia, about her addiction."

"Anything."

"What does she use? Where does she get her money? Who does she get high with, where?"

"Heroin," Felicity answered sadly, sighing. "Frankly, I don't understand it. Not that drugs have ever appealed to me, but I can see the appeal of a rush. I mean, it hasn't been that long since I've had an orga..." While she mentally screamed a countdown in her mind, Felicity clamped down on her tongue, barely managing to stop her thought. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to stop it before getting her (regrettable) point across. Breathing through her nose and grimacing, she explained her initial objection. "Needles. I hate them. Well, actually, I hate all pointy things." She started to demonstrate stabbing with her index fingers before clenching her hands into fists.

Closing her eyes in mortification, Felicity continued to answer his questions. "We don't... have a lot of money. Any extra goes towards paying off fines, hospital bills, and rehab costs. Mia doesn't have an allowance. She doesn't have access to credit cards. As a mother and as a woman, I really don't like to think about how she pays for drugs, but the thought of not getting my daughter back is even worse than contemplating the idea of her selling or using her body to pay for a high." Swallowing through the lump in her throat, Felicity pressed on. "As for friends, Mia doesn't have any at this point – none, at least, that I'm aware of, and, when she takes off like this, she lives like a nomad. She wanders without a pattern, her only purpose getting high."

For several seconds, Oliver was silent as he absorbed her words. Then, when he finally spoke, his voice was whisper-soft, sympathetic and protective. "Is she sick?"

"When Mia's living at home, I make sure that she's routinely tested. Miraculously, the last time she was checked, she was still clean."

"I'm going to have Digg take every precaution, nonetheless."

"Please do," Felicity whispered sincerely. She allowed her eyelashes to flutter open, but there was nothing left to say, so Felicity simply offered Oliver the softest, most grateful smile she could under the circumstances. "If you find her, just... don't tell her that you know me." At Oliver's perplexed expression, Felicity prompted, "do you remember how I told you that Mia's father committed suicide in prison?"

"Yes."

"Well, she doesn't know about that."

"I don't understand what that has to do with...?"

Comprehending what he was asking, Felicity explained, "when Mia was old enough to start asking about her daddy, all I could think about was how mine abandoned me. Every little girl should have the chance to idolize her father. So, that's what I did for Mia. I whitewashed Cooper's actions, and I gave my daughter a heroic dad. I told her the truth about the super-virus I created, but I didn't tell her about how Cooper lost control, how he used it without my permission. Instead, I told her that her daddy went to prison to protect us, because he loved us so much, and, instead of telling her that he was too much of a coward to face the consequences of his actions, I said he was brave until the very end, that he died keeping us safe. I did it to give Mia a father, but, in giving her Cooper, I lost her, because my daughter doesn't just resent me; she hates me so much that she actively tries to hurt me. So, if you find her, don't even say my name, because it'll just make her run again, make her run further, and faster, and forever."

Oliver squeezed her forearms once before dragging the pads of his fingers down until he could wrap their hands together. "I should go. It's late, and I still need to meet with Digg."

"Right," she agreed with him. And she did – agree, that was. Because she wanted his help, and she needed to get back to her phone calls, but Felicity also really didn't want to be alone. More than that, she didn't want to be without Oliver... which was ridiculous, because, realistically speaking, she barely knew him. But yet she did. In all the ways that mattered, Felicity did know him, and Oliver knew her. "And I'm sure you want to get home as well... to Connor."

"Yeah." With one last touch, Oliver let go of her hands only to shock Felicity when he leaned against her to place a murmur of a kiss upon her forehead. "We'll find her, Felicity. I promise." He stepped back, away from her. And then he said, as if he were trying to convince them both, "okay, I'm going to go."

Before she could thank him, before she could offer him a 'good night,' before Felicity could even blink, Oliver did just that; he left.