Thanks for everyone's wonderful response!
This chapter is more of an interlude - Felicity waits, in hospital. Also, Moira wants to talk.
When they finally persuaded Oliver out of the ambulance, Felicity waited for the doors to slam shut before she lay back and closed her eyes for a second. The whole thing was surreal. Here she was, stabbed through the side, in an ambulance with Oliver's sister. And Moira Queen, Lady Macbeth herself. That wasn't fair, though. She wasn't that bad. One of the EMTs asked her if she was feeling faint, and she shook her head and winced, as the movement pulled at her wound. She opened her eyes again, and Thea was looking at her, puzzled. Felicity felt bad for her – she probably felt like her life was coming apart. Thea opened her mouth to speak, and stopped. Moira had put a hand on her arm.
"Later, dear."
Wow, she sounded almost loving. Her inner voice turned exasperated. You could like the woman a little, seeing as you essentially saved her life. Excuse me, she thought. She'd been doing everything for Oliver. Though he'd be devastated if anything happened to his mother or sister, so . . . oh, whatever. What's done is done.
The trip to the hospital was over in no time, and the admittance to the emergency ward passed in a crazy blur. She suddenly realized that they'd be taking off her shirt to treat her, and quickly took the mic out of her bra, and grabbed Thea's hand, putting it in there. Her eyes widened, and Felicity looked up quickly to check that the hospital staff was still being harangued by Moira Queen. Oh yes, Felicity could hear her in the distance – someone at admittance had dared ask whether Felicity had insurance. Moira had immediately proclaimed that her son's fiancée (huh?) would have everything paid for (what?). That was news to Felicity: both parts.
She grabbed Thea's arm, pulling her down before whispering urgently, "It's a microphone. You can use it to talk to Oliver."
Thea was staring at the tiny bit of tech when they wheeled Felicity away. She couldn't think of anything else to say, to explain, and, to be honest, didn't want to. She felt that she'd earned some rest, and so she let all the jargon wash over her – the whole examination, and stitches, urgh. She must have zoned out a little, because when she was fully conscious again, she was wearing a hospital gown, and was in a private room, hooked up to an IV line and a blood pressure machine. A harried looking doctor was striding in, reading her chart.
"You've been extremely luck, young lady. An inch to the right and the . . . sword," he said, his eyes widening, "might have nicked your lung."
Felicity nodded, yawning.
"We're keeping you under observation for tonight. You can go home in the morning. Will there be someone to help you change the dressing?"
Felicity opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted.
"Of course. She'll be staying with us. That won't be a problem."
Moira Queen strikes again, Felicity thought. Moira gave Felicity a warning look, and she waited until the doctor had left to register her (meek) protest.
"I'll be alright on my own, Mrs Queen."
"Please call me Moira – and I won't take no for an answer." She relented when she saw Felicity's mutinous look. "Just until you feel better . . . do you honestly think Oliver will want to let you out of his sight for now?"
Felicity sighed. "I guess not."
"I don't know if you're feeling up to it – but the police would like to talk to you." Moira looked at her closely, and shook her head. "I'll tell them they'll have to wait."
Felicity nodded, yawning again. What was the point, anyway? Slade Wilson was dead, thank God. Something occurred to her, then.
"Uh. This is going to sound awkward, but what have you told them?"
Moira beamed, and it was so unlike her usual expression that Felicity was taken aback.
"We edited the story slightly – you were coming home with us when we were kidnapped. Slade Wilson stabbed you, but luckily Mr Diggle, our head of Security, had managed to track us down."
Mr Diggle? Those were her trackers! Her annoyance must have shown on her face, because Moira's softened. She was just about to speak, when there was a knock at the door.
"Mrs Queen? There's some people from the press gathering in front of the hospital."
Moira patted Felicity's hand and left, and Felicity yawned so widely she was afraid her jaw would crack. She was so tired, but really wanted to wait until Oliver got here before she dropped off. She knew that rationally she should be worried about him, but her exhaustion wouldn't let her process the feeling. The third time her eyes fell shut, she decided she'd just rest her eyes for a few seconds. A minute or two, tops.
Felicity relives the walk towards Slade Wilson over and over in her sleep – again and again, she stabs him with the syringe, and he stabs her in turn, and dies.
There's a confused moment when she's not sure whether she's dreaming or awake, and in a shadowy corner of her hospital room, a man stands wearing a black hooded outfit, a black quiver full of black arrows on his back, holding a black bow. Her dream self considers this overkill. His rumbly voice comes from the corner, and annoys her. Why is he bothering with the disguise? She knows it's Malcolm Merlyn. "I am in your debt, Felicity Smoak. You saved my daughter's life. Ask me, and I will repay." She isn't sure of what she tells him, and she hopes it's not something like, "Get out of my dream, Thea's creepy dad."
After he melts away into the shadows, Oliver steps out of them. He's shirtless, and holding a bottle of red wine in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other. He gives her one of his half-smiles, and grabs her hand, rubbing her fingers.
Felicity woke up, slowly, glad that the last part of her dream was real – though later, she'd better tell Oliver about the Malcolm Merlyn part, in case that was real too. She gradually registered that he was in a wheelchair, his leg stretched out in front of him. The explanation didn't make sense until she parsed his look towards the door – so one of the Mirakuru men at QC got the drop on him? She made a vaguely suggestive remark, and enjoyed watching him get flustered – he only did that when she turned him on. She liked turning him on. The kiss that followed was amazing and frustrating at the same time, and the worst part was that they couldn't do anything about it. After that, she was aching and he was hard, if the way he was angling his arm in his lap was any indication.
She watched him doze off, but she was fully awake now, and she kept watching the press conference on mute. Moira looked good up there; strong, and determined. Maybe she'd make a good mayor, who knew. Soon after, Thea and Moira entered her room, and woke Oliver. Thea poked him in the shoulder, grinning.
"Wake up, Oliver – x-ray's ready for you."
Oliver's brow furrowed. "I'm pretty sure I don't need . . ."
Thea rolled her eyes. "You're not on an island anymore, Ollie. Here, in civilisation, we have hospitals, where we treat injuries . . . "
Her voice faded away as she wheeled him out of the room, and Felicity had to bite her lip to suppress a smile.
"You go ahead, Thea, I'll catch up in a minute." Moira's face was serious when she turned back to Felicity, and she froze. Oh no, here it goes. I ain't saying she a gold-digger, Moira Queen style. Moira sat down next to her bed, and Felicity instinctively straightened up, wishing she was wearing her glasses. Sometimes they felt like armour.
"There's something I need to know . . . Felicity." Moira hesitated before saying her name, and Felicity rushed into the following pause.
"Is this where you ask me what my intentions are regarding your son? Because I . . ."
Moira Queen was already shaking her head, though. "Oh no, my dear. I don't need to ask your intentions. You put yourself between my children and a sword wielded by a madman. For that alone, you've put me in debt I can never repay."
Felicity looked at her, puzzled. Then what was this all about?
"You told Slade Wilson about meeting Oliver in Russia. Even though I understand it was a ruse . . . what you said . . . the way you said it, had the ring of truth about it." Moira looked at her, pleading, and at first Felicity didn't understand what she wanted.
Then it hit her. The things she'd said to Slade, about Oliver . . . horrible things. She had to fix this – fast.
"No, no, no . . . I needed something to distract Wilson from you . . . from you and Thea." She bit her lip, trying to think. "Oliver . . . he saved me. I got into trouble, and he was there. He didn't even know me, and he saved my life. He lost a year, because of me. If I hadn't met him, I'd be dead right now."
A puzzled line formed between Moira's eyebrows. "He does have that tattoo, though. I know what it means. When I first saw his tattoos, which I knew very well he didn't have before, it was as though I didn't know my son anymore. Sometimes he's so cold, so distant . . . there are times when I'm afraid of what he's capable of. Others when he's still my beautiful boy . . . I know it's selfish of me, but . . ." Moira trailed off, staring into space.
Felicity knew what she wanted, though. She'd thought Oliver'd been through all this with his mom – now she realized it had been too much to expect of Mr BroodyPants, to actually tell anyone about what he'd been through. You know, Oliver, she thought, one day you're going to have to grow up . . . and share. Ugh. Share? Really? What kind of drugs were they giving her?
"I've never told anyone the whole story," Felicity answered, unable to meet Moira's eyes. How could this rich and pampered woman possibly understand what it felt like to have no choices, no safety net?
"I'd like to hear it, Felicity." Moira's voice was gentle, and Felicity wondered if she was being sincere. She had to tell her, though – Felicity couldn't bear it if Moira spent even one second thinking of Oliver as some kind of rapist or pimp. Not after everything he'd done, after everything he'd been through. Felicity chewed on her lower lip as she wondered how she was going to do this, where to start, what to leave out.
As she thought, and Moira waited patiently, the images on the silent tv set changed from the outside of the hospital to the lobby of Queen Consolidated, where handcuffed men in boiler suits were being led out by the police. Then the scene changed again to the steps of City Hall, in which, according to the scrolling text, Sebastian Blood was being arraigned on the charges of conspiracy to commit murder, among others.
Felicity came to a decision. She'd start at the beginning – her mother's illness. Maybe that was something Moira would understand. As she started talking, she felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders – and she hadn't even known it was there. Letting go of the past was the right idea, she thought. Maybe now she and Oliver could have a future.
Notes: Story is almost over, guys. Just one chapter left after this one.