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Sitting at her desk in the newly refurbished I.T. department, Felicity was bored. Bored, bored, bored. After the earthquake, a month ago, she'd thought it was a good idea to tell Oliver that he didn't have to be a vigilante, that he didn't have to shoot arrows at people to save his city. What had she been thinking? She chewed on her pen some more, then spat hurriedly. She'd bitten through the plastic, dammit. She rummaged through her drawer for a small hand mirror and checked her mouth, but only a little red ink had come out, and it was on her tongue. As long as she didn't stick it out at people, she'd be ok. Though she felt like sticking her tongue out at one person in particular.
To be fair, it had been good advice. And Oliver had taken it to heart. After the confusing days following the earthquake and the disaster in the Glades, it had taken some time for her to realize that Oliver hadn't gone home that night. He'd gone straight to Queen Consolidated, had teleconferenced with the board of directors and Walter Steele, and had started a plan rolling to save QC from a financial disaster. According to Diggle, who was her only source of information these days, the stock market had not reacted well to a decidedly unnatural disaster, caused in part by one Moira Queen, C.E.O. of Queen Consolidated. Even though Oliver still had no intention of taking over as C.E.O., he had some idea of what needed to be done.
Though the first thing that needed to be settled was Tommy's funeral.
With Malcolm Merlyn being officially classed as missing, presumed dead, there was no official family left in Starling City to organize it. And, Diggle had told her, it had fallen to Oliver. It was the day before the memorial service, and he was in the I.T. department, during one of their infrequent chats.
"But, Digg, wasn't Tommy dating Laurel? I mean, shouldn't she be involved, somehow?"
"Oliver says she asked him to do everything when he asked her. Like Oliver knows anything about funerals," Diggle scoffed.
As a response to her enquiring look, he nodded.
"I gave him a hand. Tommy never told him what he wanted, so we've set up a simple graveside service."
He looked at her.
"Are you coming?"
Felicity stared at him.
"I didn't even know Tommy – I mean, I met him once or twice at Verdant, but I doubt he even knew my name."
Diggle gave her one of his knowing looks. She immediately sat up straighter.
"Funerals are for the living, Felicity. Oliver needs you there. He needs his friends around him right now."
None of the responses that leapt to her mouth were in any way appropriate, so she was glad she didn't say anything.
"Besides, what with Malcolm Merlyn killing all those people, I doubt there'll be a lot of mourners there."
The next day, at the funeral, Felicity had to admit Diggle had been right, if only partially. No, there weren't a lot of people there. And most of them left fairly quickly. But Oliver didn't need her. Not when he had Laurel, who never left his side. And to be honest, it broke her a little to see Oliver like this – once the officiant had left, along with the others who'd come, he'd broken down in sobs. She could hear him blaming himself, and after a few seconds, Laurel put her hand on his shoulder in comfort. Diggle was standing some distance away, waiting for Oliver in his role as his driver, while Oliver tried to get his feelings under control. Felicity decided to leave. She wondered about Laurel as she left, though – she'd been completely dry-eyed and blank, even as Oliver had sobbed into her shoulder. She looked speculative, more than anything. Felicity shrugged and put it out of her head. Everyone grieves differently, she knew that.
A few days later, when Felicity had come in to work, the entire QC staff had been linked in to a live announcement of a change in management – Oliver Queen would be V.P. but as a silent partner, and the new C.E.O. was one Kalika Varman, who gave a wonderful speech about pulling together in these trying times. It was all very inspiring, and she and Oliver made an amazing couple, power-suited and beautiful. Really, Felicity? You're really going there. You're not bored, you're just jealous that Oliver had time for everyone except you. Ok, so maybe they weren't together. Maybe. Kalika Varman was his type, though – tall and lovely. She reminded Felicity of Mckenna Hall. And maybe a little of Aishwarya Rai. So, stunningly beautiful, in other words.
She really had to pull it together, she told herself sternly. First she'd spent a funeral being jealous of Laurel Lance, which she was sure was really inappropriate, and now she was jealous of the new CEO? It wasn't like Oliver belonged to her. She tried to concentrate on what Oliver was saying, which was pretty interesting, if the hushed murmurs from her co-workers were any clue.
Oliver was announcing that QC employees would be having two paid half days off per week for the next month, and he would appreciate it if at least one of those days would be used to volunteer at the most hard hit sites. He'd be there too, he said. And though most of the office staff she spoke to scoffed at that, he'd told the truth. Even if she hadn't spent a few half days helping in the hurriedly set up soup kitchen, where she could see Oliver working in the construction sites nearby, she'd have seen it in the youtube videos of Oliver in a hard hat, clearing rubble and helping with reconstruction. She shouldn't have been surprised – Diggle had told her Oliver had done a lot of work in the foundry himself. When she asked Diggle how QC could afford all that, he told her, after making her promise not to leak it anywhere, that Oliver was financing it, along with a great part of the reconstruction, out of his own funds.
She had a few more chats with Diggle, though he had much less time on his hands now that Oliver had made him a security consultant with QC.
"Oliver said he doesn't need a driver, and I was overqualified for the job anyway."
Diggle was beaming, and Felicity couldn't help feeling happy for him. She'd die before she let it slip that she felt a little envious, too. She couldn't help being curious about their new C.E.O., and even though Diggle smirked at her oh so innocently placed question, he'd still answered it – Kalika Varman had worked for a while with Walter, at Starling National Bank. Walter liked and trusted her, and Oliver trusted his judgement.
After a while, Felicity had felt inspired by all the refurbishment and rebuilding going on, and one evening, when work had gone on for longer than usual, decided she'd go to the foundry. Maybe she could clear up a little – if Oliver changed his mind about his vigilante career, it would be great if the foundry was waiting for him. And she was sure that nothing majorly structural had been damaged in the quake.
Traffic towards Verdant seemed to be more clogged than usual, though. She looked out the window, to try and see if there'd been an accident, or maybe a traffic deviation caused by the earthquake . And then she remembered the day's date. How could she have forgotten? The I.T. department, as well as everyone else, had talked of nothing else for weeks. This was the night Verdant re-opened. And it was free entry for everyone. The line of cars started a few blocks away, and some party-goers had already parked miles away and were making their way to the club on foot. Diggle was there too – Oliver had hired extra security for the night, and Diggle was supervising them. Though Diggle wasn't too worried – he said there were plenty of people still so angry at Moira Queen that they wouldn't be seen dead in a nightclub owned by her son. And it wasn't like Oliver was offering free drinks – he'd wanted to, but Thea, who'd been partially running things since Tommy left, along with Roy's help, had put her foot down.
Felicity was torn for a few minutes, during which the traffic moved a few inches forward. She could go, couldn't she? Even though she really wasn't dressed for it. But she knew the owner, which had to count for something, right? Except Oliver would be really busy tonight. It wasn't like he could drop everything and just focus on her. Even as her inner voice called her a coward, she did a u-turn and headed for home. So, that was what it felt like to be the Cinderella who wasn't going to the ball. Great analogy, Felicity.
As she drove home, she tried to parse what about this whole situation was making her so unhappy. She didn't begrudge Oliver this way of healing, and she was happy that Diggle was being included too. Hell, she was happy for Thea and Roy, who'd found their niche, apparently.
"But what about me?"
She winced, and was glad nobody was around to hear her sound like a whiny pre-teen. Grow up, Felicity, she told herself sternly. And anyway, she wasn't the only person who was being left out, childish as it sounded. Moira Queen was in jail, where she'd be held pending trial. Even though she had the money to post bail, no judge who didn't want to be run out on a rail would dare offer bail to someone partly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people. Felicity didn't know if Oliver had visited her, but she hoped so.
Back in her apartment, she looked glumly at the Robin Hood poster on her wall. It had been her inside joke, aimed at the world – I know something you don't! I'm part of something bigger! And now what, she thought, as she poured herself a glass of wine. Now I'm back to being Ms. No-one, I'm here to fix your email, oh, you forgot your password, let me set you up with a new one, and so on. For ever.
Of course, she had Oliver's number. She could call him. And then what? What had they ever done together which didn't involve vigilante activities? Sure, there had been that night at Verdant, after that creepy Savior guy who'd nearly killed Roy. That had been real fun. Not the part when Roy almost died, she added hastily. But just kicking back and relaxing with friends. She smiled in reminiscence. She took another sip of her wine and made a decision. She'd give it another few weeks, to see if Oliver was really done. But in the meantime, she wasn't going to sit on her hands. She'd update her resume, and see if Star Labs was hiring. And why not, Wayne Enterprises too. Sure, Gotham was really far away, and too close to Boston for her liking, but it had been a while. And she was a different person now. She felt much better after she made her decision and drafted a couple of cover letters. Even though there was something else which no amount of cover letters could fix. But she wasn't even going to let herself consider it. Oliver was so far out of her league it could be measured in light years. And if he had anything left of the Oliver from six years ago, Ms Kalika 'I am beauty personified, also I am named after the goddess Kali' Varman was right up his alley.
So she went to work the next day with new determination, as well as a couple of cover letters and resumes that she'd sent to Star Labs and other places she'd always been interested in working at. It didn't take long for the replies to start filling her inbox – some were refusals, but the biggest longshot wasn't. In fact, she'd just received a reply from Wayne Enterprises when Diggle walked in one afternoon. She wasn't sure she'd closed the email in time, but she must have, because Diggle didn't say anything.
"Hey Felicity, you want to grab a few salads after work? My treat."
Felicity grinned. He was always trying to get her to eat more healthy.
"A few salads? Really? How about burgers, instead?"
Diggle shook his head, waving his finger at her.
"Cholesterol, Felicity. Heart disease."
She rolled her eyes. He laughed, and then turned serious.
"Felicity . . . you know Oliver is really busy right now."
She raised her eyebrows. Oh? Where was this coming from?
"Otherwise he'd try to touch base. He really appreciated that you came to Tommy's funeral."
Any number of inappropriate replies almost jumped out of her mouth. How about telling me himself? I thought we were friends. What's the matter, his texting finger's sprained? She ended up shrugging, and turning back to her monitor, remembering just in time not to bring up the email window.
"So, Big Belly Burger at six?" she said, smiling at him cheekily.
"Big Belly Burger's special Chicken Caesar Salad at six, right," he answered.
They had a great evening and it was just like old times, except Oliver wasn't there. She managed to stop herself asking endless questions about Oliver – was he trying to push her away again, just like when the Dark Archer put him in the hospital? If so, why? He wasn't vigilanteing anymore, so what was the point? Couldn't they be friends outside the Hood activities? But she bit her tongue, and was glad she had. It wasn't like Diggle was going to say anything against Oliver, anyway.
She was feeling less charitable towards Diggle on the morning, a few days later, when her work access card stopped working. She banged on the glass until security opened for her, and then all they did was take it off her and tell her that Mr Queen was waiting for her upstairs. She guessed 'upstairs' meant in the office he used when he was doing his silent partner shtick, whatever that was. But it was a hell of a lot of floors to go in the company elevator, which still had muzak like the dark ages or something, and by the time they arrived at the executive floor, her anger had percolated to a fine pent-up rage, which exploded as soon as she walked through the door the security officer pointed at.
"Are you firing me? Am I fired? Tell you what, I quit!"
Oliver was frantically pointing to his left, to a woman she'd never seen in person, and who was even more beautiful than she looked on video. Oh, great. Ms. Varman. Well, if she hadn't been fired before, she was now. She glared back at Oliver, refusing to be deflected. And Oliver kept trying to smooth things over.
"Didn't you get the email from HR?"
Her rage simmered down slightly.
"HR? You mean the people who keep forgetting their password and making me reset it every week?"
Ms. Varman smiled. It was small, and quick, and she tried to hide it, but it was a smile. And she had dimples. Felicity was starting to think she might have misjudged her.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Varman. I shouldn't have-"
She shook her head, and took one of Felicity's hands in hers.
"Don't worry about it. I'd be pretty annoyed if I thought someone terminated me like that. And it's Kalika, please."
What? Since when could a lowly I.T. person call the C.E.O. by her first name? She narrowed her eyes at Oliver, who was looking sheepish.
"Your access card didn't work because you have a new one. We're giving Applied Sciences an R&D branch in the building, and you'll be working there."
Felicity was suspicious.
"As what?"
Oliver gave her one of those intense looks which really worked on her in the past. Ha, not anymore, mister. Though your eyes are really, really blue.
"Anything you want, Felicity. Though you'll have to divide it with consulting work on cybersecurity."
He handed over her new access card, and that's exactly what it said. She stared at Oliver, her mouth open. She knew what had prompted this – Diggle had seen her email from Wayne Enterprises, asking her to confirm an interview date, and must have told Oliver about it. Wow, Diggle was a fast reader. She glanced to the side – Ms Varman was watching their interplay with a pleased smile.
"Oliver, why don't you show Felicity where she'll be working from now on? Afterwards we can have a chat in my office."
Oliver nodded, and strode out, and Felicity had to half run to catch up with him, aiming a half-smile at Ms Varman before she left. She caught up with him in the elevator.
"I can't believe you let me embarrass myself in front of the C.E.O., Oliver," she hissed at him.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I was just happy to get out of there alive, the way you came in."
She rolled her eyes at him, and he smirked back. Then he lost the smile, and tried one of his intense looks.
"I'm sorry I've been so distant, Felicity."
She raised an eyebrow, folded her arms, and pointedly turned to face the doors. One thing Oliver had told her was that silence was a winning tactic – and it was true; it often worked on her. Well, not this time. Though she was biting her lip to stop the torrent of words from flowing out.
"I've been really busy, what with the business, and Verdant-"
Oh, that could not stand! She aimed a glare at him, and he winced. The elevator stopped at the right floor, and this time she strode out first, though she didn't know where they were going. Good thing a discreet plaque announced the new Research and Development department. There was a keycard entry, and, after her most recent experience, she was hesitant to try it. But it worked perfectly, and she entered a huge, airy, and well-lit room, with tables scattered around. She could tell that the largest was hers, because all her action figures had been carefully placed on it. It was a bit too well-lit, she thought. She pulled out her tablet, and, muttering under her breath, started taking notes of all the alterations that would have to be made to improve the workspace. Then she walked straight to her desk, noticing it had a much more sophisticated computer system than she'd had down in I.T., and decided to get to work. No time like the present, right? She had a couple of ideas to improve certain software systems the company was using, and as something more tangible, she was dying to get QC into the smart wearables market. Also, she'd starting sketching out an improved face-recognition program, and the trackers she'd used to find Oliver after the Undertaking needed fine-tuning. So maybe he'd never use them again, but she was sure they could be useful and-
A chuckle interrupted her train of thought. Oliver was standing in front of her desk. There was an expression on his face that could only be described as indulgent. She slapped her forehead.
"Oh, I forgot. Coffee with the CEO."
Oliver smiled at her.
"I think she prefers tea."
Felicity smiled back, and got up again. She was feeling kind of embarrassed at her outburst now, and put a hand on Oliver's arm.
"Thank you for the lab, Oliver. It's amazing."
"You can't spend your every waking hour here," he warned. "I'll need you to attend some board meetings."
Felicity brushed it off. Cybersecurity, huh? She could do that in her sleep, and frequently had. She was more intrigued by Oliver's easy friendship with call-me-Kalika. She looked at him under her lashes as they took the elevator back to the executive floors. When she'd been in the same room with them, there hadn't been any sparks, though. Maybe she'd been too quick to jump to conclusions before. And what did she care, anyway? It wasn't like there was anything between them. Even though she still had a little crush on him. Though that wasn't really it, she mused as they walked back to the office. She did miss watching him go up that ladder thing, she thought, and let herself be lost in a blissful memory of watching the muscles in his back and arms contract and release, managing to hold back a little sigh with some effort. But she also missed the easy friendship they'd built, the times when the night was slow and the three of them would just sit in the foundry and talk while she worked on tuning up her surveillance and monitoring programs while Oliver sharpened his arrows and restrung his bow.
Though, who was she trying to kid. Of course she felt something for Oliver, beyond friendship. And it wasn't just a physical thing, either. Yes, he was unbelievably hot, and handsome, and when he gave her one of his intense stares she'd probably do anything he asked. But there was more to it. And it was completely pointless. The moment she let herself feel something for Oliver, he'd do something exceptionally dumb, like sleeping with a revenge-obsessed sociopath. And what about the lovely Laurel? They'd been pretty close at Tommy's funeral.
Kalika Varman was in Moira's old office, which Felicity had been in once or twice, mostly to deal with software problems and updates. Someone had brought up a tray with tea and cookies, though they didn't look like any cookies she'd ever seen.
"Come, sit down! Have some tea! Do you like it with milk and sugar, or lemon?"
"Well, I've never tried it with milk and sugar," Felicity said doubtfully.
"You should," Oliver said, and Felicity looked at him in surprise. He grinned.
"I lived with Walter Steele for a couple of months, Felicity! You bet there was a pot of real English tea at breakfast every morning."
Kalika smiled. Her dimples were really adorable, Felicity thought.
"My parents are English, originally, but I was born here. Some of my earliest memories involve my dad teaching me how to make a proper cuppa," she said, while pouring for Felicity, Oliver, and herself. "And I've almost persuaded my wife to do the same."
Felicity's eyes widened, and she suddenly noticed the wedding ring on Kalika's left hand, as well as the wedding photo behind her desk, showing Kalika in a beautifully ornate sari and another woman in a wedding dress. They were hugging and looked unbelievably happy. Kalika smiled at her, a hint of mischief in her eyes, and Felicity was pretty sure she'd noticed the way she'd been looking at Oliver.
"I honestly had no idea you were married," Felicity said.
"Oh, I don't make a fuss about it," Kalika answered. "I mean, the business world is still so conservative in part."
"Yes," Felicity said, with feeling. "Old white men, think they still run the world."
Kalika nodded, and they both turned to Oliver, glaring at him. His hands went up in surrender, protesting.
"I'm not even thirty yet!"
They laughed, and Kalika showed her how to make a proper English cup of tea, and explained the biscuits, as she called them.
"How did you and your wife meet?" Felicity asked.
Kalika glowed. There was no other word for it.
"Melissa works for Starling National Bank – she's a manager. She came in after me, and we just hit it off, you know? I know it sounds like a romcom, but sometimes you see someone and you just know."
Felicity found herself nodding. Yes, she knew exactly how that felt.
For the next month, it was like she was living in a dream – a happy one. She looked forward to going to work every day (well, almost every day), and enjoyed the work once she got there. She'd put her foot down and insisted that she wasn't going to be anyone's supervisor or manager, so she'd been asked to choose a team and had made it clear that they'd all be on the same level. And while her team worked alongside her on the projects which were above board, she secretly worked on the crime-fighting stuff – she hadn't resigned herself to giving up on that yet. In fact, she'd finally managed to pin Diggle down, so that he could help her in secretly refurbishing the foundry. Under the guise of restoring computer networks and internet connectivity, she'd managed to get access to the foundry in the mornings, when Verdant was closed. So she and Diggle had restored their headquarters to its former glory. She even designed Oliver a new bow – a compound recurve with a couple of tricks the old one didn't have. Now, all the foundry needed was Oliver. But he wouldn't be persuaded.
Instead, he reminded her of something she'd almost forgotten, accidentally on purpose: the cybersecurity consultant part of her job description. One day a strange meeting had come up on her online calendar – a board meeting with the C.E.O., the V.P. and the board and trustees of some company called Stellmoor International. And when she looked it up, the results were terrifying. It was notorious for manoeuvring hostile takeovers, skilfully put together by their C.E.O., a woman called Isabel Rochev. When she read the name, Felicity felt a stirring in her memory. She'd seen that name before. No, not in Russia. More recently. But all thoughts of it evaporated when Oliver walked through the door of her lab, greeting everyone easily.
He'd been trying to avoid her again, ever since a group of wannabe vigilantes calling themselves the Hoods, had started using his catchphrase and attacking what they called the one percenters. He'd guessed, rightly, that she would urge him to put his own hood back on, and take up his bow again. Or at least, that's what Diggle told her, when they met for coffees. But even Diggle hadn't been able to persuade him, not even when they gunned down the mayor. And this was why he'd come to the lab rather than phone or text her – because he knew she couldn't talk about vigilante business in front of her team. Sneaky Oliver.
"Felicity."
She'd missed the way he said her name. And he used to say it a lot.
"Did you get the notification about the board meeting?"
"Yes," she answered, slowly. "I was just going to take a coffee break," she said, grabbing her bag. "Hey guys, you should take a break too."
She left the room in a chorus of distracted reassurances, some of them spoken over their shoulders, others mumbled under their breath. The downside of having such a dedicated team was that they never wanted to stop working. She'd get them a round of coffees and doughnuts to go – maybe the smell of coffee would grab their attention.
Oliver seemed reluctant to follow her, until he realised that she just wanted to talk about Stellmoor. Don't worry, my friend. The vigilante discussion can wait. But it will happen.
"Why are we meeting with them, Oliver? Is the company in trouble?"
Oliver winced and rubbed his eyebrow.
"Kind of. Remember I told you my mom was just the majority shareholder?"
She nodded, and he continued.
"I found out that's not exactly the case. She had a large chunk of the shares. But she was stripped of her assets when she was arrested, and they were floated on the open market."
Felicity looked at him in horror.
"And Stellmoor bought them? Can they force a hostile takeover?"
"No. They don't know that I have almost a majority, and Walter has enough to make it up. So they can't take over. But they can force their way on the board."
"So you'll have to work with-"
"Isabel Rochev, yeah." He looked puzzled. "Something about that name is so familiar."
"I know, right?" Felicity wondered, as they made their way to the elevator. There was a Starbucks on the ground floor, and in lieu of a proper coffee shop, she'd take it. Then she remembered what she wanted to ask him.
"Wait a minute, why do I have to be there?"
"The thing is, this is an attack, right?"
Oliver looked at her earnestly, and she nodded.
"And if I were attacking, I'd do it on two fronts – face to face, and sneak in the back door, or the computer networks. I'm going to need you at my side, monitoring our network security."
"I do that anyway, Oliver," she said, offended. "I have a couple of monitoring programs in place which will set off alarms in case of any sort of attack."
He turned to her again, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I didn't mean it like that, Felicity. I know you do."
She nodded, mollified, as they arrived at the coffee shop. They chatted about nothing much for the next hour – she told him about her smart wearables project, and he shared his enjoyment at working with Thea on the club. She noticed him giving her sneaky glances, probably wondering why she wasn't on his ass about the Hoods. Just you wait, Oliver, she thought. It'll happen. Isabel Rochev isn't the only one who knows about sneak attacks.
The day of the board meeting dawned, and Felicity found herself taking extra care with her hair and make-up. She was wearing a short dress and heels, which she didn't usually wear to work, and she was gratified to notice Oliver's lingering looks once she strode into the boardroom, her faithful tablet under one arm. Wait a second, she asked herself. Didn't she just want to get Oliver fighting crime again? Sure you did, her inner voice sniggered. Kalika was already there too, and she went to say hello.
The representatives from Stellmoor strode through the doors exactly on time, and Felicity caught her first glimpse of Isabel Rochev, another impossibly beautiful woman with the body of a supermodel. Or a dancer. But while Kalika was warm and sunny, this woman radiated nothing but thinly veiled contempt. While being introduced, she stared long at Felicity, probably wondering what she was doing there. As soon as they sat down, Felicity's tablet started to vibrate. As she started checking the various alarms going off, all over her system, she could hardly believe Stellmoor would be so blatant. But when she looked up and saw Isabel's smirk directed at her, she bit off whatever she was going to say, and concentrated on stopping the attack on the network instead. Not that it was difficult to stop. It was almost as though it had just been a distraction.
When the armed and hooded men burst through the door, it was clear that it had. She stared at them, open-mouthed.
"Oliver Queen! You have failed this city!"
And then they threw Oliver's words back in his face, and if she hadn't been in fear for her life, she could have laughed at Oliver's shocked and yes, insulted expression. But the next few moments were a chaos of gunfire and shouting, until she used the ugly modern centrepiece to bash one of them over the head. Just as she was thinking of quipping something like, 'I hate modern art', she realized that she was the last one left in the boardroom, along with Oliver. And a gunman, who was between them and the door. As she heard someone yell 'Get Queen', Oliver grabbed her with one arm, grabbed the window-blind chain in the other, and to her shrieks, swung them both out of the impossibly high window. The next few seconds took decades to pass. She was holding on to Oliver tightly, burying her face in his chest, feeling the wind whipping at her hair and catching a glimpse of the street, many floors below. The sound of sirens floated up, and Oliver's arm was tight around her waist as she clung to his chest. Time sped up again, and they smashed through the office window of the floor below, landing in a mess of broken glass and furniture. She was shaking, the adrenaline running out, and she could only stare at Oliver, dazed, as he checked to see if she was alright.
Felicity zoned out through the rest of the afternoon. She barely managed to answer Lance's questions, and desperately wanted to get out of there, crawl into a large tub of ice cream and make it her home. On the one hand, she was grateful to Oliver for saving them. On the other, she was pissed off at him – he could have taken those jerks down without turning a hair, but he just didn't want to blow his cover. He and Diggle were talking intensely, and she'd bet everything that they were arguing about the same thing. Rochev and co. had already stormed out, promising to reschedule, though not before making some snide remarks about the level of security in the building. Kalika and their attorneys, who had also been present, were fine too – Oliver had told everyone to take the rest of the day off. Well, fine then, Felicity thought. No-one needed her? She was going home too.
A flurry of tweets stopped her in her tracks. Oh, no. It couldn't be. Oliver was looking at his phone, too, and his face was turning grey before her eyes. Thea had just been abducted from Verdant, in front of a packed club. So they went there, where they met Lance again, and after Oliver spoke to Roy, and some of the witnesses, he looked at Felicity and Diggle, and headed towards the entrance to the foundry.
Felicity tried to gauge Oliver's reaction once she switched the breakers on, and showed him her improvements to the foundry. He looked impressed, but also distracted. Of course, his sister was missing, what was she thinking. She still showed him the new bow, and when he held it like it was already a part of him, she basked in his approval. Then she remembered what he still had to do, and sobered up, tentatively suggesting that he could act differently now. Maybe he didn't have to kill the Hoods. Maybe there was another way. She wasn't reassured by his sad answer.
"They took my sister, Felicity. What other way is there?"
Hours later, after she and Diggle followed Oliver's progress through the Hoods' hideout, and heard through police radio that he'd only restrained them for Lance to find, saving his sister without bloodshed, they waited for him to come back. She barely held herself back from hugging him when he came in through the alley entrance, shutting it behind him. They only had a normal lock there, and she made a mental note that they needed a camouflaged keypad there too. The three of them exchanged smiles, and Felicity successfully resisted the impulse to say, 'I told you so', over and over. Diggle didn't.
"I told you that you couldn't keep away from this, Oliver."
Oliver smiled.
"Yes, you did. But I don't want to be called the Hood anymore. And I don't want to be a killer."
With that he retreated to the inner room where he usually kept his street clothes.
"Felicity? Since when do I have a closet here?"
Felicity yawned, and stretched.
"Since I decided you weren't going to throw your clothes on the floor anymore, Oliver."
She could practically feel the eye-roll he aimed at her. She ignored it.
"Anyway, what does that mean, no more Hood? New name? How about Robin of Locksley? Or we could go Scottish – Rob Roy?"
Diggle got into the game too.
"The artist formerly known as the Hood?"
Felicity giggled and high fived him.
"Green leather guy? Or wait, wait, I know! Legolas."
Felicity was on a roll. Diggle snorted with laughter, and Oliver couldn't stop himself from laughing either.
"I don't think I have the hair to carry it off, Felicity. Or the ears," he said, as he emerged, dressed in his normal clothes.
He'd just put his new bow on its stand when a bang coming from the alley made them all jump. As the door creaked open, it was clear what had happened. Diggle was the first to say it, as he unholstered his gun, and pointed it towards the back.
"Someone shot out the lock!"
Oliver took the bow and nocked an arrow, only to lower it when Laurel stumbled out of the passage, holding a gun in a two handed grip, pointed straight at him. Diggle didn't lower his gun, though, and tried to get in front of Oliver.
"Put the gun down, Ms Lance!"
She ignored him, staring at Oliver feverishly.
"I knew it!"
Her voice had the shrill edge of hysteria, combined with exhaustion. She looked like she'd been working round the clock, like she'd lost weight through an obsession that had taken over her life.
"You're the vigilante! And you killed Tommy!"
She fished around in her pockets for a mobile phone, as she kept the gun pointed at Oliver.
"I'm calling it in, Oliver. You're going to prison for what you've done."
Oliver kept his eyes on her as he pushed Diggle's gun down, shaking his head as John glared at him.
"Laurel . . . you know I didn't kill Tommy. You were there when he died."
Laurel acted like she couldn't hear him, tapping frantically at her phone, while Felicity cradled her tablet to her, trying discreetly to start her cell phone jammer program without Laurel noticing. She'd set up a couple of routers just in case, but she'd never tested them.
"Why can't I get through?" Laurel screamed suddenly, and when Felicity looked up, the gun was pointed at her. "You! You did something! Undo it!"
Oh, god. She had two choices here, none of them good. And there was a good chance she was going to die in the next few seconds. She was transfixed by the gun, immobilised by the ugly black barrel which looked so much larger once it was pointed at her. Her whole world was frozen in time, until someone put himself between them.
"No, Laurel. You're not going to hurt anyone today."
Felicity could hear the tears in Laurel's voice as she answered Oliver.
"Ollie . . . get out of my way. I don't want to have to shoot you."
"Then don't," he answered, his voice cracking. "Put the gun down, Laurel!"
Felicity felt her breathing getting louder as the tension in the room increased, stretching her nerves to their breaking point. Her fingers tightened on her tablet as she squeezed her eyes shut, and waited.