I appreciate your reviews, faves, and follows so very much, thank you!
Laurel looked like she'd been on the brink for a long time, and Felicity had never seen her like that before. She was staring at Oliver now, her phone forgotten, but the gun still pointed at him. He moved closer to her, and Felicity wanted to yell at him to watch out, but bit her words back. He knew this woman better than anyone besides her parents, and he'd know how to handle her. She hoped.
"Laurel, you know this isn't right."
Oliver's voice was really soothing. And an octave higher than she was used to hearing it. Was this what he'd sounded like, pre-island? Was she listening to frat-boy Ollie?
"Are you denying that you're the vigilante?" Laurel asked, waving the hand holding her phone around at the lair, managing to include his suit, his arrows, and the monitors.
"No."
Laurel stopped, surprised. Oliver continued.
"But I didn't kill Tommy. You know that."
Yeah, Felicity wanted to add. You're the one who killed Tommy, when you went back to CNRI even though everyone told you not to go. But she wasn't going to say that to Laurel. That would just be cruel. Besides, that gun was really, really scary.
Laurel's face crumpled up in tears, and her fingers lost their grip on the gun. Oliver managed to catch it before it dropped, and Felicity stared in horror as he slid the safety on. She swallowed hard against the bile that rose in her throat. Laurel could have killed them all at any time. Oliver quickly handed the gun off to Diggle, just in time for Laurel to collapse against his chest, sobbing.
"Oh, god, Ollie, I killed him. I should never have gone back there. He saved me and then the building collapsed! What have I done?"
Oliver was so gentle with her, so understanding; Felicity felt a shameful twinge of jealousy that she quickly suppressed.
"No, Laurel. You can't blame yourself. If you want to blame anyone, blame Malcolm Merlyn. He wanted to avenge his wife and didn't care how many people died as a consequence. And now his son is dead."
"I miss him so much, Ollie," she sobbed.
"I miss him too," he said, hugging her, and manoeuvring her towards the exit. He turned towards her and Diggle, and hissed urgently.
"I gotta take her home. You guys ok?"
Felicity nodded, dazed at how quickly Oliver had handled the situation. And Laurel, her mind added snidely. He was so good at handling Laurel. Diggle managed to find his words.
"No problem man. Take care of her."
Oh, he's going to, her snide inner voice added, before she told it to shut up. She realised Diggle was giving her little worried looks, and was going to say something reassuring, but she couldn't bear to hear it. Her sarcastic voice took over her vocal cords before she could stop it.
"Well. That wasn't awkward at all."
"Felicity . . ."
She couldn't bear to look at Diggle all of a sudden. She knew what she'd see in his face – pity, for someone who was never going to be the one to get the guy. Enough. She was going home. She grabbed for her purse blindly, glad she'd driven herself to the foundry when Thea'd been kidnapped. Had that been just this afternoon? It seemed like a million years had passed in the meantime.
"I'm really tired, Dig. See you . . . whenever."
"Ok, Felicity. Get some rest."
She nodded without looking around, hoping she could get to her car before the tears came. In the end, she didn't cry, though she did put her phone in its dashboard holder with unnecessary force. At least she hadn't cracked the screen this time, she thought. A cheery little message popped up on her phone screen.
Period just started!
No it didn't, she thought. And why the hell are you so happy about it?
The cramps started when she was about halfway home. Great, she thought sourly. A perfect ending to a perfect day. Note to self, delete stupidly cheerful (and useless) period tracker app.
When she got home, and once she'd checked if she was stocked up on tampons and crap (she was), she took two ibuprofen and crashed out, not before leaving a voicemail taking a sick day. She hated doing that on her period, but it was fucking one in the fucking morning, she'd had an endless day, and she needed this.
Waking up at 10am was wonderfully decadent, and she luxuriated for half an hour in bed, before trudging into the bathroom and taking care of business. She groaned when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked like a grumpy panda. She took off all the make-up she'd left on the previous night, and then she looked pale and washed out. At least some eye make-up would make her feel a little better, she thought.
She'd been so busy for the last month, what with her new job, and sneaking around the foundry, getting it up and running again, that she'd completely lost track. There was no good chocolate to be found anywhere in her apartment. And she'd looked everywhere. No ice-cream either, she concluded mournfully as she stared into the empty freezer. And her apartment was a mess. Pausing only to chug down some more painkillers, she started straightening up, and after an hour of that, realised that she was bored. Maybe she should have gone to work after all? Ah, whatever. Today would be her one and only day of self-indulgence, and then back to the grindstone tomorrow. Besides, if she'd gone to work there would have been foundry duty in the evening, and she hated being on her period and having to use the Verdant bathrooms. There was always a line. Or there'd be impossibly beautiful women talking about all the sex they were having and she wasn't. Or, on one memorable occasion, a couple actually having sex.
In the afternoon, she sat on her couch, glumly. She'd cleaned up, done all her laundry, and had reorganized all her backup drives. She'd been very determined not to think about the Laurel thing, as she'd named it, all day. It hadn't been nice of her to be jealous of Laurel, who was obviously having some kind of breakdown, just because she only had to snap her fingers and Oliver would come running. Enough! She needed something to cheer her up. Good old youtube, she thought. After clicking through a couple of old favourites without seeing them, she glimpsed one and smiled. Oh, yeah. Costume drama always cheered her up, and this was one of her favourites. C'mon, Lizzy. Shoot him down. Colin Firth was just starting his speech about how he totes loved her, even though it was against his better judgment and her family sucked, when her phone buzzed and burped. It was a message. From Oliver.
hey
Really? "Hey"? Two can play at that game, she thought, and answered.
hey
Then she immediately thought she should have waited. Now he'd really think she was desperate. She was just mentally sketching out a program to retrieve sent texts and scrub them, when her phone burped again.
can i come over?
What? He wanted to come over? What, here, she thought? How did he even know where she lived? On impulse, she sent over an answer of 'sure, ok', and was about to text him her address, when there was a knock at the door. Seriously, Oliver? Of all the clichés in all the bad romcoms, you had to choose that one? Now she was glad she'd put on some makeup. She was wearing her pyjama bottoms, but had a thick sweater over them, so that was ok. She looked through the peephole to be sure, and Oliver's face swam into view.
When she opened the door, she not only saw all of him, she saw what he was holding – a box of expensive looking chocolates, and a bottle of red wine. She was lost for words, and just gestured for him to come in.
"I made sure there's no nuts in any of these," he was saying as he walked in. "And I know you like red wine."
She was feeling a bit dazed, like there might be a hidden camera crew outside her window. Was she being punk'd?
"What's the occasion?" she asked, carefully. "I mean, I'm not really sick. I mean, I have-"
To her horror, she realised that the next word out of her mouth was going to be 'cramps', and she clapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself. Oliver just grinned.
"Felicity. It's ok."
"Wait a second, you know?"
Her voice must have been full of horror, because he looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"I can read a calendar," he said. "And you always yell at us for leaving our shit," he smirked, "all over the foundry around the same time each month."
Felicity remembered one occasion when she'd raised hell, and she shook a finger at Oliver.
"You brought a motorbike into our living space!"
"It's a Ducati Diavel, Felicity," he said, looking at her with big eyes. "And it was raining really hard."
Felicity shook her head in pretend despair, and made a grab for the chocolates. The box was gold and said 'Leonidas' in ornate script. She could barely hold back a moan.
"Belgian chocolate, Oliver? And is that Château Lafite? You are forgiven – for the motorbike, mind."
She got a couple of glasses and the bottle opener, and started on the chocolates while he poured the wine. Which was out of this world.
He looked like he was going to say something to her, and she was suddenly seized with terror. What if this was all a prelude to telling her he was getting back with Laurel, and he was letting her down gently? She said the first thing that came into her head.
"So, how are you so wise in the ways of women, Oliver? And don't tell me it's because you have a sister. You can't put everything on Thea."
She snuck a look at him from under her lashes. His face was pensive. She took her chance to snag a couple more chocolates from the box, diet be damned.
"I wasn't always alone. On the island."
Felicity looked up, surprised. That wasn't what she'd expected at all. There'd been a woman with him?
"Her name was Shado. She taught me a lot," he continued.
The expression on his face was nostalgic and almost rueful, like it had taken him a while to get over the memories, like they were bitter-sweet now.
"You must have been about, what, twenty-two?" Felicity mused. Suddenly a revelation came to her. "You probably said something really dumb, to her, like . . . like . . ."
Nothing sufficiently stupid came to mind. Luckily, Oliver helped out.
"Like it doesn't matter that it feels horrible because it means she can have babies?"
Felicity covered her mouth in delighted horror. That was even worse than she'd expected. Oliver was trying to look hurt but his lips kept curling into a smile.
"When we sparred, after, she kicked me really hard," he said, whining slightly. "In the . . . you know."
"Oh, I know," Felicity giggled, slapping his hand as he reached for a chocolate.
She couldn't say that she'd been tempted to kick him in the you-know a couple of times herself. When she next looked up, Oliver was looking at her, and the expression on his face made her breath catch. Was that . . . affection? Or more? Whatever it was, it changed into determination as she watched.
"Felicity, I know I've been avoiding you. And it's not because I want to get back together with Laurel."
"How did you know – I mean, did Diggle say something?"
He shook his head.
"No. I saw the way you were looking at her, last night. Laurel and I – there's just so much history there. But that's all it is, Felicity."
She swallowed.
"And us?" she said, her mouth suddenly dry, as if in terror of what she'd just heard herself say.
"I . . ." he started, and couldn't continue. Then he took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eyes.
"I have feelings . . . for you. I'm just . . . afraid."
She could see out of the corner of her eyes that he was doing the rubbing thing with his fingers and thumb, which meant that he was really nervous. About her. She smiled at him, and he smiled back in relief.
"Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, Oliver. Step blindly into the unknown."
His eyes grew even more intense, even as his lips curved in another smile.
"Now who's the wise one?"
They spent the rest of the afternoon eating chocolates and drinking wine. He told her that Laurel had been doing research about everything that seemed off to her, not just the vigilante – she had boxes of files and photocopies in her car.
"I'm not saying there's anything there, but you never know," he was saying, when his phone rang. He looked at the caller and sighed. "Sorry, gonna have to take this."
"Yeah, what's up?" There was a pause, and he answered whoever was on the other end. "No, the passcode has to be accessible from the inside only. Along with an actual lever to disengage the lock in case of a malfunction – look, I'll be there in ten minutes, I'll go through the plans again."
Felicity looked at him open mouthed – what was he doing? He grinned, looking boyish.
"I'm having a panic room built on the boardroom floor."
She nodded slowly. That was actually a pretty good idea. Oliver went on, his voice simmering with suppressed anger.
"What happened yesterday – that was unacceptable."
Felicity nodded again.
"Yeah, about that. How did it happen? How'd they get in without security spotting them?"
What she was thinking dawned on Oliver.
"You think we have a mole?"
He slapped his forehead.
"Of course we have a mole. But on whose payroll? I mean, Isabel Rochev is involved somehow, but is she pulling the strings?"
Felicity shrugged. She stretched and yawned. All that wine was making her sleepy. Oliver was looking at her, like he'd forgotten why he'd gotten up. She grinned.
"Don't you have to go somewhere?"
"Yes!"
As he walked towards the door, she remembered something.
"Hey, you never told us what your new codename was going to be."
He came back and bent down, whispering it in her ear, and she shivered at having his lips so close to her. After he left, she realized that she hadn't felt the cramps for a while – red wine and chocolate, huh? Who knew?
The next day, driving to work, she thought about Oliver calling himself the Arrow now. It did fit, she thought. Though it was kind of phallic. But she hadn't told Oliver that. She walked into the R&D department carrying a bag of bagels and another bag of coffees, and wondered that everyone seemed really quiet, until she saw who was waiting for her. Kalika was there, looking solemn, though she smiled widely when she saw Felicity.
"Good morning! Can we talk somewhere in private, Felicity?"
Felicity swallowed. For a second she had a flashback to earlier times, and wondered whose email had gotten hacked, then she shook herself. That wasn't her anymore. She ignored everyone's vaguely pitying looks, and ushered Kalika into an inner room, closing the door.
"Is this ok?" she asked, wondering what was wrong, and why they couldn't use the C.E.O.'s office.
Surely that was private enough? Kalika seemed to be reading her thoughts.
"I can never be sure that someone won't burst in with very important information that can't wait," she said, rolling her eyes slightly, "and after what happened recently, I'm not sure who can be trusted. Except you, of course."
They sat at a desk, and Felicity was just on the verge of bursting out with a million questions, when Kalika brought out her smartphone and played a video. It started with a glass window on an office building shattering, followed by a man and a woman swinging out of it, Tarzan and Jane-like, only to swing back into the building through another window. The video had zoomed in on their faces – or rather, on the man's face. So the woman could have been any tiny blonde. But the man was recognizably Oliver Queen. Felicity put her head in her hands and groaned.
"There are cameras everywhere, Felicity. Someone is always filming something. Though Oliver's handled that admirably in his other line of work," Kalika added, pensively.
Wait a second, what? Other line of work?
"I don't know what you're talking about," Felicity stuttered, making sure that she aimed her words at the listening device she was suddenly convinced Kalika was wearing.
"Why are you talking to my chest, Felicity? Oh I see! No, I'm not wearing a wire!"
Felicity decided to take control of the situation.
"Is that on youtube? Don't worry, I'll have it scrubbed within the hour. I honestly don't know what you mean, Oliver's other job, you mean Verdant, right, ha ha . . ."
Kalika grabbed her hand.
"It's ok, Felicity. Please don't panic."
She looked her deep in the eyes, and Felicity felt herself calming down. But Kalika wasn't finished yet. It took her a while to get started, though, with hesitations and false starts slowing her down a little.
"When I first started working at Starling National Bank, I was . . . perhaps a bit naïve, for someone who worked in finance. I thought we would just be focused on work, you know. I kept my personal life separate. I didn't tell anyone that I'm a lesbian."
Felicity couldn't keep the words in.
"It's no-one's business!"
"No, it isn't. But that isn't how the world works, unfortunately. There was this other intern, a man my age. He would ask me out, every day. My mistake was trying to let him down gently, I suppose. But I said no, every time. And the next day he would ask me again."
Her brow furrowed slightly, and she bit her lip. Felicity could already see, more or less, where this story was going.
"After a few months of this, I went to HR for help, but the woman I happened to see was a friend of his, and she just suggested I go out with him once."
Felicity felt the rage rising in her at that.
"Anyway, one day we had to work really late. The auditors were in, and it was all hands on deck, till about eleven. Then, when I went to the parking garage, my car had four flat tyres."
"Let me guess, creepy intern guy offered you a ride home."
Kalika nodded.
"I shouldn't have accepted, but it was so late, and I was so tired. And tired of saying no. It was a few minutes before I realised that we weren't going to my apartment. He parked the car in an alley."
Now it was Felicity holding Kalika's hand, trying to transmit comfort through the pressure in her fingers.
"He was so angry that I'd refused him. All he wanted was a date, he said. He just lunged at me, trying to kiss me, while I pushed him away and tried to get out. And then-" Kalika smiled, remembering, "and then the arrow came smashing through the side window, pinning his sleeve to the dash."
Felicity smiled at Kalika, who had tears in her eyes.
"I managed to get out of the car, and he was there, this hulking figure all dressed in green, like Robin Hood. He punched Roger out, and then waited with me until I found a cab that would actually go to the Glades. He didn't say anything, even after I thanked him. It was later that I found out about the vigilante they were calling the Hood."
"He wants to be called the Arrow, now," Felicity blurted out, and then wanted to slap herself.
"Not that I know that. I mean, how would I know that? I must have seen it online."
Kalika smiled indulgently.
"When Walter asked me to take a meeting with Oliver Queen, in light of becoming QC's C.E.O., I was reluctant at first. Why would I possibly want to work for some spoiled playboy, whose mother had just been implicated in such a destructive act? And then I met him. And I knew."
She made a gesture towards her own face.
"His jawline, you know. It's very distinctive."
Felicity slumped.
"I . . . you know I can't just-"
"I know! And I don't want you to worry about me! I just want to do what I can to repay what he did for me."
With that she got up, her eyes twinkling merrily.
"I have to go now; your colleagues will think I'm firing you!"
Felicity took a decision faster than she had ever done.
"Kalika!"
"Yes?"
"Don't trust Isabel Rochev."
By her expression, Felicity could tell that wasn't what she had been expecting.
"Never be on your own with her – I . . . I mean we . . . there's something about her . . . it's hard to explain."
Kalika nodded slowly.
"I must agree that she's even more unpleasant in person than she comes across on paper. And she implied I only promoted you because I was having an affair."
"With me?" Felicity squeaked.
"As if!" she continued, scoffing. "Your wife would kick my ass."
Kalika smiled and shook her head, and walked out, almost bumping into Oliver, who was on his way in.
"Hey, when you have the time, I need to go through the operation of the panic room."
Kalika nodded, and they fixed an appointment for later, and Oliver looked at Felicity quizzically.
"Something wrong?"
Felicity stretched in the chair and yawned, trying to work out the kinks in her back. When she looked back at Oliver, the expression on his face was unreadable. He was biting his lip, though.
"Oh, nothing much. Just your Tarzan stunt the other day going viral. And Kalika knows."
She hissed the last in a whisper. Oliver didn't get it. The little wrinkle between his eyebrows grew more pronounced.
"Knows what?"
Felicity rolled her eyes, and, making sure that they were really alone, mimed pulling a bow-string. His eyes widened. Wow. They were really, really blue.
"Felicity!"
Shit, she'd zoned out there for a few seconds.
"Apparently you saved her from some office rapist? In a parked car? Is any of this ringing a bell?"
He was nodding his head, slowly.
"That was about a week after I came back. I was kind of messed up."
She gave him an ironic 'you think?' kind of look, and smirked.
"I saw everyone as a target. Or as a weakness."
"Oh? What changed?"
"I went to get my laptop fixed."
A week passed with very little weirdness interrupting their daily routine of work during the daytime, and foundry duty at night. They rescheduled the Isabel Rochev meeting, and she managed to crowbar herself into Queen Consolidated, though not in the powerful position she'd wanted. And then, just when she thought that Oliver was going to be foiling bank robberies and armored car heists for the foreseeable future, the new Applied Sciences building was broken into and the industrial centrifuge stolen. It got even weirder when the security footage showed that some guy had just picked it up and walked away.
"How is that even possible?"
Oliver sounded more irritated than he should, but probably that was because of some Central City CSI guy who had beaten them to the crime scene. Felicity had to hide a smile – Oliver was so territorial sometimes. Like a cat. She didn't know why though – this Barry Allen seemed pleasant enough. And he certainly knew what he was talking about.
"Well, uh. We've been tracking similar crimes back in Central-"
"Yeah, we got it," Lance interrupted. "I still can't believe it was just one guy."
Barry was scraping at the ground around the base of the centrifuge, having clearly decided to ignore what was being said.
"If there's somewhere I can set up my equipment, we could find out what the thief," he looked up at Lance, and rolled his eyes, "or thieves tracked in with them, and where their base of operations is."
Lance offered him the crime lab at Metro PD, and Barry accepted.
"What's wrong?"
They were driving back to QC, and Oliver had noticed that Felicity was mentally kicking herself.
"Oh, nothing much. We should have offered the Applied Sciences building – that way we could have kept an eye on him. Now how will we know what he found out?"
Oliver nodded.
"The thing is, the building is a crime scene. No way Lance would have let him set up there. We'll track the police radio when they find the guy."
They should have known it wasn't going to be that easy, though. Especially when Barry traced the thief to an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district, and in the time it took Oliver and Diggle to get there, four cops, including Lance, were badly injured. The place was full of ambulances and crime scene techs, but no Barry Allen, strangely enough. Just as she was wondering where he was, her phone buzzed. It was a text containing the address of yet another storage facility, this time one full of medical supplies. She forwarded the text to Oliver, and it didn't take too long for him and Diggle to get there.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Oliver's modulated voice sounded more pissed off than usual. She realised why when she heard Barry Allen answering him, or rather, not answering him.
"Holy . . . you're the Hood! I never thought I'd meet you, even though you're based in Starling City! I always wanted to ask, how come you wear green in the city? It's no good for urban camouflage. Oh, and a mask would be much better to, um, mask your identity, 'cause that greasepaint isn't doing much. I mean, your jawline is pretty familiar . . ."
"Why are you here, Allen?"
Now that was why Oliver was the vigilante, and she wasn't. She would have gotten into a discussion on the symbolic nature of green, and that the mask would do nothing for his peripheral vision, which was already kind of hampered by the hood. Then Barry's next words filled her with horror.
"Do you know Felicity Smoak? Otherwise, how did you find me? The cops went to where he is now, while I found another place he stole from, and I only told Felicity about it."
"Listen, kid," Oliver started, and then his tone changed. "Get down!"
There were sounds of a struggle, and then nothing.
"Oliver? I mean, Arrow? What's going on?"
Felicity felt like she was losing her mind.
"We're fine, F- . . . we're fine. That thief came back and wanted to steal something else."
To her relief, she heard Barry's voice next.
"I'm fine, Felicity. I know it's you."
Diggle came on the line.
"Hey, Arrow, you better get out of there. Cops are on the way."
"Yes. We can take Mr Barry Allen with us. He's got some explaining to do."
She heard Barry's protests grow fainter as he seemed to realise that he was going to see the Hood's lair, as he called it.
When they all trooped down the stairs, Felicity could see that Diggle, for one, was not happy.
"You could have asked me before you let someone else in on the secret," he was saying, while Barry was just looking around him, amazed.
Oliver just sighed and put his hood down, turning off the modulator and folding his arms as Barry stared at him.
"I knew it! I mean, I had narrowed it down to about a dozen possibilities, but you were pretty high on the list. That's why the green! I get it now."
Oliver rolled his eyes.
"The reason why I brought him here is that Barry has his own agenda, something he won't want to share with his boss, who has no idea he's in Starling City, much less working on a case off the books. So Barry will keep quiet, and we won't get him fired, or worse, arrested."
Barry opened his mouth and closed it again. Wow, Felicity thought. Mr Motormouth at a loss for words.
"Ok, you got me. I took some leave, because I keep an eye out for crimes which can't be explained."
Felicity had done some research about Barry, and knew about his mother's murder, and that he kept insisting his father was innocent.
"But Barry, this guy just has superhuman strength, not superspeed, which is what you saw when your mother was murdered."
Barry nodded, shame-faced.
"So, where is our superstrong thief now?"
Barry brightened.
"I found another location which he tracked in on his shoes. Can I be in on the bust?"
"NO!" Oliver and Diggle yelled in chorus.
Oliver continued in a more normal tone.
"There isn't going to be a 'bust'. Nothing I used on him worked, normal arrows, trick arrows, nothing holds him or hurts him."
Diggle grinned.
"I might have something. Remember when we took down that ex-army gang last year?"
Oliver nodded.
"They'd walked off with some ordinance they'd never bothered to return, and I just left it where it was. Now, the cops tried guns, and they didn't work. But did they try a shoulder-fired missile?"
Oliver and Barry beamed. Felicity sighed. Boys.
An hour later, Felicity and Barry sat in the foundry, listening to Oliver and Diggle try to talk down, and eventually, take down someone who'd brushed aside four cops without breaking a sweat. Maybe I should put miniature webcams on the comms, she thought. I hate this audio-only version. In the end, it was Diggle who took the shot, and she was secretly glad Oliver hadn't killed anyone. She knew how much his vow to stop killing meant to him.
Later, they all sat in the foundry, sharing a case of beer Oliver had brought down from Verdant.
"So, I bet there was nothing left of whatever he was planning once you shot the missile at him?"
Oliver shook his head.
"There wasn't much left of him. Anyway, the centrifuge wasn't there. Probably he'd already sold it or delivered it to whoever was pulling strings."
Barry stretched and got up.
"Better get going, or I'll miss the last train to Central."
"I forgot, you wanted to catch them turning on the particle accelerator, right? I wanted to watch that too."
Barry shook his head, yawning.
"Oh, no, I got a text from a buddy at Star Labs. They're having problems with something, so they've pushed the date back a while. No, I just think I'd better go home while I still have a job."
Diggle got up.
"Come on, I'll take you to the station. See you tomorrow, guys."
Felicity got up, too.
"Good luck for tomorrow, Oliver."
Oliver looked blank for a second, then nodded in recognition. Moira Queen's trial started in the morning. He squeezed her shoulder and went to change out of his leathers, and Felicity started switching the monitors off. It had been a long day.
Three weeks later, Moira's trial was still progressing slowly. Felicity went as often as she could, whenever proceedings continued in the afternoon. Oliver was too busy supporting his mother in court to take part in any vigilante activities. Ironically, Barry had crafted the perfect mask for him once he was back in his lab in Central City, and sent it by mail. Oliver hadn't worn it once.
In the meantime, Laurel had been visiting the foundry pretty often. The first time, she came to apologize to Felicity and Diggle, for holding them at gunpoint. She looked much better than she had that night, Felicity thought. The second time, she brought along boxes of files she'd obtained illicitly, when she was going on her investigation spree after Tommy's funeral.
"Wow."
Felicity didn't know where to start.
"Yeah."
Laurel looked a bit shame-faced.
"After I realised that Oliver was the vigilante, I started seeing conspiracies everywhere."
Felicity understood that. Her first year in Starling City, there'd been so many times she was convinced that the Bratva had found her.
"You'll never believe it," Laurel continued. "My boss, the D.A., wanted me to be co-counsel, prosecuting Moira Queen!"
Felicity stared at her in shock.
"Is that even possible? Granted, my knowledge of the law is all from reruns of Law and Order, but I'm pretty sure that's a no-no."
Laurel nodded.
"It is. But the D.A. really can't stand the Queens – I think he lost it for a few days there. I managed to get the judge to put her foot down. Of course I couldn't prosecute. Anyway, I came because of something else."
Felicity raised her eyebrows.
"I wish Ollie would tell Thea about being the Arrow – I always feel bad when she asks me for stuff that he could deal with much better."
Felicity was really lost now, and Laurel noticed.
"See, you know Roy."
Felicity nodded.
"He knows a few people who live on the streets, and lately they've been dropping out of sight. And yes," she said, stopping Felicity who was taking a breath to speak, "I know it's a high risk way of life. But maybe there is something weird going on. They all have one thing in common – they spoke about going to get free flu shots. It's a new City initiative for the homeless."
"That's Alderman Blood's baby, right?"
Laurel nodded, blushing slightly, and Felicity knew, without asking, that Sebastian Blood was in one of the boxes of files currently stacked up in a corner of the foundry.
"But what, these people are just turning up dead, like because of drug overdoses or something?"
"That's the weird part," Laurel continued. "Some of them are turning up dead. The others are just vanishing."
Huh, Felicity thought. Isn't that how Salem's Lot started? Laurel was still talking.
"Thea and Roy came to me because they thought my dad could sneak out a couple of autopsy reports. But even if dad hadn't been hurt going after that crazy PCP guy, he just doesn't have that clout after being busted down to uniform. And now Ollie's caught up with the trial, and I think something weird is going on."
Diggle was too busy right now, dealing with all the vigilante stuff in Oliver's absence. Felicity had a brainwave.
"We could investigate, right? I mean, if nothing's happening, then no harm done. If something's going on, then we tell Diggle or we get Oliver onto it."
Laurel brightened.
"That's a great idea!"
So, for the next week, they followed up the leads Roy and Thea had given Laurel, who even managed to sneak into the morgue and take a couple of pictures of an autopsy report. Though that wasn't conclusive, Felicity thought. Weird though. The homeless teen had died of a stroke, or of something with stroke-like symptoms. Was there something in the flu shot that people were reacting badly to? And if so, why wasn't it showing up in the autopsy?
"Ok, so we know a bit more than we used to."
Felicity was sipping her fifth coffee of the day, feeling slightly jittery. Laurel was stretching in a chair next to her, yawning.
"Till now, all the homeless people who've vanished or turned up in the morgue have been male, not older than thirty, and any ethnicity. So, what's going on? Experimentation?"
"What about the mobile flu-shot vans?" Laurel asked, even more sleepily.
"They just vanish into thin air. If I only could get inside one of them," she said wistfully, taking another sip from her cup. Which was empty again. How'd that happen?
The news channel ticker, which she'd left on the main monitor on mute, caught her eye.
Verdict on Moira Queen trial expected within the hour!
Felicity stared at the screen, stunned, just as Laurel's phone erupted in a flurry of tweets. She looked at Felicity, who rolled her eyes.
"Go, Laurel. Moira and Oliver will appreciate seeing you there."
Laurel smiled, gratefully, and clattered up the stairs. Felicity wished she could settle down to some work, but she was pumped full of fake energy thanks to the caffeine circulating in her bloodstream. But she was still going home. She needed some rest, and if the verdict was bad, Oliver would need her support. The investigation would have to continue tomorrow.
She had to walk further than usual to reach her car. There had been roadworks near where she usually parked, and other streets had been cordoned off. It hadn't been a bad walk in the daylight, but now the alleys were creepy and full of shadows. There wasn't even the soothing light show coming from Verdant – Thea had decided that for the last week of the trial, it was best for her to seem as respectable as possible. Her heels sounded really loud in the deserted alley, but she could see her car in the distance.
What was that? There was a sound like a rattle behind her, but when she turned to look, there was nothing there. When she turned back, she walked into someone who hadn't been there a second ago. He was tall, and blond, and wore a big smile. Nothing about that information was reassuring, allied with the slightly manic look in his eyes.
"Well, hello, love. In a hurry?"
She shoved her hand in her purse, and found the reassuring cylindrical shape.
"I have pepper spray!"
That could have been more forceful, she thought. He put his hands on his chest in an exaggerated motion of surprise.
"Oh, dearie me! Whatever will I do? Wait a second," he said, putting his hand in the pocket of his long black coat. "I have a gun!"
He pointed it at her, gesturing towards her purse.
"Hand it over."
She practically threw it at him.
"Take it! Take it all. I don't have any money."
He rummaged in her bag, the gun not wavering one millimetre.
"You know that if you move an inch I'll shoot," he said, almost conversationally.
She shuddered. What did he want, if not her money? He pulled her work access card from her bag and grinned, like a shark.
"Well, well," he said, throwing the bag back at her. "Queen Consolidated. Why would some techie be looking into my special project? You're not homeless, are you?"
He got up close and sniffed her hair.
"I thought it was Sebastian Blood's project. You're not him," she quavered, trying, and failing, to sound like she was in control.
He grabbed her arm and dragged her towards her car, keeping the gun firmly pushed into her side.
"No, I'm someone else – the Count. You've probably heard of me."
"What, the drug dealer?"
She cringed slightly as the words slipped out before she could hold them in. That's right, Felicity, insult the crazy guy holding the gun.
"Not any more, darling. I've a higher purpose now. A new boss. No more Vertigo for me – it's something else. Something . . . shall we say . . . miraculous."
He made her drive to Queen Consolidated, and use the elevator from the parking garage to Oliver's temporary office on the executive floor. She shuddered as he tied her wrists to a chair, and stroked her hair and her arms.
"Don't worry, my love. You'll be feeling much better soon."
A sob slipped out, and she immediately bit her lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. But he was scrolling through her contacts, or was it her message history?
"Oliver, Oliver, Oliver . . . hmm. Having an affair with the boss, are we?"
She just glared at him.
"Now this message is nice and cryptic - if you have time when court is in recess, barry sent a mask. he promises it's ok for your peripheral vision; smiley face, winking face . . . "
He must have seen the horror on her face, as his was suddenly full of glee.
"A mask? Peripheral vision? Oh, what a naughty girl you are, Felicity Smoak. Let's call him, shall we?"
Listening to the Count phone Oliver was perhaps the most humiliating experience of her life – not only had she got herself caught by this lowlife, she'd unmasked Oliver. She was too lost in her misery to try and hear what Oliver's answer was, and ignored the Count when he hung up and started taunting her again. She shuddered as she felt his hands on her shoulders, and just as he started stroking her face, she heard footsteps in the corridor. She knew Oliver was letting himself be heard on purpose.
Oliver came into view, in the Arrow suit, holding his bow, his quiver at his back. He gave her a glance, and his eyes were reassuring.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Arrow. Your little sidepiece here told me all about it."
"No, I didn't," Felicity protested, torn between tears and anger.
"Felicity, it'll be fine."
Oliver was trying to sound reassuring. It wasn't working.
"Oh, I don't think so. I have a bone to pick with you, Mr Queen. Your mother's earthquake destroyed my business operation. If I hadn't been found by my new boss, who knows what might have happened. And he hates you more than I do. In fact, maybe I'll do him a favour right now."
Quicker than Felicity was expecting, the Count pulled his gun out and took a few shots at Oliver. She was terrified for a few seconds, worrying that he'd hit Oliver, until she heard his voice.
"Your problem, your boss's problem is with me. Let her go!"
The Count pounced on her, dragging her off the chair, and putting a couple of syringes to her neck.
"You should have thought of that before you sent her to investigate our work! But don't worry, this will make her feel so much better. If it doesn't k-"
Time slowed down as three arrows flew past Felicity in a group and buried themselves in the Count's chest. He dropped her and stared down at himself in disbelief, before falling over like a felled tree. Suddenly, her legs turned to jelly, and she sat down, hard, on the floor. Oliver seemed to appear in front of her in a crouch, cradling her jaw, gently, staring into her eyes. His lips were moving, but all she heard was a buzzing noise. There was the smell of blood in the air. Oliver's shoulder was bleeding.
"You've been shot!" she exclaimed weakly.
Oliver smiled at her, and squeezed her shoulder.
"It's nothing. Felicity, are you ok?"
She nodded, even as she felt the tears collect in her eyes. Now the adrenaline was draining away, and she couldn't stop shaking. Just as he was checking her wrists, which were abraded by the zip cuffs the Count had used, Diggle came storming in, gun drawn.
"It's ok, Diggle. We're fine." Oliver gestured towards the dead man on the floor.
"Meet the Count."
"The drug dealer?"
Felicity and Oliver nodded. She spotted the syringes on the floor.
"He said he wasn't pushing Vertigo anymore. That it was something different."
He'd used another word to describe it, but in all the excitement it had completely slipped her mind. Oh, well. It'd come back to her later. Finding out what was in the syringes was more important, she thought.
"We can send it to Barry – he can analyse it."
Oliver's face darkened slightly.
"I bet he can."
Felicity raised an eyebrow. What was that about? Diggle smirked, and then sobered up.
"Oliver, you gotta go, man. The jury say they might have a verdict. I'll clean up here and take Felicity home."
Oliver nodded, and turned to go. Felicity couldn't keep it in any longer.
"Oliver, I'm so sorry."
"For what?"
"I got caught by this creep. You had to kill him. I know you never wanted to have to make that kind of choice again."
He was shaking his head even before she stopped speaking, and he gripped her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes.
"Felicity. He had you, and he was going to hurt you. There was no other choice to make."
As he looked into her eyes, Felicity could feel herself melting. Now. This would be the moment for a kiss. Except . . . Oliver had to go. She sighed, and pulled back slightly. She knew he had a couple of business suits stashed here. She smiled at him, her lips trembling.
"Go change, Oliver. You don't want to miss the verdict."
Lying in bed, wide awake, hours later, she wished Oliver was there so she could glare at him. After he'd changed, he'd had some advice for her. Get some rest, he said. Go home, he said. Well, she was home, and she couldn't sleep. In the hours since her near death experience, she'd been driven home, had heard about Moira Queen's not guilty verdict in the car, and had a long hot shower. And now she was wide awake. And starving. Before the fricking Count picked her up (and who the hell called himself the Count, anyway? Ah, ah, ah . . . three! Three drug-filled syringes!) she'd been about to get herself something to eat. And then with all the excitement and sudden death she'd lost her appetite. Well, it was back now. She looked at her mobile – no wonder she wasn't sleepy. It wasn't even midnight. She was used to spending much longer at the foundry.
Fine, she'd order in. She hadn't had sushi in ages.
Some time later, looking at the bags on her coffee table, she sighed. No wonder people said you shouldn't go food shopping when hungry. The same counted for ordering delivery, apparently. She could eat a little, and put it in the fridge for later. Or she could see if Oliver was hungry. Wait a second, where had that come from? Oliver was probably fast asleep right now. Sure, her mind thought cynically. The guy who once spent all night patrolling the streets, had come to the foundry, taken a shower, and gone straight to QC was tucked up in bed right now.
She rolled her eyes. What makes you think he'll come, Felicity? Sure, he said he has feelings for you. Maybe they were platonic feelings. Like he has for his grandma. Or his sister. She looked at her mobile. It looked back at her, taunting her. Ok, inanimate device. You win. It's 2013, and I'm allowed to text a guy first. And if he doesn't answer, or worse, lets me down gently, it'll be your fault. Now . . . what to write.
hey
Great, Felicity. Very eloquent. Truly you are a poet of our time. Her phone buzzed with a reply.
hey
Her face felt hot. He'd answered! Now what?
are you awake
of course you're awake, you answered me
i mean, feel like doing something?
not like that- omg someone erase these texts
are you still there?
Oliver's reply came immediately.
yup couldn't answer laughing too hard
Felicity giggled. Then she tapped a reply.
was so hungry, got too much sushi, wanna share?
sure, i'll get some beer
It worked! He was coming over. Oh shit, she probably looked like crap, she thought, as she raced for the bathroom mirror. She stared at herself critically – her hair was fine, as she'd washed and blow dried it before going to bed. All she needed was some eyeliner and mascara to look less washed out and tired. Her tank top and pyjama pants would do – she didn't want this to seem too obviously like a play. Though play your cards right, Oliver, you just might get lucky. What am I saying, she thought. You don't even know if he wants this. She'd finished her eyes, and was still arguing with herself, when there was a familiar knock at the door.
Oliver was carrying a sixpack of beer in one hand, and his motorcycle helmet in the other. He was in jeans and a sweater, and looked amazing. Geez, Felicity, slow your roll. He walked in and laughed as he looked at the sushi display on her table.
"I told you I ordered too much," she pouted.
"I'll say." He grinned at her. "Good thing I'm starving."
They settled down and he opened the beers, and they made serious inroads in the food. She kept up a steady prattle, asking him about his mom (ok, tired, seemed kind of down, which he thought was weird, considering the situation) Thea (over the moon), and himself (fine, Felicity, stop worrying). She noticed he got strangely quiet when she mentioned how dumb she'd been to take a full shower and wash her hair and still expect to fall asleep after.
"Felicity." His tone was strained. "Why did you take a shower before bed?"
"I . . . felt like it, I guess?"
What was he getting at?
"Did the Count . . . did he hurt you?"
There was something she wasn't getting, here.
"The zip cuffs were really tight and hurt my wrists, but I don't think that's what you're asking . . . oh. Oh!"
It dawned on her, and she grabbed Oliver's hand, looking him right in the eyes.
"No, Oliver, seriously. He didn't . . . I mean, he was kinda handsy. So maybe I did want to wash him off . . ."
Huh. Felicity hadn't wanted to admit it to herself before, how much his touch had bothered her. Oliver's eyes were like lasers focused on her.
"He touched you."
She looked at him, mesmerised.
"Yes."
His eyes darkened.
"Where?"
Oliver's voice was a low rumble at this point. His face was slightly flushed.
She swallowed.
"My hair."
Oliver gently took the elastic from her ponytail and released her hair over her shoulders, drawing his fingers through the strands. She shivered as he gently carded his fingers through some tangles.
"Where else?" he asked, slightly hoarse.
"My shoulders," she whispered.
He trailed his hands over her shoulders, and down her arms, and to her shock, bent his head and dropped the gentlest of kisses on each one. He looked at her, expectantly. Her mouth was really dry now, and her lips were stiff as she continued.
"My . . . face . . ."
This time, he started with the kisses, light, almost imperceptible, on each cheek, pulling back and staring at her, until she nodded, and he dropped the last one on her mouth. It started softly, at first, until she responded, and opened her mouth. He was holding back, she could tell, so she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss immediately became more heated. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, feeling daring, and his arms went around her waist, lifting and pulling her into his lap. They kissed for what seemed like hours, but probably wasn't that long. She could taste the beer in his mouth, and the food they'd shared, and another taste, something she couldn't place at first, something like . . . like . . .
"Coffee?"
She pulled back and stared at him. He flushed, avoiding her eyes at first.
"I woke you up, didn't I?"
He shook his head in denial.
"No! I really wanted to see you, Felicity."
He stared at her, intense as ever.
"Really wanted to see you," he murmured, as he dropped kisses along her neck, along with a little nuzzle that turned into a big nuzzle that she was sure was going to leave a mark.
"But you had to drink something to keep awake," she tried to argue, except he was hitting all the right spots. She was literally aching for him, she realised, and blushed. He pulled back and sighed, and then dropped another kiss on her mouth. He looked apologetic, and she realised what was wrong. Or rather, different, from the last time she'd been on top of him like this.
"Felicity, I'm sorry-"
"Come on, Oliver. You've been shot! Of course you're not . . . up to . . . you know, right now."
He nodded, still looking embarrassed.
"And anyway, I didn't invite you over to jump your bones. I just wanted to know if your feelings for me were like for your grandma, or something."
Oliver crinkled his forehead.
"Jump my bones?"
"It's how the kids talk nowadays, Oliver. Keep up."
She tried to keep a straight face, but had to laugh when he started tickling her. He kissed her again, rubbing his stubble against her cheeks until she squealed. Hours later, or maybe it was just a couple of minutes, they started yawning in synch, and she pushed Oliver back on her couch, cuddling up to him, settling her head on his chest.
"Can you sleep here?" she murmured, half asleep herself.
"Sure," he answered. "I've slept in worse places."
The last thing she thought she heard before she fell asleep was Oliver begging her never again to mention his grandma when they were making out, and she smiled as her eyes closed. This was officially the best night ever.
Notes:
The youtube clip which cheers Felicity up is from the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice (1995), with Colin Firth as Mr Darcy, and Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennett.
This is his first proposal of marriage:
"Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you... I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony."
It always cheers me up when she shoots him down so quickly.