Lyla Michaels or as Felicity liked to call her Digg's super secret spy girlfriend from Argus, was missing. Oliver had volunteered their help for the rescue mission. Russia! That was a place she never thought she step foot in. KGB, the Bratva and someone had said half the people that lived there were radioactive. She hoped the last one wasn't true. All of that had kept her from choosing it as a vacation spot. She'd do anything for John so she packed her bags and even though she had woken up feeling sick it was off to the airport she went. Everything was going fine until Isabel showed up. She already felt sick enough, now she had to deal with her too? She internally groaned and choked back the bile that rose in her throat as she climbed the steps into the jet. She sure hope Oliver had better luck with planes than he did boats. Why did she feel so bad? She never got sick. Maybe it was just her nerves. She had heard of many a woman that had made herself sick from stress and God knew she'd been under plenty of that. She moved to sit in one of the seats on the left hand side of the plane and settled herself into the window seat. Oliver and Diggle sat in front of her and Isabel took a seat across the aisle. She ran through some information on the mission on her tablet until it was time for takeoff and she had to turn the device off.
The plane lifted off and soon they were climbing higher and higher until they reached proper altitude. She took out her tablet again but it held little interest to her. She felt awful. A wave of nausea swept over her and she had to keep herself from running to the small bathroom at the back of the jet. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold window and prayed for relief. It soon passed but she had a feeling there was more to come.
"You alright?" asked Diggle. She opened her eyes to look at him.
"Yeah, I'm just a little under the weather."
"Do you need anything?" That was just liked Digg. Here he was flying across the ocean to search for a woman he cared about and he was worried about her feeling sick. She smiled at him. "No I'm fine, thanks." He smiled back and started to move back to his seat. "Let me know if that changes."
She couldn't remember the last time she had had a decent nights sleep. Maybe if she slept she would feel better. She leaned her head back against the headrest and drifted off. She didn't even dream and when she jerked awake to Digg touching her she felt like she had just closed her eyes. In her sleep her head had drifted to the side of the plane in a uncomfortable position and someone had covered her with a red blanket she was sure belonged with the clouds of heaven. He legs had curled up underneath her and she had burrowed under the blanket to the point only her nose and top of her head were sticking out. She groaned.
"Wake up sleeping beauty," said Digg with feigned excitement.
"Five more minutes," she said and closed her eyes again. Her eyes jerked open again when cold enveloped her and she realized the blanket was gone. "Digg!"
"I just ripped off the band aid. You'll thank me when you get outside. It's a whole lot warmer in here than out there," he said as he gestured to the window. She looked outside. They were in Russia! How? She had only closed her eyes for a few minutes. Digg helped her into her jacket. Oliver turned to look at her. His eyes asked the question he couldn't voice with Isabel nearby. She nodded her head. John walked Oliver and Isabel off the plane, she stayed behind and collected her tablet and computer bag. A minute later she stood at the top of the steps, frigid air cutting through her like a knife and the wind whipping her hair into her eye. As she reached the bottom step a wave of dizziness assaulted her and she stumbled. Diggle rushed forward and grabbed her elbow. "Felicity-"
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Let's go." Digg held her arm until they got inside and had to go through customs. She got a little thrill at finally getting her passport stamped. Oliver had walked away and from the looks of it was having an intense conversation with Isabel. She strolled over, Digg close at her heels. "What was that about," she asked from behind him. He turned to her.
"Nothing. Are you okay," he asked, a look of concern crossing his features.
"Yeah, I think I'm coming down with a cold or something. I feel a little better now."
"I'd hope so, you slept twelve hours."
"Best sleep I've had in a while." He squeezed her shoulder in understanding.
"You're taking a car to the hotel with Isabel."
"Wait," she put her hands up. "You're leaving me with her?"
"Digg and I are going to get a drink," he said before they strode away leaving her there standing.
"I wouldn't mind a drink," she said to their retreating backs. She groaned and walked out into the cold air again to the waiting car. Lucky for her Isabel didn't seem interested in conversing or hounding her about everything she was doing wrong. She wasn't sure she could pay attention if she had decided to talk to her.
She checked into her room that was sandwiched in between Oliver and Diggle's and had connecting doors. The bellhop carried her bags for her and she tipped him before he left her to wonder around the suite. This place was like a house. It was three times the size of the apartment she had lived in while at college. Her headache had turned into a dull pounding so she decided to take a hot bath. The tub was the size of a hot tub and she's be a fool not to take advantage of it. This must be what it feels like to be rich. She dried her hair and reapplied her makeup lightly. By the time she was done Oliver and John were back from their drink. They discussed the plan and sent Diggle into the place that if he didn't get out of in time would cause him to become a permanent Russian. It wasn't until he said that Lyla was his wife that she understood just how much she and this mission meant to him. She was a woman he had loved and probably still did. After she had sent him off with a 'Good luck' and a kiss to the cheek she and Oliver had met Anatoly who was going to help them secure a prison truck 'for cheap' in his words. Her stomach churned and her thoughts never strayed from what Digg was doing and she worried if he was okay. She voiced her thoughts to Oliver.
"I'm sure he's the same since the last time you asked... five minutes ago," he said and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
They acquired the truck but not without some threatening words from Oliver to the man. She asked him what he had said and he had just winked at her and said he said 'Please.' From the looks of pure terror on the mens faces she was one hundred percent sure that wasn't what he had said.
They returned back to the hotel and she and Oliver parted ways, him for the bar, her going back to her room until it was time to leave. It wouldn't be long. She went up and changed into a pair of pants and a thick black wool sweater. Russia was not a place to wear skirts at night, especially where they were going. Another wave of nausea hit her and she leaned against the sink until it had eased. She splashed some water over her face and took a deep breath. Cold seemed to help. Maybe she would take a stroll outside in the courtyard, moving around a bit might ease her nerves and keep the nausea at bay. She slipped on her coat, put on her wool lined hat and grabbed her cell phone from the table. She opened her door and if she hadn't already wanted to throw up what she saw would have made it happen for sure.
Isabel was pushing Oliver against the hotel door, her lips against his, her hands roving through his pockets presumably looking for a room key. A gasp left her mouth and she turned her head. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to throw up now. The only question was did she want to do it out in the cold courtyard or in the room next to where Oliver an Isabel were fixing to do something she didn't even want to think of. Courtyard it is. Tears stung the backs of her eyes and she started to move past them quickly down the hall, her feet falling heavy on the thick carpet. She had made it to the elevators when she heard her name being called. She pressed the elevator button again but it apparently wasn't her day since the sign above the elevator doors was still lit up that it was on the six floor.
"Felicity, I-" Oliver said as he caught up to her. He opened his mouth but she cut him off.
"What happens in Russia stays in Russia." The elevator dinged its arrival and the doors slid open and she stepped on, "Even when it makes no sense whatsoever," she muttered. "Have fun but don't forget the real reason we're here," she said. She was proud of herself, her voice had not cracked on the words and was devoid of emotion. The elevator doors slid shut leaving him standing there, tie loose and a hole in his heart.
He didn't know how it happened. Him and Isabel were drinking and talking about her past and how it felt to be alone when she had insisted he pay the check. They had ended up going in the direction of his room. When they stood in the doorway she had got impatient and started to loosen his tie and started digging threw his pockets for a room key he was reluctant to pull from his wallet. What was he doing? The thought had just crossed his mind and he was beginning to pull back to tell Isabel that this was a bad idea when a gasp had come from behind him. A second later a flash of blonde hair had rushed past him. Felicity. His head hung in guilt. He took Isabel's shoulder and pushed her back from where she was kissing his neck. "Isabel, I'm sorry, this isn't a good idea. We're business partners and we need to keep this professional."
"It's that assistant of yours isn't it?" She said accusingly. She didn't know how close she had come to hitting the mark.
"No, I told you she's just a friend. This is my own decision. I'm sorry that I crossed a line. It shouldn't have happened. I hope you'll forgive me," he said not really caring if she did before he went after Felicity leaving Isabel fuming in the doorway.
Thankfully she was still at the elevators banks when he caught up to her. "Felicity I-" He opened his mouth to explain but she cut him off, her voice emotionless as she said
"Whatever happens in Russia stays in Russia." He had failed her yet again and it left him speechless. How did he always end up hurting her? "Even when it makes no sense whatsoever," she said under her breath. She was right. Being with Isabel made no sense. She was just a distraction from what had really been going on his mind and that was his feeling's for Felicity. What a way to get over his feelings. By almost sleeping with another woman? Was he trying to prove to himself that he felt nothing for her? Turns out he not as changed as he thought. He was still Oliver Queen playboy. Felicity had always saw the best in him and now he had broken that.
"Have fun but don't forget the real reason we're here." She stepped inside the elevator and the doors slowly slid shut leaving him there with a broken heart that nothing and no one but her could stop from bleeding. She couldn't stand Isabel and knowing that he'd gone and taken her back to his room. He had broken some of her trust and he didn't know if he could get it back. How much more would she let him break her until she finally walked away? So he let her go. As the doors shut he felt a cold shiver run down his spine and he felt like the door had shut on his soul. His body radiated with anger at himself so he found a treadmill and ran till his lungs burned and his legs felt like jelly. Then he took a shower and met Felicity downstairs where they were supposed to take a car to meet Anatoly and get the truck. She wouldn't look him in this eyes, only looked down at her feet as he slid into the drivers seat and she the passenger seat. He was sure that even if it wasn't twenty five degrees outside the car would still be cold with no Felicity to warm the space with her babbling.