I'd like to thank everyone once more for your support - I cherish every fave, follow and review!
Because I can't stop fiddling with my writing, I made some edits to Chapter 1 while I was working on this chapter.
When Oliver finally stopped speaking, a tense silence fell. Diggle only interrupted him once, when he revealed that Sara had survived the Queen's Gambit. Oliver didn't dare look at Felicity to gauge her reaction. Diggle's was bad enough.
"Oliver, why didn't you tell us all this before?"
Diggle sounded angry, and Oliver started to feel resentful. Didn't they realize how hard this was for him? He'd spent all that time not being able to trust anyone, to confide in anyone, and now they expected him to what, share? The angry words came to him and he started to speak, but caught a glimpse of Felicity, who hadn't said anything yet. She looked up at him, her face closed off to him, and he wanted so badly to touch her, but didn't dare. He tried again, this time calmer.
"Slade . . . I thought he was dead. I don't even know what happened to Sara after I ended up on the Amazo. I'd just spent a week being tortured by Slade and all I knew was that I was stuck on a sinking ship. After I got off the ship . . . I . . . just wanted to put it out of my head."
He'd made up a story about finding his way out somehow and floating on some wreckage for a few days before being picked up by a Chinese freighter. No one asked why he hadn't gone straight home after that, and he hoped they wouldn't. He didn't think any of them were ready for ARGUS and Hong Kong. Seeing Sara again after thinking she was dead, then Slade and the Mirakuru, and finally Shado's death – all that had started to seem like a long and bizarre nightmare the longer he stayed in Hong Kong.
Felicity was still pensive, picking at her nail polish, which was starting to flake off. She caught him looking, and stopped.
"Oliver, what did you mean when you said you could have cured him?"
She had been listening.
"Ivo managed to synthesize a kind of cure to the Mirakuru – or an antidote. I got some and wanted to use it on Slade, at first. But then I killed him, or thought I did. I was kind of messed up."
He'd glossed over most of the torture. But he should have known that wouldn't be enough for Felicity.
"But-"
Diggle interrupted her.
"What I still don't understand is why he blames you, Oliver. You didn't pull the trigger, you didn't even choose Sara over Shado. It's not-"
"Rational? Logical? After we injected him with that stuff, Slade wasn't any of those things. The Mirakuru affected everything – I'm sure he had hallucinations too. And he blamed me, at first, because Ivo told him I chose Sara. But even after he knew the truth, he didn't hate me any less. And now he's come here to make me pay."
Once again, the only sound in the foundry was the faint humming of electronic equipment. Felicity was back to attacking her fingernails, but she was thinking about something, he could tell. She took a deep breath, and looked him in the eyes.
"So, we need to remake that cure, right?"
Diggle nodded.
"And Barry already has a sample of the . . . stuff."
Here he paused.
"I'm not calling it 'Mirakuru', Oliver. That's dumb. Pretty sure that isn't even Japanese."
Oliver allowed himself a smile, because his team . . . his team was awesome. Felicity stopped him just as he wanted to tell them that.
"And I know what you're going to say, Oliver – that it's too dangerous to be near you, that we should go away for our own protection, well, it's not gonna happen."
A similar thought had also been passing through his mind. It must have showed on his face.
"See? I knew it," Felicity crowed.
Diggle sighed.
"Come on, Oliver – we're a team, right?"
Oliver nodded.
"Should we call Barry? Or is it too late?"
Felicity shook her head.
"Don't think so. Let's fire up Skype and see."
Barry answered so fast it was like he'd been waiting for their call. Oliver noticed he wasn't in his forensic lab, and there were voices in the background, so he quickly moved out of range of the webcam, and pulled Diggle with him. Felicity spoke carefully.
"Barry . . . where are you?"
"I'm at S.T.A.R. labs – I needed some equipment that I didn't have at the station, so I got my buddy Cisco to help me out!"
Oliver felt his blood pressure rising as a friendly face with a widely grinning mouth popped into view, and a hand waved a greeting. Felicity glared at him and mouthed a stern 'no'.
"Um. Barry? You know this is a secret, right? I'm sure the Arrow doesn't want everyone to be looped in on this."
"It's ok, Felicity," Cisco said, a big smile on his face. "I can call you Felicity, right? Anyway, Barry made me sign an N.D.A."
Oliver must have looked blank, because Felicity rolled her eyes.
"He really gave you a non-disclosure agreement to sign?"
Cisco grinned. Barry grinned. Then they high-fived each other. Felicity frowned.
"Guys . . . are you living on energy drinks or something?"
Barry shrugged.
"Or something. We have to get a lot of work done when the lab is closed for the night. Wait – did you want something?"
In the background Oliver could hear Cisco muttering, 'damn, she is hot'. He narrowed his eyes and Felicity gave him the same look back. Fine. He got it. Stay on target. Felicity sounded slightly exasperated as she continued.
"You know I can hear everything you say, right?"
Cisco had the grace to look ashamed, and mouthed 'sorry'.
"Never mind. Look, I know what that stuff is now, and what we need to do about it."
As she told them the whole story, he noticed she stuck to the effects and dangers of Mirakuru, rather than explaining how he was connected to it, or Slade Wilson. She just mentioned a very dangerous man who wanted to use it, and promised she'd email them his picture.
"And what we really need, is a cure for it. Or an antidote? I don't know what you'd call it. Only it has to undo whatever . . . it . . . does . . . uh, guys? You're kind of creeping me out."
Their grins had grown even wider and they were nodding in unison. They must be running on fumes, he thought.
"We already have one! Kind of."
Barry was almost chortling.
"See? I told you that was the right direction," Cisco added.
Barry nodded.
"Look, all that stuff you said about how dangerous it is? I could pretty much tell after we analysed a sample. And I started to think – what if the guy who just picked up an industrial centrifuge and walked away with it, what if this is what he was on?"
Oliver had to admit – the kid was brilliant.
"So we started focusing less on analysing the stuff and more on synthesising a cure. We have something – the only problem is we can only make computer projections. We can't really test it on anyone."
Cisco looked like he was getting an idea.
"Or . . . or we could test it on me! I could be the new Jonas Salk," he said, dreamily.
"What the hell? Are you crazy?"
Oliver allowed himself a tiny smile as Felicity started reading Cisco the riot act.
"You need to be on the serum to take the antidote! Salk didn't even have p-"
"Yeah, I'd have to inject myself with the Mirakuru first . . ."
"No! Do you hear me? No."
Felicity was half out of her chair, like she wanted to leap through the screen and slap some sense into Cisco and Barry, who'd been nodding in approval at Cisco's idea. Oliver remembered something, and scrabbled for a sheet of paper and a pen.
Cisco sulked for a second, and then brightened.
"We're still awesome for thinking of it, right? Right?"
Felicity sighed, and smiled at them.
"Yes, you're awesome."
She finally noticed Oliver trying to get her attention, and he held up the sheet of paper. She cocked her head and twirled her finger in a circle, and he realised he'd been holding it upside down, and quickly righted it. Her eyes narrowed.
"Sedative?" she read.
Barry's eyes widened.
"Of course! Just because you're removing the effect of the super-soldier serum, doesn't mean the guy who's been injected isn't dangerous. So he can sleep it off. Brilliant idea, Felicity."
She looked like she was going to correct Barry, and Oliver shook his head, mouthing 'it's ok'. She shrugged.
"So, guys, we need as much of the antidote as you can make. Call us when it's ready, ok?"
They nodded, and signed off.
Felicity got up and put her coat on. He must have looked almost comically disappointed, because Diggle winced, and mumbled an excuse before heading towards the stairs to Verdant. She was looking for her car keys in her bag, but looked up when he cleared his throat.
"Felicity . . . "
Oliver didn't know what else to say. He wanted to beg her to stay, to talk, but he couldn't keep her, he knew that. She was biting her lower lip, chewing on it really, as she thought of what to say. He was dreading it.
"Look, Oliver." She hesitated. "I just need a little space . . . to think."
It was hard to breathe normally, but he managed it.
"You mean . . . a break?"
He was pretty sure his voice cracked on the last word. She was already shaking her head before he'd even finished speaking. She grabbed his hand and squeezed.
"No, Oliver. Really. It's just . . . it was such a shock, seeing that man. After all this time. I was safe here – I thought I was safe. And now . . . "
She trailed off, unwilling to finish, it looked like. He made a couple of false tries before he managed to get the words out.
"I'm s-"
"No." She didn't even let him finish the thought. "This isn't on you, Oliver. It isn't." She smiled at him, her eyes shiny. "Not everything is about you." She was trying to lighten the atmosphere, he got it.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Oliver nodded. He instantly felt colder as she let go of his hand and walked away. He sat in her chair and stared ahead, unseeing. Could he have said something, stopped her? No, he decided. He just had to trust her, trust that it wasn't already over. Because without her, he couldn't live.
When he later tried to remember what he did the next morning, it was just a fog through which he drifted, unable to do anything concrete. He looked at his phone so often during breakfast, Thea started making jokes about eternal teenagers, but he barely heard her, or his mother shushing her. He'd been in the middle of wishing Felicity had given him some of her super-boosted trackers, so he could have hidden one in her purse. Though that was ridiculous. He knew where she was. It was ten in the morning, she'd be at work. He could casually drop by. Couldn't he? Just passing by, on his way to . . . to Kalika's office? He sighed. That wouldn't work.
"Oliver?"
He looked up, still lost in thought, and realised that Thea was gone, all the food had been cleared off the table, and his mother was looking at him, an indulgent smile on her lips.
"Is there something wrong?"
Oliver didn't know what to tell her. Eventually he opted to mutter something about problems at work, but nothing serious. She nodded.
"That's good, dear. I need to talk to you. Shall we go into the living room?"
She walked ahead of him, confident that he'd follow, and for a second he felt slightly resentful. He wasn't a little boy anymore, she couldn't just say something and expect him to jump to obey her. Wow, where had that come from? Was it that he just wanted to sit and wallow in misery until Felicity came back to him? Probably, he thought, as he sat down on the couch. His mother sat opposite him. She bit her lip, and couldn't meet his eyes, and for the first time that morning it dawned on him that she was nervous. Incredulous, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Mom . . . what's wrong?"
She sighed.
"I might as well just come out and say it."
She stared him full in the eyes and continued.
"Malcolm Merlyn is alive."
What? That was impossible! As well as being the last thing he'd expected her to say.
"What? How can that- I mean . . . I ki- . . . he was-"
Too late, Oliver realised that no-one knew about Malcolm's death except the person who killed him. To the rest of the city, he'd simply vanished during the earthquake he'd caused.
"I know, Oliver. I know."
Oliver's mouth fell open. Horror washed over him. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant.
"The day I was acquitted, the driver took me to another location instead of taking me home. And Malcolm was there. He told me he'd bribed a juror so that I'd be acquitted. And that my son was the vigilante who'd 'killed' him."
Oliver tried to keep his composure as his whole world crashed and burned around him. He was sure his eyes bulged as he stared at her, trying to see what she was thinking. But she just looked like she always looked nowadays – serene. With perhaps a slight undertone of worry. And there wasn't contempt, or anger in her voice. Though there was still some apprehension, which he didn't get. What was there to be apprehensive about? And, disguised by her attempt to hide her feelings, was there pride?
"Mom, I- "
He rubbed his eyes, and his forehead, and started again.
"Ever since I came back, I've been trying to save the city. At first it was dad who inspired me – he gave me the notebook, but that was pointless, in the end."
He was rambling, he knew that. He snuck a look at her, and she smiled at him.
"Oliver, I'm so proud of you. And terribly worried, too, especially when Malcolm told me how you defeated him."
"He told you?" Was Malcolm losing it? Did he have brain damage?
She nodded.
"He seemed to almost admire you for it."
That figures, he thought. Stabbing yourself to get at an opponent would be the kind of crazy thing Malcolm Merlyn admired.
"How did he survive, anyway?"
She sighed, and her hands, which were clenched in her lap, twisted together nervously. He still didn't get it. What did she have to be nervous about? He was the criminal.
"Oh, he went on and on about some kind of Eastern mysticism, things which science can't explain . . . to be honest, I tuned out after a while," she said, shrugging. "Malcolm is one of those men who just loves to hear the sound of his own voice."
Oliver could attest to that, he thought, remembering hanging from chains while the man ranted at him, boasting of his own ingenuity. But why was he back here?
"Why did he have you acquitted, mom? And why come back here?"
Her face froze. She sighed. She looked to the side, and then a resolute expression came over her face.
"Oliver, you know your father wasn't perfect."
That was a strange tangent to go off on, Oliver thought. But it wasn't anything he didn't know.
"And it wasn't just a question of the Undertaking – even in his personal life."
It struck him, suddenly, and he felt like a naïve idiot – of course his father would be the kind of man who had affairs. Probably even a mistress.
"Not that it excuses what I did," his mother was saying, and he realised why she was telling him this. Why should she feel guilty about her own lapse, anyway, and what did it have to do with Malcolm – oh, shit. He stared at her, mouth agape, and she read his knowledge in his face.
"Malcolm Merlyn, mom? Really?"
She blushed, and lowered her eyes.
"It was a long time ago, Oliver. I was lonely, and angry at your father. Malcolm was – still is, a very handsome and charming man. It was a moment of weakness."
Oliver opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't judging, that he had no right to judge her, or anyone really, for any sexual lapse, his mind cringing at the thought of his mother having sex with anyone, let alone that jerk. And even so, why would a man like Merlyn care about having an affair with someone – why would he care enough to make sure she wouldn't go to prison? There was something missing, something he wasn't seeing. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, thinking hard.
"Mom . . . when you say, a long time ago – how long, exactly?"
There was a rueful smile on her face.
"About nineteen years, give or take a few months."
Wow, Malcolm sure was loyal to the women he slept with. He winced, reminding himself that he was talking about his mother here. Wait a minute, Thea was nineteen, now. His mom'd had an affair while pregnant with his sister? Or . . . or was it worse than that? His mouth fell open. Thea was nineteen. They'd had an affair about nineteen years ago. It was simple math. Holy shit. When he looked up again, she was studying his face, probably to see how he would take it. And for a moment, he wasn't sure how he should react. He had no right to judge her, he knew that.
"Did . . . dad . . . know?"
She sighed, lost in her memories.
"I told him. This was just before Malcolm vanished for a few years, and I was so angry at him, and your father. I was pregnant, and Malcolm was gone. And your father and I . . . hadn't-"
"Come on, mom," Oliver groaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes.
She flushed slightly. Though he caught a wicked look in her eyes before she lowered them. This was a side to his mother he'd never seen before. Maybe this was what Moira Dearden had been like, before she became the grand society lady she was now.
"I was packing my bags when he came into the bedroom – I threw the whole thing in his face. The affair with Malcolm, the baby that wasn't his."
She leaned back, pensive.
"I thought he would throw me out. Instead, he begged me to stay. With the baby. I think he loved me, in his own way. And he loved Thea on sight."
Oliver was less forgiving to his father. So, you did one thing right, dad. That didn't change their current situation, though.
"But Malcolm . . . he knows."
She nodded, saddened.
"I don't know how he found out. But he did. And now he demands to be let into his daughter's life."
Oliver groaned. That was all he needed right now. Why couldn't Malcolm have stayed dead? Half-consciously he rubbed the scar he'd given himself when he stabbed himself to kill Malcolm. He looked up to see his mother's eyes on him.
"Look. He can't come into the open right now, because he'll be arrested. So we have to shelve this. But Thea deserves to know."
She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.
"I can't, Oliver. She'll never forgive me."
Oliver huffed, impatient.
"You're her mother. She'll be angry for a while, sure. But even Thea can't stay mad forever."
Seeing as they were sharing secrets, he realised that he had to open up to his mom. At least about some things. She was looking into the middle distance, a faint wrinkle between her brows.
"Oliver – all those injuries since you've been back. All those spills off your motorbike. Those came about in your . . . evening activities."
He nodded. She sighed.
"And here I thought I could worry less about you, now that you're a grown man. "
"Come on, mom. I know what I'm doing."
"Really, Oliver? I understand that you want to restore your city, though I'm still unclear on why that involves dressing in green and shooting arrows at people – yes, Oliver, I do see the Robin Hood link. I went to Vassar, you know."
Oliver couldn't stop a snort from coming out. He tried to hold it back, but then he saw that his mother's lips were twitching too, and before they knew it, they were laughing helplessly. When they finally stopped, the look in his mother's eyes was almost . . . grateful.
"I must admit, when I thought about telling you all this, I imagined quite a different scenario."
Oliver rolled his eyes.
"Mom, maybe you haven't heard, but I'm the last person who can take the moral high ground here. The last."
She shook her head.
"But there is something I need to tell you," he continued. "On the island – I never told you or Thea this – but I wasn't alone."
She didn't look shocked, he noticed. The doctor must have mentioned to her that many of his scars were obviously caused by projectile weapons.
"There's people in my past – they have a grudge against me. And one of them is in Starling City. He wants revenge, and I'm terrified he's going to take it out on you. Or Thea."
Now this shocked her, he could tell. He pulled the photo from his pocket and showed it to her.
"He's called Slade Wilson. He's Australian. He's . . . he's a killer."
The last was said in a whisper. Because it was only a half-truth. Sure, Slade was a killer. But so was he. In his mind, he could hear that raspy voice berating him, making fun of his attempt to keep his family safe - You want to see a killer, kid? Look in the mirror.
"I know you have security. And bodyguards. But he's not going to come at us like an assassin or a hitman. He's hiding in plain sight – acting like a businessman now. "
She nodded, studying his photograph.
"The wolf in sheep's clothing," she murmured. "Is he wearing an eye patch for effect, or-"
Oliver winced.
"That was me. I tried to kill him."
"Ah."
Oliver didn't know how he was going to explain it to his mother – the whole business with Slade, and Shado. Because if he started, he'd have to talk about Sara, and he was so done with the whole business. It was six years ago, and he'd thought he was done with it, and now, here it all came back to haunt him. When he looked up, the expression on his mother's face stopped him in his tracks.
"Oliver. You do know I'll always love you, no matter what."
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"If you're telling me this man is a danger to us, then I believe you. I don't need to hear anymore."
Later that day, he sat in the foundry as he waited for Diggle. The conversation with his mother kept running through his head. At least she was forewarned about Slade – it would be typical of him to try and get at him through his mother and sister. At first he'd wanted to tell them to get far away from Starling City, but then he changed his mind – if Slade had enough money and resources to rebuild himself as a well-off businessman, then he could get to them anywhere they went. At least here he could protect them.
He heard the locks at the top of the stairs opening, and Diggle came in. he wasn't alone – Felicity was with him. She came down the stairs and smiled at him, and immediately started talking about some problem they'd had at work. Diggle seemed distracted, and just went to the monitor showing the police scanner. But Oliver had to tell them before he lost his nerve. He couldn't let all three of them be caught up in Arrow business before he told them the truth. He had sworn to himself, when Anatoli had shown him that picture of Slade Wilson – no more lies. So he went to the monitor and switched it off. SCPD would have to deal with all the shit, tonight.
Diggle was staring at him, gaping. And Felicity trailed off in the middle of her story about the new team member almost taking down all the QC servers while trying out an experimental security program. Oliver swallowed, nervously, and then forged ahead.
"I need to tell you something. It's about Malcolm Merlyn." He winced, and continued. "And my mother."
Some time later, they were sitting in the VIP lounge at Verdant, around some beers and cocktails. Felicity kept sneaking little looks at Thea, murmuring things like 'I don't see it,' and burying her face in her cocktail. Diggle just kept shaking his head and knocking back the beers. But they didn't seem angry, Oliver thought. Shocked, yes. Annoyed that Malcolm Merlyn was still in their lives, sure. But not angry. He slowly realised that was what team work really meant, and it was like a load was lifted off his chest.
The next evening, they all met in the foundry as usual. Felicity settled down in front of the monitors, Diggle went to clean the guns, and Oliver started sharpening the arrows. When the silent alarm at a bank branch went off, Oliver got up and picked up his bow, and Diggle went out the back way to bring the van around. Felicity started rattling off information, and they were off.
And so the rest of the week went. It wasn't like he and Felicity didn't talk anymore, because they did. But mostly when Diggle was there. And Diggle was spending less time in the foundry, and more time with Lyla. He'd finally admitted to both of them who his contact in ARGUS really was – and it was true, Lyla did work for ARGUS, and he'd been asking her to use her connections to find out where Slade Wilson might be hiding. But the real reason was that they were getting back together. Both Oliver and Felicity congratulated him. Oliver hoped he managed to hide his envy – Diggle was finding his happiness, while his was falling apart.
One evening, they were all in the foundry – it was a slow night, and Oliver was wondering whether they should call it a night, and go home. Just as he was going to say it, the familiar beeping of a video call sounded in the foundry, and when Felicity answered it, Barry's face swam into view. Oliver was sharpening arrows, so he was out of range of the webcam, while Diggle just moved behind the monitor. Barry was grinning widely, and then Cisco pushed him out of the way to beam at Felicity.
"We did it!"
Felicity didn't even have time to say hello. Barry muscled his way in front of the webcam.
"We've got it, Felicity! The cure, antidote, whatever you want to call it."
Cisco took over again.
"We've got a boatload."
Felicity thanked them both, and Oliver reached a decision. What the hell was he keeping secrets for, anyway. These two kids (he knew he was only a few years older than Barry and Cisco, but at the moment he felt like their cranky grandfather) were doing all this for no reward, not even any recognition. They should both go into this with their eyes open. He got up and moved in front of the webcam, bending down so that he would be in frame – green leather, green hood and all.
"I don't know how I can repay you two. Thank you."
Cisco was stunned speechless. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and finally found his voice again.
"Oliver Queen? Oliver Queen's the Arrow? Oh my God. Oh my God! Sir, rest assured that I will keep your secret. This is an incredible day for me."
Barry smiled sideways at his friend, who was grinning all over his face, and looked at Oliver knowingly, mouthing 'thank you'.
"Come on, Cisco, don't call me that. It's just Oliver."
Cisco nodded, and grinned some more, lost in a happy daze, it looked like. When Oliver looked at Felicity she was smiling at him too. Diggle just shook his head, probably in despair at his stupidity. Barry steered things back to the antidote.
"We just don't know how to get it to you guys. Neither of us can bring it over – my boss is watching me like a hawk. He's said if I try to pull that crap in Starling City again, I'm fired."
Cisco nodded.
"And the particle accelerator is back on track for next week, so I can't go on any train trips."
"I guess we could send a courier," Barry said doubtfully.
"No."
Felicity hadn't spoken at all during the entire conversation. Now everyone looked at her. And Oliver suddenly guessed what she was going to say.
"I'll come to you guys. I can say I'm visiting some friends in Central City – which I am!"
She gave a small smile, and both Barry and Cisco grinned in response. Then Cisco turned serious.
"Uh, Arrow? Uh, Oliver . . . is that ok with you?"
He didn't need to look at Felicity to realise she was probably daring him to object to her plan in any way, so that she could tear into him. So he swallowed his instant rejection, his terror of losing her, and nodded, hoping none of his reactions were showing on his face.
"Great idea. You can take a carry-on bag with you, and then put the antidote in it. It'll be less obvious that way."
When he finally composed himself enough to look at her, she was still puzzled, probably having expected a fight. Diggle, who he could see out of the corner of his eye, gave him an approving nod. Neither of them would ever know how much it hurt and terrified him to let her go like that.
The next morning, Felicity left for Central City on the earliest train. He couldn't go see her off – what if Slade had people watching the train station or the airport for him? And so he sat in the foundry, staring into space, until it got dark.
The sound of the power going on woke him out of his daze, and he was momentarily blinded by the lights. When the black spots in front of his eyes faded, Diggle's face swam into view.
"Man, you have got to pull yourself together, Oliver. She's coming back, you know."
The childish, whiny part of him protested that she wasn't coming back to him. The thought of actually saying that out loud, how it would sound, was finally the impetus he needed to get going.
"You're right. I'm sorry – I've been behaving like an idiot."
Diggle grinned.
"You're in love, Oliver. It comes with the territory."
So, for the next few nights, Oliver found enough crime occurring in Starling City that he managed to spend some hours not thinking about Felicity. He certainly wasn't spending all his time wondering whether she would come back or not. Of course not. In fact, he kept himself as busy as possible during the evenings, and tried to get some sleep.
Of course, then he couldn't sleep. He'd spent an hour in his bedroom in the mansion staring at the ceiling, when suddenly, inspiration struck. And so there he was, in the foundry, in the back room where Felicity had put a closet for him, and he was building a bed. He looked up at a noise in the doorway, and it was Laurel, staring at him.
"Ollie . . . it's seven am."
Oliver was busy screwing in the bed slats.
"Uh huh."
She sighed, and backed out.
After that, Diggle kept him busier in the evenings, and Kalika started calling him for various things during the day – he almost suspected that either Felicity or Diggle had put her up to it. But whatever the reason, he was relieved to have something else to think about. And so he used the mornings to run drills for people on the executive floor, under Diggle's direction. He made sure that Kalika knew how to access the panic room, and that if she and anyone who was there with her couldn't get out through the lifts or stairs, they would retreat there.
As the week passed, Oliver started to feel lighter. He was video chatting with Felicity every evening – she told him she spent the day doing touristy things, and then joined Barry and Cisco at the police lab, which was where they'd moved the antidote preparation. S.T.A.R. labs was amping up the preparations for the particle collider being switched on, and some people were even sleeping there.
Laurel sent him a message one evening, that Roy needed to see him, and it was urgent. He'd noted down the alleyway rendezvous, and as soon as he could, he approached over the rooftops, making sure it wasn't a trap. As soon as he was satisfied that Roy was on his own, he dropped down in front of him, switching on the modulator as he landed.
"You wanted to see me."
Roy had jumped back a little when Oliver landed in front of him.
"Yeah. Yes. Uh. Some buddies of mine were at the train station. They- listen, man, if I tell you they were lifting phones, are you going to shoot arrows at them? Because I want to help you, but not like that."
Oliver sighed inwardly.
"As long as you weren't with them, I'm prepared to let it slide." For now, he added silently.
Roy nodded, pulling a mobile phone out of his pocket.
"My friend, Sin, thought it was weird that this guy kept looking at a picture on his phone, and then putting it in his pocket and staring at new arrivals. She watched him for an hour or so. Then she did the old bump and lift, because she was curious – she thought maybe he was with TMZ or something, and maybe JLo was coming to Starling city."
Roy pulled out a mobile phone and gave it to Oliver.
"Just open the photo album."
The picture that came up, was, of course, Felicity. Oliver felt like someone had just punched him in the chest. He glared at Roy, who raised his arms in surrender.
"Hey, man, I just know she works with you."
Oliver stared at the picture again. It was the one from her employee file at QC. With all the Bratva distractions, they'd never got around to finding the mole, and here he or she was, helping Slade. Because it must be Slade. What the fuck were they going to do now? He sighed. Only one thing to do. He pulled out his mobile phone, and Skype-called Felicity from it. When she answered, she was beaming at him, and his heart skipped.
"Hey, Ohhh-Arrow-"
He couldn't help grinning at the way she'd managed to change 'Oliver' to 'Arrow' at the last minute. He couldn't even be annoyed – right now, his identity was the least of his problems. He'd shout it from the rooftops if he thought it would keep her safe for a second.
Roy didn't seem to have noticed.
"Hey, Blondie!"
"Don't call me that."
A pointed throat-clearing from Oliver got them both on task again. Just as Roy was explaining everything to Felicity, his earpiece crackled.
"What's up, man? What did Roy want?"
He started explaining to Diggle, when he heard Diggle's mobile phone ring. When he heard Diggle say Felicity's name, he realised she was explaining everything to him directly, and even though he felt a jealous twinge, he managed to brush it off. Then Diggle apparently spotted a report of an armoured car heist taking place, and Oliver had to leave in a hurry.
Later that night, Felicity called him in the foundry.
"So, Oliver . . . we kind of have a plan."
He nodded, waiting for the details.
"Step one: you have to get Roy a van."
Get who a what now?
"I don't understand . . ."
Felicity waved her hands in an expressive gesture.
"Not a new van – something old and falling to pieces. Something they can spray-paint quickly. Roy and his friends, I mean. Who will be waiting at the at the train station in disguise. And Diggle will be there, too."
"And what about you?"
Felicity brightened.
"I'll be in disguise too! As long as you can promise me," and here she turned deadly serious, "that Knyazev and anyone associated with him are out of Starling City, Oliver."
He nodded, almost before she'd finished speaking.
"I promise, Felicity. They're gone."
She smiled again, and yawned. He realised she was going to sign off, and spoke quickly before she left.
"What about you? What's your disguise?"
She smirked.
"It's a surprise, Oliver. Not gonna ruin it."
The look in her eyes behind her glasses was full of her old merriment, and he was glad. The week in Central City had done her good.
The next evening, Oliver was sitting in the same place, the foundry, in front of the monitor, hacked into the security feeds at the railway station. He was slightly resentful – he'd wanted to go there too, and had even said he'd change out of his Arrow suit after patrolling. But it had been vetoed, by both Diggle and Felicity, and he'd had to give in.
He kept scanning all the feeds – the exterior, the interior, the different angles next to the tracks. No Felicity. He spotted a couple of travellers giving a wide berth to a group of young people wearing torn clothes, chains, spiked hair. They were heavily made up, and what with the black and white security footage, it took him a while to recognize Roy as one of them. He started getting an inkling of what Felicity's disguise was.
Oliver went over the feeds again, one by one, and suddenly, there she was. He fell back in his seat, stunned. Gone were the spiked heels, flirty skirts, glasses and blond ponytail. Instead, she was Meghan, reborn. The long black wig couldn't be the same one, but it looked the same. Her face, what he could see from the security camera, was heavily made up, and she was wearing torn, layered t-shirts, and heavy biker boots. Instead of pants she had a frayed denim skirt on, and torn tights under it. He moved to another camera, and caught the moment when Roy's group spotted her. They must have made such a loud scene, he actually saw some security people start moving towards them – good move, he thought. If Slade's men are there, they're not going to want any attention drawn to them. At that moment, he caught a glimpse of Sin, Roy's friend – a tiny gamine brunette. She draped herself over Felicity and started a long lip lock, and this worked even better for their purposes – now no-one wanted to look at them. And, he'd been told, this was when they would hand over the suitcase containing the antidote, to Diggle, who would look like a businessman on his way home.
Oliver managed to follow the group as they left the station, and knew that they would be dropping Felicity off here, at Verdant. Diggle would be heading off home, with the antidote, which he would keep securely in his apartment. He leaned back in his chair, or rather, Felicity's chair, and waited. She'd be annoyed if she knew that all he was doing was waiting for her, but he just couldn't concentrate on anything else. He knew if he tried to sharpen arrows he'd just end up cutting himself, if he tried working out, he'd just fall off the salmon ladder. He was still wearing the Arrow suit – he'd only taken off the mask, and pulled the hood down before settling in front of the monitors. He just wanted to see her so badly.
Oliver was in the middle of turning around and around in the chair, when he heard the lock disengage on the door to Verdant. Felicity came down the stairs slowly and deliberately, to give him the full effect of her outfit. She'd taken off the wig, but left the make-up on, except for the black lipstick, which was now a glossy pink. As soon as she got close enough to get a good look at him, she giggled.
"You look like a panda."
He grinned. He hadn't taken off the camo greasepaint around his eyes, in case he had to put the mask on again.
She walked up to him and he held a hand out, which she clutched, entwining her fingers through his. And then she surprised him, by climbing into his lap, straddling him, squirming a bit until she got comfortable, and smirking when she saw him bite his lip.
"Missed me?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She rummaged in her messenger bag until she found what she was looking for. She took out a couple of wipes.
"Here, let me take off your eye make-up. No, don't tell me – it's camouflage greasepaint," she continued, rolling her eyes.
He just nodded, wishing he trusted himself enough to touch her.
"Close your eyes."
He obeyed, and she passed the soothing wipe over his eyes gently, until she was satisfied, and he opened them again.
"There. Now you look like you again."
She touched his face, cradling his cheek, and kissed him.
"I missed you so much, Oliver."
Whatever else she wanted to say was muffled when he couldn't resist any longer and kissed her back, crushing her in his arms, burying his tongue in her mouth.
"Felicity . . . "
He wanted to say more, but just couldn't get the words out, and instead kissed her again, and she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
"If I ever come up with such a stupid idea again," she whispered, while kissing his neck, " you have to stop me. Space . . . who the hell needs space," she murmured, nuzzling him. "I was so worried."
He pulled back, puzzled. She saw his expression and continued.
"When I arrived in Central City, it hit me: what if I never see you again? What if this Slade Wilson does something to you, and the last thing I said was that I needed time away from you?"
Her eyes were shiny, and she had to blink a couple of times. He stroked her arms, trying to calm her down.
"Felicity, I'm fine. I'm here. We're together."
She nodded, her lips trembling, and she sniffed. Then she screwed her nose up, looking adorable, and sniffed again.
"Is that motor oil I smell?" she asked, mock angrily.
"Maybe?"
"Am I going to turn around and see that big monster of yours in the back passage- oh my God. Oh God what did I just say. I can't believe you just let me walk into that."
She punched him for emphasis, and he chuckled.
"If by my monster you mean the motorbike-ow!"
She punched him again and he tickled her in revenge.
"Like I was saying, the bike's inside because there's a big lightning storm coming tonight, Felicity," he said, widening his eyes for the full wronged innocent effect.
"Lightning storm, huh? Whatever, Oliver. You're lucky I'm in love with you," she said, her fingers nervously playing with the zipper of his top, belying the lightness of her tone. He caught them and squeezed her hand, looking her in the eyes.
"I know I'm lucky, Felicity. I know."
She moved in for a kiss again, and they kissed until they were both out of breath. He would have been happy to stay there all night, nuzzling her neck, alternating tiny kisses and bites, but she wanted more, and kept rubbing up against him, riding him, until he couldn't hold back a moan. She looked at him wickedly.
"You've got a little problem there, Mr Queen."
He quirked an eyebrow.
"I thought it was a big monster."
She gasped in pretend indignation and punched his side. Then she got off him, slowly.
"Do you like my outfit?" she asked, twirling. He nodded, fervently.
She slowly pulled off the t-shirts, revealing a black lace bra which he hadn't seen before. His mouth went dry. He'd been half-hard ever since he caught a glimpse of her on the security feed from the train station, and now he went all the way as she took the bra off, too, throwing it aside. He pulled her towards him, burying his face in her breasts, and kissing and nibbling every part of her within reach. He kissed down to her stomach, and heard her moan a couple of times, until she pulled away from him.
She grabbed the t-shirts she'd taken off and dropped them on the ground at his feet. And then, pulling him closer to her, she settled down on her knees in front of him. His mouth fell open as he stared at her. He managed to react as she pulled down his zipper.
"Felicity . . . you don't have to . . ." he protested half-heartedly.
She gave him a sunny smile, as she carefully pulled his underwear down.
"But I want to," she answered, conversationally, as she took his cock in a firm grip and licked a stripe up the shaft. His head fell back as he groaned. He could feel her lapping gently at the head, and he gasped. It took him a few seconds before he could look at her without coming instantly. When he did, she was smiling up at him, her lips shiny.
"Now watch carefully, Oliver. You wouldn't want to miss anything."
She pursed her lips over the crown and slowly sucked his cock into her warm wet mouth as it twitched and jerked, and he was lost in the sensations coming from his groin. Her head started bobbing up and down, and he could see her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked on him. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, and she seemed to sense his hand hovering over her, because her fingers met his and she pulled his hand to her. She didn't stop her rhythm, making happy little noises and hums which he could feel in his cock. He couldn't stop groaning and gasping as she sucked harder and harder, and he hoped it hadn't only been a few seconds when he felt a tightening in his balls and knew he was so close. He wanted to push her head away, but she didn't let him, her mouth fastened on his cock.
"God! Felicity, I can't . . . fuck!"
He cried out as he came, his fingers tangled in her hair, and collapsed in the chair, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. She pulled off his cock and kissed it once, before tucking it carefully back into his underwear, then sat back on her heels and waited. He lunged at her, lifting her in his arms as she giggled, and he kissed her, tasting himself in her mouth, and carried her to the inner room.
"Oliver! There's a bed in here!"
He threw her on it, enjoying the sight of her breasts bouncing, and started taking his clothes off.
"I got really bored when you were gone."
She smiled and leaned back on her elbows, spreading her legs and raising her eyebrows. He took off her heavy boots, throwing them behind him. Then he managed to hook his fingers into her skirt, tights and panties, and pulled them all down and off. He settled down between her thighs, and had just given her a few licks, when she pushed at his head.
"Hey, Oliver, come up here."
He must have looked disappointed, because she smirked, and slapped his hands away as he kept trying to stroke her thighs and slide his fingers between them.
"I wanted to talk, Oliver – no, pouting isn't going to work. No, not the puppy-dog eyes, either."
He surrendered, and lay down on his back, pulling her on top of him, putting his hands at his sides, and she kissed his chest as she settled there.
"So, about Malcolm Merlyn," she started, and then looked at his face, probably noticing his expression.
"Felicity, please tell me you weren't thinking of Malcolm Merlyn while we were – uhh . . ."
She giggled.
"No, of course not. Idiot," she added affectionately as she clambered up his chest and dropped a few kisses on his face.
"It's just – I know how much this is bothering you, even though you won't say. And I hope you realise that we'll be dealing with him as a team."
She stared at him as she said it.
"Just because she's your sister and his daughter, doesn't mean we're not involved, Oliver. Don't shut us out."
He buried his hands in her hair and pulled her in for a deep kiss. No, that was the old Oliver. No more secrets. She pulled back from him and smirked.
"I was also wondering when you'd be ready . . . again."
She gave him a coy look through her eyelashes and his body responded immediately. He had to clear his throat before he could speak.
"Pretty much good to go right now, Felicity."
"Oh, I noticed," she laughed, as she grabbed his cock in a firm grip, jacking him a couple of times. She moved fast at first, straddling his hips, but then slowed down as she lowered herself down on him, staring into his eyes as she slid down on his cock, taking him in, inch by inch.
Something occurred to him.
"No, wait! Felicity . . . I don't have a condom here," he said, even as he remembered that the last time they'd had sex here, she'd brought the condoms. She nodded at him, and he saw her shiver, her nipples tightening.
"I'm on birth control, Oliver. I don't want to use a condom. I want you to come inside me."
It took him all his self-control to hold back from coming almost immediately. She rocked a few times, tentatively, and gave him a wicked smile.
"What else can I do for you, Mr Queen?"
Her voice was low and professional, her tone belying the fact that she was tightening around his cock like a fist. He allowed himself to run his hands up her thighs until they bracketed her hips, her skin warm and silky under his rough calloused fingers.
"I want to see you touch yourself."
He hardly recognised his own voice when he heard it, he was so hoarse with longing. She nodded, knowingly, and smiled at him, teasing him at first with passing her hands over her nipples and pinching them with a little gasp. But that wasn't what he meant, and she knew it. She gave him a wicked little smile as her fingers slid down to where they were joined, and she closed her eyes as she rubbed her clit and rode him at the same time. She moved slowly and deliberately, tightening her inner muscles with the same rhythm, and he was transfixed by her fingers slipping through her folds and pinching her clit. It seemed endless as she rode him while rubbing herself, never speeding up, keeping the same slow deliberate rhythm as she tightened and relaxed around his cock. After what seemed like hours, she sped up and moaned, and he could actually see her face change as she came. Her muscles contracted around his cock in waves, and he was lost, gripping her hips so hard he left marks as he pumped into her once, twice, three times as he shook and groaned. They gasped for breath together, and she collapsed on his chest. He gently lifted her off him and she snuggled into his side. He thought she was already asleep when she opened her eyes and stroked his face.
"I love you, Oliver."
He could only nod and smile, tears in his eyes, and he kissed her again as she dozed off. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut, and was surprised to catch himself in a yawn. Maybe he could get some sleep too, now.
Notes:
I decided that my Oliver was going to be almost painfully honest and open.