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Oliver couldn't get over how different she looked. Nothing was familiar – blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, glasses, red lips. It was only when he looked deep into shocked blue eyes that he remembered where he'd first seen them.
Pulling a gun on him was pretty surprising too – it probably would have been his last surprise, if she'd remembered to put the safety off.
Felicity Smoak. That was her real name. He wondered where 'Meghan' had come from. Not that it mattered. He noticed she was sneaking little glances at him as they sat on the floor of her- well, it wasn't an office. Repurposed broom closet, surely. He pretended not to see her sneaky looks, and wondered what she'd do next. And how he was going to get out of this – there was no way she was going to buy his 'spilled a latte on the laptop' story now.
Oliver'd been back from the island for a month, and things had been going according to plan, up till now. He'd even found a partner for his crusade, which he'd never planned for, back on the island. He'd gotten through an arrest and a polygraph with few consequences, though Lance still hated his guts. That wasn't going to change, no matter how many polygraph tests Oliver passed. He thought about Laurel for a second – that was over, he knew that now. He didn't need to hear Thea's drunken confession, or catch Tommy's yearning looks in that direction to know that. It had been over ever since he'd sabotaged it by smuggling Sara on the yacht.
Felicity got up, abruptly, and dusted herself off with quick sharp movements. He joined her, and waited for his cue. But she wouldn't meet his eyes, and instead looked at the desk, where he'd left the bullet-ridden laptop. Her eyes narrowed.
"What the hell is this? You promised!"
She glared at him, and grabbed his sweater, pulling it down a little. As soon as she saw the star tattoo her lips thinned, and she got even angrier than before.
"You're still in the Bratva!"
Oliver winced. She obviously thought the island was just a cover story.
"No, Felicity . . . listen."
She folded her arms and looked mutinous.
"I'm listening."
He rubbed his head, and thought for a few seconds.
"After you got out of Moscow – a week after – Anatoli found out about the Ozuls, that they got out. And I found out that their store was a front for the Bratva's money-laundering business."
"What?"
"Yeah. And Anatoli was not happy about it, that they'd got away. And his boss wasn't happy about it. And when they found out that I was the last to see Mehmet in Moscow . . . "
Felicity looked worried.
"Did they . . . hurt you?"
Oliver considered making something up. But he was tired of the lying, already.
"That's how I ended up on the island again."
Her face fell.
"You've been there all this time? On your own?"
He nodded, wondering why she was so sad about it. He'd deserved it, right? But she didn't seem to think so.
"It's my fault – you would have been far away if you didn't have to get me out-"
She broke off and covered her mouth, on the verge of tears. He could hardly believe it – she was feeling sorry for him? After what he'd done to her?
"Felicity. I never regretted saving your life, getting you out of there. Never."
He stared into her eyes, not letting her look away, and was rewarded with a tremulous smile, and a sniff, as she blinked back the tears. Her eyes fell on the laptop again, and she sighed.
"Those look like bullet holes."
"Yes," he said, wincing.
Latte, yes or no? He'd been going to say that his coffee shop was in a bad neighbourhood, and for the first time he realised how stupid that sounded. She looked at him again, and this time, the exasperation was clear. As she cocked her head to the side with a calculating stare, he was struck again how adorable she looked like this. And no, Oliver! Down, boy! He did not deserve her, and she didn't need to be saddled with his baggage, emotional or otherwise.
Felicity looked at the laptop, and frowned. She looked at him, and frowned some more. Then she went to her own machine, tapped on the calendar, and opened a browser window, typing 'Starling City vigilante' into google search.
Oliver was sure that his mouth had fallen open, but he couldn't control himself. It felt like a huge valley was opening up in front of him, and he was being pulled into it, like his whole world stopped spinning, and he was flung into space. She wasn't . . . she couldn't have . . . that was a logical leap too far, even for her.
"You're the Starling City vigilante! The guy with the . . . the hood, and the bows and arrows – and what is it with that anyway, and all the green? Are you Robin Hood? Oh, I get it! It's because you were in a rural environment and it's camouflage!"
Try as he might, he couldn't think of anything clever to say to contradict her.
"No . . . no, that's ridiculous. I don't know what you're talking about."
He was actually spluttering. In a small part of his mind, his inner voice whimpered that Digg was going to be so, so pissed off. In another, he was wondering how this woman always managed to derail his plans: that was twice now. Maybe it was a sign. Of what, he wasn't sure yet.
"Which part?"
Oliver was pinching his nose, trying to get his thoughts under control, when he registered she'd said something.
"What?"
She was smirking at him.
"Which part is ridiculous? You being the Hood? Or green being good for forest camouflage? Come on, Oliver, your nightclub is going to be called Verdant. Verdant!"
Diggle'd said more or less the same thing. She hadn't finished, though.
"How else are you going to explain the bullet-riddled laptop? Unless you're lying to me, and you really are still working for the Russians."
Her tone changed.
"In which case, excuse me while I pack my bags and erase my online identity."
He couldn't do this to her – he couldn't make her think that she was crazy, or that he really was still in the Bratva. But he couldn't just drop Diggle in it, either. She sat in front of her computer, looking all the world like she was about to start erasing herself from the internet, and he put a hand over one of hers. She looked up at him, and he flashed back to Moscow – she'd had that fearful expression in her eyes then too, and he hated himself for putting it there again.
"Can you give me a few hours? I have a partner I need to discuss this with."
Felicity sniffed.
"Is he going to come over with a silenced gun, or a garrotte?"
"Felicity, no! Please trust me. Just a little longer. Can you do that?"
She shrugged, trying to look calm, although her hand was playing nervously with the pen she'd been chewing on when he'd come in. He had to leave – he was clearly scaring her.
"Ok, I guess."
He patted her on the shoulder and left, only realising on the way out of the building that he'd left the laptop behind. But he couldn't go back now – she'd scream the place down. How could he have been so careless?
"Damn it, Oliver! What's wrong with you? How could you have been so-"
"Careless?"
"Stupid!"
Oliver had told Diggle everything on the way to the foundry, and he was just as angry as Oliver had expected, but managed to hold it in until they got there. Diggle was right to be angry. If Felicity went to the cops, they were screwed. Though she didn't have any proof, except a hunch. He tried that with Diggle.
"She doesn't have any evidence?"
Diggle rolled his eyes.
"Oh, yeah? Where's the laptop, Oliver?"
Oliver winced.
"Yeah. And do you think Lance needs evidence when it comes to you? Look, tell me again what happened in Moscow."
Oliver summed up the whole thing from the moment he saw her in that warehouse, trying to gloss over the last horrible year on the island, when he was completely alone, though one look at Diggle told him he wasn't fooling anyone. He still had nightmares once in a while, and Diggle had tried to wake him in the middle of one – good thing he didn't have a knife on him that time. Diggle had said it was the first time he'd seen someone go from deep sleep to full on fight in under five seconds. He was sure Diggle was getting ready to ask him how he didn't recognize her when he did his research, and he wanted to stop that before it started.
"Digg, I looked her up! I really did. Now that I'm thinking about it, there was a gap between her graduation and working at QC, but her mother died. And no, there aren't any pictures of her online before her employment record at QC – I just thought she was shy."
Diggle rolled his eyes again.
"You really think she'd be good on the team."
"I've told you about her qualifications."
Diggle sighed.
"That's not what I'm asking, Oliver, and you know it. Is she messed up, from Russia? Why did she work for the Irish mob? Does she even want to get involved?"
"You can ask her that when you go and pick her up, later."
Diggle shook his head, grinning.
"What's the matter, Oliver, scared? Can't handle one tiny I.T. girl?"
Oliver shot Diggle his best exasperated look, trying to disguise how much he'd like to handle her. Except there was no chance of that. Ever.
"Very funny, Digg. She sees me, all she thinks is 'this is the guy who choked me out and put me in the trunk of his car.' You're clearly one of the good guys."
"What, you think I can't be the big scary black man?"
Oliver glared.
"I'm just messing with you. Oliver, she obviously doesn't see you like that," he said, as he headed for the door.
"How d'you figure?" Oliver asked, curious.
"Lance and the S.W.A.T. team haven't busted down the door yet."
"Yet," Oliver answered.
Diggle shook his head, smiling, and left. Oliver checked the police scanner for the fifth time that day, and nothing. No frantic calls to 911 from Queen Consolidated, no-one who sounded like Lance requesting a B.O.L.O. on one Queen, Oliver, nothing like that. Still, he didn't let himself relax until he heard the car pull up in the alley, followed by clicking heels and a murmur which resolved itself into Felicity's voice. Diggle was walking in front of her, probably to make her feel safer. He could see Diggle's face, and judging from his silent laughter, she hadn't stopped talking since she got into the car.
". . . not that I think you're going to kill me, not to make a skin suit, anyway. I mean, it'd never fit, because you're huge! Maybe a sleeveless vest, though . . . or a sleeve . . . note to self: never watch Silence of the Lambs again. This doesn't look like a murder basement, just a normal creepy basement-"
Felicity stopped in the middle of the foundry and looked around her, slightly awed. She held the laptop to her chest, and when she really looked at him, grinned openly. He was wearing his vigilante gear, complete with quiver.
"Ha! I knew it! Hood guy. The green suits you."
Her expression turned to one of horror as she looked behind him – he spun around, but she was staring at the network he'd set up.
"This is terrible! What is this?"
She was muttering to herself as she put the laptop down and hung her bag over a chair. What she was saying was unclear, and he only caught a muffled 'this is Alien vs Predator awful; it's a crime against computer science'.
"Hey, I liked that movie," Diggle interjected mildly.
Felicity, who was already crouched behind all the computer equipment he'd set up and was trying to trace connections, mumbling to herself, looked up, a smear of dust on her face.
"That movie featured a woman talking to a 7-foot tall alien being in English, Diggle. It had Predators building pyramids! And this," she added, waving her hands at his computer set-up, "is the I.T. version of a couple of tin cans and a whole lot of string. You're going to have to give me your credit card, Oliver. We're going to Tech Village!"
She looked up and seemed to register their stunned faces.
"What? This wasn't an interview?"
Oliver and Diggle exchanged reluctant smiles.
"I guess it was," Oliver answered.
"I'm just surprised you're ok with it, so quickly. Even Diggle here threw a few punches at me first."
Diggle rolled his eyes, and mouthed 'very funny' in Oliver's direction.
Felicity paused in whatever she was doing (he'd never thought his setup was that bad), and was visibly thinking.
"What you're doing here, it's making a difference. I'd like to be a part of that. Hey, can I have a cool code name, too?"
"NO!"
Oliver and Diggle yelled it at the same time. Felicity jumped.
"It's just," Oliver continued in a more normal tone of voice, "I don't want to put a target on your back, Felicity. And you can help us so much more if no-one knows you're my . . . "
"Sidekick?" Felicity asked, with a certain amount of snark.
"Partner," Oliver insisted.
She smiled, and seemed to be about to go back to fiddling with the various wires and cables – she'd even produced a tiny screwdriver from somewhere, and was on the verge of opening up one of the towers, when he cleared his throat.
"Um, Felicity?"
It was hard to get used to the name, after he'd been thinking of her as Meghan for a year now. Not that he'd been thinking of her. Much. She looked up, puzzled, and then remembered.
"Yeah, the laptop. I already recovered the hard drive and put everything on a backup drive – I just got it with me because I didn't want anyone asking questions at work. Which you own, by the way," she said, accusingly.
"You could have made things easier for me, just saying. Wait, no-one knows, except us? Right, right."
They watched, bemused, as she conducted an entire dialogue with herself, not even pausing while she connected the external drive to one of his computers, and brought up what was on it. So, blueprints. Of a company he'd never heard of. Both Felicity and Diggle rolled their eyes at this, and proceeded to give him a lecture on Queen Consolidated's business practices.
Oliver sighed.
"I don't own the company – that's my mom. And she's just the chief shareholder, really. I guess this means that Floyd Lawton is working for Patel? It's strange – that guy has been at our house for dinner a few times."
Diggle shrugged.
"I guess he really wants this Unidac Industries, whatever it is."
"Whatever the reason, we have to get to the auction," Oliver continued.
"How about bringing up a floorplan of the auction house so that we know where to hide and have oversight of the . . ."
His voice trailed off as he looked up only to see identical smirks on Felicity and Diggle's faces.
"And I'm invited to this auction, because Walter is bidding. Great. Just great."
Diggle nodded.
"Better than that, Oliver. Your mom and Thea are going too."
Waking up in the foundry to Felicity's worried face was a mixed experience. He'd been dreaming about Russia again, and in his dream, he'd been the one choked out, by Yao Fei, and Slade Wilson was burying him, until he managed to drag himself awake.
"He's awake," Felicity said to someone behind his head, and Diggle came into his eyeline wearing a relieved smile.
"I gotta know what's in these herbs, Oliver, though I bet you're gonna say 'magic'."
Oliver groaned.
"Please don't tell me he got me with the curare bullet again."
"Ok, so I won't tell you," Diggle smirked. "And maybe you shouldn't have pushed me out of the way, man." His smile vanished.
"Seriously, Oliver, you gotta take better care of yourself. I'm glad you killed that creep, though."
Felicity vanished from his line of sight, and he raised himself on his elbows, looking at Diggle, who shook his head. When he struggled to get up, Diggle helped him on his feet, and he swayed a little, trying to focus on her. She was sitting in front of his renewed computer network, pretending to check the police scanner, but he could see that she wasn't happy. It was in the set of her shoulders, and he guessed what she wasn't happy with. Maybe it would help if she knew why he was doing all this, what the point of his crusade was. He got his father's notebook out and put it in front of her. She was curious, in spite of herself, and leafed through a couple of pages, but didn't ask, just gave him an inquiring look.
"When the Queen's Gambit went down, my father survived."
Felicity gasped, looking at him in shock.
"He told me to right his wrongs. Then he killed himself so that I'd have enough water to survive. I found this notebook when I buried him."
He'd been looking down at his hands, not wanting to meet her eyes, when her small hand covered his, and squeezed. He looked up, and her eyes were shiny. He sensed rather than saw Diggle turn away and clear his throat, and he blinked hard to stop the tears. Even though it was five years ago, he still felt it, like a dull knife twisting in his chest. He swallowed, and continued.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know what those names mean. I've been assuming that they're people who failed this city, our city. That they use and exploit and kill people, and that I have to stop them. Somehow."
Felicity furrowed her brows.
"But Oliver – your father can't have expected you to deal with all these people. He can't have known you were going to go all Robin Hood on them!"
Oliver shrugged. He was doing his best, but sometimes it felt like he was just muddling through, always on the verge of some great discovery, always just out of sight.
Felicity fit in so well with their plans, Oliver soon started to wonder how they'd ever got along without her. And when he started an affair with Helena Bertinelli, it was only thanks to Felicity that he didn't give away the entire operation to Helena. She only found out who he was by comparing the Hood's fighting style to Oliver Queen's, but as Felicity was always in the foundry in the evenings, and he didn't want to expose her, he tried to train Helena elsewhere. And what a disaster that was, he had to ruefully admit, as he ended up having to break Helena out of police custody to keep her quiet. Felicity never once said 'I told you so', though. Diggle, on the other hand, never stopped.
He was so comfortable with Felicity in the foundry that he even trained when she was there. He often felt her eyes on him when he was hanging off the steel pipes by one hand, or going up the salmon ladder, and he couldn't deny that he preened a little. Of course, then he had to go ruin it all by sleeping with Helena, though Felicity never once showed any kind of romantic feeling for him. And he couldn't admit to feeling anything for her – the way they'd started out, how could he be sure she wasn't still afraid of him? After the first time, with Floyd Lawton, she never really challenged him about the way he went after the men on the list. Though, to be honest, he found himself holding back from the killing after she'd joined them. He tried to see himself through her eyes, as being more than the thug he'd been in Russia and Hong Kong. When she'd come into his life, he'd wanted to atone. Where had all that gone? Had it all been swept away by that year on the island, alone? The first few weeks in Starling City, his most common nightmare was waking up in Yao Fei's cave, and being convinced that his rescue, and those weeks back home, were just a dream, and the island was still his reality. Once Felicity came back into his life, he'd had the dream again, but with a change. In it, he crawled out of the cave and into Felicity's cubicle, and the shock had been enough to wake him.
Still, he couldn't make a move, he wouldn't do that to her. He knew she was still grieving over her mother, and he wasn't going to take advantage of her vulnerability. In fact, just before Christmas, Felicity had announced she needed to spend some time in Las Vegas, for something he couldn't pronounce. She sighed in exasperation.
"It's called yahrzeit, and it's not that hard. It's like a year, since my mom . . . since my mom. And not a year, year. It's a Talmudic year, and I'm not even sure I worked it out right. And I'm pretty sure I should've organised someone to say Kaddish every day since last year, but it all got on top of me. Anyway, I need to go there and light a candle and say a prayer or two. If you two can get by without me."
Diggle snorted.
"I think we'll manage to struggle through, Felicity. How'd you get time off at Christmas, anyway? I thought you said your supervisor was a jerk?"
Felicity crossed her arms, cocked her head, and looked at Oliver, pointedly. He might have pointed out to her supervisor that a pretty important Jewish holiday was at hand, and he didn't want QC involved in a religious lawsuit, did he? But he wasn't going to admit anything.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Did you find me anything about that arrow?"
The worst thing that had happened recently was another archer popping up in Starling City, and this one did not take any prisoners. Literally. At least he used black arrows rather than green, but he seemed one step ahead of Oliver at all times. Good thing Lance had given him one of the arrows, otherwise he'd still be in the dark.
"Yes, yes," she said distractedly. She had her bags with her, and was leaving for the airport straight from the foundry.
"Here, I've printed everything out for you, ok? Now I really have to get going, I'll miss my flight."
Diggle was taking her to the airport, and she was already halfway out into the alley, when she doubled back to stare at him, a worried look on her face.
"Oliver, promise me you'll be careful. Not to go all Ben Kenobi on you, but I have a bad feeling about this guy."
He smiled. She looked so earnest and worried about him, and he felt . . . it was difficult for him to analyse his feelings for her, and he wasn't going to try. He put his hands on her shoulders instead, and looked into her eyes.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. And there's Diggle here to take care of me. See you in three weeks."
She nodded and left.
It was probably the lasting effect of the warm feelings left behind by Felicity which led him to the worst idea he'd had recently, which was to revive the Queen Christmas party tradition. That the evening would end with him fighting the Dark Archer in a run-down warehouse surrounded by police and S.W.A.T. was almost a given at that point. And each time his bow clashed against the Archer's, each time he punched and missed, and especially the time he got shot in the back by this guy who outclassed, outshot, and outpunched him, he remembered Felicity's words. Especially as he lay in an alley, having managed to land on his back, driving the bolts deeper, and just had enough strength to call Diggle. As he begged for help, and passed out, he had one thought. Felicity had been right.
Waking up in the hospital was pretty embarrassing – he wasn't feeling much pain, but it was pretty humiliating to have his entire family see him as the idiot he'd been before the island. What was even worse was Diggle handing him his phone, wordlessly. He didn't even need to put it close to his ear to hear Felicity yelling at him.
"Didn't I tell you to be careful? Do you ever listen to a single word I say?"
She ranted for a few seconds more, and Oliver couldn't help a sheepish smile, even though it hurt to smile. It hurt to do everything. It cheered him up to hear Felicity's voice, though. Because she was his friend, nothing more, he insisted hurriedly.
"Oliver? Are you still there? Did you pass out?"
He cleared his throat, hoping he didn't sound too weird.
"I'm awake, Felicity. Don't worry so much."
She sniffed, clearly not impressed.
"I can be on the next flight home, if you want."
"No, Felicity, really. I need to spend some more time in hospital, and then I have to spend time with Mom and Thea. We kind of had a fight before my 'accident'."
"Ok, then. But if you need something, just say the word."
She paused, hesitating.
"It's good to hear your voice, Oliver. As a friend, of course," she added quickly.
"Yes, same here," he replied.
But he couldn't help wishing for more, and fell asleep with that thought in mind.
The next few weeks were spent in recovery, until his life started going haywire again. This time, not every problem could be solved by shooting arrows at people and accusing them of having failed Starling City. At first Tommy was cut off by his father, then Walter vanished without a trace, and finally mysterious fires started springing up, mainly seeming to target the fire department, but with a lot of collateral damage. The Tommy situation seemed to be halfway towards a solution when Oliver asked him to manage to the club, with full intention of making him partner as soon as Tommy's pride would allow it. What had happened to Tommy in those five years, anyway? He'd never been that prickly. Once Oliver had realised that Tommy and Laurel were together, he was fully prepared to give his blessing, not that it was needed – Laurel didn't owe him anything, not even forgiveness. And after meeting Meg-Felicity, his memories of Laurel and his yearning for her had faded away. Not that it meant anything. Nothing could happen between him and Felicity. She didn't think of him that way. And the fact that she watched him training meant nothing.
So he and Tommy were partners – at least in his head. Done. But the Walter situation was more of a problem. Had he really been kidnapped? And by whom? And then, just as he started feeling an urge to put the hood back on and take out his bow, the fires started.
Oliver realized he'd only thought he'd hated arsonists before. As he perched in the rafters of his brand-new club, now decorated with a number of open fires, carefully set to maximize confusion and disorientation, he decided he really hated them. And the arsonist must have sabotaged the sprinkler system, because nothing had gone off. But at least, most of the people who'd been at the fire department benefit had got out. Except one. In the middle of what would one day be the dancefloor, there was a ring of flame and billowing smoke, and in the middle of that was Felicity.
What the fuck was she doing here? He hadn't seen her much since she came back from Vegas – after her third unanswered voice mail, she'd hijacked all his monitors for an annoyed skype call, in which she accused him of trying to push her out of the vigilante business. Which he might have been. After he'd spent six weeks revering from injuries caused by his own overconfidence, he didn't like the idea that he might be putting her into dangerous situations. But that wasn't important now, because she was going to die if he didn't do something. He was balanced on a railing, and he calculated the angle and trajectory quickly. He could do this. He pulled down his hood, as it was just interfering with his peripheral vision at that point – even if there was anyone hidden who'd see his face, he could just blame it on a smoke-induced hallucination.
"Felicity!"
She looked around her, coughing, and squinted at him through the smoke.
"Oliver? Is that you?"
She bent over for a coughing fit again.
"Felicity, I'm getting you out of there! Try to straighten up!"
"How the hell are you going to do that- oh my God!"
Oliver'd managed to shoot an arrow at the opposite wall, swing down and grab her, following through with a swing to the other side of the wall of flame, shielding her with his body. He managed to twist their bodies in mid-air and break their fall – correction, her fall. He landed under her, stunned, on his back. Unfortunately, he wasn't hurting so bad that her soft, warm body on top of him wasn't causing a reaction that he hoped and prayed she wouldn't notice. Because it'd be a few seconds before he could get off the floor. Her first words made him smile, then wince. Her being adorable wasn't going to help solve his . . . problem.
"Wow, you're sweaty."
"You're welcome."
She giggled.
"Sorry, Oliver. Thank you for saving my life."
"Sure, sure."
Not very eloquent, he thought. But the situation was getting worse, and he had to push her away before she noticed-
"Uh, Oliver. Is that an arrow in your pocket or are you really happy to see me?"
Oliver closed his eyes. His humiliation was complete. Great. Just great.
"Adrenaline?" he ventured, wishing he didn't sound so tentative.
Felicity laughed, which turned into a coughing fit.
"Yes, of course," she spluttered, gasping for breath.
He managed to get them both on their feet, and pushed her towards the emergency exit.
"You need to find a paramedic – get your chest looked at . . . I mean checked out . . . I mean listened to!"
Felicity started coughing again as she tried to convey that usually it was her job to do the babbling, but Oliver was starting to get worried about her coughing fits, and he made sure she was outside before he turned back to find the arsonist. No-one messed with his Feli- his club. And his guests, of course.
The next day, once everything had been settled and the police had stopped buzzing around the club, and therefore the foundry, Felicity was back in front of her computers (yes, they were her computers now), giving him a speculative look. Diggle was off reconnecting with his 'contact in A.R.G.U.S.' Oliver didn't have the heart to tell him that he knew it was Digg's ex-wife, Lyla, who he was still very much in love with.
"What were you doing there, Felicity? You could have died!"
Felicity rolled her eyes.
"I didn't know you were planning to hold arson parties, Oliver. I might have thought twice about coming if I'd known."
She threw a padded envelope at him, and he caught it, reflexively. When he opened it, he found his father's notebook. How could this be? No, wait, his father's notebook was next to the main keyboard, where it always was. The one Felicity had given him was clean, and had no pages torn out.
"It was on my desk when I came back from Vegas, with this note. It's from Walter. It says he found it . . . in your mother's bedroom."
Felicity was looking at him, waiting for his reaction. Oliver didn't know what to ask first, and opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, before changing his mind and closing it again. He could only stare at the notebook, and turn it over in his fingers. Something struck him – she'd called him 'Walter'. Not 'Mr Steele'. He looked at Felicity again.
"You've been helping Walter with something."
She nodded, biting her lower lip, and then went on the defensive.
"I know I didn't tell you, but he made me promise to keep it a secret. And I keep my promises," she said, looking at him through her lashes.
"Walter found something. To do with your father, and the . . . boat accident. He didn't want to tell me what it was, because he told the head of security, who-"
"Died. In a car crash."
Oliver had heard about that, and had even been to the funeral, representing the Queen family. He rubbed his face, and looked at the notebook again. His mother was involved? But how could that be? That was crazy talk, right? But it couldn't just be a coincidence – it was the same notebook, in the same handwriting, and he was pretty sure that the list was the same too. And another thing. Being taken off the street, with Tommy, that first day back. How had the masked thugs known exactly where to find him? What were all those questions about his father, and if he'd survived? It had been five years, wasn't it all moot at this point? Unless there was something big coming up, and someone figured he'd be in the way, if his father had told him everything. And, even though every fibre of his being rebelled against the thought, maybe . . . maybe his mother was involved too.
"So you think this is why Walter was kidnapped?"
Felicity nodded, looking sad. He went up to her, and looked into her eyes.
"Hey. We're going to find him. I promise."
She nodded again, and made a visible effort to cheer up, lifting her head in a challenge as she sat down in front of the monitors, preparing for the evening.
"Only if you stop pushing me away, Oliver! As those crazy kids taught us, we're all in this together . . ."
She sang the last few words, and Oliver groaned.
"I can't believe you just used High School Musical to prove your point."
Felicity snorted.
"I can't believe you know about High School Musical, Oliver."
Oliver strapped on his quiver as she watched, playing with a pen as she waited for the monitoring programs to load.
"Maybe you've heard - I have a kid sister."
She laughed, and he found himself smiling back, happy just to be with her. And once Diggle came back from his 'meeting' with his 'informant', they'd start working on a plan. As a team. Together.
Notes:
So, this is kind of short.
Rewriting Season 1 was not easy at all, and will be concluded in the next chapter.
I left some things out for simplicity's sake. For example, in this universe, Floyd Lawton has nothing to do with the Diggles, and John is still hung up on Lyla from the beginning (no Carly).
To be perfectly honest, I'm more interested in my take on Season 2 (is this a hint to try and get people to stick with me till then? Yes!), but I will try to do Season 1 justice with the change caused by Felicity's early presence, and not skim over too many events.