Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His girl Wednesday? His girl fucking Wednesday? She went to MIT! Graduated at the top of her class! She aced the SATs! And the ACTs! And every STEM-based AP exam! And now she was a glorified secretary?! “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she raged quietly to herself as she slammed the door to her apartment, “there’s nothing wrong with doing admin work. Admins are the best! Invaluable! But I didn’t earn a pair of Master’s degrees to manage Oliver Queen’s fucking calendar.”

She groaned as she kicked off her heels and sank into her couch. She didn’t want to do this. It wasn’t just the job, though she remained enraged that he’d made the decision to move her to the top floor without so much as asking her. It was that working right outside his office all day and then having his voice in her ear all night was going to make it basically impossible for her to put him back into the neat little box she desperately needed him in. Felicity didn’t do complicated. She couldn’t do complicated. Not again. And Oliver Queen was complicated with a capital C.

When he’d walked into her cubicle that first day, she’d known he was going to be important to her. She’d also known he was lying. (He was, after all, extremely bad at the lying, so it wasn’t that hard to figure out.) But Felicity’s secret, her only secret really, was that this wasn’t her first time working with a vigilante. This wasn’t her first caped-crusader-adjacent rodeo. And so she’d known fairly quickly, months before he’d shown up bleeding in her backseat, who he was and how he spent his nights. And she wanted to be able to keep spending those nights with him (in the platonic sense…mostly), and to do that, she knew she was going to have to avoid ending up in his bed, no matter how much she might want to be there. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. She knew just how quickly fucking could fuck things up, and she couldn’t lose him, the mission, or Diggle.

Once upon a time, she’d had another team, a clear and important place in their world, and a mission she believed in. She’d had a family. And then a few rash decisions, a few months of (it must be said truly, truly great) sex, and one too many close calls by their teammates, and Bruce had ripped it away. Had sent her away (with a generous Wayne Enterprises severance package but still). And honestly, she’d run, too. She was too young then to recognize that she had a right to fight for her place on the team and in Gotham.

But she wasn’t going to make the same mistake here. No matter how much her heart (and her hormones) told her to grab hold of Oliver with both hands and hold on. The mission was more important. And, in her experience, it was more permanent, too. Her relationship with Bruce had barely lasted the spring, but the mission went on. At least she could thank Bruce for teaching her that, for teaching her to focus on the mission. “On second thought, fuck him,” she said to herself. She learned that lesson on her own; Bruce hadn’t taught her shit.

So no, she could not be in a relationship with Oliver, no matter how much pain she saw in his eyes and how much she wanted to soothe him. And no, she could not have acrobatic, enthusiastic sex with Oliver, no matter how much she genuinely wanted to lick his abs on a regular basis. She could be his friend. She could be his teammate. She could (apparently and without her actual consent) be his executive assistant. She could be his eyes and ears in the field. She could help him with his mission. Help right his father’s wrongs. That was just going to have to be enough.

“It can be enough,” she muttered, closing her eyes and sinking more deeply into her couch. “It can. It can be enough.” But now she was lying. Because it wasn’t enough. And she really had no idea what to do about that. “Just focus on the mission. Keep it simple. Avoid complicated. It can be enough.”
***
When Felicity walked off the elevator at Queen Consolidated the next morning, though, she knew she really had no hope of keeping things from getting complicated.

“Felicity.”

“Bruce.”

Well, fuck.

Chapter Text

Oliver pressed the button for the top floor of QC with his elbow while trying to keep from spilling Felicity’s coffee and his own all over himself. He knew she was probably still mad. Not probably. She was definitely still going to be mad. So, he’d start with coffee, follow up with lunch, and end the day showing her the new fridge/freezer in the lair that he’d stocked with mint chip the night before. If the food-based groveling didn’t work, he’d move on to gadgets. Maybe Applied Sciences had a new prototype that would help his resident genius overlook his high-handedness. He’d ask Diggle to go down there sometime today to find out.

When the elevator dinged and the door opened on the executive floor, Oliver took three steps toward Felicity’s desk and froze.

He’d seen her angry before. Usually at him. He’d been the recipient of her loud voice on more than one occasion. And he’d endured her silent treatment, too. But he’d never seen her violent. And yet, there she was, seething, having just slapped the one and only Bruce Wayne right across the face.

Her gritted out “Fuck. You.” sent Oliver back into motion. He was by her side in seconds, setting their coffees on her desk and placing his body between her and a smirking Bruce Wayne.

Felicity’s eyes widened almost comically when she saw him. Her mouth set, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Someone want to explain what the hell is happening right now?” Oliver asked, looking between Felicity and Wayne.

“It seems you’ve stumbled into the middle of an old argument, Queen. Felicity was just emphasizing her disagreement.”

“I’m going to ‘emphasize my disagreement’ with my heel to your balls if you don’t get the fuck away from me in the next thirty seconds,” Felicity said through a tight, unfriendly smile.

“But we still have so much to discuss, ‘Lis. So much to catch up on. Maybe we should include Oliver here, too?” Wayne looked from Felicity to Oliver. “Do you mind if I call you Oliver? Or should we jump straight to me calling you ‘Arrow’ and asking why the hell you’re putting a 25-year-old girl in danger by letting her hack for you without any plan for her protection?”

Oliver had always been sure that he had a poker face to rival most professional players in Vegas, but by the end of Wayne’s question, he was certain that he’d lost the ability to keep the mask in place. Not only did Bruce Wayne seem to know his (apparently not so) secret identity, but he also knew Felicity. Personally.

Before he could formulate much of a response to Wayne’s increasingly pointed questions, though, Felicity was in front of him, an angry finger inches away from Wayne’s nose. “First of all, I’m no one’s girl. I’m a grown ass woman. I make my own fucking decisions, and I’ve been taking care of myself for a good long while. And, Mr. Wayne, let’s not start throwing around accusations of vigilantism, shall we? People in glass houses shouldn’t throw bat-shaped stones, after all. My life, my choices are none of your goddamn business. I do what I want, with whom I want. And I could genuinely not care less about what you think about any of it.”

“A lovely speech, Felicity. Really. But the problem is that you are absolutely my business, and when the Arrow’s enemies…” (Wayne’s eyes sliced to Oliver quickly and then back to Felicity) “show up on my doorstep telling tales of a blonde accomplice with serious tech skills, it becomes even more my business. Now, you can be sensible here and walk away from this second-rate hero impersonator or I can force your hand.”

Oliver watched as Felicity’s face turned redder as Wayne spoke, her mouth set in a tight line and her eyes narrow on Wayne’s face. Before she could explode, though, Oliver intervened: “I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Wayne. Now.”

“Certainly,” Wayne replied with fake joviality. His eyes cut back to Felicity: “We’ll talk again soon, ‘Lis.” Wayne stepped toward the elevator and pushed the button before turning back to Oliver and Felicity. “By the way, love, your hair looks good long.”

The elevator dinged before Felicity could move, violence once again in her eyes, and Wayne stepped aboard.

As the doors closed, Oliver turned and watched Felicity deflate, her weight resting against the edge of her desk. Her eyes closed tightly, and the silence stretched between them.

Oliver broke it: “So, should we start with how well – and in exactly what capacities – you know Bruce Wayne? How long you worked with Wayne? Or how long you’ve known Bruce Wayne is Batman?”

Chapter Text

Felicity was frozen. For maybe the first time in her life, both her brain and her mouth were completely quiet. She didn’t have the words. She’d somehow lost all the words.

She had no contingency plan for this moment. She’d never, never intended to tell a soul in Starling about her life in Gotham. There were no good parts of it not shadowed by the pain of how it all ended, and she couldn’t bear to see the pity in Digg’s or Oliver’s eyes if they knew what she’d lost there. But now, it was all rushing back, invading her life again. 

***

When she’d first fallen in like/lust with Bruce, she was certain it was just a crush, though a pretty epic one. She’d been working at Wayne Enterprises for a few months after graduating from MIT when she’d literally run into (smack into, at full speed, while carrying her afternoon iced coffee) the handsome, enigmatic CEO. She’d apologized for getting them both “so wet, so fast,” and then immediately wanted to dig her way out of the building to avoid the embarrassment at her inadvertent innuendo. But Bruce had just laughed, offered her the linen handkerchief from his pocket, and asked her name. 

She’d heard all about his brooding nature and taciturn demeanor, but the man she met that day was warm to her. He was kind, with a sort of quiet softness, maybe even sadness, about him that she hadn’t expected. She was almost immediately smitten. He’d offered to buy her another coffee, and then he’d shown up in the Engineering and Applied Science division a few days later to bring her a sandwich at the end of another twelve-hour day. He was the complete opposite of everything she’d expected. The attention was flattering because he made her feel both sexy and smart. She’d never met a man who made her feel both at the same time. They flirted, but nothing really happened. But at 20, after losing Cooper so brutally, it was exactly what she’d needed.

A few months later, when Lucius Fox asked her to consult on some cutting-edge, experimental prototypes that looked a whole lot like devices used by Gotham’s resident vigilante, Bruce was basically forced to read her in on a secret she’d already started to piece together: he was the caped-crusader, and the Engineering and Applied Science division of Wayne Enterprises supplied, troubleshot, and repaired all the gadgets that helped him do his nighttime work.

It had been easy for her after that to fall into friendly lunches with Bruce Wayne, CEO, during the day and spend her nights running comms and gathering intel for the Bat. And when he’d finally asked her on a real date, a quiet dinner at an out-of-the-way bistro, she’d never thought of saying anything but yes. She hadn’t slept with him that first night, though she’d been sorely tempted, but after brunch the following Sunday, they’d fallen into bed at her apartment and hadn’t left it until they both dressed for work the following morning.

Things were so good in the beginning. They’d argued, but, she’d thought, he fully respected her intelligence and her abilities. She deferred to his experience in most Bat-related matters, but she stood firm when it came to the tech she knew so well. She’d thought she was part of the team. Not just Bruce’s current whatever-they-were, someone who was becoming integral to the mission. 

But when she started talking about doing live hacks, out in the field, things started to shift. Bruce got quiet. And then he got mean. 

Then, four years ago, after a particularly nasty fight with the villain of the month, Felicity had dared to disagree with Bruce’s approach to their current predicament in front of the team, and Bruce had brutally demonstrated that any illusion she’d had about being integral to either his life or his mission was just that – an illusion.

Brushing her hand down his arm in an attempt to calm him down, Felicity was shocked when Bruce wrenched away from her, and (in front of Dick, Barbara, and Alfred) coldly informed her, “I am not your boyfriend, Felicity, and I can’t be distracted from your terrible fucking ideas by some bullshit fumbling attempt at seduction.”

She’d frozen at his words. At his tone. “Bruce, I…” She wasn’t really sure what she’d planned to say; his unexpected attack left her feeling unmoored in the moment. 

But her lack of a ready response didn’t really matter because Bruce wasn’t done. He kept at her, crushing the budding sense of safety she was beginning to feel with him and the rest of the team. “I do not give a fuck what you think. You’re here to fix the tech. That’s it. Jesus. I’m a 35 year-old-man. Do you think I need the help of a 20-year-old fucking child to save this city?” And then he’d laughed without humor. “I’m done. It’s done,” he’d said, and he’d walked away.

Felicity had stayed rooted to the spot, avoiding the eyes of everyone else in the room before turning and walking with slow, measured steps out the door.

When she’d shown up at her desk the next morning, any hope that the night before had been a mistake for which she might receive an apology was crushed by the brief letter and giant check informing her that her services were no longer needed by Wayne Enterprises. Apparently Bruce didn’t need her in any capacity.

After that, she cut herself off from every part of her old life in Gotham. When Bruce had exiled her from his team, she’d been too humiliated to reach out to Dick or Barbara. She’d wanted to, but what was she supposed to say? Bruce had told her, in front of everyone (even Alfred!) that he was done with her, which meant she was done with the team. “I’m done,” he’d said. “It's done.” And so it was. It was done.

She’d cashed the check, started packing up her apartment, and called Queen Consolidated to see if the job they’d offered her in the Applied Sciences division the year before might still be available. It wasn’t, but they’d had one in IT. She’d applied, interviewed, and signed a new lease on an apartment in Starling three weeks later.

It had taken her a while to make friends and build a life here, but she had. And then Oliver had dropped into her cubicle with a bullet-damaged laptop and a terrible cover story, and she’d seen another chance at making a difference, at having a mission, first to help-slash-save Walter and then the city. Now she had Oliver and Digg and the lair and a purpose. She wasn’t going to lose it all, not again, and not to Bruce fucking Wayne. No fucking way.

***

She turned back to Oliver, who’d been waiting impatiently for any kind of response, and adjusted her glasses on her nose. “I will answer all of those questions, but not here, not now, and not without Digg. I’m telling that story exactly one time, and only over copious amounts of either vodka or mint chip. Or both. Besides, your 8 am is here, and we’ve got back-to-back meetings all morning.”

And then she left a stunned looking Oliver standing in front of her desk and went to prepare the conference room for the morning meeting with the division heads.

Chapter Text

When Felicity arrived at Verdant twelve hours later, she knew her reprieve was decidedly at an end.

She’d mostly avoided being alone with Oliver all day, though his searching looks from across the table in the boardroom or through the glass wall between their desks had made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of letting anything go.

And when Digg had arrived at QC a little before 11 am, his concerned glances and soft smiles were a clear indication that Oliver had taken the time to share the morning’s scene.

And now, Digg stood outside the club, hands in his pockets, kind eyes on Felicity as she parked her Mini and grabbed her bag.

“I heard you had an interesting morning,” Digg noted as he fell into step beside her.

“Yes…interesting,” she murmured as she punched in the code to the foundry.

“You know our boy has some questions. Hell, I have some questions. About Wayne and Gotham and the Bat. But the only one I really care about at the moment is this one: are you okay?”

Thank god for John Diggle, Felicity thought, as she descended the steps into the lair (and toward her coming interrogation). His quiet support and steady presence had gotten her through so much already. After the Undertaking, when Oliver had disappeared without a word to either of them, Felicity had felt so lost, so guilty, so broken. She’d holed up in her apartment and watched the 24-hour coverage of the devastation and just cried. She’d done that for days, until John had come looking for her. He’d coaxed her out of her pajamas and out of her apartment. He’d brought her back into the real world. He’d kept her from obsessing over what she’d missed the night of the Undertaking. He’d also kept her from obsessing over Oliver (to a certain extent, at least). And when it had become clear to both of them that the city and the Queen family wouldn’t survive without Oliver, he’d helped her track him down and bring him home. John was her rock.

“'Okay' is probably a strong word. But I’ve survived a lot. I’ll survive this, too, John.” She stopped and squeezed his hand. “But thanks. You know I love you, right?”

John’s eyes crinkled as he pulled her into a quick hug. “I’m here. We’re here. Whatever you need.”

Felicity took a moment to soak in John’s calm support before turning to the massive ball of barely leashed frustration that was Oliver Queen. She’d barely had time to set her bag down next to her chair before he was striding her way, a carton of mint chip in one hand and his always handy bottle of Russian vodka in the other; then he turned and grabbed three shot glasses from the other side of her desk and poured them each a shot. “Mint chip. Vodka. Start talking.”

Diggle’s muttered, “Man…” drifted Felicity’s way as her eyes narrowed on Oliver’s stupid handsome face. “Yes, Oliver. I’m fine. You’re welcome for the 10 hours of work I put in today making sure you had everything you needed at QC while also enduring the snarky barbs of Isabel Rochev so you didn’t have to.”

Oliver was undeterred by her mini-rant. “Start. Talking.”

Felicity sighed, and picked up the shot glass. She swallowed it quickly and then laid it out as emotionlessly as she could: “Fine. Yes. I was involved with Bruce. I worked for Wayne Enterprises when I graduated from MIT. We were friendly then we were more than friends and then we were absolutely nothing. Somewhere in there, he also asked for some tech help for his side project. So I helped him. When he ended our personal relationship, he did so in a way that made remaining a part of his team entirely impossible. So I left. I took a job in IT at QC. I met you and John. That’s it.”

“‘That’s it.’ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I watched you commit physical violence today, Felicity. That’s not you.”

Felicity cringed; she wouldn’t take back a word she’d said to Bruce, but she did sort of wish she hadn’t hit him. Well, she wanted to wish that she hadn’t hit him. In the moment (and, if she was being honest with herself, in this moment, too), it had felt good to dish out a little pain. He’d hurt her so badly and then just moved on without a backward glance. Knowing she’d hurt him a little gave her just a bit of satisfaction. It might be petty, but it was true.

Turning her attention back to Digg and Oliver, Felicity admitted, “Look, it wasn’t my finest moment. And I don’t know what Bruce’s agenda is here, but I’ll find out. Just give me a little time.”

“Except your ex knows my secret, our secret. That’s just what we fucking need, Felicity, Bruce Wayne on our back!”

“So sorry to bring my ex drama to the lair, Oliver; I guess we should just wait for your ex to bury us all beneath the jail!”

Oliver’s face went from annoyed (and maybe, Felicity thought to herself, a little jealous) to enraged in no time flat: “Don’t talk to me about Laurel…”

Felicity couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t. She knew Laurel was grieving, that she’d lost something, someone, precious, but Laurel was hell bent on bringing down the vigilante by any means necessary. Oliver might not be willing to admit it, but it was clear to Felicity that there were no lines Laurel wouldn’t cross when it came to capturing the Arrow. And the fact that Oliver was totally blind to the real danger they were all in because of Laurel made Felicity so angry she could barely express it. Still, she bit out, “God forbid someone mention the almighty Laurel, right Oliver? Perfect, precious Laurel, whose only goal in life at the moment is to see you in handcuffs, along with anyone who helps you!”

Oliver opened his mouth no doubt with some scathing response (a defense of Laurel, Felicity was sure) just as his burner phone rang. With a humorless laugh, Felicity turned away, “Better answer Laurel’s call. I need some air.” With that Felicity climbed the stairs to the alley and left Oliver to his all important call with the brunette beauty.

***
“Well, don't worry,” Laurel intoned with faux sweetness, “your life is over. Your life as a free man. I told you to stay away. Somehow I knew you wouldn't listen.”

And at that moment, when Oliver was faced with a dozen SWAT officers with rifles trained on his head, he wondered if Felicity was psychic or just had truly spectacular insight into all the ways that his past was going to eventually come back to bite him in the ass.

Chapter Text

Oliver had been outnumbered and outgunned before. On the Island. In Hong Kong. In Russia. And on a nearly weekly basis since he decided to don the hood to save Starling. But his current predicament was among the first times he’d genuinely wondered if there was any way out. As he faced off with the dozen – wait, make that sixteen – heavily armed officers and a stone-faced Laurel, he thought again that perhaps he’d have done well to listen to Felicity about his blindspot when it came to Laurel Lance. He’d just never imagined that she’d go this far, and that lack of imagination might well land him in prison for the rest of his days.

Still, he had to try to reason with her. “I’m not your enemy,” he said firmly.

“Then put your weapon down,” she shot back.

And he considered it, really considered dropping his bow, removing his hood, and revealing himself to Laurel and the growing number (twenty-two now, by his quick count) of SCPD officers.

He didn’t have a chance to respond, though, before a black-leather-clad woman crashed through the ceiling and a high-pitched shriek filled the air. Every window around them shattered, and as the officers and Laurel dropped and covered their ears, Oliver followed his masked rescuer out the window.

***

Oliver returned to the foundry with more information than he’d had when he left. One, he was absolutely certain that Felicity was right about Laurel: there was no line she wouldn’t cross to put the vigilante behind bars. Two, the masked woman in black leather definitely had an agenda that was connected to him and his mission. And he was beginning to suspect that the connection might be personal. There was something else, too: the way she’d moved had been so intensely familiar, as was her silhouette in the moonlight. But, he reminded himself, it couldn’t be her. She was dead. He’d watched her die. Twice. Hadn’t he? Though, given that she’d come back from the apparent dead before, maybe he shouldn’t dismiss his suspicions quite so quickly.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Felicity turned, stark relief on her face. “Thank god,” she breathed and moved toward him before stopping a few feet from her desk. “How did you get out of there?”

Oliver stored his bow in its case and turned back to Felicity and John: “I had help from a masked blonde woman in black.”

Felicity smiled. “I knew I liked her. Kicking would-be rapists’ asses and saving yours. A woman after my own heart.”

Oliver shook his head at that, then asked, “Do we have any more info on her?”

“Just what we knew before: she’s been working the Glades for a few weeks. She’s particularly drawn to crimes against women. And she’s not taking any prisoners, but she’s also not dropping bodies, at least not permanently.”

Oliver started to ask Felicity more about the other vigilante’s movements when Felicity’s phone rang. “Lance,” she told Oliver and Digg. “Hi, Detective.”
***

Oliver reached the ledge of the building downtown a few moments before Detective Lance did, and stood waiting.

When Lance stepped out on the roof and turned his way, Oliver greeted him: “Detective. So, Ms. Smoak gives you a way to call me now? What can I do for you?”

“She vouches for you. And I need to know I can trust you.”

“With what, detective?”

“Barton Mathis. The media calls him the Doll Maker. 'Cause he suffocates his victims with a flexible polymer that he pours down their throats and then he dresses them up like dolls. I put him away. Because of the quake, he’s out, and he’s killing again.”

Lance pulled a rolled up file folder from his back pocket and handed it to Oliver. “This is what I have. And I need your help with this monster.”

“Alright, Detective, but we’re going to do things my way.”

“No bodies. I mean it.”

“I told you I’m trying a different way. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to like my methods.”

***
If you asked Quentin Lance later, as he watched the vigilante put an arrow in the shoulder of Tony Daniel, Mathis’ most recent lawyer, he would confirm that he did not, in fact, like the Arrow’s methods. But he’d also admit that he was relieved that at least those methods were leading to useful information.

Still, between the assault on Daniel and the breaking and entering at the private lab that was processing the samples from the Doll Maker’s latest victim, he was feeling more than a little uneasy. He refocused on the task at hand, though, when he heard the Arrow speak. “You're up, Felicity.”

Lance couldn’t help but notice the slight smile on the masked man’s face, though, when he spoke to his partner, and he couldn’t resist poking the bear a little: “So, this is what a typical night's like for you, huh? Just a little breaking and entering with your best girl in your ear?”

Before Oliver could respond, though, Felicity was back and talking them through the results, cross-referencing the new results with the old case file, and generally making connections at the speed of light, including pinning down the exact kind of skin cream worn by all the victims. So, when the Detective asked Oliver “how the hell” Felicity could do all that, all Oliver could do was smile to himself and shrug. “She’s a genius.” Lance laughed, “How’d you get her to help you, then?” “I asked. Now, I mostly just thank god that she said yes when I did.”

Chapter Text

“Absolutely fucking not,” Oliver cut in loudly before Felcitiy even finished her sentence. “You’re not putting yourself in the crosshairs of a fucking serial killer, Felicity. I forbid it.”

“You what? I can’t have heard you correctly. You did not just forbid me from doing something.”

“I fucking did. He’s a murderer, and you’re going nowhere near him.”

“I’m sorry. Did I miss the part where I asked you for permission?”

“Alright. Alright,” Digg cut in before the vein on Oliver’s forehead got any bigger or Felicity’s face turned any redder. “But Felicity, he’s right. This is dangerous.”

Turning to Diggle, she raised an eyebrow and returned hotly, “More dangerous than going undercover in a mob casino or jumping out of a plane? It’s my life.” She looked back at Oliver. “It’s my life. It’s my choice.”

Oliver looked like he wanted to argue, but seeing the stubborn set of Felicity’s jaw as her eyes bored into his, he knew he’d already lost this argument.

“Fuck. Fine. But we’re all covering you, me, Diggle, Lance. And at the first hint of trouble, you run. Your safety is the top priority, Felicity. And if I tell you to run, you run.”

Even as he agreed, Oliver had the strongest urge to pick Felicity up and lock her away somewhere he could be sure she’d be safe. And he was thrown for a moment: he’d always cared about her. From that first day in her cubicle, he’d felt protective of her just as he was fascinated and amused by her. Having people in his life that he cared about and relied on felt foreign after his years away. But almost immediately, Felicity had become one of those people.

But something had shifted since she’d shown up on Lian Yu to drag his ass back to Starling. The need to protect her now came with an edge of desperation and a deep fear that if he lost her, he wouldn’t recover from the loss.

And he could admit, if only to himself, that the scene with Wayne the previous day had caused a new kind of panic to take root in his sternum. It wasn’t just the normal fear that he could lose her because of the life he led. Now there was an almost equally strong fear that he could lose her to another life. Another man. It was jealousy. Knowing that Wayne knew her in ways that Oliver didn’t was starting to drive him slowly insane. He needed to know more about her relationship with Wayne. And he needed to figure out his own feelings because he was starting to suspect that he’d never be satisfied being just Felicity’s friend or partner in the mission.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Digg’s quiet, “You okay, man?”

“Honestly, no. I’m not okay. Very not okay.”

“I can see that. You might want to think about why that is and exactly what you’re going to do about it. That girl is not going to wait for you forever. We both know that Wayne didn’t bring his ass across three time zones just to threaten her. He’s here to get her back. And I’m counting on you to pull your head out of your ass in time to make sure that we don’t lose our girl.”

***
As Felicity walked out of the last store in Starling that carried Mermaiden, she pressed her finger to the comm in her ear and let the rest of the team know, “Alright. Leaving the last store. Oh, and Oliver, you're going to reimburse me for these, right? I saved my receipts.”

Despite the tension between them (because of Wayne and Laurel and because Felicity insisted on putting herself in the path of a psycho), Oliver couldn't help but chuckle. Still, he put on his serious voice as he told her, “Go to the rendezvous point. Stay in public.”

As Felicity headed away from the shop and toward their meeting place a few blocks away, Lance chimed in on the two-way channel he shared just with Oliver, “Just for the record, I'm not a huge fan of dangling helpless girls in front of psychopaths like meat.”

“She volunteered,” Oliver replied gruffly.

“Well, she must really believe in you,” Lance shot back.

Before Oliver could respond, Felicity called out breathlessly, “Somebody’s coming.”

Oliver tensed, but blew out a breath when she spoke again: “False alarm, but next time I offer to be bait for your serial killer, please turn me down.”

As she turned the corner into the alley, though, Felicity ran directly into a clearly unhinged but smiling Barton Mathis. As Mathis tried to drag her further into the alley, Felicity fought back, dragging her feet and struggling against his hold. She knew her backup was coming, that Oliver was coming. She just had to hold her own long enough for him to get there.

And in less than a minute, there he was.

As soon as Barton clocked the Arrow hot on his trail, he shoved Felicity aside and took off. Oliver reached her in seconds. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was reassuring her or himself. Probably both, honestly. “I’ve got you.” He cradled her head, checking for injuries and trying to swallow around the sheer terror that was filling his throat.

He wanted to say more, but Diggle arrived, and Oliver knew he needed to try to catch Mathis before he found another victim. “I’ve got her,” Diggle told him. “Go.”

And so Oliver went, but not without another long look at Felicity and a promise to himself that he’d find a time to talk to her and figure out what the hell they were doing.

***
Hours later, back at the foundry, a frustrated Oliver slammed his bow back into its case. “We almost had him! He’s going to be out there now looking for another victim!”

“I hacked Mermaiden’s vendor list and sent an email to all the stores telling them the product is defective. That should slow him down at least a little.”

Despite himself, he smiled at Felicity’s quick thinking. “Smart.”

“Thanks.”

Oliver glanced behind him to see Diggle heading up the stairs and out the door into the alley behind Verdant. “Look, Felicity, about our fight before…”

“Which fight before? About Laurel? About Bruce? Or about you trying to forbid me from doing something?”

“Can we call it a blanket ‘before’? ‘Cause I think all three of those are coming from the same root cause. I…care about you.”

“I care about you, too, Oliver. But you’re not now, nor have you ever been the boss of me.”

“I know that. But when I think about you in the field, in danger, in a compromising position with Wayne, I…”

“You what, Oliver?”

“I hate it. I want you to be safe. I need you to be safe.”

He stepped closer to her, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Do you understand? I need you to be safe.”

“What exactly are we talking about here, Oliver? Because it doesn’t sound like this is just about the field or the mission. But I need you to be explicit here.”

“Explicitly, I have the overwhelming urge at the moment to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

Felicity’s breath hitched. Had he really said that? What was happening?

Oliver moved closer, herding her back until her thighs hit the desk behind her. Felicity’s breath hitched again and her eyes focused on his mouth moving her way. He was going to kiss her. Oliver was finally going to kiss her. Finally. And yes, it was going to make everything more complicated, but at the moment, Felicity just couldn’t find it in herself to care.

When his lips were less than a hair’s breadth away from her mouth, though, the police scanner roared to life: “Officer Quentin Lance and his daughter, ADA Laurel Lance, have been abducted. No ransom has been demanded.”

Oliver froze, and Felicity watched him close his eyes as if in pain. He opened them again and searched hers. “We’re not done here. But we’ve got to find them.”

Oliver stepped back, and Felicity took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded: “I’ll start with the cameras from the precinct parking lot and go from there.”

***

Even later that night, with Laurel and Lance safe and Mathis dead, Oliver once again watched the masked blonde woman disappear. He was almost certain now that he knew her, and he was right; this was personal. And he had a lot of questions, starting with just how many times Sara Lance was going to come back from the dead.

Chapter Text

“Sara Lance? Laurel’s sister? The Detective’s other daughter? The one that you took on The Gambit with you even though you were dating Laurel at the time, which we never talked about. That feels like something we should maybe talk about because earlier…”

“Felicity, please.”

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just – isn’t she dead? You said she died when The Gambit went down.”

Digg cut in from his place across the platform, “You lied.”

Oliver heard Felicity’s quickly drawn breath and looked at his hands, clenched in front of him. He tried to find the words to explain to his best friend and the woman he…he wasn’t sure how to finish that thought at the moment, actually. But he wasn’t sure how to explain to these two inherently good people (who always tried to see the good in others) the precise hell that had been his life from the moment the storm hit The Gambit until he met the two of them after his return to Starling. But he knew he had to try: “When the boat went down, Sara disappeared beneath the water. I searched for her for hours, begged my father to turn the dinghy around and move back toward the wreckage. But she was just gone. I was sure she was dead. But a year later I saw her…” Oliver paused, unsure of how to explain Ivo and Slade and Shado and the tortuous weeks that followed Sara’s first return.

At his silence, Felicity asked, voice quiet but stunned, “Why didn’t you tell the Lances she didn’t die on the boat? They blamed you. They still blame you.”

“They should. It was my fault. All of it. The Gambit and everything after. It was my fault.”

Frustrated with the lack of answers and Oliver’s dedication to taking all responsibility and blame, whatever the situation, Diggle bit out, “Well, where the hell has she been all these years Oliver?”

“I swear to god, Diggle, I was sure she was dead.”

“All right, so just to make sure I understand this correctly, after not drowning when The Gambit went down, Sara didn't exactly make it to the island with you, where you would see her die yet again. Feel free to fill in the blanks, Oliver.”

“Not right now.”

“You mean not ever, don’t you, Oliver?” Diggle shot back.

Felicity’s quiet, teary voice sounded from behind him, and it cut Oliver to his core, “Don’t you think the Lances had the right to know that she made it to the island, too?”

And at that, Oliver broke. He just broke. “These were five years! Five years where nothing good happened! They were better off not knowing!”

Oliver couldn’t stand it anymore. The judgment on John’s face. The tears in Felicity’s eyes. He needed to get out of there. He stopped, though, at John’s words as he passed: “You know, Oliver, somebody once told me that secrets have weight. The more you keep, the harder it is to keep moving.”

Oliver scoffed, “You see how hard I work out.” And with that, he was up the stairs and out the door.

***

Instead of heading back to QC, though, as he’d planned, Oliver found himself back in his street clothes, on his bike, and headed back toward the east side of the Glades. Given what Felicity had discovered about Sara’s movements over the last few weeks, he had some ideas about where she might be staying.

As he drove, though, his mind turned to his interrupted moment with Felicity, which was, perhaps, the only good moment in a truly shitty few days. God, he wished he had kissed her. He wanted to kiss her, had been so close. He’d watched her pupils dilate as he moved closer, watched her eyes fall closed, and her breath puff out. And then the radio erupted with news of Lance and Laurel’s abduction, and the moment shattered. But still, their almost kiss was firmly fixed in his mind, and he knew, when he finally kissed her, it was going to be more than anything he’d had before. And yeah, that was pretty fucking terrifying for a man like him, one whose demons had demons. But even still, he couldn’t wait.

***

Oliver checked a few of the places he thought Sara might be holed up but came up empty at each one, so, frustrated, he returned to Verdant. He parked his bike beneath the fire escape and was headed toward the back entrance to the club, when he caught movement from his left. Turning quickly, he saw Sara, now in street clothes, staring at him from the shadows.

“Did you tell my family I’m alive?” she demanded before he could speak.

“No. What would I tell them anyway? I saw you die.”

“Well, Ollie, it wasn't like it was the first time, right?” Oliver silently agreed. It wasn’t the first time he’d watched Sara die, but he was hoping to god that it would be the last. He didn’t have a lot of friends left in the world, and whatever else had happened between them, Sara had always been his friend. Watching her now, though, seeing her shift her weight from foot to foot, antsy and hyperaware, Oliver wondered again where she’d been. He wondered what she’d had to do to survive, what other nightmares she’d had to endure. 

“Where have you been, Sara?” he asked quietly. He waited a few more tense moments, and realizing that she had no intention of answering his question about her whereabouts for the last five years, Oliver sighed, “Why are you here? In Starling?” 

Sara just stared, again extending the tense silence between them. Finally, she murmured, “The quake. My family. I…”

Oliver nodded, and since it was after 4 am, he led Sarah into a now quiet Verdant and closed the door behind them. “Right. You wanted to make sure your family was safe. But now you're still here, watching over them. Protecting them. So, did you come here tonight to make sure I didn't tell them? Or because you were hoping I had?”

Sara simply stared at him again. He could see the indecision on her face. He understood it, had lived it himself. Was it better or worse for the people they loved to know these colder, harder, less human versions of themselves? Or was it better not to know and for their families to be able to hold on to the memories they’d left behind when they’d set sail on The Gambit all those years ago? Oliver honestly wasn’t sure himself whether returning to his old life had been the right decision. And he wouldn’t pressure Sara to do the same. Well, he wouldn’t pressure her much: “Let me just say one more thing, and then I want to show you some stuff downstairs. If I tell your father, if I tell Laurel that you’re alive, if they learn the truth, they will never, ever talk to me again. They will hate me until my dying breath. But it would be worth it if it meant you got to really come home. Just think about it, okay?”

Sara watched him quietly, then nodded but otherwise didn’t respond. Oliver sighed again and walked toward the basement door. “Come on. While you think about the future, let me show you what I’ve been working on since my own return from the dead.”

***

In Oliver's office at QC the next morning, Diggle and Felicity sat in silence listening to Oliver describe his most recent encounter with Sara. Diggle was glad that Oliver and Sara had talked and that Oliver was encouraging Sara to reach out to her family. Having lost Andy, Diggle knew just how much it would mean to the Lances to have Sara back, and he hoped she made the right decision. 

He zoned back in to Oliver’s voice just as he said, “So, I told Sara she could use the Foundry whenever she needed to. Felicity, she’ll need a code. Send it to her when you have a chance.”

Oliver didn’t seem to notice the tension that entered Felicity’s body as he talked about giving Sara access to what she not-so-secretly called the Arrowcave. John cut in, “Sorry. Did you invite Sara to join the team?”

Oliver seemed unfazed (and unaware of the tension in the room) as he replied, “Sure. We can trust her.”

Felicity made a choked noise and rose from the chair she’d been occupying across from Diggle. “Right,” she said. “Right. I’m just going to go…be…somewhere else.” With a quick, cutting look at Oliver, Felicity headed out of his office and toward the door to the stairwell.

Diggle turned to find a confused looking Oliver staring after her. He glanced at Diggle. “What?”

“Man, I generally find you to be a pretty smart guy, but for some reason, when it comes to that woman, you are dumber than a box of rocks.”

“Seriously? What?”

“Did you or did you not just invite one of your ex-girlfriends to make herself at home in the space that Felicity designed and maintains, her home away from home, the place where she spends more time than her own apartment? A place she created with you in mind as a special gift for you when we coaxed you back from the island? And did you do that without asking for her input? And after what I’m guessing must have been a pretty intense moment between the two of you that, and again just guessing here, you haven’t actually talked to her about since it happened?”

Well, shit, Oliver thought. He was fairly certain that he’d once understood women pretty well, but it seemed when it came to Felicity, he really was kind of an idiot.

“Fuck.”

Diggle could help but agree. 

Chapter Text

Felicity was exhausted as she exited the stairwell on the roof of QC. She was just so tired. Tired of the push and pull with Oliver. Tired of having to face Oliver’s gorgeous exes at every turn. Tired of so often feeling like an afterthought to someone who was a priority for her. Didn’t she deserve to be a priority? She didn’t have to be his top priority. She knew the mission would likely always come first, his sister, his mom, but did she also have to place behind his loyalty to the Lance sisters?

Over the last 24 hours, their almost kiss had been pretty much all she’d been able to think about in her quiet moments. She’d thought about his breath on her face. The way he’d tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and then dragged his finger down her cheek. How he’d backed her into the edge of her desk and caged her in with his arms. How it had felt to have his hands on her hips. She’d thought about what it was like to be the object of Oliver’s entire focus. And while she’d been obsessing about all that, Oliver was apparently inviting his gorgeous ex-girlfriend into their secret lair and onto their team.

Felicity exhaled sharply as the door to the roof opened to reveal John Diggle.

“Felicity…”

“Sorry, John; I just needed a moment to catch my breath.”

“Look, that boy might be a dumbass sometimes, but he cares about you. And at some point, you’re going to have to stick around and fight for what you actually want from him.”

Felicity felt her cheeks heat as she glanced up at John. “I don’t…”

“Don’t tell me you ‘don’t know what’ I’m talking about Felicity. I know you both better than you sometimes know yourselves. I know something must have happened – or almost happened – the other night, and I know that both of you need to actually bite the bullet and talk to each other. Be honest with each other.”

Felicity had a feeling that Digg was right. Her instinct here was to shut down or walk away when things got uncomfortable with Oliver. If her relationship with Bruce had taught her anything, it was that she needed to protect herself. Self-preservation hadn’t always been her strong suit. But if she wanted an actual resolution that moved them forward – whether that was as friends and teammates or more than that – she was going to have to talk, really talk, to Oliver.

“I hear you, John. But it’s hard. I’m not sure even he knows what he wants from me, and that makes the prospect of putting myself out there feel a little like a suicide mission.”

“One of you is going to have to be brave here. And I don’t want you to live with the regret that comes from not doing everything you can to hold on to the people who matter. Relationships are always a risk. Be brave, Felicity.”

Finished imparting his wisdom, Digg turned on his heel and headed back downstairs.

Felicity spent a few more minutes gathering her wits and thinking about what John had said. She needed to figure out what she wanted from Oliver and what she was willing to risk for the chance at something more. And then she needed to put on her big girl pants and sit down for an actual conversation with the man who she couldn’t seem to walk away from.

***

Since Diggle and Oliver weren’t planning much more than basic patrols in the neighborhood around Verdant, Felicity decided to take a rare evening off. If she didn’t do laundry soon, she was going to be in real trouble. Mentally reviewing the chores she’d been avoiding for the last few weeks, Felicity turned the key in the deadbolt and shoved open the door without looking up from the bags she was juggling.

Suddenly, though, she sensed more than saw movement in front of her and, without thinking, swung the largest of her bags (currently filled with a mix of file folders and computer parts, not to mention the book on Ada Lovelace she’d been trying to finish for the last few weeks) at the large shadow in front of her. The muttered “Oof” followed by “what the hell do you have in there?” clued her into the fact that the shadow was human and belonged to someone she’d really rather not have to deal with right now.

“You know, Bruce, it’s pretty fucking creepy to break into a woman’s apartment and wait for her in the dark.”

Bruce chuckled. “You seem to be a little more liberal with the ‘fucks’ than I remember, ‘Lis.”

“I’m not sure you’re remembering all that clearly, Bruce. Besides, I liked you then, so I was significantly less likely to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

Bruce laughed again, “I see.”

Felicity sighed. “What do you want Bruce? It’s been a long day, and all I really want is a shower, my pajamas, and an enormous glass of wine. So say whatever you came to say, level whatever threats you need to level, and leave me alone. Please.”

Bruce stared at her a beat, and Felicity held his gaze. He looked away first, took a deep breath, and said two words Felicity had never heard him use: “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Felicity was genuinely stunned. Even before everything went so wrong between them, she had never heard Bruce Wayne apologize. To anyone. For any reason.

“You’re sorry?” Felicity asked.

“I am. I took a redeye from Gotham, landed in Starling, and ambushed you in your office an hour later. I was an asshole. I was an asshole two days ago, and I was an asshole four years ago. I’d like to explain, though, if I can, if you’ll let me.”

Felicity eyed him suspiciously. But Bruce held her gaze, offering her a half smile when the silence stretched between them. Finally, Felicity nodded.

Bruce blew out a breath and turned more fully to her, “Here’s the thing. I’m not great at…caring about people. I’m sure any therapist worth their hourly rate would tell you that the trauma of what happened to my parents is to blame. That’s probably true. But it’s also true that I’ve lived long enough to know that relationships, romantic and not, are a lot of work, and I’m ill-equipped for the work they require. And there’s also the fact that when I feel fear I respond with anger. All of that combined means that twice now, instead of talking to you like an equal, someone I,” he paused for a few seconds here, “care about, I went with angry demands. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s been more than four years, Bruce, and this is the first time I’ve seen or heard from you since you paid me off like a not-at-all-cheap hooker with a severance check. So forgive me if it’s a little hard to believe you’ve been harboring all this remorse.”

“You’re right. I should have handled it differently back then, and I should have come to you with an apology and explanation sooner. But the truth is, Felicity, you scared the ever-loving shit out of me back then. You were a 20-year-old girl…”

“Woman.”

He smiled, and dipped his chin to acknowledge her correction: “...woman, and you were more emotionally healthy and level-headed than I had any hope of being. I had no idea what to do with that. And then you started talking about reliving your hacktivist days, going out in the field, and the fear was overwhelming. So I did the only thing in my relationship wheelhouse: I made it so you had to walk away. And I told myself that was for the best, that us being done was for the best. For both of us.”

Felicity wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d thought she’d mostly come to terms what Bruce had done to her, gotten past the pain of how things ended. But now, she felt something unclench inside of her at his apology. Maybe this was what closure felt like? She opened her mouth to respond when Bruce stepped closer, into her physical space. He wasn’t touching her, but the space between them narrowed from a couple of feet to just a few inches. Felicity glanced up quickly, startled by his movement.

“But when that woman showed up, talking about you and your skills and your work with the Starling City vigilante, I knew I was lying to myself. I wasn’t done with you four years ago. I’m not done now.”

Felicity stood, still frozen, as Bruce erased the remaining inches between them and pressed his mouth to hers. His hands were on her cheeks, then in her hair, then moving down the slope of her shoulders to her back. And she was so tempted to melt into him; his mouth was familiar, and she knew exactly how much pleasure could come from that mouth and those hands, which were now sliding to her hips to pull her even closer to his body.

“Motherfucker!”

Suddenly, with her front door still reverberating after slamming back against the wall of her entry way, Bruce was yanked from in front of her.

She watched, stunned, as Oliver’s fist connected with Bruce’s face. Bruce’s head snapped back with the momentum of the punch, and Oliver pulled his arm back to send another left hook at the other man’s jaw.

Felicity came out of her shock, and shouted quickly, “Oliver! No!”

Oliver’s fist connected again. But the blow seemed a bit less intense than the last, and Bruce recovered more quickly, coming back at Oliver with a right hook of his own. Oliver staggered back two steps, reset, and started back after his opponent. Before they could clobber each other again, though, Felicity made a mad grab for both men.

Afraid of hurting the blonde woman now standing between them, Bruce and Oliver each took two steps back and glared alternately at Felicity and one another.

“There will be absolutely no brawls in my apartment. Both of you, calm down now. Bruce, I think it’s best if you go.”

“We’re not done talking, ‘Lis,” Bruce returned, looking serious. “There’s more to say, more you need to know about the danger this douchebag is putting you in.”

“Fuck you, Wayne,” Oliver growled as he moved to step between Bruce and Felicity.

“You think you can take me? Let’s see what you’ve got,” Bruce taunted.

As Oliver tried once more to get at Bruce, Felicity quickly intervened: “Absolutely not! Bruce, go.”

“Fine, Felicity. But I’ll be back in the morning so we can finish this conversation.”

“She’ll be a little busy in the morning,” Oliver shot back, voice full of innuendo.

Felicity saw Bruce tense, but before another punch was thrown she cut in again. “Bruce. Go. Now.”

Clearly unhappy but seemingly resigned, Bruce headed out the door, which was still standing wide open after Oliver’s dramatic entrance.

Felicity blew out a breath, walked over to shut the door, and then turned to the large man seething behind her. Before she got a word out, though, Oliver’s hands were in her hair and she was falling forward into his body. With a growl, he pressed his lips to hers and yanked her to his chest. There was no conscious thought before she was kissing him back, her hands grasping his head and then running through his close-cropped hair.

Oliver’s mouth softened, and he touched his tongue to the seam of her lips; Felicity’s lips parted of their own accord, and she groaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. His hands, which had been in her hair then at the small of her back, slipped lower as he palmed her ass and brought her lower body into direct contact with his. She could feel him, huge and hard, behind his zipper, and she made her own move to grab his ass and grind more firmly against him.

Oliver groaned at the increased contact and started to shuffle them back toward Felicity’s couch. That, Felicity thought, was an excellent idea. They needed a horizontal surface. More contact. Just more of everything, really.

As Felicity tipped backward onto the couch with a little laugh, though, there was a pounding on the door.

Oliver went from turned on to pissed off (but honestly, still very turned on) in a second. Stalking toward Felicity’s door before she could move, Oliver bit out, “I’ll fucking kill Wayne. I swear to God.”

But when Oliver flung open the door, it wasn’t Bruce Wayne on the other side. It was a panicked looking John Diggle.

“John?” Oliver asked.

“What do you know about the prisons in Russia?”

Chapter Text

It was never fun to wake up in Amanda Waller’s company, but John Diggle was even less pleased to see her than he would be under normal circumstances.

“Good Evening, Mr. Diggle. Thank you so much for joining us. I’m Amanda Waller; I don’t believe we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting in person.”

“You had them stun-gun me. Really, Ms. Waller?”

“We needed to talk, and I was in no mood for an argument with you, Mr. Diggle.”

“And here I thought you ARGUS guys were supposed to be more subtle,” John said as he worked to rub some feeling back into his wrists. He stared hard at the woman in front of him; he knew her by reputation, and no part of that reputation was good. He still couldn’t believe that Lyla, his Lyla, unfailingly idealistic Lyla, worked for this woman who had no compunction about murder or torture, so long as she could convince herself and/or her bosses that it was for the greater good.

Diggle refocused on Waller’s face when she spoke again, “For us, this was subtle.” She smirked down at him.

“Right. Sure,” Diggle scoffed. “I want to see Lyla Michaels.”

“So do I, Mr. Diggle, but Agent Michaels has gone dark.”

John froze. “What? Lyla’s missing? What the hell happened?”

Waller took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, as she shared, “Agent Michaels was running down a lead in Moscow. But she’s missed two call-ins. We last pinged her near the warehouse district on the south side of the city. But we’ve heard some rumblings that she might have been picked up by city authorities.”

“And what exactly are you doing about it?” John nearly shouted

“Talking to you, Mr. Diggle,” she replied calmly. "I’m talking to you.” She paused, sending him a look full of meaning. “Sending in an extraction team could cause an international incident. My hands are tied. Yours, on the other hand, seem to be perfectly free.”

“What are you suggesting I do here, Ms. Waller?”

“Well, Mr. Diggle, I know how you and Oliver Queen spend your nights. And I know your passport is up to date. I also know that the lead Lyla was tracking down was one on Floyd Lawton.”

John’s gaze shot back to Waller, and his stomach dropped to his toes. “Lyla was in Russia for me.”

Waller stepped closer, “Agent Michaels is an asset I can’t easily replace. I suspect you find her similarly irreplaceable. Bring her home, Mr. Diggle, for both our sakes.”

***
John pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed first Oliver, then Felicity. When neither answered, he used the program Felicity installed on all three of their phones that allowed them to ping one another’s location in case of an emergency. And this, John decided, was absolutely an emergency.

When he saw that both phones showed up near Felicity’s apartment, John couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe both of them were finally getting their heads together about each other. Too bad he was going to have to interrupt whatever heart-to-heart was happening at the moment. He needed Oliver’s knowledge about Moscow and the Russian prison system, and he needed it now.

***
Oliver’s tension was clear on his face and in his body when he yanked open the door to Felicity’s apartment.

The anger on his face morphed to confusion and then concern, though, when he saw the look in John’s eye. “John?”

“What do you know about the prisons in Russia?”

***

Felicity returned to her living room with two cups of coffee. She set one on the table next to where Oliver stood and pushed the other into John’s hands then sat next to him on her couch.

“She went to Russia looking for Deadshot. She went for me,” John told them. His eyes slid shut as if he was in physical pain.

“What can we do, John?” Felicity asked quietly. John shook his head. His plan thus far was just: get to Russia. Get Lyla. He wasn’t sure how to do either, though.

Oliver’s voice broke through his thoughts: “I think it’s time we visited our Queen Consolidated subsidiary in Moscow.”

Oliver glanced at Felicity, who beamed back at him. “I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Queen.”

***
Felicity shut the door behind a clearly exhausted and worried Diggle. They’d agreed it was best for each of them to pack a bag, try to get some rest, and regroup in the morning. They could leave for Russia early in the day and be on the ground by 11 am local time the day after. In the interim, Felicity would hack what records she could find to try to trace Lyla’s movements, and Oliver would reach out to his Bratva contacts to get information and secure what they’d need once they landed.

Felicity turned back to Oliver, who was standing by the window behind her couch, looking contemplatively out into the dark.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she asked as she curled up in the overstuffed chair a few feet away.

Oliver turned to her and smiled a little sadly. “I was thinking that we keep getting interrupted. I was also thinking that I don’t really want you to see the man I am in Russia. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to stay here?”

Felicity laughed. “Yeah. No. Not a chance.”

Oliver sighed, “That’s what I thought.” He started to say more about the (amazing) kiss they’d shared earlier when Felicity yawned.

Oliver wondered then what it would be like to crawl into bed with her. Not for sex. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted the sex, all the sex, but he also wanted the daily comfort of just being with her. Going to sleep with her. Waking up with her. That’s what he wanted. Which meant, for now, he needed to back off, let her get some rest, and not push too hard.

“I’m going to go. But I want you to know that I don’t regret kissing you, and I absolutely intend to do it again. Soon.”

With that, Oliver walked to a slightly stunned looking Felicity and pressed a kiss to her hair. Then, he turned toward her door and headed back out into the night, murmuring quietly as he pulled the door closed, “Don't forget to lock this after me.”

Chapter Text

The morning had started so well, Felicity thought. She’d woken up thinking about her kiss with Oliver. She knew there were still lots of things they needed to figure out, but last night felt like they’d turned a corner. She smiled to herself at the thought.

It was also a good morning because (miracle of all miracles, given how tired she’d been) before crawling into bed last night, she’d remembered to set the coffee maker to turn on automatically, which meant she also woke to the smell of fresh coffee. Hallelujah.

The morning started to take a turn, though, when the black Town Car pulled onto the tarmac next to the QC jet.

“Did we forget something?” Diggle asked, looking just as confused as Felicity felt.

The mystery was solved, though, when a stone-faced (but still, unfortunately, gorgeous) Isabel Rochev emerged from the back of the car.

Diggle’s muttered “shit!” perfectly expressed Felicity’s own feelings on this latest development.

Isabel’s eyes narrowed on Oliver and Felicity, standing close together a few feet from the base of the QC plane’s stairs. She walked toward them, tucking her sunglasses away in the black weekender bag hanging from her arm. She looked again at Felicity, and then pursed her lips and turned her attention to Oliver, “Now, now partner, where are we headed?"

“Just a quick trip to…” Oliver began.

“A quick trip to Russia?” Isabel cut in. “What kind of partner decides to interact with our overseas holdings behind the other one's back?”

Isabel’s simpering tone grated on Felicity’s nerves, and she had the overwhelming urge to plant her fist in Isabel’s face. She wondered whether this was how Oliver felt about Bruce. Huh. Something to ponder.

Oliver glanced quickly between Diggle (who was vibrating with urgency) and Felicity (who, if looks could kill, would be about to stand trial for Isabel’s murder). And then he looked back at the stubborn tilt of Isabel’s jaw and resigned himself to an excruciating fifteen hours in the air with her. “It was an oversight,” he lied baldly.

Isabel inclined her head in Oliver’s direction and walked past Diggle and Felicity and onto the waiting plane.

“This is bad news, man,” Diggle said quietly as he, too, walked past Oliver and to the base of the plane’s steps.

“I’ll take care of Isabel…” Oliver turned quickly when he heard a snort from Felicity. With a brief quelling look in Felicity’s direction, Oliver turned back to Diggle and continued reassuring his friend. “I’ll take care of Isabel, and we’ll get Lyla back. If it takes calling in every favor and then some, we’ll bring Lyla home safe, John. I promise.”

Diggle searched Oliver’s gaze, and finding whatever reassurances he needed that his friend was in this with him, he headed up the stairs and onto the plane.

Oliver turned back to Felicity and smiled, “After you.”

Feeling the need to regain the upper hand in her quickly shifting relationship with Oliver, Felicity whispered as she passed, “Mr. Queen, if I didn’t know better, I’d guess you just want to watch my ass in this skirt as I climb the stairs.”

“Guilty.”

***

They were only about an hour from stopping in London to refuel when Oliver glanced over to find Isabel – finally – asleep. He waited a few minutes, watching to make sure she was actually out, then made his way to the back of the plane where Felicity and Diggle had taken seats when they’d boarded in Starling City.

Felicity had spent the first few hours of the flight continuing her search for information on Lyla’s movements in the days leading up to her disappearance. When he’d checked on her a few hours ago, though, she’d fallen asleep on her laptop, a few strands of hair falling softly on her cheek and her glasses slightly askew.

John, on the other hand, had spent most of their time in the air staring out the window looking devastated. Oliver had watched his friend grow stiller, quieter, and obviously more dangerous, too. If Oliver hadn’t known before how much John Diggle loved his ex-wife, he would be absolutely sure of it now. That kind of love was rare but precious.

On that thought, Oliver's eyes slid back again to Felicity’s profile. As if sensing his scrutiny, she stirred, stretching in her seat and righting her glasses before looking up to find Oliver’s gaze fixed on her.

He smiled. He couldn’t help it. Despite the dire circumstances and the real danger they’d all face once they were on the ground in Moscow, she made him feel lighter than he had before her. Felicity returned his smile, but it fell from her lips when her eyes shifted left to see John still staring out the window, the same grim look on his face that’d he’d worn since last night.

Oliver glanced quickly back toward the front of the plane to find Isabel still sleeping, then made his way to the back of the plane. He looked back down at Felicity to ask quietly, “What have you learned?”

At his question, Diggle turned in his seat, worried eyes on Felicity, whose fingers were once more flying over the keys of her laptop.

“Waller’s intel was good. Lyla was apparently last seen on the south side of Moscow, near the edge of the Southern Administrative Okrug. But her trail abruptly disappeared about three and half days ago. At the same time, fresh rumors appeared in some corners of the dark web that an American intelligence agent had been captured, and the FSB had tasked the Moscow City Police with doing everything they could to keep her information out of the more hackable parts of the Russian justice system.”

Diggle exhaled, “Does any of that help us at all in actually finding her?”

“It could,” Oliver said thoughtfully. “It gives my contacts in Moscow a place to begin. They’ll know who to bribe to find out where she’s being held at the moment. This is good information, Digg. We’re going to find her and get her home.”

***
When they finally arrived in Moscow five hours later (after stopping in London for fuel and making the 3 ½ hour trip from London to the Sheremetyevo airport in the northwest part of the city), Oliver and Isabel cleared customs quickly while Felicity and Diggle spoke to another customs officer.

Oliver’s eyes remained glued to Felicity; he knew that Russian customs could get dicey, and he wanted to make sure she was okay.

Isabel, of course, noted the direction of his gaze. Narrowing her eyes on Oliver’s profile, she said pointedly, “I've arranged a meeting with the chief operating officer of our Moscow subsidiary tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. Try your hardest not to miss this one.”

Oliver turned back to his unwanted business partner and nodded. “You know,” he said, “I’m not this person you think I am.”

“I think that depends on whether or not you decided to borrow the company jet for a bit of fun with your very blonde assistant.”

“Excuse me?”

“A blonde IT girl all of a sudden gets promoted to be assistant to the CEO? There are only two ways that happens. One is nepotism, and she doesn't look like your cousin.”

“That ‘blonde IT girl’ has two masters degrees from MIT and has been head-hunted by every Fortune 500 company in the US and most of the largest corporations in Europe. The fact that she deigned to accept a position as my EA when she could be running the Applied Sciences division without breaking a sweat is a miracle for which I’m grateful pretty much every day. I’ve tried hard here, Isabel, to work with you cordially, but trust me on this: if you go after Felicity Smoak, you will regret it.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Queen?”

“I don’t need to threaten you. Ms. Smoak is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But honestly, yes, I am threatening you. You try to hurt her, you’ll be very sorry. I’ll see you for the meeting with QC-Moscow’s COO in the morning.”

With that, Oliver turned back to find Felicity and Diggle shameless eavesdropping on the exchange as Isabel stomped away. “Damn, man,” Digg muttered as he passed.

And Felicity? She beamed at him and stepped his way, grabbing his hand and moving them both toward the door.

Chapter Text

An hour later, though, as Oliver tried once again to explain to Felicity why he and Diggle were leaving her behind at the hotel, Felicity’s broad smiles were replaced by clear annoyance.

“You’re leaving me with her?!”

“Everything is set with Knyazev. Digg and I need to get a drink.”

“I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

“I’m not leading you into the middle of a Bratva bar. That’s not happening, Felicity.”

Before Felicity could argue her point (you know, that she was a grown adult and could make decisions for herself), Oliver went in for the kill shot: “I don’t like this part of my past,” he told Felicity quietly, “and I’d really rather you not see it in full color tonight. Please.”

Felicity huffed out a breath and nodded. “Fine.” Felicity could fight back against a lot, but she had no real defense for the sincerity she heard in his voice.

“Thank you.”

***

The pulsing music, smoky air, and strobe-effect lights all conspired to give Oliver a splitting headache the moment he entered Kamchatka (Anatoly’s favorite local bar) with Diggle.

And the headache didn’t get any better with Anatoly’s bombastic greeting, “Oliver! My favorite American!” Then more quietly in Russian, “It’s been too long.”

Oliver returned Anatoly’s hug, then turned to Diggle and replied in English, “It has been too long. John Diggle, this is Anatoly Knyazev.”

Diggle’s quick “Thanks for meeting us” betrayed only a little of his frustration, but Oliver could see the tension in the set of Diggle’s jaw and the forced stillness of his body.

Anatoly continued to play the jovial host. “Ah well, if Oliver vouches for you, you are my second favorite American!”

At that, Anatoly turned back to the group of men he’d been sitting with when Oliver and Diggle arrived and murmured something in Russian. Without waiting for a reply from his compatriots, Anatoly led Diggle and Oliver to a door in the back of the bar and then into the private office beyond it. The music there was less intense, and they were alone save for a far-too-young woman holding a tray with a bottle of vodka and three shot glasses.

Anatoly indicated they should sit and then nodded at the server, who placed the tray on the table and left them alone, closing the door behind her.

“First, a toast!” Anatoly boomed.

Diggle, now more visibly frustrated, demurred. “None for me, thanks.” But with a quick, loaded look from Oliver, Diggle took the glass and lifted it as both Oliver and Anatoly did the same. “Prochnost.” Oliver inclined his head, “To strength.”

Anatoly, seemingly satisfied with Diggle’s acquiescence, turned serious, and placed his empty glass in the middle of the massive desk. “Yes. To business.” Pulling a black folder from his top drawer, he removed a picture and slid it toward Oliver and Diggle. “This is the woman you’re looking for, yes?”

Oliver heard Digg’s quickly indrawn breath, and he understood it. Lyla had clearly been beaten. Badly. Cuts on her jaw. A massive bruise covering the entire right side of her face. Wet, stringy hair and tired, haunted eyes. The days in custody had not been kind to Lyla Michaels.

Oliver refocused on Anatoly when he spoke again, “This is from two days ago. Taken at one of our gulags – a prison.”

“Lyla was arrested?” Diggle asked quietly, still staring at the photo in front of them.

“Not exactly,” Anatoly returned, “It seems she was trying to break in . But clearly she has had some trouble breaking back out. This gulag, it is the worst in Russia. Called Koshmar.”

Oliver quickly translated, eyes on Digg’s, “The Nightmare.” Diggle swallowed.

“Anatoly,” Oliver turned his head back to his Russian friend, “we need a way into this Gulag.”

At that, Anatoly scoffed, “You get in, you’ll be dead within minutes or trapped inside just like her. It is impossible.”

“The only thing that’s impossible,” Diggle said firmly, “is leaving Russia without her.”

Anatoly smiled then, what seemed like a genuine smile. “I like this guy,” he told Oliver. “You know, we don’t have a word for optimist in Russian, but I like your commitment, my new American friend. And so I will help you, though you may not actually thank me for it in the end.” He looked back to Oliver then: “The only way into the gulag is as a prisoner. I have a guard at Koshmar who owes me a favor. It could work. I give it odds at 1 in 20”

“I’ll do it; set it up,” Oliver said quickly, but Diggle shook his head. “No. It has to be me. What if something happens to you in there? What happens to Felicity? Plus, we’re going to need you on the outside, working with Anatoly and the Brotherhood, getting what we need to get me and Lyla out of there.”

Reluctantly, Oliver agreed and inclined his head to Anatoly. Time to get Digg into prison.

***

“Now that’s a lot of drugs,” Felicity noted, staring down at the duffle bag filled with crystal meth.

Diggle chuckled without humor, “Courtesy of Oliver’s best Russian friend. Enough to land me in ‘the Nightmare.’”

Felicity looked from Diggle to a stone-faced Oliver and then back to her friend. “Okay,” she said with a small smile and then turned to the table behind her. “You need to be wearing this when the guards process you. They’ll obviously steal it, but that’s the point.” She handed Diggle the coat lined with a charge large enough to create chaos among the guards and hopefully serve as a distraction as Diggle and Lyla worked to get themselves out. “And this,” Felicity said pointing to the photo on her tablet, “is Knyazev's guy on the inside. A guard.”

Oliver cut in to remind Digg, “He’ll know where inside Lyla’s being kept. Get to her and then get to the rendezvous point before the charge goes off or…” Oliver let his sentence hang.

But Digg finished it for him, “Or I become a permanent Russian, likely one buried beneath that prison in the very near future. I got it.”

With Diggle’s clear articulation of the very real danger he was facing, Felicity couldn’t help but ask, “I’m just thinking…is this the best plan we can come up with here? I mean, I know this Lyla is your friend, Digg, but…”

“Lyla’s not my friend, Felicity. She was my wife.”

Felicity’s startled eyes flew first to Digg and then behind him to Oliver. “Explain that sentence, please?” Felicity asked.

“We met in Afghanistan. Got married on a weekend leave. We couldn’t…I couldn’t make it work when we got back stateside, though. Between what we’d been through in Afghanistan and what happened to Andy…Look, I’ve already lost her once; that’s not happening again.”

Felicity nodded and smiled sadly at Diggle, then wrapped a scarf around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck, John.”

***

Waiting was definitely not Oliver’s strong suit, so he was almost grateful for the call from Anatoly notifying him that Diggle had been picked up by the Moscow City Police, as planned.

As he ended the call with Anatoly, he turned to a waiting Felicity and told her, “the clock’s running.”

Now came the hard part: despite his best efforts, he was going to have let Felicity see the version of himself he became among the Bratva. The Captain, known for his ruthlessness and complete lack of remorse. God, he’d been hoping to avoid this, but there wasn’t any way around it, was there?

He took a deep breath, let it out, and called back to Felicity, “Grab your coat. Time to buy a stolen police car.”

Chapter Text

“Do you think Digg’s okay?” Felicity asked Oliver again as they waited for Anatoly’s contacts to arrive.

He smiled down at her, despite their fairly dire circumstances, and gently squeezed her shoulder when he told her, “I think he’s exactly the same as he was when you asked that five minutes ago.”

She smiled back at him and opened her mouth to respond when Anatoly interrupted: “They’re coming.” 

The ‘they’ here was a group of thieves who stole police and military equipment and sold it on the cheap. Anatoly had assured Oliver that these guys could be trusted. Well…maybe ‘trusted’ was the wrong word. These guys didn’t want to cross the Bratva. And they wanted the cold, hard, American dollars that Oliver had brought with him for exactly this purpose. And as he, Anatoly, and finally Felicity stepped from their car, Oliver was hoping those factors meant he wouldn’t have to put up with much bullshit here.

As soon as the men stepped from their vehicles, though, Oliver knew his hope was in vain. His first clue? The AK-47s much too close to Felicity for his comfort. And the second? The rapid fire Russian in which the leader of this not-so-merry band of thieves told Anatoly that the price had doubled and that they were considering “taking the blonde, too, for the trouble.” There were no circumstances under which that was going to happen. He may have promised both Felicity and Diggle that his killing days were behind him, but he’d snap each of their necks before they could so much as point their weapons if he thought Felicity might be in danger.

He glanced back at her to make sure she was okay and saw both her fear and her trust in him clear as day on her face. He took a deep breath, and decided to try a little Bratva-style diplomacy. He stepped close to the man who’d threatened Felicity and said calmly in Russian, “If you look at her again, I’ll take the eyes from your head. And if you push me, I’ll leave each of your children as orphans. Anatoly has told you who I am, so you should not doubt that I can do as I promise.” With a tight, unfriendly smile, Oliver stepped back and held out his hand. The Russian stared at him a moment but must have believed him because he quickly dropped the keys to the vehicle in Oliver’s hand and turned to leave with his accomplices.

Oliver turned and tossed the keys to Anatoly, who headed toward the police vehicle. Oliver returned to the sedan and opened the driver’s side door. As he did, Felicity asked, “What exactly did you say to them?” Oliver sent her a slightly crooked smile, “I said please.” And then he winked and folded himself into the car.

***

When Oliver and Felicity returned to the hotel, she headed back to her makeshift workstation to check on the searches she’d left running while they were gone.

Oliver was too keyed up to be cooped up in their room upstairs, so he headed for the hotel bar. He groaned to himself when he saw Isabel sitting at a table near the entrance, but before he could turn around, she noticed him. Resigned to at least having to make small talk with her, Oliver plastered on an insincere smile and headed toward her table.

Isabel watched him calculatingly for a moment and then slipped on an insincere smile of her own. “Join me for a drink, partner?” Oliver was sure she had an angle here (because Isabel always had an angle), but he couldn’t see the harm in playing nice, at least for the moment. “Sure,” he replied, then turned to the bartender and ordered “Scotch, neat” before taking the chair opposite Isabel. 

They talked for a few minutes about the morning’s meeting with the Moscow COO before Oliver asked, “Since we’ve managed to spend at least ten minutes together without insulting each other, can I ask you a personal question?”

Isabel snorted but agreed, “Sure. And with this much good vodka in me, I might even answer.”

Oliver smiled, almost genuinely this time. “Why does saving my family's company mean so much to you?” 

Isabel looked contemplative for a moment before replying: “Despite what Sheryl Sandberg might say, it still isn't that easy to make it as a woman in business. I've...given up a lot. Which means if I don't succeed at everything, then what was the point? I don’t fail, Oliver. It’s not in my nature.” 

She paused for a moment then asked, “Can I ask you one?” Oliver nodded, and she inquired, “Why do you try so hard to make me think that you're a lazy idiot? I know you're not. Underneath that swagger, I see you pretty clearly.”

Isabel moved closer, invading Oliver’s personal space, dragging one red nail up his hand to his wrist. “You're intelligent. Driven. And lonely.” Oliver pulled his arm away and opened his mouth to tell Isabel to back off when he heard a quickly indrawn breath from behind him. He was up and out of his chair before Felicity made it to the elevator, but he heard Isabel’s chuckle as he took off after the only woman in Russia he wanted.

***

Felicity’s searches were coming up empty, and she was frustrated. She was also hungry for something besides the snacks from the minibar. 

Oliver had headed to the hotel bar for a drink, so slipping back into her heels, Felicity decided to join him. A drink and something substantial to eat and then she could try another angle on finding out more about Deadshot, since the assassin was the reason they were all in this Russian mess to begin with.

Stepping off the elevator into the first-floor lobby, Felicity opened her message app to send Oliver a quick text to let him know that she was joining him, but before she could do that, she saw him, clear as day, just inches away from that bitch. Felicity was stunned for a moment and then so angry she could barely see straight. Just as she turned to storm off, Oliver looked over and their eyes connected. He looked confused and then... almost guilty, she thought. Furious and hurt, Felicity stabbed the elevator button, hoping to escape before he came after her, if he even did. After all, it looked like Isabel was a sure thing for him tonight. “Bitch,” Felicity muttered to herself as the elevator doors slid open.

Unfortunately, Oliver made it to the elevator before the doors could close. And then they were alone. Felicity crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. She could feel Oliver’s scrutiny, but he waited until they stepped off on their floor before he spoke.

“Nothing happened with Isabel. Nothing was going to happen. You have to know that, Felicity.”

“It didn’t look like nothing a few minutes ago, Oliver,” she returned hotly as he swiped his key card and opened the door to their suite.

Oliver’s voice was low, almost growly, when he replied, “I think I made myself pretty clear two nights ago what my intentions are, but if you’d like a reminder, I’m more than happy to oblige.” And before Felicity could blink, Oliver had her pressed up against the now closed door.

“Oliver…” Felicity wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to say, but Oliver didn’t wait to find out. Before she could finish her thought, his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on hers. Unlike the last time, there was no tentative exploration. Oliver kissed her with intent. He pulled away momentarily to tear off the suit jacket he still wore, and then Felicity was going up, one of his hands still in her hair and the other under her ass. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for the ride.

Chapter Text

The ride, thankfully, was a short one. Within moments, Oliver deposited Felicity on the king-sized bed in his room. Felicity tried to collect her wits and catch her breath, but that was a lost cause when Oliver began to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt.

Felicity licked her suddenly dry lips and watched with rapt attention as he revealed the planes of his chest, the lines of his abs, and the litany of scars that criss crossed his body. Felicity leaned forward to run a finger across his Bratva tattoo and then over the line of scar tissue that cut just under it. Oliver’s abdominal muscles contracted at the contact, and Felicity leaned forward and laid a gentle kiss first on the tattoo and then on his scar.

Oliver made a sound that was part groan and part curse and suddenly Felicity was in the air once more. This time, though, she chuckled as she landed further up the bed. “Impatient, aren’t we?” 

“Naked. Now.”

Well, if he insisted. 

***

This was not exactly how Oliver had imagined his first time with Felicity. (And yes, he’d imagined it a lot, especially in the last few days.) He’d thought they’d talk first, confess their feelings for each other. He’d thought there would be a gradual build up of intimacy with a bit of progressively more serious groping thrown in for good measure. But this, this was like a wildfire. It ignited, and suddenly he couldn’t wait another second.

His attention recentered on the woman in his bed. Felicity smiled up at him, but she still hadn’t moved to take off her top or skirt. And Oliver was just about out of patience.

“If you don’t want me to ruin that sexy as fuck skirt or top, you might want to get started on the buttons, Felicity.”

She blinked languidly at him, and then with a sly smile on her pink lips, she started unbuttoning the black buttons between her breasts. 

Oliver watched appreciatively as the sides of her shirt parted to reveal the black lace and satin lovingly framing her breasts. He swallowed thickly as she reached for the side zip of her burgundy skirt and drew the zipper down. 

“Little help here, Oliver?” she asked with a smile. The question sent him back into motion, and within 30 seconds, he had her skirt and shirt on the floor along with his white button-down and black suit pants. He stopped then to look down at her, in her matching black bra and panties, and he felt himself grow harder beneath his boxers.

He moved his eyes from her torso to her face and was relieved to find the same desire he knew was stamped on his own features. “You're gorgeous, Felicity.” 

“ You’re gorgeous, Oliver,” she returned, licking her lips.

He smiled. No one gave compliments like Felicity Smoak because it was never just words, it was also the look on her face, in this case a look of lust mixed with trust. His new favorite look.

Oliver climbed into the bed beside her and tangled his limbs with hers. He ran his nose from her ear down her neck to her shoulder, letting her feel his stubble and placing small, biting kisses along the way. When he reached her chest, he pressed a bristly kiss between her breasts before reaching up to gently cup her left one. His other hand kept moving downward until he reached her hip. He looked back to her face to make sure she was still onboard with his trajectory, but he found her eyes closed and mouth parted. She must have sensed his scrutiny, though, because her eyes blinked open, and she answered his unspoken question. “Touch me, Oliver.”

Oliver didn’t need to be told twice. He hooked his thumb into one side of her panties and began to pull them gently down her legs. When they reached her knees, Oliver leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her mound before looking back again to her face. This time, though, he found her eyes wide open, her gaze focused on his head between her thighs. Holding her eyes, Oliver leaned over and swiped his tongue across her folds and dipped his finger between them to run the callused tip over to her clit. Felicity raised her hips at the contact, and Oliver repeated the action.

Felicity’s thighs fell open, and Oliver moved down her body and settled himself more firmly between them, his shoulders opening her more widely to his gaze – and his fingers.

“Yes, Oliver. More.” Never one to deny her what she wanted if he could help it, Oliver pressed his fingers up and inside her and brought his tongue down firmly on her clit, circling it over and over. He felt her walls squeeze his fingers as her legs grew more restless beneath him, so it wasn’t a surprise when he felt a fresh rush of moisture and heard her moans grow louder until they broke. Felicity’s upper body bowed up off the bed as she rode his fingers through her orgasm.

Then she was grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him up her body. Oliver smiled at her, then moved up to take her mouth. He’d planned to slow them down a little now, but that plan was out the window when he felt Felicity bite his lower lip as her fingers slipped beneath his boxers and closed around his erection.

“In me. Now, Oliver.” And like a match to kindling, Oliver went up in flames. Knocking her hand away, Oliver shoved his boxers down his legs and reached for his wallet on the nightstand. Thank god he’d added fresh condoms to his wallet when he was packing for Russia. (He didn’t want to be presumptuous, but he’d been fairly certain that they would end up here eventually.)

He quickly tore open the foil and started to roll the rubber down his cock. Then, suddenly, Felicity’s hands were back on him, finishing the job and giving him an appreciative squeeze for good measure.

Her low, throaty hum of approval nearly had him embarrassing himself, but he gritted his teeth and brought his body back under control, for the moment at least. He positioned himself at her entrance, and looked deep into her eyes as he pushed in that first hard inch.

He watched her eyes round then slide closed as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again. When he remained still, only barely inside her, though, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “Please.”

That one word felt like coming home, and so Oliver thrust home inside her body. Her sexy hum returned with a vengeance when he set a hard, fast rhythm, whispering to her as he did, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Felicity. And you feel so good. Tight. Wet. Hot. I could stay here forever. Inside you. Feeling you stretch around me.”

When Felicity wrapped those long, gorgeous legs around his waist, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Slipping his hand between them, he found her clit as he angled his cock to hit that soft, spongy place that turned her hums into screams. And when she came again, calling his name and holding him tightly to her, he followed right behind.

Chapter Text

Felicity really would have liked to bask in the afterglow a little longer. After all, her first time with Oliver had been glorious. Hot and sweaty but also tender and even gentle at times. But far sooner than she would have liked, her phone alarm alerted them to the fact that they needed to be out the door to meet Anatoly in the next twenty minutes.

Oliver turned toward her at the sound of the alarm, and a slow smile transformed his normally serious face. “Hi,” he said with a smirk as his gaze moved from her face to her breasts, barely hidden beneath part of the thin, white sheet. 

As his eyes moved, so did his body, rolling toward her then settling snugly in the cradle of her hips. With his hands on either side of her head, he kissed her thoroughly. Felicity whimpered when he pulled away and moved her hands to the back of his head in an attempt to bring his lips back to hers, but before she could complete the motion, her phone sounded again with a ten-minute warning. 

They both groaned in unison, but Oliver was the first to move. He did a push-up over her body, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Felicity watched closely as his muscles flexed and contracted. God, she thought, his body is unbelievable. And now that she knew just what he could do with it, all the things he could make her feel, she was fairly certain her world would never quite be the same.

***

Dressed in fatigues and the paraphernalia of a Russian prisoner guard, Oliver was doing his best to keep focused on the mission at hand. The timing for getting Digg and Lyla out was going to be tight, and Oliver absolutely needed to be at the top of his game to make it happen. But his gaze kept straying to the back of Felicity’s head where she sat in the front seat of their ill-gotten Moscow City Police vehicle.

From his place in the backseat, Oliver could see the side of her face as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and scrolled quickly through whatever information she was reading on her phone. The image brought to mind another one, where he was one biting that lip as he slid deep inside her. He groaned quietly, shifted in his seat, and willed his body back under control. He’d known early on that Felicity could be a distraction to him in the field, but it was so much worse now because he knew exactly how good it could be. Still, he wouldn’t change it even if he could.

Anatoly’s return to the vehicle pulled Oliver from his thoughts. Anatoly chuckled as he got comfortable in his seat and shared, “there is nothing money cannot buy in this country.”

Oliver knew that to be absolutely true, but despite the significant amount of cash he’d spread around, he was worried. Digg was the most competent person he knew, especially in chaotic and dangerous situations like this. But so much could go wrong, and any of those things could get his friend killed.

Suddenly, the ground shook beneath the vehicle; plaster and smoke filled the air. Within seconds, Oliver was out the door and headed toward the chaos. When he reached the most intense fighting, with Lyla, John, and…was that Floyd Lawton…fighting their way through a dozen or so armed guards, Oliver went to work incapacitating as many as he could to create a safe path back to the armored truck. Thank god that both John and Lyla (as well as Lawton) were good fighters and skilled sharpshooters. They might just survive this yet.

***

They had, indeed, survived. After they’d dropped Lawton off under a Moscow overpass (after an intense conversation with Diggle that his friend refused to discuss), Anatoly took them back to their hotel, where they could clean up and rest before their flight out in a few hours. Oliver stayed back a moment to thank Anatoly for his help, then followed Felicity, Digg, and Lyla onto the elevator and up to their three-room suite. 

As Digg and Lyla disappeared behind one of the bedroom doors, Oliver turned to a too-quiet Felicity. She stared hard at him, but for once, it seemed her babble had deserted her. Frankly, he’d have much preferred the babble to this silence. Just when he was about to break it, though, she finally spoke. “So, that happened,” she said, gesturing with her head toward his bedroom door.

“I’m glad it did,” he returned and moved closer to her until only a few inches separated their bodies. “And I don’t intend for this to be a one-off thing either, Felicity. This means something to me.”

Look at him, Felicity though, maturely sharing his feelings. Huh. Aloud, though, she quipped, “So I guess what happens in Russia doesn’t actually stay in Russia.”

Oliver erased the remaining distance between them. “Absolutely not. But what happened in Russian could happen at least one more time before we aren’t in Russia anymore.”

That, Felicity thought, sounded like an excellent plan.

***

On the QC jet the next morning, Oliver was tremendously grateful that Isabel didn’t ask any questions about their additional passenger. Instead, she glared at Oliver and Felicity in turn, then popped in her headphones and focused on her tablet.

Unlike on the trip from Starling, Oliver decided to dispense with the pretense and join Felicity, Diggle, and Lyla in the back of the plane. In fact, Oliver didn’t have any intention of being away from Felicity at all if it could be helped. They still had plenty to discuss, he knew, but for now, he was content just to be near her. And when they landed, he had every intention of repeating what had happened in Russia in his own bed. And hers. And various other locations around her apartment and, if they could get away with it, around his office and the foundry, though he suspected Diggle might have something to say about that last one.

With a smile on his face at that thought, Oliver rested his head on the back of the seat, inhaled Felicity’s fresh, lightly floral scent from the seat next to him, and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Moira Dearden Queen’s day of reckoning was upon him before Oliver really had time to prepare for it.

With everything else happening – tangling with Isabel, Diggle and Lyla and Russia, rumors of a Vertigo resurgence in the Glades, the dramatic shift in his relationship with Felicity, and the still-unexplained appearance of Bruce Wayne – Oliver hadn’t spent nearly enough time thinking about and supporting his mom. He also hadn’t spent nearly enough time with Thea, whose anxiety about their mother’s future was growing by the minute. Oliver’s guilt – particularly the guilt about not being there for his sister – was a living thing as he donned his uniform for court, a dark gray suit, crisp white shirt, and slate-colored tie. For today, and for as long as the trial lasted, his main priority had to be his mother’s trial. 

He couldn’t help but spend a moment, though, thinking how pleased he was that things with Felicity were seemingly on track – very on track considering they’d spent each of the last three nights together since they returned from Russia and he hadn’t seen Bruce Wayne’s stupid face. Oliver smiled at that as he followed Diggle out the door of the mansion and into the back of the waiting Bentley.

***

Felicity moved quickly from the small kitchen on QC’s executive floor back to her desk. Since Oliver would be away all day (all week or even longer, probably, given the complexity of a trial like Moira Queen’s), she was currently juggling her work, his work, and their nighttime work, too. She needed about fourteen more hours in the day. For now, she’d have to be content with the coffee in her hand and a quick text to Oliver to check in on how the morning was going. Just as she set her coffee down and reached for her phone, though, the elevator dinged.

Expecting to see Digg (who should have had time to drop Oliver off at the courthouse and make it back to QC by now), Felicity stiffened when Isabel emerged instead.

She hadn’t seen Isabel since they’d returned from Russia, and she’d been hoping not to have to deal with her this week, while Oliver’s attention was on his mother’s trial rather than QC business. It seemed like she wasn’t going to get her wish though as Isabel strutted her way off the elevator, heading directly for Felicity.

Felicity pasted on her best fake smile and asked, “How might I help you, Ms. Rochev?”

“You can get your boss on the phone right this second to explain why I’m looking at Applied Sciences expenditures that I never approved.”

Despite Isabel’s condescending tone, Felicity worked hard to keep hold of her professionalism. “Oliver is currently occupied and out of the office for the day. Perhaps I could help with that?”

Isabel sneered. Felicity wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen someone sneer in real life, but there was no other word for the look on Isabel’s face when she shot back, “So sorry, Ms. Smoak, but unlike your boss, your short skirts don’t hold any power over me. I sincerely doubt there is any information I need that you would be able to provide.”

Felicity felt her face flush and could feel the blood rushing in her ears. She was about two seconds away from losing it and putting her fist in Isabel’s smug face when the elevator dinged again, and Digg appeared. Apparently uninterested in continuing to demean Felicity with John Diggle as an audience, Isabel turned on her heels and made her way to the elevator. As she reached the doors, she called back, “I want to hear from Oliver in the next two hours. He won’t like what happens if I don’t.” And with that, she was on the elevator and gone. 

Felicity stood still for a few moments; something about Isabel’s threat was niggling at the back of her mind. It wasn’t that threats were new coming from Isabel, but there was something different, something just a little more sinister about the tone of Isabel’s voice and the look on her face as she leveled it. It felt…even more personal somehow. Like Felicity was not just a target of Isabel’s ire because Isabel wanted to get a rise out of or hurt Oliver. It was like Isabel wanted to do real harm to Oliver and to Felicity herself. 

Diggle’s eyes were wide when we joined Felicity near her desk. “What the hell did I just walk into?” “Nothing good, John. Nothing good.”

Felicity turned to drop the file she’d been holding onto her desk and then back to Diggle. She wanted to see if Digg had any thoughts on Isabel’s threat and ask how Oliver was when she noticed he was sweating profusely. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look disgusting.”

“Well, I don’t feel great, Felicity. And really, is there a right way to take that?”

Felicity laughed lightly and returned, “You should go home.” 

“I am, but first I need to make sure there’s someone who can stand in for me with Oliver, I’m just…” Felicity looked up at John as he trailed off and then watched, horrified as his eyes rolled back in his head and he was suddenly out cold on the floor in front of her. 

***

Diggle was disoriented when he came to. He remembered arriving back at QC. He remembered watching Isabel threaten Felicity. He remembered a panicked looking Felicity helping him to the elevator and then down to the car. There was a brief snippet of memory where he descended the stairs to the foundry while leaning very, very heavily on Felicity. But he came up blank besides that, and he had absolutely no idea how he’d ended up here on the med table or why his body was shaking so hard.

He didn’t have much time to piece things together before Oliver was making his way down the stairs, eyes firmly fixed on him as Felicity tried to offer some sort of comfort.

“Digg, you need serious medical attention,” Oliver said when he reached them. 

“He needs more than that,” Felicity broke in. “I sent a sample of your blood, Digg, to a chemist at QC who owed me a favor. A pretty big favor honestly, considering I hacked the SCPD and fixed his parking tickets. Someone should learn what those red curbs mean. I mean, it’s one thing to do it once, but seventeen times? I try not to judge, but…”

“Felicity, the blood sample,” Oliver prodded with barely repressed laughter.

“Right. Yes. It came back with trace amounts of Vertigo.”

“I don’t use Vertigo. I’ve never used Vertigo,” Digg said, struggling to sit up.

“You were exposed somehow. And we’d heard those rumors that Vertigo or something like it might be back in the Glades. So I did some digging: when the Count recovered from his arrow-y overdose, he was moved into Iron Heights. But much like that creepy Barton Mathis, the Count disappeared from Iron Heights in the aftermath of the quake. SCPD has no clue where he’s at now. That, combined with those rumors about Vertigo, makes me think the Count is back at it.”

Oliver’s face grew harder as Felicity spoke, and when he moved to his arrow case and grabbed one, she said quietly, “I know what you’re thinking Oliver, but…”

“No,” he said bluntly. “No, I made a decision not to put an arrow in this guy. And that was the right choice. There’s no more killing. I don’t do that anymore. This arrow has the Vertigo antidote that we worked up last time. Let’s see about getting some more made. For now, let’s give Digg the antidote and start working on finding out where the Count’s been hiding since his escape. I’m going to head back to the courthouse. Are you okay getting Digg home?”

“We’ll be fine. You go. Hug Thea for me.”

Oliver smiled at that and then, with a quick, discreet glance at Diggle, he pulled Felicity in for a brief, hard kiss. “I’ll…tonight?” Felicity smiled at the sentence fragment and said quietly, “Definitely. My place, whenever you're done with court and have Thea all set.”

Oliver kissed her again, and then he was back up the stairs and out the door.

Chapter Text

Felicity knew with 100% certainty that she should not be doing this. She was always adamant that Oliver have backup when he was in the field, and she knew that if he ever discovered that she was out alone tracking down leads on the Count, he’d lose it. And truthfully, given that she was here searching the mobile flu clinic truck without telling anyone her exact plan, he’d be justified. 

But it kept bothering her that Diggle’s brush with Vertigo coincided with getting his flu shot. (She had a hunch that the DA had similarly done the right thing in getting his flu shot early and been dosed just like Digg.) And if she could just grab a vial of the flu vaccine from the truck Digg had visited, she could test it, confirm her theory, and get Applied Sciences to work on putting together a more effective antidote than the one they had now.

And given everything else that Oliver was currently dealing with, she just wanted to fix this one thing so that he didn’t have to. Again, she knew this was probably the wrong way to go here, but god, she just so badly wanted to help, to take something off Oliver’s plate, to help carry the weight of the mission for a few moments so that he could focus on his mother and Thea.

So she felt a flash of victory when she closed her fingers around the vial she’d been looking for. “Gotcha!”

But that elated feeling was replaced all too quickly when she looked behind her to find Cecil Adams – the Count – smiling maniacally at her from the door of the truck. Double fuck .

“Funny…you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

***

Oliver had rarely before felt this helpless. Thea was devastated. His mother was almost certain to be convicted. And he’d had to leave a hurting Diggle back at the foundry just to stand around the courthouse and wait for the bad news. Did it make him weak that all he really wanted was to hear Felicity’s voice, have her tell him in that quiet, sure way that everything would be alright?

And then his phone rang; it was almost like he’d conjured her, and he could help but smile a little when he saw her name on the screen. “Felicity.”

But the voice that called his name when he answered wasn’t Felicity’s.

***

Oliver had the cab that picked him up at the courthouse drop him a few blocks from Verdant. He knew he needed to let John know what was happening, get his suit and his bike, and get to QC. Every second that he had to leave Felicity in the Count’s clutches felt like another slice across his skin. He couldn’t lose her; he wouldn’t. 

***

The ride from Verdant to QC felt like hours, but Oliver knew it must have been just a few minutes. He’d pushed his Ducati to the limit and broken more than a dozen traffic laws, but there was no way he was leaving Felicity with that monster a second more than he had to.

His Arrow suit on but with the hood down since Adams already knew his identity, Oliver walked through the top floor of QC toward his office. He forced himself not to look in the direction of Felicity’s desk, the place he’d seen her so many times smiling in welcome. He focused his attention on the glass-walled boardroom just past his own office, where he knew a terrified Felicity and a psychotic Cecil Adams were waiting for him.

Despite how hard he’d tried to steel himself for what he’d see there, the sight of Felicity, terrified and watchful, and a clearly unhinged Adams nearly brought him to his knees. And when that motherfucker touched her hair, he felt the edges of his vision dim as rage filled his entire body.

His voice was little more than a growl of sound when he asked, “What do you want?”

“World peace and personal satisfaction,” Adams quipped back. “Though,” he continued, voice heavy with innuendo as he turned his gaze down to Felicity and continued to touch her hair and bare shoulders, “not necessarily in that order.” Felicity whimpered then, and Adams smiled.

The smile fell off of his face, though, when he turned his attention back to Oliver and accused, “You poisoned me and put me in a hole! You have no idea how much I hated you for that. But it turns out someone else hates you, too, enough to fund my current little operation.”

“Who?!”

“Who? Oh, you’re going to be surprised when you find out. A person of means, no doubt. Set me up to set you up, draw you out. The blonde here is just a nice bonus.”

Trying to move Adams’ attention away from Felicity, Oliver growled again, “Draw me out for what?”

“This!” And with that Adams was firing, and Oliver was running, drawing his fire and moving Adams as far away from Felicity as he could. Unfortunately for them, the newest version of the Count wasn’t as easily distracted as the previous one. Instead of continuing to chase Oliver, Adams quickly turned his attention back to Felicity, yanking her from the chair and pushing her in the direction Oliver had run. Felicity stumbled on her heels before righting herself and moving gingerly in the direction Adams forced her to go.

When Oliver found himself with the drop on Adams with an arrow pointed at his heart, though, the Count fell back on his most trusted weapon: Vertigo itself. With Felicity’s ponytail in his punishing grip, Adams yanked Felicity’s head back and threatened her with a syringe filled with enough of the drug to stop her heart. He yanked harder on her hair as he threatened again, “Now we go to plan B.”

“Oliver no! Not for me.”

“Quiet, please. I’m threatening,” Adams said to Felicity. Then to Oliver, “Lower your bow.”

“Your problem is with me; it’s not with her.”

“Yes, but she seems to matter to you, so two birds, one stone. Consider this your penalty for making me go to plan B in the first place.”

As Adams drew back to plunge the syringe into Felicity’s neck, though, Oliver fired. Three arrows winged their way across the room within seconds and landed with a bullseye in the center of the Count’s chest.

***

Oliver distantly heard Adams’ body hit a car below, but his attention was entirely focused on Felicity. Between one breath and the next, he was across the room, hands on her face. “Hey. Hey. Are you alright? God, Felicity, did he hurt you. I can’t…” His hands were frantic on her, checking for any injuries that he hadn’t clocked when he arrived. 

“Oliver.” Felicity’s voice trembled as she leaned into his touch. “Oliver, I…Oh, god. You’re shot.”

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. I just need to know that you’re okay. I thought…” But Oliver was interrupted then by the sounds of sirens. He knew he had less than 60 seconds to get out of here if he wanted to protect his secret identity, but he couldn’t imagine leaving Felicity like this. 

“Oliver,” Felicity’s voice broke into his thoughts as her hands cupped his face. “Oliver, you have to go. The SCPD is going to be up here in less than a minute, and they can’t find you here. Go.”

Oliver knew she was right, and there wasn’t any time to argue about it, either. “Okay. But I need you to call me when they release you from the scene. I don’t want you going anywhere alone, not tonight.” Not ever , he thought, though he was smart enough to keep that thought to himself given how much he knew Felicity would object to a bodyguard of her own.

Felicity nodded and put her hands to his chest, an attempt, he figured, to propel him into motion before he unmasked himself. So, with no other real choice, he kissed her hard, quickly but thoroughly, and raced back out the way he’d come in.

Chapter Text

Not guilty? Oliver’s rush of relief was followed quickly by a lot of confusion. Oliver wanted to just be grateful that his mom was free. And he was, so very grateful. But he was also suspicious. The jury should have convicted her. Not a single witness – for the prosecution or the defense – offered any real reason for an acquittal. So something was wrong here, but frankly, Oliver just didn’t have it in him to try to figure it out tonight. He needed to get his mom and Thea home and then he needed (desperately needed) to get to Felicity.

Oliver looked over to see his mom and Thea arm and arm coming his way, and he put on a smile (it was mostly genuine, too) and joined their little huddle.

“Let’s get you home, mom.” Moira smiled broadly at him then, and he escorted two of the three most important women in his life out the back door of the courthouse.

***

Felicity was at loose ends; she had returned to her apartment, escorted by a bodyguard who had appeared at her side two minutes after she’d texted Oliver that she was about to be released from the crime scene at QC. Lance had offered to drive her home, but Oliver told her he already had someone waiting for her outside.

The bodyguard, Rob (who had very, very briefly worked for Oliver before), was a quiet, imposing presence, one she’d been grateful for as he led her to the waiting car and then quickly got her home. He’d checked her apartment thoroughly and then wished her a good night. 

She knew (because both Oliver and Rob had told her) that he would be sitting outside at the curb all night. That, along with the new panic button Rob had given her at Oliver and Diggle’s direction, gave her some comfort as she changed from her hot pink dress (she was going to have to burn it because she couldn’t bear to ever see it again) into pajama pants and a sweatshirt. She just felt so cold, but she was pretty sure that it was from shock, not from the actual temperature. Still, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as she grabbed her laptop and sank into her couch.

She’d only been seated a few minutes when she heard a soft knock on her front door. And even with everything that had happened tonight, she couldn’t hold back a small smile. Despite his size and his intensity, Oliver’s default mode was gentleness, at least with her. It was such a striking contrast to the 'Arrow' part of himself, and it made Felicity feel unbelievably privileged to be the frequent recipient of his tenderness.

She opened the door to an exhausted (but always handsome) Oliver.

“Hi.”

He looked up at her when she spoke, but he didn’t respond verbally. Instead he pulled her into a tight hug and buried his nose in her hair as he shuffled them both backward so he could shut the door. He released her for a moment to turn both locks and put on the chain, and then she was back in his arms and moving toward the couch with him. He pulled her down beside him and snuggled into her. 

Felicity curled her feet up next to her and rested her head on his chest before she asked, “How’s your mom?”

“Good. Shocked, too, I think. I left her and Thea at the mansion, pulled a few guys from QC security over to guard the house. And I know Roy was lurking somewhere, so I figure he made his way inside pretty much as soon as I drove away. I think they’re both pretty safe for tonight. How’s Digg?”

“Okay. He was pretty mad at me for going to the truck alone. I suspect there’s a lecture in my future. But for now, he’s home resting. Oh and, with the Vertigo tainted vaccine, Applied Sciences was able to formulate a non-addictive treatment. So they’re on it.”

“Good. I honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead on the tainted vaccine front.”

“Give yourself a break; you were balancing a few other dire crises. You would have thought of it, too. I’m just glad I could help,” Felicity told him. And then more quietly, “I want to help, you know?”

Oliver pulled her more tightly to his chest and stroked her arm as he replied, “I do know. But we need to talk about the other way you tried to help tonight and how it almost got you killed. You can’t put yourself in danger like that. I wouldn’t…I couldn’t…I’m not sure I’d survive losing you, Felicity.”

“Oliver, I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out alone, without backup. I know that. And I keep going back to the fact that you had to kill someone because of my bad decision. I got myself in trouble, and you killed him. For me. I’m so sorry, sorrier than you’ll ever know, that I was the one who put you in the position to make that choice.”

“Felicity, there was no choice to make. He had you, and he was going to hurt you. And I’m not sorry. I know I probably should be at least a little sorry. I took a life. But he would have hurt you, would have kept hurting the people of the Glades. And now he can’t. I’m not sorry about that.”

Felicity nodded; she couldn’t help but agree. She’d meant it when she’d told Oliver she didn’t want him to kill Adams for her, but she was also honest enough with herself to admit that she felt safer with Adams dead. 

She also felt safer because Oliver was here, snuggled up with her on her couch and, unless she was mistaken, planning to spend the night here with her again. “You’re staying, right?”

Oliver smiled at the question, “No place I’d rather be. Well, except maybe in your bed instead of the couch.”

Felicity laughed for the first time all day, “That can be arranged, Mr. Queen.” Felicity’s quiet laugh turned to a happy shriek, though, when she was suddenly up in Oliver’s arms and moving toward her bedroom. “Well, by all means, let’s arrange it then,” he said as he carried her through the hall and toward her open bedroom door.

Oliver dropped her with a bounce on her bed and then his calloused, nimble fingers were at the buttons of his shirt. Felicity loved the white, pressed, dress shirts he wore so well. And she planned to sit and enjoy the show as he removed this one. She whimpered more loudly than she’d intended when he reached for his belt buckle, and Oliver rewarded her with a smirk and a wink as he removed his belt and unzipped his pants. “You’re a little overdressed there, Smoak.”

Felicity’s nipples peaked beneath her sweatshirt at the heat in his voice. That same heat was in his eyes as he drank her in. She sat up from her reclined position and whipped her sweatshirt over the top of her head, then smiled at the slight shock she saw on Oliver’s face.

“Felicity, you’re not wearing a bra.”

“No panties either. What are you planning to do about it?”

Oliver shucked his pants and was on her in the blink of an eye. Felicity’s giggle turned into a groan as his lips closed around her right nipple. One of his hands moved up to stroke her other breast, and the other found its way beneath the waistband of her pajama pants.

“As cute as your Doctor Who pajamas are, I need them off now. Please.”

Felicity decided to reward his manners by doing as he asked; she reached for the drawstring of her pants, untied it. and began to kick the pants down her legs. Oliver leaned back to watch her progress, and his eyes flared when he saw she’d been telling the truth about not wearing panties.

“Now who’s overdressed, Queen?”

Within a few seconds, his boxers were gone, and he was stretched out on top of her, running his hands down her side and further down to grab her ass. Then he was rolling them so she was laying on him instead of her mattress. She loved this position because she could reach nearly every part of him, could kiss every scar and mark on his chest. 

She looked up to find Oliver’s eyes burning at her beneath his lashes. And she took that as her cue to move things along, so she leaned to her bedside table, grabbed a condom from the box he’d placed there the day before, and sheathed him. Then, she pushed up his chest, lined up his cock with her entrance, and sank down on him. 

The both released matching groans as she sank all the way down. She remained still for a moment, getting used to his size and relishing the feeling of him inside of her, hot, hard, and all Oliver. She loved being this close to him, knowing he let his guard down with her, let himself be vulnerable with her.

“Felicity, move. Please move,” he begged after a few moments. And she obliged, placing her hands firmly on his chest, rising up and falling slowly at first, then faster as he grew, impossibly, harder inside of her.

She was close within a few minutes, and Oliver reached between them to touch here where they joined. That bit of contact was exactly what she needed, and she flew over the precipice. She still had enough presence of mind, though just barely, to notice when Oliver flipped them again.

He pushed her open wider and ground down, swiveling his hips a bit on each downward stroke. And as he chased his own orgasm (and, unbelievably another for her, too), he whispered words of praise, “You’re beautiful, Felicity. Nothing is more beautiful than you when you come. I could live inside you like this.”

His body, his movements (now rougher and less coordinated), and his voice (and the sentiment behind it) were pushing her closer and closer to her peak. “Harder, Oliver. Just like that.”

And then she was there again. She stiffened below him, arching her back and her neck, pressing up into him as he finally lost any coordination he’d had left.

“Whatever you want. Anything. Anytime. God, Felicity.” He groaned then and came, clutching her close.

Chapter Text

Just under 24 hours later, Felicity cursed to herself when she arrived home to find stone-faced Bruce sitting on the steps leading to her door. She should have known her reprieve wouldn’t last. Bruce was in Starling for a reason, and he clearly wasn’t leaving without accomplishing his goal, whatever that was.

When she was a few steps away, she watched Bruce rise to his full height, an odd expression on his face. He stepped close to her, once more invading her personal space, and rested his hand on the side of her neck, just above the spot the Count had held her in a punishing grip just a day or so ago.

He searched her eyes for a moment and must have found whatever he was looking for because his hand dropped, and he took a step away from her before saying, “I’m glad you’re okay. We need to talk.”

Felicity took a breath and agreed, “We do. I know we do. Come inside.”

As Felicity unlocked the door, Bruce asked from behind her, “And how is Queen going to feel about you inviting me in at…quarter after 10?”

Felicity rolled her eyes and opened the door for them. “Quit trying to start shit, Bruce. You’re too old for that nonsense.”

“You wound me, ‘Lis.”

“Look, Bruce, it’s been an exceptionally long day. I want to talk to you, but only if we can both be adults here, okay?” 

Both of these things were true, by the way: it had been an exceptionally long day that had started very early this morning with a break-in/burglary at a QC property on the edge of town; it had also included the arrival of very inquisitive crime scene tech from Central City and Oliver deciding to be a jealous brat of a man. Felicity was tired, and she was mad, so mad that she’d told Oliver they needed to spend the evening apart. She wanted mint chip, a hot shower, and at least a few hours of sleep before she had to deal with that grumpy man of hers tomorrow. 

It was also true, though, that she wanted to talk to Bruce. She’d been thinking about the scene in her apartment – god, had that only been a 10 days ago? – and she had questions, namely about the mysterious “she” Bruce had referenced.

Bruce’s voice pulled her from her thoughts when he responded, “Fine, fair enough.”

“Okay. Do you want coffee? Wine? Ice cream?”

“Nothing for me. Thanks.”

“Okay, so…”

Bruce sighed. “So. I came to Starling City because you’re in danger. The day before I showed up in your office…”

“You mean accosted me in my office.”

“Right,” he said with a small smile, “The day before that, a woman showed up in Gotham looking to have a conversation with the Bat. That’s not something I entertain usually, but she knew things, things about Batman’s connection to Wayne Enterprises. And she dropped your name. So, I agreed to meet her. She was very forthcoming about your work for the vigilante in Starling, and she shared that vigilante’s identity. That’s why I came: someone out there wants to hurt Queen, and they’re going to use you to do it.”

“Who was she, the woman who came to Gotham?”

“She stayed mostly in the shadows, but I got a good look at her when she went to leave. And then I did some digging. What exactly do you know about Isabel Rochev?”

***

Felicity wanted to be shocked by Bruce’s revelation that Isabel both knew Oliver’s secret identity and was sharing that information with Batman for some reason, but she wasn’t all that shocked, honestly. Though, fuck , couldn’t they get the smallest break here? Did they really need another enemy, this time just one floor below them at QC? One who already knew Oliver’s secret identity and that Felicity was helping him? They were already dealing with a guy with super strength this week!

***

Bruce stood and watched as an entire conversation played out on Felicity’s face. He really had missed her. And he was beginning to get that he’d also ruined any chance of actually ending up with the brilliant woman in front of him. Not that he was giving up. He wasn’t. But he suspected his chances were close to nil at this point. Because he already knew that Isabel Rochev was Oliver’s unwanted partner at QC, and he suspected that the look on Felicity’s face at the moment was less about her being in danger and much more about the impact this might have on Queen.

Bruce’s hunch was confirmed when Felicity finally replied, “I know Isabel, but I’m guessing you already knew that. And I don’t think this about me. This is about hurting Oliver.”

Bruce, frustrated, replied, “Which is why you should be as far away from him as possible. I heard about what happened with Cecil Adams and a rumor about a prison break in Moscow. He’s putting you in danger. Repeatedly. One of these times, your luck is going to run out. You’re going to get hurt, or should I say, hurt worse.” 

Felicity’s hand went reflexively to her neck, where the fading bruises from her encounter with the Count still lingered. And she realized then what the look was that he’d given her when he touched her neck outside: Bruce was worried. Felicity softened a little at that realization. But she couldn’t let him think that he, or anyone else, was going to dictate her life to her, so she reminded him, more gently this time, “these are my choices, Bruce. Just like it was my choice to work with you to help keep Gotham safe. I choose what I do, who I work with.”

Bruce wasn’t mollified by her softer tone. “But this is the wrong choice, Felicity! You’re going to end up dead if you don’t walk away. I won’t allow that.”

And any softness she was feeling toward Bruce Wayne was gone: “‘Allow’!? Even if we were still romantically involved, there would be no ‘allow’ with me. What the hell is it with vigilantes thinking they get to tell me what to do with my life? Ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous for me to want to keep you safe, ‘Lis!”

Before she could respond to that, though, another, achingly familiar voice broke into their argument, “I see I’m interrupting something…”

Shit . She hadn’t heard Oliver knock or open the door, but she suspected he’d been here for at least part of the show.

“Oliver…”

“I can’t really believe I’m going to say this, but I agree with Wayne. There’ve been too many close calls lately. Maybe you should spend some more time away from the foundry…from me.”

Felicity couldn’t take a minute more of this bullshit. Why did she have to keep reminding the men in her life that she was an adult fully capable of making her own choices? “Out. I want you both out. And maybe while you’re leaving, you can bond over the completely archaic, not to mention idiotic, idea that because I’m a woman, I’m more in need of protection than other members of your teams. Oh, and while you’re having your heart-to-heart, Bruce can tell you all about the fact that Isabel is the one who showed up in Gotham to rat us out. Maybe you two geniuses can figure out what her end game is since it’s clearly bigger than an unsuccessful hostile takeover of QC.”

With that, Felicity wrenched open her front door and waved them out. Reluctantly, both men moved onto her stoop then turned to face her. But Oliver’s plaintive, “Felicity…” was interrupted by her door slamming shut in his face.

Chapter Text

Oliver stared at Felicity’s closed front door. He was torn: on the one hand, he wanted, needed Felicity in his life, both as his partner in the mission and his partner in, well, everything else. But Wayne was right, too. Felicity’s work with him was putting a target on her back, and when their personal relationship became public, which was inevitable given how much time they spent together and how incapable they were of keeping their hands to themselves (even in more public places), Felicity would be in danger from the Arrow’s enemies and from Oliver Queens’.

“That went well,” Bruce muttered from behind him.

Oliver couldn’t help the humorless chuckle that escaped him as he turned to face Wayne. “Yeah. Real well.”

“Look, Queen. I don’t like you, not the playboy you, not the CEO you, and not the vigilante you. I didn’t like you even before I knew you were messing around with Felicity…”

“We’re not messing around. We’re together.”

“For now, maybe. But we both know you don’t have the emotional fortitude for a woman like that.”

“I don’t have the emotional fortitude? I’m not the one whose asshole behavior sent her to the other side of the country.”

“Be that as it may, I may not like you, but I just wanted to say that you’re doing the right thing here, walking away from her.”

“I’m not walking away.”

“Really? That’s what it sounded like in there.”

“Look, I’m getting the sense that you give a shit about Felicity, but let me make it perfectly clear here that she and I are now and will continue to be together. We will continue to be together until she tells me that’s not what she wants anymore. In there, I was suggesting some time away from our after-hours activities, not our personal relationship.”

“I’m not sure it’s just your after-hours activities that are putting her in danger.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that Isabel Rochev is both the Arrow’s and Oliver Queen’s problem. And if I had to guess, I’d say Ms. Rochev hates you for more than your role at Queen Consolidated or as the ‘Arrow.’ You might want to figure out what her agenda is before you get Felicity killed.”

***

After his conversation with Wayne on Felicity’s stoop, Oliver had headed back to the mansion to check in on his mother and Thea (who seemed to be in the middle of their own little cold war for some reason) and change his clothes. With those tasks accomplished, he headed to the foundry. He needed to hit something, and with Digg still not 100% after his brush with Vertigo and no more leads about the QC break-in for him to follow at the moment, Oliver would have to settle for whaling on the training dummies to release his current frustration. 

When he made it to the bottom of the stairs though, he jerked to halt. Felicity, absorbed in whatever she was doing on the lair’s main computer, hadn’t noticed his entry. 

Oliver knew he had some more apologies to make; god, he really was constantly apologizing to her wasn’t he? 

But he also had some points to make about her safety. He wanted to avoid her loud voice, but he also needed for them to have a frank conversation about keeping the panic button Rob had given her after her abduction and moving her someplace more secure than her current apartment. He knew she might see this as one more in a too-long list of high-handed decisions from him, but he needed her to be safe. And she wasn’t safe at the moment.

As he opened his mouth to call her name, Felicity suddenly turned his way and then nearly fell out of his chair.

“How do you walk so quietly? You’re like a pine tree on kitten feet. It shouldn’t be possible!”

He had no idea how to respond to that so he just tilted his head and smiled at her.

She smiled back for a moment before seemingly remembering that she was mad at him. As the smile slid off her face, she turned back to her computer.

Oliver quickly closed the distance between them and turned her chair back toward him. “Felicity, we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. And when has that ever been a good way to start a conversation? Unless…are you…you’re not…are you ending this?” 

Her voice trembled on the last few words, and Oliver wanted to kick himself for his phrasing. “No. Absolutely, 100% not. Felicity, I’m not walking away from you. Not ever.” That last part may have been more than he intended to say, at least more than he intended to say right now. He knew how he felt; he loved her. But they were also so new to the romantic part of their relationship, and he knew it was too soon to tell her he loved her, just like, he realized, it was too soon to ask her to live with him, even if the thought had crossed his mind when he recognized how many security problems her current place had.

Zoning back in on Felicity’s face, he watched as relief flashed on her face before her eyes grew wary. “Then what, Oliver?”

“Look, I know I owe you an apology. I was stupid and jealous earlier about that tech…”

“Barry Allen.”

“Barry Allen. I was stupid and jealous about Barry Allen earlier, and I was stupid and jealous about Wayne last week. I’m not usually a jealous person, Felicity, but it took me a long time ‘to get my head out of my ass’ about you – I’m quoting Digg there, but the way – and I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for you, which, before you say it, I know is on me. So yes, I acted like a neanderthal. That’s also on me, and I’m working on it, I promise.”

“Okay. I can accept your apology for that. And I can even accept additional security measures. I kept the panic button, and I know Rob is still tailing me when I go out. I’m okay with that, too. For now, not forever. But Oliver, you’ve got to stop trying to dictate my life to me. And you basically telling me that you’ve decided I should walk away from our work, our partnership is not okay.”

“I know, but…”

“You don’t know. Oliver; this is nonnegotiable. I worked extremely hard for the life I have now, a life I love, like, 90% of the time. I worked so hard to be strong, self-sufficient, and independent. I watched my mom fall apart when my dad left, and I promised myself that I would build my own life. I want you in that life, I do. But you cannot make decisions for me. You have to trust me to do what’s right for myself. And yes, I want to know what you think, as my partner, about the decisions I make, and in Team Arrow business, you’re the team leader. But in my life, I also need to know that you’ll respect my decisions when I make them, and in our life together, I need to know that I’ll get an equal say. I need you to trust me. I need you to be honest with me. And I’ll promise to stop downplaying or obfuscating or getting totally lost in my own head when there’s something wrong. Okay?”

Oliver blew out a breath and gave the only real response he could, “Okay.” And then he leaned down to kiss her softly. Before he could deepen the kiss, though, her workstation beeped.

Felicity turned her attention to her screen, and made a soft, confused hum. “That’s strange. I’ve been looking deeper into Stellmoor. On the surface, it looks like any other venture capital firm, but its roots are really shallow, only about three and a half years old, and it only has a single investor, whose name is curiously absent from all the incorporation records. I’ve gone through nine shell corporations already, and there are more.”

“Keep working. We need everything we can on Isabel. In the meantime, I’m going to head over to see a kid in a red hoodie about staying the hell away from my sister.” And with that, Oliver was turning toward the stairs, still in his leather suit.

“Oliver, interfering in Thea’s love life is a bad idea, particularly dressed like that!” Felicity shouted after him.

But Oliver was already up the stairs and gone.

Chapter Text

Oliver found the kid right where he shouldn’t have been, in the shadows of an alley deep in the glades trying to get the Arrow’s attention.

If Oliver was honest with himself (and he was trying to be honest with himself as much as possible these days), he liked Roy. He saw himself in the kid, and he admired how much Roy wanted to help his community and how much he seemed to care about Oliver’s little sister. But Thea was one of the few unquestionably good things in Oliver’s life, and he simply couldn’t stand by while Roy put himself in the kind of danger that could absolutely come back on Thea. The guys that Roy was messing with would go after innocent people to punish those who crossed them, and so far as Oliver would tell, Thea was about the only person that Roy cared about.

“Roy,” Oliver’s deeper, modulated voice surprised the younger man from behind. “This wasn’t our agreement. I said I’d call you when I needed you.”

“Yeah, I know. But I figure things should work both ways. And I need some help. Actually, a friend does. Look, after the Undertaking lots of people went missing, and nobody went looking for them. But people in the Glades matter, too. And I want to help my friend find her friend.”

“I don’t have time to chase missing street kids, Roy. There are bigger things at play here.”

“There always are. I guess I thought you’d be different. Should have known.”

And then, before Oliver could do what he’d initially come to do, you know, threaten Roy enough to get him to walk away from Thea before she got hurt, Roy was gone.

“Damnit.”

***

Oliver had been wrong quite a few times in his life, but the next night, as he stared down at the picture of another dead man with blood running from his eyes, he knew he’d been really, really wrong this time. He’d told Roy, basically, that he had bigger fish to fry than a runaway friend of a friend. He should have listened to the kid when he’d asked for help. Shit.

“This doesn't look like any OD I’ve ever seen,” Roy said, pulling Oliver from his thoughts.

“You’re right; it’s not. And you need to stay the fuck away from this,” Oliver returned hotly.

“You're the one who told me to be your eyes and ears on the streets. You know what, that’s not good enough for me anymore. I’m the one who has to live here in all this. I’m not walking away.”

“Fine. Then we're done.”

“Fine. I have other resources, friends who can help me. You can’t stop all of us.” With that, Roy turned and walked away, so he didn’t see the Arrow raise his bow and aim.

“Maybe not, but I can slow you down.” And with that Oliver released a single arrow, right into the back of Roy’s leg.”

***

There’d been far too many close calls in Oliver’s life, times when he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to make it out of a situation alive. But his fight with the black-masked man was definitely up there in terms of unwinnable fights. And the mystery man’s strength, stamina, and seeming imperviousness all reinforced that, as much as he was hoping he was wrong about the return of Mirakuru, it was back. 

Someone had recreated the serum, had been experimenting on unwilling victims for at least a few months, given the pattern of supposed ODs that Felicity had been able to find now that they were looking for it. That plus the clues that Barry Allen had helped them gather brought him to this nondescript building, where Oliver found all the proof he needed that they were in deep trouble here.

As Oliver started to lose consciousness, though, his last thought was that if he made it through this night alive, he was definitely going to have to apologize to Roy, which just irritated the shit out of him. 

***

Felicity and Diggle had both tried to persuade Oliver to hold off on his assault on the building until they had some more information. But Oliver wouldn’t be talked down. He was afraid, and for Oliver to be afraid, Felicity knew that this had to be really, really bad.

So, while they hadn’t convinced him to wait, she had persuaded him to focus on recon and keep his comm open the entire time. He’d reluctantly agreed.

And now, as she and Diggle raced to the van and sped toward the building deep in the Glades, she prayed that their precautions might keep him alive.

Things didn’t look good on that front when they arrived, though. Felicity ran straight to him, laid out and unconscious in a pile of syringes. He didn’t wake as she clutched his face, and his pulse was barely there.

Digg’s gruff, “What the hell is all this?” interrupted Felicity’s inspection, but it also propelled her into motion. Felicity grabbed one of the syringes from Oliver’s leg and tried to read the smeared code on the side, but when she reached the computer to try to run a search to figure out what Oliver had been injected with, she encountered a computer problem even she couldn’t fix. “I don't know, it's coded. I can't break into the dispensary files. I have no idea what he was injected with!”

“Felicity, we don’t have a choice then. We have to call 911.”

“We can’t. Everyone will know he’s the vigilante.”

“Which won’t matter if he’s dead! And we can’t save him!” “I know…I know. You’re right, we can’t.” Then Felicity pulled out her phone to make a call she never thought she’d make, one she really hoped that Oliver would forgive her for: “Bruce, I need your help.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Oliver saw when he came to was the ceiling of the foundry. The second thing he saw was Felicity's beautiful face. Both of those seemed like good news to him.

Oliver struggled to sit up, and it took him far longer than he would have liked. Every muscle and joint hurt like hell, even his skin felt too tight and too warm. But at least he was alive. How, though?

And as that thought occurred to him, he noticed another, less familiar body in the room. Clearing his throat, he gruffly asked, “Felicity, please tell me I’m hallucinating and that you didn’t bring Bruce fucking Wayne into our secret base of operations?”

“I absolutely did. And he saved your life, so I’m not sorry. Plus, I didn’t really have time to get your vote, what with you unconscious and DYING! Now, for the love of god, please lay back down.”

“Felicity…”

“No. Nope. You keep almost dying or almost ending up in prison for the rest of your life, and it’s starting to piss me off, Oliver.”

An amused voice broke in from the other side of the room. “Not that I don’t love a good lovers' quarrel, but I think we might have some bigger fish to fry here folks,” Bruce said before Oliver could respond to Felicity’s (unfortunately quite accurate) rejoinder. He’d been particularly close to death or imminent arrest far too many times in the last few weeks, and he could clearly see the fear on Felicity’s face, fear for him, fear that this mission was going to cost them both more than they could really bear to lose. 

Oliver didn’t have a lot of time to focus on that thought, though, before Wayne was talking again: “You were injected with a heavy-duty coagulant. And given the rundown Felicity gave me while you were out, these guys are making something nasty. Felicity says you’ve seen it before.”

“Felicity sure had a lot to say,” Oliver grumbled, but immediately regretted it when he saw Felicity’s eyes narrow and Wayne’s smirk return. 

Oliver needed to take a breath. His near-death experience, whatever Wayne had given him to bring him back around (was that a box of rat poison on the med table?), and the jealousy climbing up the back of his neck seeing Wayne with Felicity when he woke up were all conspiring to make him lose the hold he was barely maintaining on his temper. And he’d promised Felicity that he would get it together about Wayne and treat her like the fully capable person that she was. He needed to do that now, even if his first instinct was to stake his claim in front of their current audience. 

So, he took two deep breaths and answered Wayne’s implied question without any of the venom or irritation he was feeling: “I have seen this before. On the Island. The doctor in charge of those experiments called it Mirakuru. If the person who’s injected survives the dosage, they come away with super-strength, enhanced and accelerated healing, and a level of power and stamina unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Also, more than a touch of batshit craziness. But most of those injected don’t survive it, which I’m guessing explains the huge spike in missing persons cases that Felicity found.”

Felicity interjected then, “Once we caught on to the pattern, they were easier to find. We’re talking about hundreds of missing persons cases and at least fifty deaths, probably a lot more.  Just like Roy’s friend…or Roy’s friend’s friend…most of those cases were closed and marked as ODs. But I hacked the coroner’s office and found the photos. They all have the tell-tale bleeding eyes. I can’t imagine the guy you fought earlier tonight is the only one that survived, though.”

“He won’t be. And given the number missing, it sure looks like someone is building an army.”

“What the hell for?” Digg asked.

“You’re a soldier, John. What do you need an army for?”

“For war.”

Yeah. That’s what Oliver was thinking, too. Someone was going to war. But who? And why? And whom, exactly, were they planning to fight?

***
It was a strange switch of circumstances to be going to Lance for help (instead of the other way around), but Oliver needed more information about the name they’d found – Cyrus Gold. And after his and Diggle’s encounter with Gold at Gold’s apartment (one they’d barely escaped from alive), Oliver thought the police might have better luck.

But it turned out that a squad of well-armed police officers was no match for a single Mirakuru super-soldier. Lance’s info would be helpful, but the cost was too high: at least three dead officers and everyone else (including Lance) badly injured. Oliver couldn’t risk anyone else, not again. So he needed to try doing this alone, even though he knew that Felicity and Diggle were bound to object to his decision to do so.

As he finished zipping his jacket and reached for his bow, he heard Felicity’s voice over his shoulder. “Where are you going? You can’t go out there. You can’t go after him in your condition.”

He turned to her then. “Felicity, I don’t have a choice.” He held her gaze, begging her to understand that he couldn’t have any more deaths or injuries on his conscience. He had to go after Gold, try to find the facility where they were holding victims, try to get those people out. He had to go. But he wanted her to know that he wasn’t planning to die. This wasn’t a suicide mission for him. “I’ll come back.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” Then he kissed her, hard and long, before he was up the stairs and out the door.
 ***
Roy had thought getting shot by an arrow would be the worst thing to happen to him this week. But apparently he was wrong. Getting knocked out, kidnapped, strapped to a chair, and injected with an unknown – but fucking painful – substance was definitely worse.

Roy vaguely heard a voice, though, as he struggled to move his body even though every single part of him hurt, a voice that was urging him to fight. “I am not leaving anyone else to die. You’re strong, kid. Fight!”

It took him more time than he liked, but finally Roy opened his eyes, only to find that Arrow asshole standing over him. “Huh. Guess I didn’t die. Again. Cool.”

Oliver couldn’t help the small smile at Roy’s words, words strangely close to ones he’d said himself not all that long ago.

“Yeah. Cool. Let’s get you out of here.”

Chapter Text

With all that had happened in the past few weeks, Oliver just hadn’t had time to track Sara down again. He knew she’d used the passcode to the foundry that Felicity had created for her, but he hadn’t actually seen her there. So when he arrived two days after he’d rescued Roy (who seemed to be doing alright given everything) to find Sara in black spandex at the top of the salmon ladder, he was surprised. He was even more surprised to hear her laugh. That surprise turned to affection when he saw that it was Felicity who had made Sara laugh. 

Felicity certainly had a way with broken people; just look at him. She’d brought him back to life, in a way. And though there’d been more worry and pain in his life since he’d met her (not because of her but because caring about other people made him vulnerable in ways that he hadn’t been before), there was also infinitely more joy. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

He hovered at the top of the stairs a few moments more just watching his friend and his…Felicity before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

When she saw him, Sara dropped from the top of the ladder to the mat below. “Hi, Ollie.”

“Sara. It’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I was just catching her up on our adventures with Helena last year,” Felicity added from his right.

Oliver blushed then. Those had not been his finest moments, he knew. But he was glad to hear Felicity apparently joking about it. And if it also got a smile and a laugh out of Sara, he was happy to butt of the joke. Aloud, all he said was “Ah.”

Sara’s smiles used to be easy and frequent. But when he’d seen her again on the island, they were pretty much nonexistent. He sensed she still didn’t smile much, but he also knew the kind of impact Felicity Smoak could have on a taciturn vigilante. So he wasn’t all that surprised that Felicity got both a smile and a laugh from his old friend. He hated – absolutely hated – to interrupt whatever merriment they were sharing, but he also knew he needed to tell Sara about the Mirakuru. She knew so much more about it than he did, and they needed all the help they could get.

“Sara, we need to talk.”

“That’s never a good opening.”

Felicity’s “Told you!” made him turn to her and smile for a moment before he turned back to his friend. “Yeah. This isn’t good news. Someone has replicated Mirakuru. And they’ve been successful at least twice that we know of so far.”

“How? How is that possible? We destroyed it and everyone who’d been injected with it.”

“I don’t know. That’s what I need your help figuring out. If we can find out how they got the formula or a sample of the serum, maybe we can also figure out what the hell they’re planning to do with it.”

“This is really, really bad, Ollie.”

“I know. But I’m glad you’re here.”

***

Sara went back to training while Oliver checked in with Felicity. She’d run down some updates (more missing teenagers from the Glades, more ODs, and a few buildings that were good candidates for being the base of operations for the Mirakuru operation).

“That’s where we’re at on the Mirakuru. I think I’ve got something on the Stellmoor front, too. But I need to check a few things at QC to be sure.”

“Take Digg.”

“Oliver…”

“Felicity, please, take Digg. I know you can take care of yourself, but for the time being, I’d really appreciate it if you let our armed and dangerous friend go with you when you’re making late-night trips to a deserted building, even if the building in question is Queen Consolidated.”

Felicity huffed out a “Fine,” before kissing him lightly and calling out to Digg, who followed her up the stairs and out the door of the Foundry.

Oliver did want Felicity to be protected (he still had nightmares about seeing her held at syringe-point by the Count), but he’d also suggested it because he needed some time alone with Sara. He got the sense that she had something to say that she wouldn’t say in front of Felicity or Diggle. And he also had questions, about her time away and where she’d been, that he was hoping she might be ready to answer now.

“She’s pretty great, Ollie. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Your confidence in me is heartwarming, Sara.”

“I’m just saying. Your track record before the island wasn’t great.”

“It’s different with her. I’m different.”

“I can see that. She’s nothing like the women you used to go for. Case in point,” she replied, pointing to herself.

“You’re also pretty great, Sara. We were just dumb kids then.”

“Well, a few years of monstrous choices will make a person grow the hell up, huh?”

“Sara, I think it’s time for you to tell me what happened after Ivo and the Amazo.”

Sara sighed, “Yeah. I guess it is.” She took a deep breath and laid it all out: “It was like the Gambit all over again. I got washed out to sea, I thought I was going to drown, but the current was kinder to me this time. I ended up washed up back on Lian Yu. Some members of a secretive group found me there. They saved me, gave me water, fed me, and nursed me back to health. Then they trained me. Gave me a purpose again. And I…met someone. Fell in love with someone, but the League doesn’t take kindly to relationships that involve actual emotions. And she won’t leave the League behind. So I’m here, back in my own kind of purgatory, but the League isn’t going to let me go easily. They’ll send someone for me. Well, someone else.”

“Sara, you have to tell your family you’re alive. If these people haven’t been able to get to you, they’re going to go after your family. The only way to protect them is to tell them.”

***

Oliver knew that Sara was nervous; hell, he was nervous, too. He had no idea how Captain Lance was going to react to the news that Sara was alive, but Oliver had a feeling that Lance was going to be pissed at him. He just hoped that Sara got the warm welcome she so desperately wanted from her father.

And he really shouldn’t have worried about that: Lance’s choked “Sara?” was full of hesitant hope, and then he was clutching Sara close. Oliver felt a lump in his own throat at the sight of father and daughter reunited. 

“Dad.”

“You’re alive. You’re here. How are you here?”

“It’s a really long story, and I promise to tell it to you. But right now I need you to get yourself and Laurel out of town. Someone’s coming for me, and they’ll hurt you if they can.”

“Sara…”

“Please, Dad. I’ll come for you as soon as it’s safe for me to. And I’ll tell you everything, answer all of your questions as honestly as I can. I just need you to trust me for now.”

And because Quentin Lance knew both his daughters so very well, he nodded, kissed Sara on the cheek, hugged her tightly, and walked back to his car to go get Laurel and get out of town.

Chapter Text

Sara knew that Nyssa would eventually come herself. That had been the message from the League members that Sara had already fought. It was also part of who Nyssa was. It had probably enraged Nyssa that she’d had to send others in her place, but it was likely that the Demon’s Head had insisted. When none of the men they’d sent returned, Sara guessed that Nyssa had finally convinced her father to let her come to Starling herself.

But now, with Sara’s father and Laurel somewhere safe for the time being, Sara was tired of playing the League’s games. She needed this to end, however that happened. And the best way she knew to do that was to confront Nyssa head on. When she located Nyssa, she’d expected a grand scheme, some poisoning, maybe a little kidnapping. But Nyssa surprised her with a more direct approach: a dagger to Sara’s throat. Despite the precarious situation, Sara fell a little more in love with Nyssa then because Nyssa gave her the respect of taking her on hand-to-hand, one-on-one.

“Come home, Beloved.”

“I can’t go back, Nyssa, and if you’re honest with yourself, you know that. My family is here; they need me. I can’t take the killing anymore And even if I wanted to return to Nanda Parbat, your father would kill me on sight.”

Sara watched as Nyssa – the great love of her life, Sara thought sadly – closed her eyes in pain. She knew Sara was right about her father; the Demon’s Head would never accept Sara as his daughter’s partner even if Sara hadn’t left Nanda Parbat without permission. But the moment she had, according to League rules, her life was forfeit. 

Sara was also glad to be right about how much Nyssa loved her. Because instead of driving the dagger into Sara’s throat and ending her life, Nyssa lowered the dagger and took a deep breath. But Sara was surprised when Nyssa said quietly, “As daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, I release you, Ta-er al-Sahfer, my little bird.” And then Sara was heartbroken – again – when she had to watch Nyssa walk away.

***

Felicity was smart. A genius, in fact. She could write code, she could hack, she could solve puzzles. But that was precisely what had gotten her into trouble so very many times before. Because she was basically incapable of leaving a puzzle unsolved. These things nagged at her until she gave in and tracked down whatever piece she’d been missing.

And that was exactly what brought her here, to this moment. See, though she had so many other mysteries to solve at the moment (Isabel’s endgame, Stellmoor’s mystery investor, and where the Mirakuru had come from, not to mention why Bruce was still in Starling), when the alert she’d embedded on the account associated with Tempest (the strange LLC that was connected to Moira Queen and her involvement in Malcolm Merlyn’s Undertaking) pinged, Felicity simply couldn’t let it go.

So, while Moira got up to speed with Oliver and the head of the Special Projects division, Felicity pulled Walter aside to ask if he knew why a transfer had been made from the Tempest account to a regular numbered account at Starling National. Walter had told her not to worry about it, that Moira’s accountant had probably just shut it down now that she was back at QC to head up Special Projects; he’d said he’d talk to Moira first thing.

But Felicity simply couldn’t let it go. And that’s how she found herself in the foyer of the Queen mansion facing down her boyfriend’s mother. (Boyfriend was, she thought, the correct term, though she and Oliver hadn’t actually discussed labels, and now she was lost in her own head when she needed to be fully present in this clusterfuck of a situation.) Felicity tuned back into her conversation with Moira just in time for the older woman to ask Felicity what she needed to talk to her about.

“I need to talk to you about Tempest. I flagged a large wire transfer you made. When I mentioned it to Walter, he said he would talk to you about it. I could tell in his face he wouldn't. British people are really bad liars.”

Moira, seemingly amused at Felicity’s brief babble, agreed, “They are.”

“So I looked into it myself, because – full disclosure – I don't trust you. You paid a substantial sum of money to a Dr. Gill. He was the doctor who delivered Thea, which didn't make any sense to me. So I went through like a dozen different theories until I remembered the testimony at your trial. You had an affair with Malcolm Merlyn the year before Thea was born. Merlyn is Thea's father.”

“I can see why Walter and my son have such a high opinion of you and your abilities, Ms. Smoak. So, just what are you planning to do with this information?”

“I don't know. Confronting you in your living room was as far as my plan went. I thought you deserved the chance to tell Oliver yourself. He should hear it from you.”

Moira laughed lightly then but without any humor. “I won’t be telling my son anything. And neither will you. Because you have feelings for my son, and this information will devastate him. He’ll end up hating me for what I’ve done. But he’ll hate you, too.”

And a little voice in the back of Felicity’s head wondered if Moira was right. Felicity and Oliver had been through so much. And now that they were together , she knew she was important to him, that he cared for her. But this news about Thea’s parentage and his mother’s deception would be absolutely devastating to Oliver, and he’d already lost so much. Could Felicity really stand to be the one who rocked his world again? 

***

Oliver was, once more, frustrated. He knew Sara needed some time after her conversation with Nyssa, and it seemed like progress to him that Sara had called to fill him in on Nyssa’s decision to “release” Sara. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it sounded like good news that the League of Assassins was planning to leave Sara alone, for the time being at least.

Still, she should have been back in touch by now. That combined with Felicity’s silence and clear distraction was making him nervous. Itchy. There were things going on that he didn’t know or understand, and he hated that. He couldn’t help or protect the people he loved if they shut him out.

Since Sara was still MIA, he decided to focus on figuring out what was going on with Felicity. But when he called her name, she didn’t respond. He was shirtless, moving between the salmon ladder and the massive tire, and normally, that meant he had Felicity’s undivided attention. At the moment, though, Felicity looked to be a million miles away. It wasn’t until he called her name for the fourth time and moved into her personal space, that Felicity even seemed to realize he was there. 

Her startled “What?!” confused and concerned him in equal parts. “Are you okay?” he asked, resting his hand on her knee. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just…a lot going on. What do you need?”

He needed her. He needed her to confide in him, to let him in, to let him help her with whatever put that look of sadness and fear on her face. But instead of saying all that, Oliver smiled at her and asked, “How about a date to the QC press conference announcing my mother’s return to the company?”

Chapter Text

Felicity was nervous. Actually, scratch that, Felicity was terrified. 

The press conference announcing Moira’s return to QC was just minutes away now, and Felicity still hadn’t told Oliver what she knew about Thea’s parentage. It had been all she’d been able to think about for the last 16 hours, since she’d left Moira Queen’s drawing room with the matriarch’s words about Oliver hating her ringing in her ears. She didn’t think that would happen. She loved him, and even though he hadn’t said it (neither of them had, actually), she was pretty sure he loved her, too. 

She didn’t think he’d hate her for telling him the truth, but a small part of her was still the abandoned seven-year-old girl who’d watched the door for months waiting for her father to return. The fear of losing Oliver, of having to watch helplessly as he walked away from her, was a living thing in her chest. But could she really let him go up there, welcome his mom back to the company, extol Moira’s virtues, without knowing the truth? Without knowing that she’d lied to everyone, including Oliver and Thea , about who Thea’s father was?

Oliver’s concerned, “Felicity. Fel-ic-ity?” cut into her racing thoughts. “What is going on with you? And don't say…”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say ‘nothing.’ The truth,” he said, grabbing both her hands in his. “Please.”

Felicity couldn’t say no, not when he asked it with his eyes soft and concerned in what she now thought of as his “Felicity” voice, the one so full of tenderness that it always made her want to lean into the strength of his body. So, she took a deep breath, and told him the truth (about more than just the secret his mother was keeping): “You might have noticed that I talk a lot.”

His lips tipped up at that. “It hasn’t escaped my attention.”

“You might have also noticed that I don't talk a lot about my family.”

His face grew serious. “I have noticed that.”

“My mother is…well, she's my mother, bright and loud and overly invested in my life. But also kind and warm. I don't really know what my father is, though, because he abandoned us. I barely remember him. But I do remember how much it hurt when he left. I felt broken by that for a long time. And just the thought of losing someone that important to me again…”

“Hey. You’re not going to lose me. You can’t lose me. Felicity, when I said I wasn’t ever walking away from you, I meant it. You’re…it for me. I’m all in with you. There is not a single thing in this world that could make me walk away. You have to know that. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

He pulled her into a fierce hug and kissed the top of her head. When he pulled back a few inches, he asked, “Is this about your family?”

Felicity took a deep breath, looked into the eyes of the man she loved, and prepared herself to shake the foundations of his life. “No. It’s about yours.”

***

Oliver was shell shocked. He stood, mute and stunned, staring at Felicity for a full 60 seconds before he could form actual words. “Malcolm Merlyn?”

Felicity, eyes wide and clearly concerned, nodded her head, and then looked behind him where he knew QC’s CCO, Thea, Walter, and his mother were all waiting for him to join them onstage. He knew he needed to walk that way, but his feet felt rooted to the ground. 

He had long been aware that his mother had shortcomings. A lot of them, honestly. But he’d always believed that at her core, she was a good person. Oliver believed she loved him, loved Thea. And he wanted to believe that everything she’d done, from her involvement in the coverup of the Gambit’s sabotage to her complicity in the Undertaking, was done under duress and to protect her family.

But this? Lying about the identity of Thea’s father? Not letting Thea know Tommy as her brother? Malcolm Merlyn was a monster, but Tommy was the best of them. And all the years Oliver had been away, Thea could have leaned on her other brother, on Tommy, whose heart was bigger than any person Oliver had ever known. How could his mother justify that? How could she justify depriving Thea of having a relationship with a brother who would have adored her? And on top of the lying, the fact that she’d threatened Felicity when Felicity had tried to get his mother to tell him the truth? Un-fucking-acceptable.

Just then, Oliver heard his COO call his name, prompting him to join them onstage so he could say a few words about his mother’s return to the company. Oliver had lots to say, but very little of it was appropriate for the current venue.

As he turned to walk toward the stage, he felt Felicity grab his hand and squeeze. He looked back at her momentarily, squeezed her hand, and moved toward his mother, Walter, and Thea, who were standing on the right side of the stage as Oliver approached.

He walked past them and to the microphone and cleared his throat. “Well, I'm here today to say a few words about Moira Queen. I bet many of you think that you know her, because you’ve read about her in the press or seen her on TV. But I can promise you, you don't know my mother.” He paused, and looked at his mother then, letting her see his rage for a moment before he turned back to the crowd. “You don't know her like I do. And you don't know what she's capable of. But we at Queen Consolidated do know, and that’s why we’re thrilled to have her back, leading our Special Projects Division and working closely with new partners to bring money and jobs back to Starling. Ladies and gentlemen, my mother, Moira Queen. Come on mom, say a few words.”

As Oliver stepped back, and as his mother stepped forward, he pulled her into a tight, brief hug, and whispered irately in her ear, “I know. I know everything.”

Then, a fake smile firmly planted on his face, Oliver turned back to the crowd as his mother stepped up the microphone.

***

Late that evening, after he’d patrolled with Diggle and checked in with both Sara and Felicity, Oliver parked his car in the circle driveway near the front door of the Queen mansion. All the years he’d been away, he’d thought of this place as home. The house was big and imposing, and he knew to outsiders it might seem cold and overly formal. But that was never how he’d thought of it. For him, it was chasing Tommy through the gardens, playing board games with Thea in the dining room, learning to cook with Raisa in the kitchen, reading in his father’s study, watching movies with Thea and his mom in the drawing room. It was a home, his home. Or it had been all that. Now it felt tainted by his mother’s lies and scheming. He couldn’t stay here, not now.

Moira Queen was exactly where he’d expected to find her, in the drawing with a glass of scotch watching the evening news, which was apparently discussing her triumphant return to QC. She’d been waiting for him, it seemed, because as soon as she heard him approach the doors to the drawing room, she was turning off the TV and rising to her feet. “I know we need to talk.”

Oliver scoffed. “No. You need to listen. For the past year, I have stood by your side. I have fought for you, defended you to the world and to Thea, because I wanted to believe that you weren't this…monster. I wanted to believe that, in your heart, you were a good person who’d done bad things, that you were still my mother.”

“I am. I lied about Thea to protect her from Malcolm.”

“No, you lied because that is what you do. And that is who you are, Mom, a liar. You lied about your relationship with Merlyn. You lied about what you knew about the Gambit. You lied about Walter. About Dad. And now you've made a liar out of me. Because Thea can’t find out about Merlyn, not now, not after Tommy’s gone and Malcolm has been outed as the monster he is. So I have to let that lie stand. And I have to lie to her about us, about you and me. Because as of this moment, we have no relationship. I will keep up appearances for Thea's sake. And I will support you within the company. But privately, you and I are done. You lied to me, over and over again. You’ve manipulated me for the last time. And instead of owning up to what you’d done and coming clean when Felicity gave you the chance, you threatened her to keep your secrets hidden. So we’re done.”

“Oliver…”

But Oliver had been telling the truth a moment ago: he was done with his mother. 100% done. So even as she called his name, he turned away and headed up stairs to grab the bags he’d already packed, then he was out the door and driving away from the place that had once been his home.

Chapter Text

Oliver hadn’t thought much beyond getting his stuff and getting out of the mansion. So, at loose ends, he headed back to the foundry. There was a cot and a shower; he could stay there until he figured out what his next step was going to be.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, though, he was surprised to find Felicity still at her computer. When they’d talked an hour ago, she was planning to head home, so he wasn’t sure why she was still here. 

Despite his confusion, he was really, really glad to see her. He’d wanted to go to her when he’d left his mother. But he wasn’t in a great place, and he hadn’t wanted to burden her with the mass of confusion and hurt that was rolling around in his head. But there she was, turning toward him and smiling at him in welcome. And unbelievably, despite how awful the confrontation with his mother had been, he suddenly felt lighter and more centered than he had. Just from seeing her smile at him. She really was magic, his Felicity.

“What are you still doing here?” Oliver asked with a small smile.

“Waiting for you. I figured the confrontation with your mom was going to suck, and I thought maybe you’d want to talk or…something.”

“It was rough. I can’t even look at her.”

“So,” Felicity said, nodding toward the small duffle bag in his left hand and to the garment bag in his right, “you’re planning to stay here?”

“Yeah. For a little while. Until I can figure out what to do next.”

“You could do that. Or you could, you know, stay with me?” Felicity asked, her voice rising at the end to turn the statement into a question. 

When Oliver didn’t answer right away, Felicity began to backtrack, “I mean, you could use my spare bedroom. As, like, a guest. It’s not like we’d be living together , living together. It’s too soon for that, right? I mean…”

Before she could work herself into more of a state, Oliver moved into her personal space and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’d love to.”

“Really? Okay. Good. Come home with me. As my guest. No commitment here. I mean some commitment; we’re obviously in a relationship. But, like, no more commitment than we previously committed to. Just a room and a bed.” Oliver couldn’t help but smile as she babbled. He loved her babble.

And when she fell silent, he moved his hand from her shoulder to her neck and leaned down to kiss her behind her ear before noting, “Felicity, you do know that if I stay with you, I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom, right? And it’s not all that big of a change considering that we’ve only slept apart three times since we got back from Russia.”

“Right.”

“And also: it’s not too soon for me. I told you before that I’m all in. And if you wanted to move in together, permanently, as a couple, I’d be totally onboard.”

Felicity beamed at him and grabbed her bag and his hand. “Well, we should talk about that. For now, though, let’s go home.”

***

Felicity wasn’t sure what exactly she’d be expecting when she invited Oliver to stay with her. Or move in with her, maybe permanently. She wasn’t clear on where they’d come down on that. But either way, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but this level of easy domestic bliss certainly wasn’t it. 

When they’d gotten home last night, Felicity had cleaned out a drawer and a little closet space for his clothes. He’d added his things to the closet and dresser then unpacked his toiletries in the bathroom. With those tasks quickly accomplished, Oliver had made slow, thorough love to her. It was intense, almost reverent, and entirely wonderful. 

And she’d woken this morning to the smell of coffee and bacon, which had happened before when Oliver stayed the night. But it was different, somehow, knowing that she had this to look forward to every morning for the foreseeable future. She couldn’t wait.

She must have made some sound when she entered the kitchen, still in her sleep shorts and cami (with Battlestar Galactica themed socks on her feet), because Oliver turned her way with a smile as he took her in from head to toe. “Pancakes. Bacon. And coffee. Come sit.”

It was only 7:15 am, but already Felicity could envision this as a perfect day: a yummy breakfast, meetings (but no Isabel) at QC, a little light (or not so light, depending on whether she managed to track down more on the Mirakuru operation or on Isabel and Stellmoor) crime fighting, and then home. All with Oliver. This was exactly what she’d wanted. What she’d thought (wrongly, she eventually realized) she could have with Bruce. What she really could have with Oliver: a life and a mission with the man she loved. 

***

Twelve hours later, Felicity had to remind herself of her morning bliss to keep from letting the jealousy she was feeling tip her over into some intemperate action. 

Don’t get her wrong; she liked Sara. Sara was funny and kind, and she laughed at Felicity’s dorky jokes and rolled her eyes with Felicity when Oliver and Diggle did something ridiculous in the lair. But Felicity really could do without all the reminiscing. And all the fucking touching. Did Sara and Oliver really have to touch each other so much while they trained? It didn’t seem like Oliver and Diggle touched that much when they were training.

Felicity was pulled from her thoughts by Diggle’s grunt and Sara’s sharp, quick intake of breath.

“Digg!” Oliver admonished. “Here, Sara, let me have a look.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Despite Sara’s protests, Oliver pulled on her hand until they were just a few inches apart and probed the small cut at her hairline.“Let me see. Let me see. Yeah. She's bleeding, but it's not deep.”

Sara huffed out a small laugh. “Good, I can't take any more scars. Speaking of scars, Digg, mortar round?” she added, pointing at the back of Diggle’s leg.

“Yeah, IED, the Paktika province in Afghanistan. Good eye,” he replied with admiration.

“I know my wounds. Grenade. Algiers,” she returned, pointing to her own calf.

“I've never been hit by a grenade,” Oliver interjected.

“All those scars, you've never been hit by a grenade?” Diggle asked.

“Arrow, knife, knife,” Oliver recited, pointing at various scars on his torso. “A lot of bullets, no grenades,” he affirmed.

“I've got myself a new bullet. Nine millimeter, right there,” Diggle said, pointing to a spot on his shoulder 

“.38,” Sara added, pointing to her own shoulder. “I'm mostly swords, and a spear.” 

Before Felicity could control herself (or at least mask the awkward jealousy in her voice), she added, “I have a scar. It's in my mouth. I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was 16. Three stitches. They were really badly impacted.” By the time she finished, the other three were all looking at her with varying levels of amusement and affection.

“You're still cute,” Sara returned, smiling fondly at Felicity.

Felicity smiled back briefly before she turned to find Oliver’s eyes, soft and happy, also trained on her. And that look helped her push down some of the jealousy she’d been feeling. When Oliver looked at her like that, she found it hard to feel anything but…well, loved, honestly. They still hadn’t said the words, but his soft eyes said more than enough. 

Sara’s voice, threaded with a hint of laughter, broke into their staring contest. “I’m off to sit around awkwardly with my family and try to ignore the deadly looks Laurel sends my way. I’ll see everyone tomorrow.”

“I’m out too. Lyla’s in town for a quick overnight, and I’m not going to waste any more of it here with you guys.”

With that, both Digg and Sara were up the stairs and gone. And Oliver was staring at her with barely disguised mischief in his eyes. And heat. All the heat.

Chapter Text

Oliver vaguely heard the door to the foundry close behind Digg, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Felicity. He didn’t want to, anyway.

He got the sense, from her babble about her wisdom teeth and the way he sometimes caught her staring at him with Sara, that she might be feeling a little insecure about having his ex-girlfriend in the foundry so often. But he didn’t quite know how to explain to her that the moment he’d kissed her (and for a while before that, honestly), he was done with all other women. He wasn’t going to do a single thing to jeopardize the life he planned to build with her. 

There was also the fact that their first kiss had been better than sex with other people. He’d felt more alive, more connected, and more satisfied by that kiss than full on intercourse with other women. 

And despite the relatively demure blue top and tweed skirt she was currently wearing, Oliver also found her sexier than any woman he’d ever been with. Every morning he’d woken up with her since they’d returned from Russia, he’d watched closely as she got dressed, watched her select a skirt or dress for the day that he just knew was going to drive him absolutely crazy. And every morning he looked forward to being the one to help her take it off, knowing he was the only one who got to see her that way.

He loved every single one of her dresses and skirts. But his favorites were always the ones that looked particularly proper. Like the outfit she was wearing now. They made him want to muss her up a little. Tonight, he had no intention of taking that skirt off before he fucked her. He’d pull it up around her waist and taste her. He needed to be inside her with that skirt and those fucking heels still on. And he wasn’t sure he could wait until they got home.

***

Felicity watched as Oliver stalked – there really was no other word for it – toward her. His eyes were heated and entirely focused on her. 

Were they going to have bunker sex? She was pretty sure they were going to have bunker sex. Yay .

She opened her mouth to ask him what he was planning, but before she could, his hands were in her hair and his tongue was in her mouth.

She sunk into the kiss as she threaded her arms around his neck. God, she loved kissing Oliver. He was extremely good at it, for one. And his soft, full lips were a thrilling contrast to the scratchiness of his stubbled jaw where it lightly abraded her mouth and her cheeks. 

“Hi,” he said when he broke the kiss. “I’ve been dying to kiss you for hours.”

“Hi. And I’m glad you took the opportunity when it presented itself.”

“I’m planning to take other opportunities, too.” Oliver smirked at her as he shuffled her back until her back hit the concrete support pillar. “For instance, this seems like a good opportunity for me to make you come.”

“That sounds like a good plan. I adore that plan. Let’s go with that plan,” Felicity agreed.

“I’m glad you agree. Put your leg over my shoulder,” Oliver returned as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“That’s a little difficult in this skirt. Want to unzip me?”

“I was thinking more that I’d drag the skirt up over your hips and eat you while you stand there in your very proper skirt and fuck-me heels.” The heels alone – four inch Mary Janes in black patent leather – were honestly enough to drive him right over the edge.

“Yes. Yes. That’s…yes. Let’s do that,” Felicity enthused, nodding along as Oliver did exactly what he’d promised to do. Within moments her skirt was bunched around her waist, and she’d thrown her left leg over Oliver’s shoulder. 

Oliver leaned in and ran his nose from her knee to the top of her thigh and then kissed his way back down again. He heard Felicity's quickly in-drawn breath and felt her melt back into the pillar, relying on it and Oliver to keep her standing. Oliver smiled into her thigh and repeated his earlier motion before touching her through the fabric of her panties.

“Felicity, you’re already wet,” he noted before moving her panties to the side and dragging his tongue through her folds, once, twice, before honing in on her clit.

Felicity made an unintelligible noise, and Oliver smiled before licking her again. He added one finger, then two before he felt her walls start to flutter around them. Oliver sucked her clit, which was apparently what she needed to find her orgasm; he felt her walls clench as her heel dug into his shoulder blade where it had been resting.

She was still coming down when he surged to his feet, his hands going to the button on his leathers. Before he got the button open, though, Felicity’s hands were knocking his away. She undid his pants and wrapped her soft hand around his cock. She gave him a few firm squeezes while he reached for the condom from the box he’d strategically hidden in the med bay.

“Oliver,” Felicity asked, still a little breathless but her voice threaded with amusement, “when did we add condoms to the first aid kits?”

“Felicity, I’ve put boxes of condoms in every single place you and I might be alone together. I don’t intend to miss a single opportunity to be with you. When it comes to making sure I can make love to you wherever you want me to, I’m a goddamn Boy Scout: always prepared.”

Felicity’s laugh made Oliver feel lighter. She often had that effect on him, though; it was part of her magic, the way she made him feel alive and vital and urgent and content all at the same time.

Oliver kissed the smile from her lips and then lifted Felicity. With her skirt still around her hips, she leaned into him as he held her tightly, one arm beneath her ass and the other wrapped around her back to keep them pressed together. He walked them toward the cot in the corner, kissing her as they went until she was squirming against him.

Oliver laid her back on the narrow bed and kicked his pants all the way off then whipped his jacket off and dropped it behind him. As he did, Felicity rose to her elbows and just watched him, eyes roaming from his face to his abs to his cock, which seemed to grow harder at her attention. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and one of those low, sexy-as-fuck hums slipped from her mouth. He wanted to kiss her – and fuck her – until she couldn’t do anything but make that same humming noise.

When he pulled her panties off, Felicity fell to her back and spread her legs before smiling up at him again, her face a mix of want, need, and the pure joy she seemed to exude whenever they were together like this. Oliver loved everything about her. But that feeling seemed to expand even more at the sight of her now, hair a bit disheveled, glasses a little askew, and a wide, warm smile on her face, a smile that was just for him.

Her shirt was open; her skirt was still around her waist, and her panties had disappeared entirely at some point. Oh, and those four inch heels that made him crazy? Still strapped to her feet. He smiled at that and leaned down to kiss her again. When the kiss ended, she shimmied up the bed a little, crooked a finger at him, and reached to pull him down on top of her. He was more than happy with that plan, especially when his erection slipped easily between her folds. He looked up to her face to check in, and her smile turned sultry when she said, “Yes, Oliver. Now.” 

Felicity’s hips rose to meet his when he slid home, and her hum turned to a sigh. “I love the feeling of you inside me, of being connected to you like this.”

“Me, too,” Oliver agreed before pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in again, agonizingly slowly. He repeated the motion, just as slowly, over and over until she was squirming beneath him.

He watched a blush move from her neck to her breasts as her legs grew more restless. “Oliver. Please,” she begged as she wrapped her legs more firmly around his waist. And so, Oliver gave her what she wanted, picking up the pace and force of his thrusts and reaching between them to find her clit with his index finger. Her back bowed with the strength of her orgasm, and when she wrapped him up tightly with all four of her limbs, Oliver followed her over the edge.

Chapter Text

“We’re going to have to thoroughly sanitize the lair, you know? Because if Digg gets even a hint that we just did that in here , he’s going to kill you,” Felicity said from her place on Oliver’s chest. Oliver wasn’t sure just how long they’d been lying here like this, with her head resting right over his heart and her legs tangled with his. At some point, she’d managed to get her shoes off, thank god, or she’d be impaling his leg with one of those lethal heels.

“Me? Why is this all on me?” Oliver asked with a laugh.

“Hey! You started it! And Digg will know I’d never …”

“You’d never what? Let me go down on you against a pillar within minutes of us being alone down here?”

Felicity sniffed and replied mock-seriously, “I’m obviously far too appropriate for something like that.”

“Obviously.”

Oliver rolled them, then, so that she was beneath him again, and kissed the breath out of her. As he pulled back a little, he saw her eyes float open and her lips turn up at the ends. “We’re really good at that, you know,” she said with a smile.

“I do know. Let’s go home and practice some more.”

“A wonderful idea, Mr. Queen. Top notch. Truly.”

Oliver rolled off her and climbed to his feet before reaching a hand out to help her off the cot. He couldn’t help stealing another kiss before he went in search of their clothes. By the time he’d pulled on his boxer briefs and located her panties, Felicity had pulled her skirt back down and was buttoning her shirt. He couldn’t help but smile at her bedhead and the light whisker burn on her neck. When they got home, he’d have to see exactly where else he’d left a mark.

With that excellent thought at the front of his mind, it took Oliver a few seconds to realize that Felicity was back at her now beeping workstation. Normally, Oliver wouldn’t have been concerned, but when he saw the unnatural stillness of her body and the look on her face? Yeah. that concerned him. He was by her side in seconds. “Felicity?”

“It’s a message from Lance. He needs to see you. Something about a murder and burglary.”

“Is that what put that look on your face?”

“No. Lance also mentioned what was stolen. A skeleton key.”

“Like that Kate Hudson movie from 2005?”

“That’s a deep cut pop culture reference there, Queen.”

“What? Tommy and I saw it, like, four times in the theater.”

“And that wouldn’t have anything to do with the scenes with Kate Hudson in her underwear, would it?”

“I don’t think I should answer that.”

“Yeah. Probably not. And yes, a little like that: it’s a sort of master key that opens all sorts of doors. But this one is digital. And it’s very, very bad news if it ends up in the hands of a bad guy. Oliver, this thing can not only unlock any bank vault; it can unlock pretty much anything, really. It can also do physical damage to a system. Theoretically, if someone knew how to use it, it could turn a network or device into a physical weapon. It was intended as a military tool to aid in code breaking on foreign intelligence targets. QC was working on something similar, but we shut it down…”

“Right. We shut it down once we figured out what it could be used for. But I’m guessing Kord didn’t.”

“No. They didn’t. This thing should never have been built. This could be very, very bad.”

“Okay. Text Sara, tell her it’s urgent, and have her meet me in the alley behind the precinct. I’ll call Lance back and tell him the same thing. We’ll figure this out, Felicity.”

“Maybe I should come with you to meet Lance.”

“No. We’ve got this. Sara and I will talk to Lance, find out what’s happening.”

*** 

“Plant your feet.” Felicity turned to give a quizzical look to Sara, who’d just appeared behind her. How the hell did these damn vigilantes move so quietly? 

When Felicity didn’t reply verbally, Sara repeated, “Plant your feet,” then explained, “It’ll give you a stronger foundation.” Sara kicked Felicity’s feet further apart and adjusted her hips and her elbows. “That gives you a stronger punch.”

Part of Felicity really wanted to dislike Sara. But it was so hard when the other woman was just so kind to her. Damnit .

Felicity followed Sara’s direction and tried again. “Nice,” Sara praised. “If this is for self defense, I'd recommend Wing Chun. It uses your opponent's strength against him. So it's ideal for smaller people,” Sara smiled more broadly at Felicity, “like us.”

“You look like you can take care of yourself just fine,” Felicity muttered back, refocusing on the sparring dummy in front of her.

Felicity was saved from answering Sara's quiet “Are you okay?” by Oliver’s quick descent and lithe landing at the bottom of the foundry stairs.

Felicity turned to look at him as he asked, “Where are we on the skeleton key?” And then he seemed to freeze. His eyes were heated on her, and Felicity started to move toward him when she heard the amusement and confusion in his voice as he asked “And what are you wearing?”

Felicity looked down at her yoga pants and top. Was it really funny that she was dressed for a workout? Did he think she wasn’t capable of even this level of physicality? Felicity knew her voice was small and even a bit defensive when she answered, “I just thought I’d get in a…” but her voice trailed off when she realized that Oliver’s attention was pinging between Sara behind her and Felicity’s workstation, which was now beeping out an alert. Fine . He wanted to talk about the skeleton key? That was just fine with her. “I'm cross-referencing Walczak's known associates with decryption experts on the NSA watch list, but it's taking some time.”

“Which we don't have,” Oliver reminded her. “The key is not just a code breaker. In the wrong hands, it's a weapon.” 

Felicity knew that. In fact, she was the one who’d told Oliver that. She didn’t need to be reminded how dangerous the current situation was for them and for the city. “Look,” she replied, “whoever killed Walczak, in addition to finding creepy uses for clock parts, is very good at covering his tracks.” 

“Lucky for us. Uncovering tracks is what you're very good at.”

Normally, Oliver’s belief in her abilities made her feel warm and fuzzy. But at the moment it felt, well, sort of dismissive. “Right. I’ll keep working,” she told him. But inside, she was feeling off-kilter. She was missing something about this case, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. Her insecurities about Sara weren’t helping, and Oliver seemed more oblivious than usual to the delicate emotional and interpersonal balance of the team. And whereas he was usually pretty attuned to what Felicity was feeling, at the moment they seemed to be out of sync, too.. 

Felicity sighed. All she could do now was work the problem and hope she figured this out before any more major tragedies or near tragedies.

***

Hours later, Felicity was pretty near despair. The Clock King had hacked the city transit system’s network – a network she knew like the back of her hand. He'd used his access to endanger dozens of innocent civilians, and then he’d locked her out. Oliver and Sara had done their best to apprehend the villain and his henchmen while also protecting a bus full of innocent people. But the innocent people always came first for their team (something she was immensely proud of), and they’d eventually lost him.

And on her end, Felicity wasn’t any closer to uncovering his identity. His skill with a computer combined with his ruthless willingness to eliminate anyone who posed a danger to his operation were obviously a deadly combination. And Felicity’s confidence that she was up to the task, that she’d be able to keep her team safe in the field, had mostly deserted her at this point.

What the hell was she going to do?

Chapter Text

Oliver’s voice was equally frustrated and concerned when he descended the stairs to the lair. “What do we know?” 

“He hacked into our frequency, somehow gained remote access, but I upgraded our firewall. Now he won't be able to talk into our comms even if he had a bazooka.” Oliver smiled quickly at her metaphor. “You know... computer science-wise.” 

“Good. Felicity, are you okay?”

Felicity had no idea how exactly to answer that because the truth was, no, she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t anywhere close to okay. But she didn’t want to burden Oliver with her insecurities and fears. She wanted to be his rock, the partner he could count on. 

Before she could formulate an answer (though she wasn’t quite sure what exactly to say), Sara’s voice sounded behind them. “I think I have something that might help us track him down,” Sara said, holding out a small blood sample that she’d managed to somehow gather during their last run in with the thief/hacker.

Felicity, seeing a way to be useful when she was feeling anything but, offered, “I can run that to the lab.”

Unsurprisingly, though, Sara didn’t really need Felicity’s help. “I spent a year on the freighter studying genetic blood anomalies. I kind of know my way around a microscope,” Sara said as she pulled out and uncovered the microscope Felicity kept in the lair for when they needed a quick and dirty analysis. “There's some significant cell damage and the platelet count is extremely low. Felicity, can I use your computer?” 

Felicity nodded once and sat back in chair, feeling more useless than she ever had down here. This was her safe place. The only place, in fact, that she felt safe, confident, and at home. Her whole life, Felicity had been the odd one out. She’d thought for so long that there was something wrong with her. But those few months she’d worked with Bruce and his team in the Batcave, she’d realized that this kind of place (and the mission it served) was what she needed. That’s why she’d spent so much time, energy, and money (though it was Oliver’s money) redoing the foundry after the Undertaking. She’d wanted to build herself, Oliver, and Digg a home. And she had. But now, with Sara here and the current bad guy hacking their feed…

Felicity was pulled from her thoughts by Sara’s voice. “It’s Macgregor's Syndrome. It's a genetic defect that creates fluid build-up in the lungs, which leads to oxygen deprivation and multi system organ failure. It's terminal.”

“But the syndrome may give us a way to ID him,” Felicity mused aloud, turning back to her workstation. “People with Macgregor's are extremely rare, and people with Macgregor's and a degree in computer science are even more rare,” Felicity noted as her fingers flew over the keyboard. And then…there. She had him. “William Tockman. Former encryption engineer at, wait for it, Kord Enterprises.” 

“What's the point?” Digg asked from his place at Felicity’s side. “He'll be dead before he can spend all the money.”

  Felicity kept digging into Tockman, and quickly found an answer to Digg’s excellent question. “He's not stealing the money for himself. He's using it for his family. His sister, specifically. She's got cystic fibrosis and needs a lung transplant.” 

“Give me an address, please,” Oliver said, already heading toward his bow. 

“52 Nelson Way,” Felicity said to his retreating back, watching as Sara headed toward her gear and followed after Oliver. 

And Felicity watched as, once again, Sara and Oliver headed into the field together.

***

Oliver and Sara arrived at the address Felicity had found, but the area was industrial. And it was deserted. Something didn’t feel right. “This area doesn't look very residential,” Oliver said quietly to Sara as she came abreast of him in the alley.

He was about to suggest they regroup back the foundry and look more closely at Tockman’s bio and associated addresses, when Sara turned the corner and stopped. “There. That's Tockman's ride.” Sara headed toward what looked to be a converted work van of some sort and carefully opened the door before waiving Oliver over to check inside. “Tockman's not here. Just some device.” 

From the comm in his ear, he heard Felicity chime in, “I'm on it. Whatever's in the truck is transmitting the same OFDM signal Tockman used at the bank.” 

“Can you trace it?” Oliver asked, then rolled his eyes at his question. Of course she could.

“As we speak. It's leading... back to our network. Tockman's piggybacking off my hack. It's a trap. He--he's trying to break into our network.” Shit. Oliver could hear the rising panic in Felicity’s voice. 

But before he could reassure her, another voice was sounding across their comms. “I'm not trying. I am. Where are you? Are you home? Are you safe? Somewhere you think you're safe... Somewhere without windows for anyone to creep through? Underground, perhaps? You think no one can get to you? You think no one can touch you in the safety of your hidey hole?”

Oliver heard Felicity’s quick intake of breath, and he was already running toward his bike, with Sara close behind as he called out, “Felicity? Are you okay? Talk to me.” 

But it wasn’t Felicity who answered Oliver; it was Tockman. “But I can get to you anywhere…Felicity.”

And before Oliver could call out her name again, he heard four loud pops, and the comms went dead. Heart in his throat, Oliver was back on his bike within seconds. Without bothering to find out if Sara was behind him, he sped off toward the foundry, hoping to god Felicity was okay.

Chapter Text

Oliver was nearly out of breath when he reached the bottom of the stairs. The foundry was dark, and smoke lingered in the air. He found Felicity crouched under her desk, looking at what he was guessing was a whole lot of ruined circuitry. “How bad?” 

Felicity’s voice was small and defeated when she answered, “Tockman used the skeleton key to penetrate our firewall. And recode our security. Basically, he told our system to commit suicide. And it did. Bravo, Clock King.” Oliver knew she was close to tears, and he wanted so badly to gather her in his arms, hold her tightly, and promise that it would all be all right. This was a setback. For sure. But he had absolute faith in Felicity’s abilities, not to mention her will. They’d figure this all out.

But he also felt uncertain about whether she’d be okay with such an obvious physical expression of comfort in front of Digg and Sara. They obviously weren’t hiding that they were together, but they also hadn’t actually talked about whether public displays of affection were okay.

At a bit of a loss, Oliver tried to offer what comfort he could by reminding her that they still had a chance to catch this guy because Tockman hadn’t escaped with the money: “Sara stopped Tockman's men before they could get away with the cash.” Felicity flinched, which seemed strange to Oliver. But Oliver had a plan, so he continued, “So Tockman is going to be looking for another score. Maybe we should give him one. Felicity, would you call Walter and have him liquidate 500,000 shares of QC stock? Put it in cash in my vault at Starling National, and ask him to do it tonight.” Felicity nodded, and Oliver noted,  “If Tockman wants to make another score…” 

Digg finished Oliver’s thought for him, “Who better to rob than a suddenly cash flush Oliver Queen?” 

“And what if he doesn't take the bait?” Sara asked from behind him.

Oliver smirked at Felicity, then. “That's a good point. Make it 800,000 shares.” 

Sara joined their little huddle, a small smile on her face, and asked, “What can I do?” 

Unwilling to let Sara use this latest development as an excuse to avoid her family for the evening, Oliver replied, “Go to your dinner. Your family's probably waiting for you.” 

“Right. Dinner at Laurel's." Sara grimaced and shook her head before saying, "This is more important.” 

Before Oliver could gently push back again, Felicity chimed in, her voice quieter, harder, and more lifeless than he’d ever heard it. “You can't do anything here, Sara. Your family's important, too.” 

Sara shot Oliver a confused and concerned look before agreeing with Felicity. “Yeah. Okay.” She turned to Oliver then and surprised him by asking, “Will you go with me? I know I've wanted a family dinner for a while now. It's just, now that it's actually here, I'm nervous. I mean, last time I saw Laurel, it...didn't go very well, and I don’t really want to go into this alone.” 

Oliver was certainly sympathetic, and he wanted to be there for his friend. But he also needed to know what was wrong with Felicity, so he smiled at Sara to soften his answer, “I should probably stay here.” 

Before Sara could respond, though, Felicity cut in, her voice even harder than before, “What is it exactly you think you can do here to help?” 

Oliver jerked his attention to her, and furrowed his brow. Felicity was light, bright, soft, and kind. That’s who she was at her core. But her tone now was hard and cutting. What the hell? 

Oliver wanted to push back. Hard. But the look of devastation in her eyes and the set of her jaw told him it might be better for him to give her some space. He would figure out what was going on with her, but he got the sense that if he pushed now, she’d stonewall. So he touched her hair, and told her, “Call if you need me.”

With a meaningful look at Diggle, Oliver followed Sara up the stairs and out the door.

***

The foundry door had barely closed behind Oliver before Diggle was back at Felicity's side. “You know, it's not your fault, Felicity.” 

“Really? Which one of the rest of you put up the security safeguards? Pretty sure that was me. This was my setup, my system, my security protocols.” And Felicity couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice when she added, “Though, maybe if it’d been Sara, we wouldn't be in this mess.”

Diggle hunkered down even closer to Felicity. “I know we haven't talked about this, but it must be difficult for you having her down here a lot given her…history with Oliver.” 

“This isn't about their past or even the fact that she’s clearly a better partner for Oliver in so many ways. This is about me, my place here. Sara can analyze blood. She can kick ass. She can do anything. And the one thing I'm supposed to be good at, I'm failing at miserably. Why do you even need me now that you have her?” 

“Because you're irreplaceable, Felicity. And Sara and Oliver might be more alike than you and Oliver are, but she is not a better partner for him. Oliver needs someone who brings the light. That’s you. And he needs someone who won’t let him run roughshod over her. That’s also you. He needs someone who knows him as he is now, not the careless, rich, indifferent asshole he was before the island. That’s you, too. You’re who he needs in a partner. Just like he’s who you need: someone who has absolute faith in your abilities, who knows just how smart you are, and who wants you to shine. That’s Oliver. You need each other. That’s why everything changed, for the better, when Oliver met you. You know, he told me that he hadn’t smiled – a real smile, not pretend or forced – since he returned from the Island, not until he met you for the first time. Things are bad right now, Felicity, but don’t doubt who you are to Oliver or to this team, a team that didn’t exist until you joined it.” 

Felicity smiled a small, still sad smile at John’s words. She wanted to believe him. And in her head, she did. But her heart was having a little trouble getting on board. “I have a lot of work to do,” she told him quietly, “But thanks, John.” Then she turned back to her ruined system.

John sighed, and rose to his feet. “Just think about what I said, okay, Felicity?”

Felicity nodded, but didn’t turn to face him. When John was halfway up the stairs, though, he heard her quiet voice call after him. “John?” He turned back to look down at her. “Hmm?” “I adore you, you know?” 

“Same here. I’ll be back soon.” And John was out the door, and Felicity was alone with her thoughts.

***

As Felicity worked on sorting through the damage to the foundry’s system, she thought about Oliver and Sara and what John had said.

It was good that Sara was in town. Sara had insight into the Mirakuru situation. Sara’s presence helped build trust between Oliver and Lance. Sara was a badass, which meant she was excellent backup for Oliver in the field. So, Felicity knew it was a good thing that Sara was in Starling and on the team.

But what Felicity felt was a little jealous, a little left out, and a little unsure of her own place on the team. Since the day that Oliver had brought her that laptop, Felicity knew exactly her role. She was more than tech support; she was some of the brains behind their work (Oliver was smarter than he gave himself credit for, and John was an amazing strategic thinker, so she wasn’t by any means all the brains behind their operation), and she was here to do the scientific, engineering, and technical work that helped them figure things out and stay safe in the field. And she absolutely believed that John found her irreplaceable on the team and that Oliver cared deeply for her, maybe even loved her the way she loved him.

But in the same day, Felicity had watched Sara run blood samples, still looking dewy from her sparring sessions with Oliver and Diggle, watched her suit up and support Oliver in the field, and watched her lean on Oliver for support with her family, a family he knew better than his own in some ways. Felicity felt like the ground was shifting under her feet. What did Team Arrow need her for if they had Sara? What did Oliver need her for if he had Sara?

Maybe it was because those questions still swirling around in her head that Felicity did something monumentally ill-advised: when Tockman tripped the trigger she’d set up inside Starling National’s security system, instead of calling Digg or Oliver, Felicity grabbed her tablet, her phone, and her keys and headed to the bank herself.

Chapter Text

Oliver knew that the Lance family dinner would be excruciating. Laurel’s drinking was out of control. Quentin and Dinah were tip-toeing around both of their daughters. And Sara was so tightly wound around her family that it was a miracle she did snap in half. Oliver had gone into it knowing there was a high likelihood of a blow up. But even he wasn’t prepared for the level of loathing and snark that Laurel aimed at her sister. And so, for the second time in as many days, Oliver told a woman he’d loved that he was done.

Standing in the hallway outside of Laurel’s apartment, Oliver had, maybe for the first time in their entire relationship, told Laurel Lance the whole truth: “I'm done. I’m done taking the blame. And I'm done caring. You got a fucking miracle, Laurel. Sara came back from the dead . She’s here. And yes, she and I fucked up monumentally. We hurt you. We broke your trust. And I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m more sorry than I can say for that. But I am not the same person that left on the Gambit. Neither is your sister. We’ve both been through a hell you can never imagine. But by some miracle, we both made it back. And your sister is sitting inside begging you to see her, to just talk to her. And what are you going to do instead? Go get another drink? Another bottle of vodka? To add to the half bottle of pills you downed before we all arrived? Fine. Get wasted, go. Go to Verdant. I'll even pay for it. I have loved you for half my life. But I'm done running after you, done begging for your forgiveness. Just done.”

And then Oliver walked away from Laurel Lance for the last time.

***

When Oliver stepped off his bike near the back entrance to Verdant, he was confused not to see Felicity’s red Mini Cooper in its normal spot. He’d assumed she’d still be here working through the carnage that used to be their computer system. He made it to the bottom of the stairs (with Sara right behind him) only to see John at one of the side computers, his Big Belly burger and soda perilously close to the keyboard. 

Oliver’s confusion turned to concern when the first words out of John’s mouth were, “Have you seen Felicity?”

“No. Wait, why? Wasn’t she down here with you while Sara and I were with the Lances?

“I went to Big Belly to get some take-out. When I came back, she was gone. I haven't seen her for hours.”

Shit. Had she just gone home? That wasn’t like her, not with everything with Tockman still unresolved and the foundry’s system still a disaster. 

Oliver’s phone rang then, and he was relieved to see Felicity’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey, where…” Oliver started to ask.

“Tockman took the bait. The money you had Walter deposit. I'm reading his signal at Starling National.”

“What? Wait, how do you know that?”

“Because I’m here.”

Oliver froze. He locked every muscle in his body to keep from reacting to the knowledge that Felicity was at Starling National. Alone. Without any backup or protection. And that Tockman was apparently there, too.

“I’m sorry. I can’t have heard you right. You’re where?”

“At Starling National.”

“What the ACTUAL FUCK, Felicity!?” Oliver knew he was yelling. He knew that yelling was the wrong choice. But for the life of him, he couldn’t stop himself. She was alone and in danger. And she was so calm about it.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t yell at you?! That’s what you have to say to me right now? Get out of there. Leave. Right this second.”

“I can’t. Tockman’s here. Or close. I can track him better, fight him off better, from within Starling National’s network.” 

“We’re going to talk about this, at length, later. But for now, we’re on our way to you. Find somewhere to hide. Make yourself as small as you can, and wait for us to get there.”

***

Well, at least Felicity had followed some of Oliver’s directions. Hiding behind a podium in full view of the main staircase was not a particularly good choice as far as places to hide went, and ducking down behind it only when she heard footsteps on the stairs wasn’t a particularly effective way of hiding. But it was better than standing out in the open, he guessed.

Felicity’s muttered “shit!” when Diggle grabbed her arm made Oliver want to smile. But he repressed it in favor of asking, “What the hell, Felicity?”

“I’m tracking Tockman. He fried our computers. I’m using theirs. Win-win.”

“Not a win-win if you get caught by Tockman and his thugs! You could have gotten hurt, and we wouldn’t have known!”

“And the jacket?” Sara asked, voice amused, from behind him, pointing to the black leather jacket Felicity now wore.

Oliver rolled his eyes as Felicity responded, “I was cold.”

Sara’s full on smile and Felicity’s returned smirk did little to cool Oliver’s temper, though. “Digg, get her out of here.”

“But…”

“No,” Oliver cut her off, voice implacable. 

Felicity sighed and turned to follow Diggle toward the staircase when the bank’s alarm sounded. “Tockman disabled the bank's security system. I re-enabled it,” Felicity told them as she pulled up the security feed of the front door of the bank.

“And Tockman’s goons are blocking our way out,” Diggle added.

Oliver turned and headed back toward the entrance, “I’ll handle them.”

“Tockman's signal is strong. He's here; he's close,” Felicity, her fingers flying quickly over her keyboard, told Digg and Sara.

Before she could say any more, though, they all heard Tockman’s voice in their ears, “I'll tell you exactly where I am. I'm everywhere. At the moment, I'm particularly focused on the sub-level. The gas mains, specifically.”

Just then, Felicity’s tablet lit up with alerts from the building’s HVAC and fire suppression systems and more alerts from the city’s networked gas and water system. “Oh, god. He’s shut down the main gas release, the one three floors below us in the sub-basement.”

“Why is that bad?” Sara asked from Felicity’s right.

“The build up could cause an explosion,” Diggle explained.

“Not could, will. It’ll take down three square blocks,” Felicity confirmed as they all heard Tockman click back into their comms. “Tick, tock, Felicity,” he taunted.

***

While Diggle headed to the basement to release the gas manually, Felicity kept working. 

And her work paid off fairly quickly: “Wait. Tockman overplayed his hand. The gas main's in the city's network, that's where I live.”

“Am I supposed to understand that?” Sara asked. Felicity turned, startled that Sara had stayed with her instead of following Digg or going to find Oliver. “In trying to blow us up, he gave me a way to track him down,” Felicity explained. 

“Now that I understood. What’s next?”

“We take the fight to him. This way.” And then Felicity led Sara straight to William Tockman’s hidey hole. 

***

Of course, she wasn’t entirely prepared for him to pull a gun, and her decision to jump to Sara’s aid – and take a bullet in the process – was entirely instinctual. 

And she wasn’t about to sit there a let Tockman monologue at them then murder them. So, Felicity fought back in a way that only she could: with her keyboard. Using a few keystrokes and her own souped-up version of the skeleton key program that Tockman had stolen from Kord, Felicity turned Tockman’s phone into a taser, laying him out just as he raised his gun to take another shot at Sara. “Time flies, asshole,” she quipped.

“What the hell was that?” Sara asked, looking down at Felicity, who was still prone at her feet. 

“His cell phone. I uploaded a better version of the virus he used on my gear in the foundry. I didn't kill him, did I?”

Sara smiled and moved toward Tockman. She disarmed him and checked his pulse. “Just knocked him out.”

“Phew. Good. Hey, we did it,” Felicity noted. 

“No, you did it,” Sara corrected, looking down at Felicity with a warm smile that Felicity couldn't help but return.

Chapter Text

“Your girlfriend is a badass, Ollie,” Sara told him as she stitched up the bullet wound in Felicity’s shoulder.

“I already knew that. But Felicity, are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” Oliver asked.

“You guys never go to the hospital. And Digg gave me some of his aspirins.” Felicity giggled but stopped abruptly as she listed to one side on the med table. “Wait. Are you guys spinning?”

“Aspirin?” Oliver asked Digg quietly. “Oxycodone,” his partner whispered back. “Ah.”

Ignoring the whispered conversation of the men in front of them, Sara kept her eyes fixed on Felicity's wound as she added the final stitch to her shoulder. “I wouldn't be here if you hadn't been so brave,” Sara told Felicity. “Thank you.” 

“It was nothing. I've always wanted to say I've taken a bullet for someone, and now I can. So really I should be thanking you.”

“Hmm. I still think I get to say the thank yous. And I’m all done. It’s not too bad, but you're still going to have a scar.” 

“My own scar. Yay.”

Sara smiled affectionately at Felicity, squeezing her other shoulder and pulling up the sleeve of the button down Oliver had handed over when they’d gotten back to the lair. “Let me button you up a bit so Oliver can get you home.”

Oliver stepped forward to finish buttoning the shirt. “Thanks, Sara. And you, too, John. You guys can take off. I’ve got her.”

“Check-in in the morning?” Diggle asked Oliver as he headed toward the stairs.

“Yeah. We’ll probably work from the apartment tomorrow. She’s going to be in some serious pain for a few days. I won’t be able to keep her from a computer for long, but I think I can convince her to rest more if we’re not at QC. And since Isabel’s still out of town, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay. Night, man. Take care of her.”

“You know I will.”

And then Diggle was gone, and Oliver and Felicity were alone.

She smiled up at him dopily, and he couldn’t help but smile back as her eyes slid closed. But he sobered quickly when he saw the stark white bandage peeking out from the collar of the blue dress shirt she’d borrowed from him.

She could have died. He could have lost her. On the way back from Starling National, with Sara driving and an injured Felicity strapped into the front seat of the van, Diggle had filled him in on their earlier conversation. Oliver wished to god that Felicity had told him how she was feeling. He would have reassured her that there was no one on earth he would or could be doing this with. Diggle was right when he’d told Felicity that they weren’t a team until she’d joined them. And, honestly, Oliver hadn’t felt whole until he’d met her. 

And he needed her to know that, so he moved his hand from the buttons of the shirt and gently rested them on either side of her head. She roused at his touch and smiled up at him. “Home?” she asked with a soft smile.

“Yep. Home. But first, Diggle mentioned that maybe you were feeling... a little left out.”

“What? No,” Felicity sputtered. “I’m just used to being your girl. You know, now I’m your girl-girl, but I also want to be your girl .”

Oliver smiled at her again and her babble came back full force: “Your girl-girl and your girl . I know it sounds like the same word, but it means something different in my head. Like, I’m your ‘Girl Wednesday.’ Even though the saying is actually ‘His Girl Friday.’ I love that movie. Cary Grant is so handsome, and Rosalind Russell is so, so, so funny in that movie. She has this line, ‘ Walter, you're wonderful, in a loathsome sort of way. ’ I love that line! And she also has these shoes…”

“Felicity.”

“Hmm.”

“You’ll always be my girl. In all the ways.”

She smiled at him again, resting her head more fully on his open palm then asked, “Home?” 

“Yes, Felicity. Let’s go home.”

***

Oliver had opened the door to many unpleasant things, but opening it just in time to see Bruce Wayne’s fist heading toward his face was among the most unpleasant.

“You got her shot, you asshole.”

“Nice to see you, too, Wayne,” Oliver said sarcastically as he rubbed his jaw. Damn, Bruce Wayne’s left hook was a powerhouse punch. Nothing was broken, but he was going to have a serious bruise, which would be fun to explain for the next few days.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Queen. You got Felicity shot! And yet, there are no hospital records for a GSW. She needs fucking medical treatment. She should be in a hospital!”

Oliver reached deep for some patience. Wayne was obviously concerned about Felicity (and also had an alarming amount of information about something he should have no way of knowing). But still, Oliver understood that concern. Felt it himself. “As you know better than most, Felicity is going to do what Felicity’s going to do. I asked her to go to the hospital; she said no.”

“She shouldn’t get a choice in the matter. It’s a gunshot wound!”

“I’m not going to force Felicity to do things my way just so I feel better about the situation. I’ve tried that before. It never works out.”

“And that’s why Oliver and I work, and you and I never would have, Bruce, not long term,” Felicity cut in from the living room entranceway. Felicity, still looking a little fuzzy and adorably rumpled in her sleep shorts and a baggy Atari t-shirt, came to stand beside Oliver.

“Felicity…” Bruce started.

“No. Nope,” Felicity cut him off. “While I can appreciate your concern, Bruce, I’m fully capable of making my own decisions.”

“It’s not unreasonable for me to think you should be in the hospital after getting shot.”

“And it’s not unreasonable for me to make that decision for myself. What I’d like to know is how you even know I was shot. We were gone before the police arrived, so it’s not in the SCPD report. And I scrubbed the security footage myself, so you didn’t learn about it that way. In fact, the more I think about it, the only way you could know the details of my part in what happened at Starling National is if you had someone following me. Or if, ya know, you were doing it yourself. So that makes me wonder, if I go wandering through the Starling Reddit groups, am I going to find a bunch of strange Batman related sightings?”

Bruce’s face had grown slightly red by the time Felicity was done speaking, which gave him away.

Oliver’s voice was just above a growl when he asked, “You’ve been suiting up in my city?!”

“One doesn’t really own a city, Queen, though both of us are probably rich enough to try.”

“And how would that logic go over if I was running around with my bow in Gotham?”

“Point taken. But I knew I couldn’t trust you to protect her. And I was right! She’s standing there with a bullet wound!”

“First of all, I make the decisions about how to protect myself and when to ask for help in that endeavor. And two, I believe we’ve already had this conversation! I’m not going to keep doing this with you, Bruce. And if that’s the only reason you’re still in Starling, you need to go.”

Her gaze turned more calculating, then, and she took a step toward Bruce. “But see, despite your righteous indignation about my safety, I’m starting to think that I’m not the only reason you’re in town. There was so much going on that Sara’s stories about her time away hadn't totally registered with me. But I was thinking yesterday before everything went to hell: I have heard of the League of Assassins before. And I’ve heard of Nanda Parbat. And I heard of both from my time wandering around in your system down in the Batcave. So my question for you, Bruce, is are you really here for me or are you here because you think Sara’s connection to the League gives you a way to settle a score with Ra's Al Ghul?”

Chapter Text

Bruce kept underestimating her, and it was starting to piss Felicity off. Did he really think she wouldn’t find his continued presence in Starling at least a little suspicious? 

And did he forget she basically had an eidetic memory? In the months she’d worked with Bruce/Batman, she’d poked around every part of the Batcave’s mainframe. She’d done it in part because she’d desperately wanted to understand Bruce better, but she’d also done it because she felt like knowledge was power: the more she knew about his work, the better she could support him in the field. 

What she’d discovered was a hell of a lot about Gotham’s history and the crimewave (supported and facilitated by crooked cops and officials on the take) that had taken the lives of his parents. Bruce had collected every piece of evidence, admissible in court and not, he could about aldermen, city council members, city employees, and Gotham PD officers who had taken bribes to look the other way (and other officers who'd outright worked for the Falcones). That cache of materials and all his meticulous research into the circumstances that contributed to the death of his parents made total sense to her.

The other sets of files had made less sense, though. He seemed to have an obsession with tracking two groups outside of Gotham: other vigilantes/heroes working in cities across the world and a shadowy organization alternately called the League of Assassins or the League of Shadows. The League was ancient, dating back to at least the fourth century. In some versions of their history, they were an invisible hand, directing human affairs for whatever they decided was the “greater good.” In other versions, they were even more mercenary, protecting powerful men from consequences and destroying whole cities and all the people in them on little more than a whim. 

Felicity thought they were mostly assholes, and that Ra’s himself was an egomaniac with far too much power, power he maintained through fear and indiscriminate violence. And frankly, that view was confirmed by Sara’s stories about her time with the league and Ra’s’ treatment of his own daughter. Ra’s was, it turned out, both a misogynist and a homophobe, in addition to being a violent sociopath.  

And, Felicity suspected, Ra’s and Bruce had a complicated history, a history that included the years in his 20s that Bruce had disappeared from Gotham only to reappear harder and significantly more scarred than when he’d left.

As Felicity stood facing Bruce now, she watched a half dozen emotions cross his face, affection, frustration, and (she thought) grudging respect, among them. 

“I keep forgetting about your photographic memory, ‘Lis.”

“You keep underestimating me in general, Bruce.”

Oliver cleared his throat and asked, “Does someone want to fill me in?”

“Felicity is right. I have a past with the group that your friend Sara Lance spent the last few years among. Ra’s owes me a debt, and I intend to collect. But I haven’t been able to find a way back into Nanda Parbat where their headquarters are located. Your friend could help me get in. Or, alternatively, she could bring the League to Starling, which would be far more convenient for me.”

“You want to bring the League of Assassins down on Starling? Do you really think I’m going to let that happen?”

“I think you may not have a lot of choices. Whatever your friend thinks, the League isn’t going to leave her alone. They’ll be back to collect on the debt she owes them. Ra's never forgets and debt. And he never forgives.”

“We’re not going to let you use Sara. It’s not going to happen,” Felicity cut in. “Find another way to settle your old scores. Go home, Bruce. Please.”

***

Moira Queen was good at a few things: she was good at understanding other people’s motivations, she was good at reading a room, and she was good at parting other rich people from their money. That last one was why the charities whose boards she sat on always exceeded their fundraising goals; hell, her fundraising for the Starling Children's Hospital had funded two new wings in as many years. 

And her new role at Queen Consolidated let her use all of the things she was good at to advance the interests of her family’s company. The newly created Special Projects Division of QC was about bringing in more venture capital funding, finding ways to leverage QC’s history and reputation (both the good and not so good parts of that reputation) to attract investors and partners. 

Oliver’s vision for QC included re-investing significantly (as in 100s of millions of dollars significantly) in the Glades, but QC didn’t have the capital to do that on its own. So, Moira was going to find QC (and Oliver ) the partners he needed to accomplish the revitalization efforts he was dedicated to. And she was going to start with the semi-mysterious man in front of her.

“Forgive me, Mr. Wilson, you weren’t on my calendar, but I know your company by reputation. You’ve made a lot of investments in real estate and weapons, a bit of an odd combination for a firm like yours, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I invest in what I know, Mrs. Queen –”

“Moira, please”

“Moira. Please call me Slade. And the truth is that I invest in what I know: land and war.”

***

Oliver had managed to keep Felicity in the apartment for two whole days, but his luck had run out this morning. 

As she pointedly reminded him over breakfast, it was his mother’s first week, and whatever his personal feelings, he needed to be seen showing her support in the office. 

He’d agreed to go to QC if she agreed to take one more day away. She’d bristled at spending another day in the apartment, so they’d compromised: Oliver would go to QC for a few hours and put in an appearance with his mother. Felicity would go to the Foundry and work from there; that way, she could check on her Stellmoor and Mirakuru searches while also doing a little QC-related work. (Oliver didn’t mention it, but Sara would be stopping by the foundry not long after he and Digg dropped Felicity off. He knew Felicity would be safe with Sara there even if he was still feeling a little shaken at how the Clock King had been able to get to Felicity in the foundry not that long ago.)

After dropping Felicity off, Oliver asked Digg to make a detour. Oliver needed to have a conversation he’d been dreading for over a week, since he’d rescued Roy from the Mirakuru operation. Digg had been keeping an eye on the kid and ensuring that he wasn’t a danger to others. So far, so good on that front. 

But with everything swirling around them now, Felicity had convinced him that having Roy on the team, officially, was the best way forward. That way, Oliver, Digg, and Sara could see to Roy’s training, and Oliver would have another person he could count on to help keep the city (and, more importantly to Oliver, Thea) safe. So, Oliver was going to read the kid in and hope to god that Roy could handle the truth.

Chapter Text

Roy had taken the news that he was the Arrow better than Oliver could have hoped. Though, as they descended the stairs into the foundry, Roy did still seem a bit nervous. “Is this the part where you kill me ‘cause I know your secret?”

“Do you think I’d actually kill my sister’s boyfriend?” Oliver asked, voice part Arrow growl and part teasing older brother.

“Well, you did shoot me in the leg, and you’ve threatened my life on numerous occasions at his point, so I don’t get the impression that being Thea’s boyfriend is all that much protection,” Roy returned as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I may have threatened, but I didn’t follow through,” Oliver pointed out, “so count your blessings, Roy. And,” Oliver’s voice turned more serious, “while we’re on the subject of Thea: she can’t know. Not about me and not about you.”

“I get the feeling that if I did tell her, that would be when you kill me.”

Oliver shared a half smile with Roy and grasped his right shoulder. “Yeah. Trust that instinct.”

Roy smiled, too, and turned toward the large expanse of the foundry. “Wow. How did I not know that all this was down here? And just how many people know what and who you are?”

“Too many. But these are the only two that matter.” Oliver guided Roy toward the center of the room as Digg and Felicity walked toward them. Oliver nodded first toward Digg and introduced him, “John Diggle, who you met briefly on the ride over here.” Then he reached his hand toward Felicity, who moved close to his side with a bright smile. “And Felicity Smoak. She’s the brains. Do whatever she tells you.”

Roy smiled and shook Digg and Felicity’s hands in turn. “Does this group have a name? Like team Arrow, or something?” he asked.

“We don't call ourselves that,” Oliver shot back quickly.

“I do. Occasionally,” Felicity added.

Oliver smiled at her, but said, “I know. Stop.”

“Whatever. Welcome aboard,” John threw over his shoulder as he walked back toward Felicity’s workstation.

***

Oliver left Roy in Felicity’s and Sara’s (who’d arrived not long after Oliver, Roy, and Diggle had) capable hands.

He still needed to put in an appearance at QC and be seen acting cordially toward his mother. While he did that, Diggle was going to check in with QC security and IT to make sure the revised protocols and firewalls had been installed to Felicity’s specifications. Oliver wanted all of that done before Felicity stepped foot back in the building. The Clock King had exposed some significant vulnerabilities in both the foundry’s system and QC’s, but Felicity's updates would plug those holes. 

It really did pay to fall in love with a genius, Oliver thought as he exited the elevator on the 22nd floor where his mother’s department was housed.

Still thinking about Felicity, the way she’d claimed him in front of Wayne and how she’d worked out the puzzle of Wayne’s continued presence in Starling, Oliver jerked to a stop outside his mother’s office when he saw that she was in a meeting. He’d checked with her assistant this morning before heading over, so he knew she didn’t have anything on her schedule for 9 am. But it wasn’t just seeing her with a visitor when he hadn’t expected one. It was that the suit-clad shoulders and salt and pepper hair sitting across from his mother looked familiar. Heart-stoppingly familiar. But it couldn’t be. Because Slade Wilson was dead. And it wasn’t like when he’d thought Sara was dead, washed out to sea and likely drowned. No, this was different because Oliver had watched Slade die. Oliver had killed Slade himself. 

A sense of impending doom hanging over his head, Oliver tapped twice on his mother’s office door before opening it. His mother rose in greeting, and her visitor turned in his chair. And there, in the flesh, was a very much alive Slade Wilson. Deathstroke was alive and in Starling. And if the hatred in his eyes and the mocking smile on his lips were any indication, Slade was here for Oliver Queen.

***

Sara had spent the last half hour or so putting Roy through his paces on the mats while Felicity worked through the avalanche of information she’d collected on Stellmoor in the last few days. She was getting closer to identifying the mystery investor behind Shado Inc., the sole company currently funding Stellmoor’s investment in and attempted hostile takeover of QC. 

Felicity was picking her way through a particularly complex web of financial transactions when her phone rang. Seeing Oliver’s name on her caller ID, Felicity smiled and hit the green button to accept his call. Before she could greet him, though, she heard him talking to someone else. Had he accidentally pocket dialed her? She was about to hang up when she heard the tone of his voice. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

Digg, who’d stepped up next to her to read what she’d found about Stellmoor, must have seen the concern on her face, because his touch was gentle and voice was concerned when he asked, “Felicity?”

“Digg, I think something’s wrong with Oliver. He was going to QC to visit Moira, but he just pocket dialed me. His voice is off, Digg. But I have no idea what’s going on.”

Sara and Roy joined them at Felicity’s workstation by the time Diggle suggested, “Why don’t you put him on speaker? We’ll figure it out.”

Felicity nodded and hit the speaker button just as a voice that wasn’t Oliver’s said, “It’s such a pleasure to talk business with a brilliant woman, Moira.”

Felicity thought she heard Oliver growl just as Sara gasped from behind Felicity. “Oh god. No. No. No. I know that voice,” Sara said quickly, “I’d know that voice anywhere.”

“Sara, what’s wrong?” Felicity asked.

“That’s Slade Wilson. And unless we get to Queen Consolidated, and I mean right now, he’s going to kill Oliver and Moira and anyone else who gets in his way.”

“Wait,” Diggle cut in, “Slade Wilson? I thought he was dead.”

“So did I. But I’m guessing we have the Mirakuru to thank for his resurrection,” Sara answered.

“Shit. I bet he’s also the initial source of the Mirakuru in Starling. Which means he’s been here for weeks. Why reveal himself to Oliver now?” Diggle asked.

“I don’t know. But I do know, whatever his plan is, it includes making Oliver suffer before he kills him. We’ve got to get to Oliver. He’s going to need as much back up as we can provide.”

“Oliver is going to hate this,” Felicity told them, “but Bruce is still in town, and if we need all the help we can get here…”

“Call Wayne. Have him meet Sara, Roy, and me at QC.”

“On it.”

And as Sara, Roy, and Diggle raced up the stairs in hopes of saving Oliver, Felicity made the call. “Bruce? I need you.”

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne was not entirely certain how he ended up in Starling City, outside Queen Consolidated, and on a rescue mission to help the Oliver Queen/the Arrow. Actually, scratch that; he knew exactly how he’d ended up here: Felicity. When Felicity asked, there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do except say yes. He might not be Felicity’s choice in a partner, but she mattered too much to him to walk away when she needed him, even if what she need was helping saving her fucking boyfriend.

Bruce was pulled from his thoughts by the arrival of John Diggle, Sara Lance, and some kid he didn’t know. Diggle was all business when he told the group, “Moira’s office is on the 22nd floor, across from Ms. Rochev’s office. She’s, luckily, still out of town, so the floor should be fairly empty except for Moira’s assistant, Gabby. We need to get Gabby off the floor quickly and out of Wilson’s range.”

“Yeah. Deathstroke isn’t really a ‘take prisoners’ kind of guy. Gabby could easily be collateral damage,” Sara agreed.

Bruce’s head jerked involuntarily. “Wait. What? Felicity said there was a Slade Wilson in the building, an old enemy of Queen’s. Deathstroke is here, too?”

“Slade Wilson is Deathstroke,” Sara answered.

“Fuck.” Well, shit , Bruce thought. That certainly changed things. Bruce had encountered Deathstroke while pursuing Ra’s. Things had gotten very, very messy, and Bruce had barely escaped with his life. And, Bruce knew, sometime soon after, Deathstroke’s son had been badly injured, something that Deathstroke – Wilson – apparently blamed Bruce for. 

At Bruce’s curse, Diggle looked back his way, “It sounds like you may have met Deathstroke before?” 

“Yeah. We’re acquainted. How the fuck do you guys end up on the wrong side of the worst of the worst? Merlyn. Ra’s Al Ghul. Now Deathstroke. These fuckers are notoriously bloody. And Deathstroke is nearly indestructible.”

Diggle grimaced at that all-too-true statement. “We can talk about our bad luck later…and your familiarity with so many of Oliver’s enemies. But for now, we get Mrs. Queen’s EA out of harm’s way, then we figure out a way to get Oliver and his mother out of danger, too.”

***

This was such a clusterfuck. Oliver knew he could count on his partners, could count on Felicity , to get the SOS he was sending. But he had no idea how long that might take. And he wasn’t sure she’d send enough firepower. Hell, he wasn’t sure there was enough firepower, considering the man in front of him had survived a massive burn injury, an arrow to the eye, and a sunken freighter.

Oliver looked back to his mother behind her desk, then to Slade, who’d positioned himself between Oliver and Moira. There was no way Slade was going let Oliver get past him, which meant the only way that Oliver could ensure his mother’s safety was to get Slade out of the office and to a place with more points of attack for when his backup arrived.

“Mr. Wilson, was it?” Oliver asked as he held out his hand to shake Slade’s. 

“Indeed, Mr. Queen.”

“Oliver, please. And what brings you to Queen Consolidated this morning, Mr. Wilson?”

“Slade, please, since we’re all on a first-name basis now. And I’ve come by to talk to your mother about investing in your revitalization mission. My company is very interested in being in business with Queen Consolidated, particularly on a project with your brilliant mother at the helm.”

“Interesting,” you lying asshole , Oliver thought but didn’t say. “Perhaps you’d like a brief tour, then? To see what you’re planning on investing in?” Oliver suggested, hoping that a tour could get his mother and her assistant out of immediate danger.

“What a great idea, Oliver,” his mother agreed. “We can start with Applied Sciences. I’ll just let Gabby know I’m going to step away.”

“Gabby had some things to go over with you, mom, so why don’t I get Mr. Wilson started on the tour, and you can join us for lunch later? Will you ask Gabby to make a reservation for us at the new Japanese place that just opened a few blocks over?”

“Oliver…” But seeing the look on his face, his mother apparently changed her mind about objecting and simply nodded before she turned back to Slade with a smile. “Until lunch, Slade. Looking forward to it.”

“Excellent. This way, Mr. Wilson…Slade,” Oliver noted and motioned for Slade to follow him out into the reception area in front of his mother’s office. Oliver turned to Gabby to let her know that his mother was ready to review her schedule for the day and watched the young woman gather her notes, look nervously at Slade, and then move toward his mother’s office. 

Once Gabby was safely behind the door inside his mother’s office, Oliver turned his back to the glass wall that now separated one of the most dangerous men Oliver had ever known from his only living parent. Before he could speak, though, Slade beat him to it: “You look positively shocked to see me, kid.”

“Shock’s a good word for it.”

“I’ll bet. When you leave someone to die, kid, you should stick around to make sure they’re actually dead. That wasn’t your first mistake where I’m concerned, but I’m going to make sure it’s a costly one.”

Before Oliver could respond to that threat, he heard the elevator ding and watched with some relief as Diggle, Sara, Roy, and…fuck…Bruce Wayne stepped off and formed a semi-circle behind Slade. Slade turned his neck to see who’d joined their little group and seemed to startle a moment at seeing Wayne. “Fuck, kid. You’re working with Batman now? You always did keep terrible company.”

Well, that answers that question , Bruce thought. He may not have known Deathstroke’s true identity until just now, but Wilson obviously knew his. Bruce suspected he had Ra’s to thank for that, too. “I’m not sure a man who sells his services to the highest bidder, including the fucking League of Assassins, has a lot of room to talk, Wilson,” Wayne returned.

“So, what would you like to do now?” Oliver asked, bringing Slade’s attention back to him. 

“Well, I suppose I should be going. But do give my regrets to your mother, kid. Please let her know I look forward to seeing so much more of her. And the rest of your lovely family.” With that, he turned his back to Oliver and moved toward the rest of the assembled group.

The group behind him parted to allow Slade access to the elevator. As he stepped aboard, though, Slade turned back, his focus solely on Oliver, who’d moved toward the elevator doors to ensure Slade’s departure, “Five years ago, I made you a promise. Do you remember? Well, I'm here to fulfill it. See you soon, kid. Very, very soon.”

Chapter Text

Felicity’s head was ready to explode when she finally heard the door to the lair open and saw Oliver descending the stairs, followed by Digg, Roy, Sara, and Bruce.

When she saw that everyone seemed to be okay, Felicity released the breath she’d been holding since Sara had informed them all that Oliver and Moira were in mortal danger.

“I’m so glad…” Felicity’s voice cut off when Oliver reached her and pulled her into a tight hug. He buried his nose in her hair, and Felicity melted into him. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that before she heard Diggle clear his throat behind them. “Maybe we should talk about what the hell just happened.”

“Yeah. And about how the fuck you ended up as the target of maybe the most dangerous mercenary on the fucking planet, Queen,” Bruce agreed.

Felicity felt Oliver tense at Bruce’s voice, so she whispered for Oliver’s ears only, “Please, don’t fight with him, Oliver. He came when I called. Let him help us. Please.” Oliver took a deep breath and nodded before releasing her and turning to the address the group behind them.

“As Felicity and John already know, I wasn’t alone on Lian Yu. I was rescued and trained by a former Chinese military officer, Yao Fei. He taught me how to survive the island, how to use a bow. It’s his hood I wore when I first returned to Starling. Slade was his ally, I thought. His friend. Slade was also in love with Yao Fei’s daughter, Shado. But Shado chose me. Then, later, Shado was…killed.”

“Ollie…” Sara started to interrupt Oliver’s story, but he sent her a quelling look and continued, “Slade blames me, and a man I’d once considered my closest friend intended then, and seems to intend now, to see me suffer for my sins. He’s here to kill me, but first, he’s going to go after everyone and everything I care about.”

Felicity could see Bruce about to bombard Oliver with a litany of questions. But she sent him a hard look before moving to take Oliver’s hand. Felicity knew there was almost certainly more to the story Oliver had just told. He said Slade blamed him for Shado’s death, but it was clear he blamed himself, too. And there was some connection, too, between Sara and whatever had happened. But Felicity didn’t think Oliver could take a bunch of intrusive questions from Bruce at the moment, and frankly, she couldn’t focus on any of the personal mysteries Oliver had just alluded to because something Oliver said was helping her put together the pieces of another, more pressing mystery.

“Oliver, the woman who was killed, who Slade loved, what was her name again?”

“Shado."

"Spell it for me?"

"S-H-A-D-O. Why?”

“Because the company at the bottom of a truly impressive number of shell corporations, the one that’s been funding Stellmoor and Isabel? It’s Shado, Inc. I’m pretty sure Slade isn’t just behind the Mirakuru. I think he’s also been funding and supporting Isabel for months now.”

***

The group (which Felicity called Extended Team Arrow in her head and which now semi-offiically included both Roy and Bruce Wayne) had discussed some options for next steps. Now that they knew the attacks on QC, Isabel’s involvement with the company and her visit to Gotham, and the Mirakuru operation were all connected to Slade and his vendetta against Oliver, they decided it made sense to work on as many parts of the problem at once as they could. They were going to assemble later tonight in the foundry to make some plans.

In the meantime, Oliver and Felicity were heading home for a few hours to eat and so Felicity could take a pain pill and rest, at least a little.

Within seconds of the door closing behind them, though, Felicity was in his arms, holding him tightly. Oliver let out a heavy breath and sunk into her embrace. 

When she pulled back a few inches (looking into his eyes but not releasing his body), Felicity said, “I won’t ask you how you are. But I’m here, whatever you need. If you want me to tell me more about Shado and what happened to her on the island, I’m here to listen. But I’m not going to push. I just want you to remember that I’m here and I love you.”

“It’s my fault she’s dead, Felicity. Ivo, the Mirakuru scientist, may have pulled the trigger, but I killed her. Slade’s right to blame me.”

“Oliver…”

“I crossed Ivo, took something he needed. So when he captured us – me, Shado, and Sara – he gave me an ultimatum: give it back or someone would die. I refused. So, he pulled a gun and pointed it at Sara and Shado. He told me to choose who lived and who died. I refused. When he cocked the gun and pointed it at Sara, I jumped in front of her. He said I’d made my choice. Then he shot her, shot Shado.”

“Oh, Oliver.”

“So, Slade’s right. I killed her.”

“You absolutely did not. Oliver, that was an impossible choice. You moved to shield Sara because that’s what you do: you protect the people you love. It doesn’t mean you loved Shado less. You acted on instinct, and your instinct is always to protect. Ivo killed Shado. Not you. All you did was try to protect Sara. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Oliver wasn’t sure he agreed with Felicity’s assessment, but her words were still healing something in his chest that had been festering since he’d lost Shado. And Oliver thought, once again, how lucky he was that this amazing woman was in his life, his partner. God, he loved her. Felicity watched Oliver close his eyes in pain, but she also felt his body relax into her. She stretched onto her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his lips, and then she kept talking: “Oliver, Slade is a maniac and a monster. Whoever he was before, he’s a monster now. Deathstroke’s body count is huge. He works for the highest bidder, no matter who they are. You did not create that monster. But you – we – are going to stop him. I believe in you Oliver, and I believe in our team.”

Chapter Text

“37, Oliver. 37 messages for the CEO -- who is still you, despite your best efforts -- that you haven’t yet returned. The annual board meeting is coming, and the CEO cannot avoid being there.”

“We’ve been a little busy here, Felicity.”

“I’m aware, but you haven’t spoken to your mother since Slade disappeared on your ‘tour’ of QC two days ago. She’s going to have questions. Plus, Isabel is back in town, and now that we know she’s being financed by Wilson, we need to make a plan for how to get her off the board and out of QC. It’s all part of the same mission. Slade has a plan, and taking over QC is part of that. We have to try to focus on all fronts of this war. And no matter how much you hate it, one of those fronts is going to be QC’s boardroom.”

Oliver groaned audibly, but he knew Felicity was right: Slade had plans for his family’s company. There was a reason he’d gone after it first, before even the Mirakuru started showing up in Starling. “Fine. We’ll head in today. I’ll stop to see my mom and start returning calls, calming the board. See if we can get a meeting with Isabel scheduled for this afternoon. I’m sure she knows by now that Wayne is helping us, so she probably also knows her cover is blown. I’d like to see how she reacts when provoked.”

“Got it. Shower, change, and let’s get going.”

“You could…you know…shower with me.”

“If I do that, we’re not making it into the office in time for all these meetings to happen. Hands to yourself, mister. Now go. I’ll call Digg and ask him to pick us up in 30.”

***

Thea Queen was having a bad day. A very bad day. She gotten into it with her mother, who was acting secretive again (nothing new, of course, but still unbelievably frustrating), broken a bunch of bottles at Verdant ($450 bottles of Macallan Single Malt, no less), and then had a stupid fight with Roy, who was also acting cagey. 

And it wasn’t just one bad day: Her mom was keeping secrets; the last time that happened, 503 people died, so Thea didn’t think she was out of line to be concerned here. And Roy was keeping secrets, too. Plus, Ollie had been MIA for weeks now, never at the mansion and rarely at the club. Thea missed her brother. She needed her family, what was left of it, at least. 

And now, her stupid car wouldn’t start. As she stood at the curb in front of Verdant, hoping desperately to find an available Lyft at 3:45 am, she couldn't help the quiet tears that rolled down her face. She just wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

Despairing at actually getting a Lyft to her location any time soon, Thea began searching her phone for John Diggle’s number. Ollie had told her to call his driver/bodyguard if she found herself in trouble, and she figured that being stranded in the Glades without a working vehicle at this time of night fit that description. 

Just as she was about to dial Mr. Diggle, though, a black town car stopped in front of her. The back window rolled down to reveal a vaguely familiar man with salt and pepper hair and an eye patch. A niggle of unease passed through Thea, but she stepped closer to the car anyway. A ride was better than standing out here, right? 

“Thea Queen?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with an Australian accent.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Thea. I’m Slade Wilson, a business associate of your mother. And your brother. And you look like you might be in a spot of trouble. Can we drop you somewhere?”

Thea again felt unease creeping up her neck, but with few good options at the moment, she nodded and folded herself into the seat next to Mr. Wilson.

***

Oliver’s return to QC the previous day had been more eventful than he’d hoped it would be: it had taken him hours to get through the backlog of messages that Felicity had handed him at the beginning of the day, and just as he finished returning those calls (and before he could drop in on Isabel to see how she’d react to his return to the office and Bruce Wayne backing him up with Slade), his mother and Isabel had stormed his office together, insisting that another press conference was necessary. Apparently, in Oliver's absence, Slade had committed $50 million in funding to bring new, high-tech manufacturing facilities (and the high-paying jobs to go with them) to the Glades under QC’s banner. The smirk on Isabel’s face as his mother laid out the press plan made it clear to Oliver that she knew he was aware of her association with Slade and that she was maneuvering him and his mother back into the spotlight for a very specific reason. Unfortunately, he had no idea what that reason might actually be.

And that’s how he found himself once more in front of the Starling City press corp that morning introducing his mother. 

Moira stepped to the podium and adjusted the microphone. But her opening remarks were suddenly interrupted by the ringing of every phone in the room, including his own. He vaguely heard his mother’s gasp, but he was too focused on Thea’s terrified, tear-streaked face. “Help me. Somebody please help me. Mom. Ollie…” Her voice was cut off then. Silence reigned in the room as a message flashed over the picture of his sister: How much is Thea Queen’s life worth to you? And then, a flash of an orange and black mask.

The video message ended and there was a second or two of silence before every single one of the assembled reporters was yelling his name or his mother’s name. But Oliver was frozen in place, his body locked against the pain of knowing his little sister was in danger because of him. And he knew, without a single doubt, that Slade Wilson wouldn’t hesitate to kill Thea.

Suddenly, Felicity and Diggle were in front of him. Felicity reached for him and the world snapped back into focus. And then they were on the move.

“Oliver…” Digg began, concern clear in his voice. But Oliver shook his head at his friend. There was a time, not that long ago, that this would have sent him into a self-destructive tailspin. He would have acted rashly. And he would have acted alone. But as Felicity kept reminding him, he wasn’t actually alone. He had the team. And he had her.

 “Find me a location, Felicity,” he told her as they walked quickly toward the elevator.

“On it.”

Chapter Text

“I never thought I’d be the one suggesting this, but we should call the cops,” Roy said when Oliver, Felicity, and Diggle hit the bottom of the stairs.

“He might be right, Ollie,” Sara agreed. “My dad can help us here. I mean, we know Slade has her. I’d bet money that when we get her back, Thea will be able to ID him, too.”

“Maybe…” Felicity started to add, but Oliver shook his head. “If we call the cops, ID Slade, I’d bet all the money in my trust fund that Slade will have a way out. Remember when I set myself to be ID'd as the vigilante only to provide proof it couldn’t have been me? I’m pretty sure I picked that up from Slade. He taught me a lot of what I know, particularly the more manipulative parts. He’s taunting me publicly but from behind his mask for a reason. We’ve got to be deliberate and methodical here. If we fuck this up, he’ll hurt Thea.”

Felicity and Sara both nodded at him, but Roy’s face remained set to scared and enraged. So Oliver wasn’t all that surprised when Roy wasn’t so easily persuaded: “We can’t leave her with that monster. I’m not just going to wait around down here.”

“I’m not asking you to, Roy. I want you out on the street. Now that we know all the parts of this, the Mirakuru, Stellmoor’s takeover bid, and now Thea’s kidnapping, are connected, we can use that. Anything we find out about the other two pieces will help us find Thea. So I need you in the Glades figuring out who all is missing and where the people running the Mirakuru operation might be holed up now. Get me some idea of the size of the army that Slade is building and where he’s doing it.”

Roy nodded as Sara added, “I’ll go with him.”

Oliver nodded at that and watched as Sara and Roy headed up the stairs and out of the foundry.

***

Oliver had meant what he’d said when he sent Roy out: since everything going on right now was connected to Slade, Oliver genuinely believed that finding out where the Mirakuru operation was could help them save Thea. But he also wanted to give Roy a mission. He knew the kid was close to unraveling before his eyes, and he needed Roy to keep it together until they could save Thea (and the city…again).

What Oliver hadn’t expected was to see Roy back so quickly with real information that connected directly to Thea’s kidnapping.

What he also hadn’t expected was to find Thea, clearly scared but remarkably composed, standing outside a warehouse just blocks from where she’d been snatched from Verdant. 

“Thea?”

“Well, I guess Mr. Wilson was telling the truth about that,” she replied, nodding toward Oliver. It was only then he realized he was wearing his Arrow suit, hood down, as he stared at his sister in disbelief.

“Thea, I can explain.”

“We’ll leave the vigilante conversation aside for a moment, though I have questions . Right now, though, I’d like to focus on the other piece of information that Mr. Wilson shared with me: is Malcolm Merlyn my father?”

Once again, Oliver’s poker face must have failed him because he watched his sister’s face crumple momentarily before she took two huge steps back from him.

“Speedy…”

“Don’t, Oliver. No more lies. No more half truths. I want to hear you say it.”

“Thea.”

“Say it, Oliver.”

“Yes. Malcolm Merlyn is your biological father.”

“How long have you known?” She looked at him more closely and then huffed out a humorless laugh. “Let me guess. About two weeks? Since you stopped coming home, stopped talking to mom? This was why?”

“Yes.”

“Were you ever going to tell me? We both know mom lies as easily as she breathes, but I really thought I could trust you, Ollie.”

“You can, Thea. You can.”

“How?! These are two huge secrets, Oliver. The first, I can forgive. You’re a hero, Ollie. And knowing makes me so unbelievably proud of all the ways you’ve worked to save this city. But this, about who my father is? I had a right to know that! And you had to know you were the only one who would tell me the truth!”

“You’ve already been through so much. And I knew how much this would hurt you. Malcolm’s dead. Tommy is, too. I thought I was protecting you.”

“I’m guessing that’s the same logic our mother used. How did that go over with you?”

Oliver flinched at that.

“That’s what I thought. You should have told me, and you know it. But you lied instead. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Thea, I…”

“Nope. I’m done talking about this now. Please take me home.”

Unsure what else to say, Oliver nodded as he led his baby sister to his bike, handed her a helmet, and drove out of the Glades toward the Queen mansion.

***

When Oliver got back to the foundry an hour later, he was relieved to see only Felicity waiting for him. He knew he’d have to talk to Roy soon. But for now, he couldn’t face anyone else.

Felicity turned to him as he reached the platform where her workstation sat.

“How’d it go with Thea?”

Instead of answering her question verbally, though, Oliver pulled her into a tight hug. Her arms slid around him as he buried his face in the side of her neck. “That well, huh? I’m sorry, Oliver. Thea loves you, though, whatever happens. She’ll come around.”

“I’m not so sure, but at least she knows the truth. More than one truth, actually. She was waiting for me outside the address Roy and Sara tracked down. She saw me, hood down, in the suit. So she knows I’m the Arrow. Slade apparently told her about my vigilante activities while he was holding her.”

“Oh, Oliver.”

“She actually reacted pretty well to that. She called me a hero.”

“She’s right.”

Oliver shook his head at Felicity’s seemingly unshakeable belief in him, but shared, “Slade also told her about Malcolm, that he’s her biological father. She’s so angry with me, with mom.”

“You know I love you, Oliver, but she’s right to be pissed. She had a right to know. And we both know your mother should have told her.”

“Yeah. But she’s right about me, too. I should have told her when I found out.”

“Yeah. Probably. But she loves you. She’ll come around. You’ll apologize. It’s going to be okay.”

Oliver snuggled her closer and rested his chin on the top of her head. He took a deep, calming breath and decided to trust his brilliant girlfriend. Thea would come around. He’d give her some space, but he wouldn’t give up.

“Want some good news?” Felicity asked after a moment.

“Definitely.”

“In addition to finding the address they sent you, Sara and Roy found a storage facility used by Slade’s manufacturing crew. They grabbed enough samples of the Mirakuru that I’m pretty confident we can put together a powerful antidote. I called Barry, who ran over, grabbed the samples, and took them back to Caitlin and Cisco. STAR Labs is working on it now, and Caitlin says she thinks she’ll have something potent very quickly. A cure, Oliver.”

“That’s very good news. That gives us a real shot on the Mirakuru front.”

“And I’ve been thinking about the Stellmoor side, too. I think it’s time we deal with Ms. Rochev and take your company back. I’ve got a plan.”

Chapter Text

Oliver had learned a lot from Slade Wilson about how to wage a war. Slade had taught him military tactics, interrogation techniques, and the art of manipulation. But the lesson on always maintaining the element of surprise? That one had come from his dad. Robert Queen was a shark in any boardroom, and he had been strangely fond of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War . Throughout his life, Oliver was certain he’d heard his dad quote the book dozens of times, and Robert’s favorite quote had always been, “Those who are skilled in producing surprises will win.”

At present, they were losing. And they were losing, at least in part, because Slade and Isabel had produced all the surprises, catching Oliver and his team off-guard over and over again. Oliver had been reacting, and even with a team as strong as his, you can’t win a war if all you’re doing is reacting to your opponent. So, Oliver was going to take his father’s often-given advice: he was going to surprise his enemy. Luckily, his partner was a brilliant hacker who could track down information anywhere on the web, no matter how obscure the information or how protected someone thought it was. And because they knew that Isabel was working with or for Slade and because they knew Isabel’s vendetta had to be personal, they at least had a place to start.

When he’d asked Felicity to dig deeper into Isabel’s history with Queen Consolidated and his family, he hadn’t known what she’d find. He certainly didn’t count on learning that Isabel had been one of us father’s many affairs, that they’d basically lived together for weeks at a time when he’d thought his dad was traveling, and that his father had set Isabel up with a hefty trust fund not long before his death. 

Not surprisingly, when his mother learned of the trust after his father’s death, she’d cut it off, cut Isabel off, and fired her from the company. Then, his mother had apparently set about erasing every bit of QC data about Isabel’s connections to Queen Consolidated and the Queen family. (He’d told Felicity that he was surprised, given all this, that his mother had been willing to work with Isabel just a few days ago. Felicity pointed out that desperate times sometimes meant desperate measures – and strange bedfellows.)

But his mother’s actions right after his father’s death helped explain why Felicity hadn’t found the connection earlier: whomever his mother had hired to wipe Isabel from the company’s records had done a pretty good job. “Not good enough, obviously,” Felicity had told him. “But not bad at all. If I hadn’t been looking specifically for a connection to your dad’s work, I probably wouldn’t have found the records that were left.”

Oliver was sure that Isabel intended to use the reality of her history with his father as another surprise, a way to hurt Oliver and keep him off balance. He was sure she was waiting for just the right moment to reveal something she knew would hurt Oliver on a deep, personal level. 

But she was in for a surprise of her own. Because his brilliant girlfriend had a plan. He knew his mother was going to hate that plan; no matter how angry he still was with her, he didn’t want to hurt his mother. And he hated that this plan would hurt Thea, too, because it would mean telling the world just how fallible their dad had been. (Because Malcolm Merlyn may have been Thea’s biological father, but Robert Queen was her dad .) 

It wasn’t exactly going to be easy for Oliver, either. Oliver loved his father. He could never repay the sacrifice that Robert Queen had made to save his only son. But he couldn’t afford to protect his dad’s reputation at the expense of his living family or his team or the city. He had to believe – given the mission Robert had tasked Oliver with in his last moments – that his dad would understand.

So that’s how Oliver found himself preparing to sit across the table from Susan Williams from Channel 52, about to do a tell-all interview about his father’s past as well Isabel’s nefarious intentions and the harm she’d intentionally done to the company, including attempting to share trade secrets with Wayne Enterprises. (This last part wasn’t strictly true; she hadn’t gone to Gotham to share the company’s secrets. But, still, the flight records and Bruce Wayne’s testimony would support the story Oliver was getting ready to tell.)

Felicity smiled and attempted to wink at him as she led Ms. Williams and her crew into his office. He couldn’t help the fond, soft smile he sent her in response. He knew it was only a matter of time before his relationship with Felicity was also part of the press narrative, but he couldn’t regret it. He loved her, and they’d deal with any fallout that came. For now, he refocused on the reporter in front of him. 

“Ready, Mr. Queen?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“I have to admit, given your previous reticence to talk to the press, the station manager and I were surprised to get your call,” Susan told him as her camera operator and segment producer set up a few feet away.

“Well, talking about the most hellish experience of my life wasn’t at the top of my to-do list, Ms. Williams, so you can imagine my interactions with the press – where all they wanted to know were gruesome details about just how torturous that experience had been – weren’t all that positive. Now, though, I know that my role as CEO requires me to find a way to peacefully coexist with the press. Your station manager assured me that your interest in Queen Consolidated is about transparency and accountability for the largest employer in our city. I can get behind that. So, I find we have some common ground here.”

“Your intentions are entirely pure, I’m sure, Mr. Queen,” Susan returned with a smirk.

“Well, we all have our angles, Ms. Williams. But I can assure you that I’ll always act in the best interests of my company and my city. Starling City has always been home, even when I was stranded thousands of miles away. It continues to be my home, and I’ll do anything I can to protect it,” Oliver told her, his voice dropping half an octave at the end, edging dangerously close to his Arrow voice.

“Hmmm. We’ll see. Shall we get started, then?”

At Oliver’s nod, she continued, “We’ll go live, with a ten-second delay, in two minutes. I’ll do a brief introduction, and then I’ll ask you about recent challenges faced by the company and your family, and you can reveal whatever it is you’re here to share.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll have follow-up questions, Mr. Queen. And I’ll expect you to answer them.”

Oliver dipped his chin at that, but reminded the reporter, “As long as they’re relevant, I’ll answer them.”

“Fair enough. Let’s do this. Manny, let’s start rolling,” Susan said to the camera operator who’d accompanied her.

“30 seconds before the studio throws to you, Susan,” Manny replied.

“Alright,” she told her crew then refocused her attention on Oliver. “Ready or not, Mr. Queen, here we go.”

***

Slade watched with growing rage (and grudging admiration) as local and national news stations all led their evening coverage with news of Isabel Rochev’s nefarious plot against the Queen family, her ouster from Queen Consolidated, and the FBI’s newly opened investigation into what most national business reporters were framing as insider trading and corporate espionage. Oliver came out looking like a reluctant hero, sharing painful personal details about his late, beloved father in order to protect his company.

“Our top story tonight: Isabel Rochev, COO of Stellmoor Incorporated, a well-respected investment fund whose recent hostile takeover bid for Queen Consolidated was the subject of much discussion a few months ago, has been detained by the FBI after Queen Consolidated CEO Oliver Queen revealed Ms. Rochev’s attempt to share trade secrets with competitor Wayne Enterprises. 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne, confirmed in a statement that Ms. Rochev approached him some weeks ago with an offer to sell proprietary information from Queen Consolidated’s Applied Sciences division. Mr. Wayne said in a statement, ‘I was appalled by Ms. Rochev’s underhanded and illegal attempts to undercut the work of the company to which she had a fiduciary responsibility. I contacted Mr. Queen immediately, and we agreed to work together with the FBI to get to the bottom of this. Both Wayne Enterprises and Queen Consolidated are cooperating fully with law enforcement and will continue to do so.’ 

“In the same interview earlier today, Mr. Queen revealed that his late father, Starling city scion Robert Queen, had been romantically involved with Ms. Rochev before his death: ‘My father was a flawed man. I loved him very much, but he made decisions that hurt our family and now threaten our company. I cannot let that stand. We will not be blackmailed by Ms. Rochev, and I cannot allow this threat to Queen Consolidated to stand.’”

Slade clicked off the TV. Isabel’s ouster meant they couldn’t use QC’s Applied Sciences to mass produce the serum now. He’d have to rely on the back-alley Vertigo production facilities that he’d been using up to this point. That meant a less potent version of the Mirakuru and slower production. He had the twenty or so kidnappees from the Glades who had survived the process and however many of the recently liberated Iron Heights inmates survived their injection. But beyond that, his capacity for building his army was going to be severely hampered. Goddamnit

Plus, Oliver’s successful play to get Isabel off the board meant he knew more about Slade’s planning than Slade had given him credit for. Goddamnit again. 

Slade would have to move to the next step sooner than he’d planned. Time to pay another visit to the Queen women.

Chapter Text

“Well, that went about as well as we could have expected,” Felicity told Oliver with a smile when they were finally alone in his office. 

It was somehow already 9 pm. Diggle had gone to the foundry to check in with Roy and Sara and do a bit of patrolling. The evening news was wall-to-wall coverage of Oliver’s interview and Isabel’s arrest. The board had called an emergency meeting two hours after the interview and fired Isabel. Stellmoor had fired her, too, and sold Oliver back the shares they’d bought at Isabel’s behest. Oliver was once again the majority shareholder of his family’s company. Thank god.

He refocused on Felicity as she slid between him and his desk and rested her hands on his shoulders. “You did amazingly well, Oliver. You handled Susan Williams perfectly, and the board sees you as exactly the leader the company needs. Isabel is still in custody for questioning. They won’t be able to hold her for long, but she’ll be under serious surveillance. I don’t think Slade will touch her with a twenty foot pole, and whatever they were going to use QC for, that’s over.”

Felicity's confidence in him (and her praise, in that soft voice accompanied by her sweet smile) made him feel centered, calm, and capable in ways he’d never really felt before. Sure, he’d grown confident in his physical abilities. And he knew he had some aptitude for strategic and tactical thinking. But this calm belief that he could take on whatever they were faced with? That was new, and he owed a lot of that to the woman in front of him.

With a smile at her, he took her by the waist and lifted her so that she was sitting on the desk in front of him.

“Hi,” she said with a sexy smile. “Whatcha doin’, Oliver?”

“Looking at my beautiful, brilliant girlfriend.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Queen. But we should probably head over and check in with John.”

“John can wait. We haven’t been alone since very early this morning, Felicity,” Oliver reminded her as he slid his hands from her knees toward her upper thighs, her dress rising toward her hips as his hands moved.

“Oliver…”

“I have this very specific fantasy about you, this desk, and a deserted executive floor.”

Oliver felt her shiver at his words and then saw her relax back on the desk, and he knew he had her. He smiled and then rose to loom over her.

“You’re gorgeous. And I love you.”

Felicity’s entire face softened even more. “I love you, too.”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, a boyish, almost “Ollie” smile lighting his face and making him look younger than Felicity had ever seen him. She took a moment – just a moment – to grieve for the man-boy he’d been before the island. Felicity fervently believed he would have turned out to be a hero no matter what. His heart was too good and his sense of right was too deeply embedded for it to be any other way. He had been arrogant and careless in his teens and early twenties. And there was no doubt that he’d treated Laurel extremely badly. But, god, that island and wherever else he'd been while he was away had taken so, so much from him. Felicity absolutely adored the man he was now, but she hated the vast array of traumatic experiences that had forged him.

She watched his face grow serious when she didn’t respond right away. Voice more tentative than it had been just moments ago, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

I think I love you too much for my own good . I think you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, I hate every bad thing that ever happened to you, and I’m angry that I didn’t tell you how I felt as soon as I felt it , she thought but didn’t say.

Aloud, she said, “Absolutely nothing. Now, tell me more about this fantasy involving me, this desk, and a deserted twenty-third floor…”

His smile returned as he laid her back on the desk and followed her down.

“Well, it involves many fewer clothes than we’re currently wearing and my mouth all over your body..”

“I can get on board with that.”

“Thank god.” And then he was kissing her again and every thought about regrets and what-ifs was replaced by the kind of pleasure she’d only ever found with him.

***

It was after 11 pm before they made it to the foundry. And given the knowing look Felicity got from Diggle, the late hour and their slightly disheveled clothes must have given them away. Meh , Felicity thought. They’d deserved the break (and the orgasms). Diggle could smirk all he wanted. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed, so she squared her shoulders, looked Diggle right in the eye, and smirked back at him.

When Diggle laughed out loud, Felicity saw Oliver’s eyes narrow as he glanced between them. “Hey Digg, want to tell me about your patrol tonight while I kick your ass on the mats?”

“I thought you might be a little too tired to spar.”

Felicity’s raised eyebrow had Diggle laughing again as she turned toward her workstation, a smile still firmly planted on her lips. That smile faded, though, when she reached the platform and saw the alerts all over her screen. “Oliver…”

In moments, Oliver was at her side. “What?”

“I’m not sure…” Felicity replied, quickly sorting through the alerts and images on her screen before pausing on a series of stills from the security system at the Queen mansion. “Oliver, I think your mom and Thea are in trouble.”

***

Thea hadn’t expected to find her mother waiting up for her. It was after 10 pm, and that usually meant Moira had retired for the evening. But she heard her mother’s voice in the drawing room, so she squared her shoulders and prepared herself for another confrontation.

She was wholly unprepared, though, for the scene that actually greeted her. Her mother, the always polished, always stoic Moira Queen was crying. Begging. And Thea immediately saw why: Slade Wilson, the man who’d kidnapped and terrorized her before letting her go (right after, of course, dropping the bombs that Oliver was the Arrow and Malcolm Merlyn was her father) was standing before her mother, gun aimed at her heart.

Thea must have made some sound of distress because within moments she had both Slade’s focus and her mother’s. She didn’t have a lot of time to process the scene before Slade’s gun was pointed at her. “So lovely of you to join us, Miss Queen. I was just telling your mother how much I was looking forward to seeing both you and your brother once more. In fact, let’s get your brother on the line right now, shall we? After all, we’ll need Oliver to properly plan our little reunion.”

***

As Felicity and Diggle talked through their options (none of which were good), Oliver held himself as still as possible. He was afraid, frankly, that if he moved a single muscle he’d lose all control. His mother. His sister. All that was left of his family. They were in danger because of him, because of choices he had made.

“Oliver…” Distantly, he heard Felicity call his name.

“Oliver. Hey,” she said, moving in front of him and grasping his face. “Come back to me, Oliver. We’re going to get them back.”

“It’s my fault.”

“No. Absolutely not. We’ve been over this: Slade is a monster. You did not make him that way. And we are going to save your mom and your sister. Just stay with me here, Oliver.”

“I…” But before Oliver could finish his thought, his phone was ringing. Thea’s name flashed on the screen, and Oliver knew exactly what voice he’d hear when he answered.

“Hey, kid. Let’s chat.”

Chapter Text

Slade was waiting for Oliver on the front steps of Oliver's family home when he arrived. Dressed in his Deathstroke suit, his swords at his back and his gun held loosely but lethally in his right hand, Slade stood just behind a terrified looking Thea and a drawn but once more stoic Moira.

“So pleased you were able to join us, kid. And so glad you’ve come alone. I’d hate to hurt your lovely blonde or the ever-loyal Mr. Diggle just because you couldn’t follow directions.”

“I’m here Slade. Let them go. That was our deal: my life for theirs. I’m unarmed. I’m alone. I kept my side of the bargain.”

“After those years on the island and the ones working for Amanda Waller, I don’t understand how you’ve managed to remain this naive, kid." Slade took three steps toward Oliver, moving between Oliver and his mother and Thea, and settling in at the bottom of the stairs before re-focusing his enraged eyes on Oliver's face. "There’s no deal to be struck between us. You’ll suffer watching one of them die, and then I’ll let you live long enough to watch a woman you love come to hate you for your weakness before I kill you.”

“I won’t let you hurt them.”

Slade laughed lightly and took another few steps in Oliver's direction. “You can’t stop me.”

“No, you’re right. I can’t.”

Before Slade could turn back toward the mansion door as it opened behind him, Roy and Bruce were both through it, pulling first Thea and then Moira through and into the interior of the house. As Slade turned to fire at his fleeing hostages, Oliver was on him, a venom arrow (the kind Sara had made in case they needed to subdue Roy, though thankfully they hadn’t had to use them) out, and moving toward Slade’s exposed neck. 

As he moved, Oliver wasn’t all that worried about Slade using the gun on him. First, the venom arrows might not fully stop the Mirakuru-powered behemoth, but they were definitely going to hurt like a motherfucker. Second, Oliver knew Slade wanted to watch him suffer too much to let him die that easily.

When the venom arrow made contact, Slade’s roar drove the birds from nearby trees. Unfortunately, the arrows had been created for the smaller, more newly infected Roy. They didn’t incapacitate Slade, but they were clearly causing him more than a little distress. 

When they’d settled on this plan back at the foundry, their hope was that the venom’s effects would give Roy and Bruce time to get his mother and sister out the back door and away from the mansion and give Oliver enough time to escape, too. As Oliver moved back from a now prone but still strong Slade Wilson, he had to admit that it looked like they'd been right about the limited effects and the timing. Oliver needed to get the hell out of there now.

“You think you can beat me? Save them? You’ve merely prolonged their suffering! And when I catch them, I’m going to make sure they know that you’re the reason they suffer!” Slade bellowed from the ground, eyes wild but fixed on a retreating Oliver.

Oliver wanted to fight Slade then. To take him out. To end this. But he knew Slade was still too strong. And despite everything that had happened, he remembered his promise to Tommy, to Felicity: no more killing. He still had the chance to stop Slade without killing a man who’d saved his life so many times on Lian Yu, who’d taught him how to survive.

They didn’t have the cure from STAR labs yet, but they would. If Felicity believed that Caitlin and Cisco could make it happen, so did Oliver. As Oliver raced away from his childhood home and the man who’d once been his closest friend, he just hoped all of their faith in the Central City team was well-founded.

***

They were running out of plays here. Caitlin said that STAR Labs was close on the antidote. But they just weren’t there yet. The venom arrows were in limited supply, and procuring additional Tibetan Pit Viper venom wasn’t as easy as finding it on Amazon. Trust her, Felicity had tried. She’d also tried the dark web. No luck there either.

And Oliver, who knew Slade very, very well, was sure that a Mirakuru-powered invasion was imminent. Slade would strike again and with more firepower this time, and he’d do it soon. So they had to come up with a way of holding off Slade and whatever army he’d had time to build, at least for a little while, until the antidote was ready. 

So no matter how much they hated it, Diggle and Oliver both agreed that ARGUS was about the only move they had left to make. If Amanda Waller would help them, they could hold their own until the cure arrived. Still, Oliver absolutely hated walking into ARGUS headquarters, and he hated even more that he had to bring Felicity with him. 

So many parts of his past were ugly. Taking Felicity to Russia, letting her into the Bratva part of his past, had been rough. But this was worse. Amanda Waller and ARGUS were the ones who’d truly taught him to be a killer, and he could feel that darkness welling up inside of him again. But then he looked to his right, to see Felicity geeking out about the highly classified tech surrounding them, and it was like a fast-acting antidote to his darkness. Her light, her joy, her wonder, even in this place and this moment, made him fall even more in love with her.

***

For her part, Felicity was honestly thrilled to be at the top-secret headquarters. She knew from her less-than-savory/not-exactly-legal forays into government systems that ARGUS had, by far, the coolest tech. She knew they were here for other, more important reasons, but Felicity was really hoping she’d have a little time to…

Felicity stopped so abruptly that Diggle nearly ran into her back. “Felicity?” But Felicity wasn’t paying attention to either of the men at her side; her entire focus was on the tech in front of her. “Is that computer running an XK-15 processor? They aren’t even supposed to exist yet!” Felicity asked, eyes darting from the tech itself to the technician in front of her to Amanda Waller, who was now standing a few feet away smirking at her.

“Felicity, we should…” Oliver started, but Felicity interrupted him: “Can I touch it? The computer I mean. That sounded dirty. I didn't mean for it to sound dirty. But can I? Can I touch it?”

“Felicity.” She could hear the barely repressed laughter in Diggle’s voice, but she couldn’t help it. This was so cool!

“Oliver, I want one.”

***

Leave it to his genius girlfriend to start asking for expensive gifts now. But nothing so pedestrian as fine jewelry or clothes or cars. Oh, no, not his Felicity. She wanted experimental tech. Smiling down at her despite the circumstances, Oliver told her, “I’ll see what I can do. But maybe we should focus for a moment on the matter at hand?”

“Of course. Of course. But maybe I could just…”

“Felicity.” Both Diggle and Oliver were openly laughing at her now.

“Right. Right. The coming Mirakuru apocalypse. Let’s focus on that.”

With one last indulgent look at the love of his life, Oliver turned to Waller. “Amanda.”

“Mr. Queen. Lovely to see you again.”

“Cut the bullshit, Amanda. We both know I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“But here you are. Because you need something. What might that be, Oliver?”

“You know Deathstroke is here in Starling. And I’m sure you’ve heard rumors or, knowing ARGUS, found actual evidence, of the super-soldier formula from Lian Yu. Deathstroke survived his own injection with the serum, and now he’s using it to build his own personal army. We need ARGUS’ help to stop him.”

“What are you asking for, exactly?”

“Satellite access to help us track Deathstroke and his men.”

“We both know that Ms. Smoak over there could get access to our satellite whenever she likes." Felicity smiled widely and gave Amanda Waller a small finger wave before Waller continued, "What do you really want?”

Diggle spoke then, “We want Lyla Michaels, and a group of agents that she trusts to help us hold them off for now, and when the time comes, take the fight to them.”

***

Sara was taking a chance that she knew Oliver would hate. But if Oliver was willing to reach out to ARGUS and Waller in an attempt to get the allies they needed for this fight, Sara had to do what she could, too. So, with one last look around the foundry and a quick text to Sin so she wouldn’t worry about not seeing Sara for a few days, Sara made a call she’d been dreading and anticipating in equal parts: “Nyssa, I need you. I’ll meet you at that apartment in Manila. Please.”

Chapter Text

Oliver thought that, if nothing else, he’d protected his family from Slade. He thought he’d gotten there in time, that his mother and Thea were out of this. But apparently, he was wrong. 

He’d first suspected that was the case when he got the call from a frantic Thea telling him that Moira had collapsed. But he knew it for sure when he got the taunting text from Slade just as he arrived at Starling General: Something wrong with mommy dearest, kid?

Oliver wanted to smash his phone. He wanted to scream in frustration. He wanted to end this permanently. 

Before he could reply to Slade’s taunt, though, Thea was in front of him. Her tear-streaked face broke his heart in half, and he couldn’t help but pull her into a long, hard hug.

“It’s going to be okay, Thea.”

“How, Ollie? The doctors have no idea what’s happening. Someone mentioned poison. Did Mr. Wilson do that? He was alone with her before I got home, before he called you. Why is he doing this?”

“It’s my…” before he could say fault , though, Felicity was talking over him: “Because Slade Wilson is a monster, and he knows Oliver is going to stop him.” Oliver hadn’t even heard her arrive, but god , he was glad she was here.

“Speedy, this is…”

“Felicity Smoak, I know. I’ve known you were in love with your executive assistant longer than you have, big brother, so I made it a point to learn everything I could about her. And what I learned is that she’s way too good for you.”

“That’s the god’s honest truth,” Oliver replied, his lips turned up in his first real smile since he’d gotten the phone call from the hospital.

“Nonsense. Oliver is wonderful. I’m the lucky one,” Felicity cut in, clearly amused.

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree,” Oliver returned, pulling her into his other side. For just a moment, he relished the chance to hold the two most important women in his life.

“You two are disgustingly cute. Mom is going to pretend to hate it while secretly adoring how happy Felicity makes you. It’s going to be hilarious.” Thea’s voice dropped off and her face turned from amused to sad in an instant. “She is going to wake up, isn’t she, Ollie?”

“She is. I’m not going to let Slade win. I promise, Speedy.”

***

He hated to do it, but Oliver needed to get himself and Felicity back to the foundry, so he hugged Thea tightly just as Roy arrived at the hospital’s private waiting room. 

“I love you, Thea. And I’m going to be back as quickly as humanly possible. Roy’s going to stay with you. Don’t leave his side.”

“Ollie…”

“Promise me, Thea. He can protect you. Please.”

Thea sighed, turned an annoyed eye to Roy, but nodded to Oliver before stepping back from him. “Go. I’ll stay with mom. Roy will protect us. You go figure out what that asshole did to mom and how to take him down.”

Oliver nodded at Thea, then turned to Roy. “A moment?”

Roy looked between Oliver and Thea, then nodded at Oliver’s order-in-the-form-of-a-question.

“Don’t leave their side. Promise me, Roy. Slade has backup plans for his backup plans. I would bet a whole lot of money that he has someone watching the hospital, and if thinks that my mom and Thea are vulnerable, he’ll come after them. Lyla has two agents she trusts stationed on this floor and another two stationed downstairs, but you’re the last line of defense.”

“I hear you. And I’ve got them. Now you go figure out how the fuck to end this once and for all.”

Oliver nodded at that, and with one more glance at his sister, he grabbed Felicity’s hand and headed toward the elevators.

***

For the record, neither Oliver nor Diggle loved this plan. But their objections were different. 

For his part, Oliver wanted Felicity as far away from one of Slade’s allies as possible, and he didn’t like that he wouldn’t be in the room, able to protect Felicity if it came to that. It’s not that Oliver didn’t trust Diggle to keep her safe. He did. It was just that everything felt so out of control at the moment, and he had a not-entirely-irrational fear of failing Felicity the way he’d failed his mother. (If Felicity had been able to read his mind, she would certainly have objected to the notion that Oliver had failed Moira in some way. But, thankfully, she wasn’t a mindreader. Though the look she was currently sending him – a mix of affection, frustration, and that underlying foundation of belief in him – suggested she might have some notion of the direction of Oliver’s thoughts.)

Diggle, on the other hand, thought that Felicity was going to make an excellent interrogator for Clinton Hogue. This asshole was motivated by exactly one thing: money. Diggle’s persuasive techniques, namely repeated punches to the face and torso, weren’t going to work on this guy. But Felicity’s techniques would be digital, psychological, and long-lasting. And that had a much higher likelihood of success. Diggle’s objection was more about the lack of intel they had about Hogue’s operation. As long as Hogue’s ties to Wilson were transactional and limited to procuring whatever poison Wilson had used on Oliver’s mother, their plan would work. But if the ties were deeper, they had a big fucking problem. They were rolling the dice here, and Diggle didn’t like any plan that involved putting someone he cared about in a situation with this many unknown variables.

Felicity, unlike the men in her life, felt pretty damn confident in the digital trails she’d followed, which had led her to Hogue’s Cayman’s accounts, some Swiss bank accounts, his parents’ healthy investment portfolio, and what looked to be a fairly impressive real estate portfolio with holdings all over Eastern Europe. This man wasn’t a fanatic; there wasn’t a single shred of digital evidence of any core set of beliefs or values. He cared about money for himself and maybe a little about money for his parents. That was it. And that made him a perfect target for Felicity’s unique set of skills as an interrogator.

So, despite both Oliver and Digg’s misgivings, they were letting her take the lead. Oliver would lure Hogue to QC with the promise of a meeting, which Oliver would miss, and his temporary EA (Gerry Conway, a very kind, organized, and eager new hire, who Felicity just adored) would share Oliver’s apologies. And on his way out of the building, Diggle would do his part, namely abduct Hogue and deliver him to the first floor of the Clocktower building, where Felicity would be waiting for them. An excellent plan, if Felicity did say so herself. (I mean, it was her plan, so maybe she was just a tiny bit biased.)

***

Clinton Hogue came to, tied to a chair and with a nasty headache. As his vision cleared, he noticed the well-built gentleman who’d joined him on the elevator just before his memory went blank. 

“Mr. Hogue,” the man in front of him greeted him when he began to struggle against the ropes holding him to the chair.

“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Hogue. I tied those myself, and I’m excellent with knots. Now, I have some questions for you.”

“Go to Hell.”

“You sure that’s how you want to play it?

“You think I’ve never taken a beating before?”

“Man, you’re going to wish I beat you.”

Chapter Text

Felicity stepped from behind Diggle so that she could see Hogue more clearly. She didn’t like the way his lips curled in disgust at Diggle. This, she thought, was going to be fun .

“Hi. I'll be your interrogator,” Felicity said, stepping more fully into Hogue’s space and pasting a wide, insincere smile on her face.

Another, different look of disgust crossed Hogue’s face before his mouth set in a lascivious smirk. “Is this a joke?” 

Felicity pulled her tablet from behind her back, sent back a smirk of her own, and got right down to it: “Clinton Hogue. Social Security number 306003894.” 

“What the hell is this supposed to be?”

Felicity adopted a faux look of concentration as she circled Hogue’s bound form. “Oh, look at this. You have a bank account in the Cayman Islands. Wow. $2 million, quite the little nest egg.” Felicity paused for effect before she continued, “But, oh no. It looks like you just approved a wire transfer of $1 million to a charity here in Starling City. Very generous.” 

Smiling over at Diggle, she asked, “What should I do with the rest?” 

“Greenpeace,” he replied with a self-satisfied grin of his own.

“Great cause! And they really appreciate the support. Saving the whales is such expensive work!” Felicity made sure to turn her tablet toward Hogue to be sure he could see his now empty Cayman account.

“You bitch!” 

“Bitch with wifi. Bitch with wifi, my friend. And a bitch who is just getting started.” 

She paused again, tapping a few times on her touchscreen and then turning it once again in Hogue’s direction: “Hey, Clinton, looks like your mom and dad have a really nice retirement portfolio, too, but they, oh, no, are just about to make some really bad investments. That’s so unfortunate! They’re already retired, so it’s going to be so difficult to replace these losses. Or, you know, you could tell me what I want to know, and then they won’t suffer any devastating financial consequences for raising a son who turned out to be a murdering, poison-dealing asshole.” 

“Fuck! Wait. Just wait.”

“I’m not hearing any promises that you’re going to answer our questions, Mr. Hogue.”

“Just--stop! What do you want to know?”

“Well, Clinton, we want to know what exactly you sold to Mr. Wilson and how much there was of it.”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t tell us you don’t know Mr. Wilson or don’t know what we’re talking about. I have surveillance photos that show you making the drop and phone logs that tie you two together. And we know from some of your former customers just what kind of deadly merchandise you normally sell. So, if you want your parents’ retirement intact and you want to keep the money currently stashed in your Swiss bank accounts, which I’ve already hacked into, by the way, then you need to start talking. Now.”

“Shit. Fine. But you’ve got to make sure you’ve left me enough to get out of Starling tonight and disappear. For good. Because if I betray Slade Wilson, he’ll fucking kill me if he can find me.”

“Done. Talk.”

“It wasn't poison, not exactly. It was thallium. Wilson bought a small amount of Thallium from me, probably enough to expose one, at most two people, depending on their size and the dose he wanted to use.”

“Thallium. Like the chemical/metal used in photoresistors?”

“Yeah. It’s tasteless and odorless, and a small amount absorbed via contact with the skin can kill an adult. But the person rarely even knows they’ve dosed, at least not right away. Thallium is also nearly impossible to detect in routine blood tests, especially if it’s been more than twenty-four hours since exposure, which is handy because twenty-four hours is about how long it takes for most folks to feel noticeable effects. The hospital will have to run specialized tests, the kind they’d use for heavy metal poisoning, and even those will have a hard time detecting the Thallium if it’s been more than 48 hours.”

“Treatment?”

“The same as for things like arsenic: Prussian Blue therapy. Any mid-sized hospital should have access to enough to start treatment.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hogue. Your Caymans account stays empty; that’s your penalty for being an evil asshole. But your Swiss accounts are intact, as are your parents’ accounts. But remember that I still have access to all of it, so if you’ve screwed us, I’ll take everything, including the castle in Moldova.”

With a nod at Digg, Felicity exited the space and waited for the tell-tale thud of Hogue hitting the floor. With Hogue out cold, Diggle joined her across the room. “I’m calling Oliver, so he can inform the hospital. You’ll drop Hogue in the Glades and meet me back at the lair?”

“Yup. Call Oliver. I’ll see you both soon.”

***

Felicity called Oliver as soon as she was behind the wheel of her mini.

“It’s Thallium poisoning. From my 30 seconds of Googling, it looks like the treatment is about the same as for arsenic, and the hospital should have access to plenty of Prussian Blue to get started treating your mom. It’s been 48 or so hours since she was exposed, and Thallium works somewhat slowly. There’s still time for the Prussian Blue to work.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Call the hospital. Call Thea. I’ll be back at the Arrowcave soon.”

“We don’t call it that,” Oliver said quietly, a smile in his voice.

“I do. Get over it. See you soon.”

“Felicity…I…I couldn’t have done any of this without you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I need you to know, no matter what happens, I love you more than I thought I was even capable of.”

“Oliver…”

“I love you.” And then he was gone.

Felicity gripped her steering wheel more tightly, a pit growing in her stomach, because that sounded an awful lot like a goodbye. 

***

Her worst fears were confirmed when she arrived at Verdant to see Oliver’s bike missing from its usual spot beneath the fire escape. Unable to believe he’d actually left without telling her where he was going, Felicity entered her code into the keypad and ran quickly down the stairs. But before she even set foot on the ground, she knew the lair was empty. Where was he?

Hoping that he’d decided to go to the hospital in person instead of just calling them, Felicity grabbed her keys and headed that way. If he wasn’t there, she’d call John and get him in on the search. In her head, Felicity could hear a clock ticking down because she had a really, really bad feeling that Oliver had some asinine idea that sacrificing himself was the only way to end this. She’d thought they were past this, but she probably should have known better. Despite the progress Oliver had made in believing that he was worthy of love and trusting in his team, there was no easy way to get past the lessons he’d learned on the island, namely that he alone was ultimately responsible for saving himself and those he loved. Love, trust, pain, and loss were all bound up together for Oliver. She just needed to hope that he hadn’t yet followed all the way through with whatever heroic, self-sacrificing, bullshit plan he’d come up with.

Chapter Text

Oliver wasn’t at the hospital. He’d called the doctors and then Thea to tell them about the Thallium, but Thea hadn’t seen him since the night before. Which meant only one thing: Wilson had gotten into his head and convinced Oliver to trade himself for some bullshit promises.

Felicity was so mad she couldn’t see straight. He was planning to sacrifice himself! Again! They’d already talked about this! 

She should have known Slade wasn’t going to lay low while she and Digg ran down Clinton Hogue. She should have known Slade would be taunting Oliver in any way he could. Felicity had just thought – hoped – that Oliver wouldn’t go off half-cocked and alone, that he would remember they were a team. That he would remember they were always stronger together. 

So, when she saw the tracker she’d attached to his bike (in case of something precisely like this) stop at the clocktower building, she was up and out of her chair within seconds. Unfortunately for her, as she made her way up the stairs, Bruce was coming down. One look at her face had him stopping in his tracks. “That look usually means someone is about to get their ass kicked.”

“Move, Bruce.”

“What’s going on, Felicity?”

“I’m going to go kick a certain vigilante’s ass for cutting out his partners – again.”

“Felicity…”

“ What Bruce?!”

“Look, we both know I’m not Queen’s biggest fan. And I still think you’d be better off as far away from him as physically possible. I hear Wayne Enterprises is hiring, by the way…”

At Felicity’s look of death, Bruce put his hands up. “Off topic. Got it. As I was saying, I don’t particularly like Oliver Queen, but I do understand him. I’ve been there. And I know you love him, but you’re the wrong messenger here. He hears you, he wants to believe you, but frankly, he also thinks you’re wrong about him, about what he’s worth. And he believes – correctly, by the way – that you can’t be objective about him or this situation. But I can. So let me talk to him.”

“I’m not sure, Bruce…”

“I know you don’t have a lot of reasons to trust me, Felicity, but I do care about you. I want you to be happy. I also don’t want something awful to happen to a city full of innocent people. Oliver Queen is the only one who can stop Deathstroke, and he can’t do that if sacrifices himself now. Let me talk to him.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“I’m driving.”

“What? Why?”

“Because getting into your car is like folding myself in half and because you drive like a maniac when you’re angry. And you’re very, very angry right now.”

“Fuck you. But fine. Let’s go.”

***

Oliver knew he couldn’t trust Slade to keep his word that if he turned himself over, Slade would leave his family and his team alone, that he’d leave Felicity alone. But they still needed more time, and Oliver didn’t know how else to get it. Lyla’s ARGUS team was a huge help, but it wasn’t enough. Sara had disappeared, Caitlin hadn’t completed the Mirakuru antidote yet, and his family was still in danger (though, thank god, Felicity and Diggle had figured out it was Thallium; the hospital had already started treating his mother). So, Oliver had to do whatever it took to give the rest of them the time to figure out a full, real defense for the city. All he had left to give at this point was himself, so that’s what he was going to do.

He knew Felicity wouldn’t let him go easily, though, so he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the door open behind him. He was surprised, though, to see Bruce Wayne standing just inside the door.

“This is a surprise.”

“Felicity is downstairs.”

“And you’re up here because…”

“Because I love someone who loves you. And because I understand you better than you understand yourself. Only I’ve got about ten years on you, so I know what the future holds if you keep this shit up.”

“I take it you’ve got advice.”

“Not advice, really. Just a reality check. Let me know if any of this sounds familiar to you: You’ve decided that your mission is more important than any one man. You think that people need dramatic examples to shake them from the apathy they’re mired in. And Oliver Queen can’t do that. But the Arrow can. It doesn’t really matter if Oliver Queen survives all this, so long as the symbol remains. As a man, you’re killable. You can be ignored, ended, destroyed. But the Arrow is permanent. That sound about right?”

“It’s true, though. I don’t matter. The team matters. The city matters.”

“Does Felicity matter?”

“Fuck you.”

“Does she, though? Because the woman downstairs could not care less about the symbol. She loves a man, and losing that man will destroy her. Does that matter? Does it matter that John Diggle – a real life, goddamn American hero – will have to live through losing another brother? Does it matter that your sister will lose half of the family she has left? That she and your mother will have to mourn you – again? I have no doubt that your team could carry on your mission. Hell, we both know that Felicity could single-handedly save both of our cities with enough time and processing power. But she shouldn’t have to. As much as I think you’re the wrong partner for her, she picked you . Now it’s your turn. What are you going to pick? Felicity? Or the huge ball of rage and self-hatred that still lives in your chest? We are what we do, Queen. Step the fuck up and do something for the woman who has stood by your side no matter what.”

***

Felicity really, really hoped this worked. She wasn’t sure what else she could say to Oliver at this point to get him to see that his life was worth protecting. And she needed him to fight for himself, for her, for the life they could have together. She knew he wanted that life, too, but he still didn’t really believe he deserved it. That was the crux of the problem. And she was at a loss.

Just as she felt the first frustrated tear fall, the door in front of her opened, and Oliver emerged. His remorse was immediately evident on his face and in his voice as he said her name, “Felicity…”

Then she was in his arms, face buried in his chest and arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through this again. It’s just that when you and Diggle brought me back to Starling City, I made a vow to myself that I would never let anything like the Undertaking happen again. And yet, here we are.”

“What's happening now is not your fault.” 

“Yes, it is. Slade is here because of me, because I failed on the island. Failed Shado. Just like I failed Tommy last year. All I have ever wanted to do was honor the people I’ve lost.” 

“Oliver, you honor the dead by fighting. And you are not done fighting. We are not done fighting.  Malcolm Merlyn, the Count, the Clock King, the Triad. Everyone who has tried to hurt this city, you stopped them. We stopped them. And you will stop Slade.” 

“I don't know how to hold him off until we have the tools we need to do that.” 

“I’m not entirely sure either. But I do know three things: You are not alone. I believe in you. And I love you. The rest we’ll figure out together.”

Chapter Text

Oliver wasn’t used to getting good news, so getting three pieces of good news in the span of fifteen minutes felt entirely too good to be true.

The first piece of good news came from Starling General: his mom was responding well to the treatment, and she’d briefly woken up twice. Both times she was her demanding self, according to Thea’s amused recounting. Hearing Thea laugh at the way their mother had ordered the nurse to “find me some proper clothing, for the love of god,”  loosened something in Oliver’s chest. The doctors expected his mother would recover, and so far, there wasn’t any evidence of permanent damage. She was going to be in the hospital for a while, probably a couple of weeks, at least. But given their last name (and their money), the hospital staff had so far been happy to accommodate Thea’s decision to stay at the hospital 24/7. The building was a bit more accessible than Oliver would have liked, and the rotating manpower to keep his mom and sister protected was a bit of a hit to their still-too-small forces, but Oliver wasn’t complaining. His mother was alive and on her way to being well. Thea was safe. Oliver would take it and be grateful.

The second piece of good news came from a too-long absent Sara. In any other circumstance, Oliver would not have called learning that a dozen members of the League of Assassins (led by none other than Nyssa Al Ghul) were headed to Starling good news. But in this case, with a showdown looming with a disturbingly quiet Slade Wilson, it was definitely good news. Still, Oliver was trying hard not to think too much about what Sara had promised the Al Ghuls to get their team some well-trained reinforcements. Sara would bring Nyssa and her forces to the foundry when they got into town. It sounded like there were still a few hours out, which worked for Oliver. He knew Felicity would want to prep the foundry before they hosted a baker's dozen of assassins. 

And the third piece of good news had come just moments ago, word from Central City that they’d completed the Mirakuru antidote. The cure was ready and on its way to them right now. “This is it, Oliver,” Felicity had told him when she’d hung up with Caitlin. “We have what we need to end this. We’re going to end this. You’re going to end this.” Oliver had smiled at her unfailing belief in him. God , he loved her. When this was over, and he was finally starting to let himself believe that this was going to end with him still alive to plan a future with Felicity, he was taking her somewhere beautiful and isolated. And he wasn’t going to let her leave their bed for a week. Now they just had to get through the next 48 hours. 

Given all that good news, Oliver felt like he was pushing his luck to ask for anything else, but the truth was, even with the recent additions of Lyla’s ARGUS team and the contingent from the League, they needed more reinforcements. And though he was loath to ask Bruce Wayne for a goddamn thing, he knew that Batman (and, if possible, a few of his allies) would be an extremely useful part of the coming battle against Slade. 

It’s not that Oliver thought that Wayne would say no. Wayne cared about Felicity, and Felicity cared about the city they were fighting for (and she also cared for Oliver, obviously, though that seemed more likely to annoy Wayne than encourage him to help them out). It was more that Oliver really, really hated the smug look on Wayne’s face whenever he thought he had the upper hand. Still, he didn’t want Felicity to feel like she was constantly having to act as a referee between him and Wayne, so he needed to suck it up and make the call himself. Oliver took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed Wayne’s number.

“Queen?”

“Yeah, it’s me. The antidote is on its way here as we speak, and Sara secured some allies from the League, who are also on their way.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I don’t disagree, Wayne, but beggars can’t be choosers. From what Sara says, all League assassins are also trained archers. And since we’re going to be loading injection arrows with as much of the antidote as we can, we need good archers. We can’t afford to waste any of it since we don’t really know how large Slade’s army is.”

“The League can’t be trusted. Nyssa Al Ghul definitely can’t be trusted.”

“Maybe not, but Sara Lance can be. And she trusts Nyssa in this.”

“That’s a mistake. And you’re going to fucking regret it.”

“Does that mean we can’t count on you for this fight?”

“Fuck you. I told Felicity I’d have your back. And I will.”

“Any chance you might have some company?”

“Way ahead of you. The Wayne jet is on its way to Starling as we speak with Barbara – that’s Batgirl/Oracle, Luke – AKA Batwing, and Dick – who has been working as Nightwing for the last few years – all aboard.”

“Thanks, Bruce. Genuinely. I know we don’t like each other, and I still think you’re a stupid fucker for what you did to Felicity. But you’ve been a huge help these last few weeks. And if we succeed against Slade, it’ll be at least in part because of you. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I still don’t like you, though.”

“Same.”

“I know, Queen. I know. I’m going to meet the jet and pick up my team. Do you want us to meet you at the foundry?”

“That’s probably best. I suspect that Nyssa and her companions will also be hitting the foundry within the next couple of hours. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Probably. But it can wait. I've been waiting this long to get mine back from the League. I can wait a few more days until your Deathstroke problem is solved."

“Much appreciated.”

“Later.”

“Yup.” Oliver hung up and turned to find a smirking Felicity, eyes lit with amusement and love, standing behind him.

“Look at you, making nice.”

“He’s still a motherfucker,” Oliver told her.

“I know, honey,” she replied, her smile still firmly planted on her face.

“Get over here and kiss me before we’re surrounded by spies, assassins, and vigilantes.”

“Deal.” And then he was kissing her, pouring all the love he could into this brief moment with her.

“I love you, Felicity Megan Smaok.”

“I love you Oliver Jonas Queen.”

“We’re ridiculous,” Oliver said with amusement as Felicity snuggled into his arms and rested her cheek on his chest.

“I know. I love it. And so do you.”

“True.”

Moments later, though, Diggle’s throat clearing and highly amused chuckle popped their little bubble.

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you two so smitten, but maybe you should be planning the takedown of your arch-nemesis instead of playing grab-ass?”

“We hadn’t even gotten to the grab-ass part of the festivities, John Diggle, so shove it,” Felicity returned, face still pressed to Oliver's chest.

“Whatever. What’s the plan?”

Chapter Text

So this was the plan: Felicity had tracked down two locations that seemed most likely to be home bases for Slade and his army; they were going to hit both simultaneously in teams of four. They were also going to deploy two four-person teams to support SCPD’s strike teams, which thank god Quentin had convinced his chief and lieutenant to assemble. With Detective Lance’s help, Felicity had also convinced the officers to arm themselves with doses of the antidote. That had been a heavier lift. You try explaining a secret, super-soldier formula, its connection to inexplicable crimes in Starling and beyond, and the creation of a miracle antidote from a source you won’t reveal to a stern-faced Quentin Lance. Thank god that Lance trusted Felicity.

Everyone who wasn’t embedded with the SCPD officers or tasked with hitting what they hoped were Slade’s staging locations was going to be split into two teams: one at the Starling City bridge and one at the entrance to the main tunnel out of Starling. The two teams hitting the Slade’s suspected bases would join the bridge and tunnel teams when they were finished at their respective locations. If Slade’s men started amassing in one of these places and not the other, the other team would focus their forces there. But travel time between the two locations was a serious concern. If only one team was engaged, it would be on its own for at least ten or fifteen minutes, depending on the amount of chaos Slade was causing elsewhere in Starling.

Spreading themselves out like this was a risk. If they were wrong about Slade’s targets or his staging locations, they could end up fractured and in serious trouble. But Oliver was confident in Felicity’s intel, and he, John, Bruce, and Lyla all agreed that this approach gave them the highest likelihood of success. Sara thought they might need another backup team for the SCPD, but Oliver just wasn’t sure how to make that happen. Their team was thirty strong – larger than he’d really let himself hope for. And they had the SCPD at their backs, too. But still, the number of locations they were trying to cover was stretching them extremely thin. And he needed Roy and two ARGUS agents to stay at the hospital.

There was also the complication of Slade himself. There was no way he was going to put himself in the middle of the chaos he was creating. He’d be somewhere else, watching, and planning some sort of personal attack on Oliver. That’s why Oliver needed to keep his mom and Thea protected. And it’s why he was about to piss Felicity off by telling her she needed to stay in the foundry. 

***

“Absolutely not.”

“Felicity, I need you to be safe.”

“I’m safe when I’m with you.”

“If you’re out there, the only thing I’ll be able to focus on is your safety. I need you to stay here.”

“Oliver…”

“Please.” 

Damnit , Felicity thought, his soft voice and pleading look got her every single time. So she blew out a breath and conceded. “Fine. But if I get a location on Slade or that bitch Isabel, who has somehow disappeared after shaking her FBI tail…”

“You’ll share it with me and still stay here where I know you’re safe?”

She huffed out a breath at his reply. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Really. I don’t want you distracted in the field, and there’s not much to hack on a suspension bridge or in a concrete tunnel, so I wouldn’t be all that much help in the field. But comms stay on Oliver, no matter what. I need to know you’re safe, too.”

Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Oliver agreed. “Deal.”

***

It wasn’t that Felicity had lied to Oliver when she’d told him she’d stay put, it was just that when she’d gotten the encrypted message from Slade Wilson inviting her to end this by turning herself over, she’d had an idea. Oliver was going to hate it, but he’d forgive her. She hoped.

She didn’t believe Wilson. She wasn’t an idiot. But the encrypted message gave her some clues to Wilson’s whereabouts and his endgame. She wanted to do a little recon, though, before she tried to convince Oliver to let her enact a fairly insane plan.

So she’d put in her comms, switched them on, and muted them so no one would hear any background noise that would give her away, and tried to quietly slip from the back of the foundry. Something, though, must have given her away because when she exited behind Verdant, she found Sara Lance smiling at her from beneath the fire escape where Oliver usually parked his bike.

“Going somewhere, cutie?”

“Sara, I…”

“You what? Got a message from Slade offering a meet to talk about letting Oliver live and you thought you’d try to figure out where he might be?”

“How the hell did you guess that?”

“I didn’t guess. I got the same message. Slade is looking to recreate what happened on the island. Two women that Oliver cares for and an impossible choice that will break him. You and I are the bait.”

“But it might be our only real chance to end this with as many people alive as possible.”

“I agree. We need to do this. We both give ourselves over, and you stash a dose of the antidote on you. They’re not going to search you thoroughly because Slade is arrogant enough to believe you’re not a physical threat.”

“Okay.”

“But we have to tell Oliver, and we have to do it right now. No waiting until we know more, no recon first. We need to get Oliver back here before he heads to the tunnel.”

“Sara, he’ll never let us go through with this.”

“We’ll have to persuade him. But we can’t let Oliver go into the inevitable confrontation with Slade without having every single piece of information we can give him. And, it has to be his choice. He has to know what he’s walking into. Ultimately, he’s the one who’s going to have to watch people he loves in danger from this madman…again. We can’t let him face that without being part of the decision from the very, very beginning.”

“Shit. Fine. And don’t look so smug just because you’re right.”

“Can’t help it, cutie. Sorry.”

***

“Absolutely fucking not!”

“Oliver.”

“No, Felicity. No. There is no argument that will convince me this is not an absolutely batshit crazy plan.”

“There’s no other way to end this, Oliver. Slade is going to get the scene he wants one way or the other. He tried first with Moira and Thea. And you know he’s going to come after me and Sara next. That’s why he messaged us. This way, we control the confrontation, at least to some extent.”

“And what's to stop him from snapping your neck or Sara’s neck the moment he has you?”

“He wants to – needs to – recreate the scene from Lian Yu,” Felicity reminded him. “If he just wanted to kill us, he’d have done that already. He wants the psychological torture he’s deluded himself into believing you deserve. That means he needs us alive until he can make you ‘choose’ between us.”

“We can’t take the chance that he’ll change his mind and kill you both. We just can’t,” Oliver replied, head in his hands, eyes imploring Felicity not to ask this of him. But she had to be strong this time. They weren’t going to have another chance to end things with Slade, she could feel it. This was their chance.

“We have to, Oliver. Slade is going to lay waste to the city if we don’t stop him. We’ve got a momentary advantage, but if we don’t seize the opportunity tonight, there’s no telling what he’ll do next.”

“I fucking hate everything about this.”

“I know. But we don’t have a lot of plays here that will actually end this.”

“I need you to be safe, Felicity. I won’t survive losing you.”

“And I wouldn’t survive losing you, Oliver. That’s what you keep forgetting. And this isn’t me sacrificing myself. Sara will be there. You’ll be there…”

“And I’ll be there, too,” Bruce announced from the bottom of the foundry stairs.

“No, Bruce.”

“Yes, Felicity. If you’re going to do something this goddamn stupid and brave, I’m going to have your back.”

Chapter Text

Well, at least she’d been right about the staging locations. Unfortunately, they’d only found a few soldiers in each warehouse. It looked like they’d missed the bulk of Slade’s army by mere minutes. 

Felicity had also been right about the most likely places for Slade’s army to attack; unfortunately for them, it appeared that they were going after both the bridge and the tunnel. She watched on the traffic camera feeds as two dozen Mirakuru-powered super-soldiers attacked Team Arrow's forces at the Starling City Bridge. Their Batfamily backup was kicking ass, though, as were a half dozen of the League archers led by Nyssa. 

Another large contingent of Slade’s forces was making its way toward the tunnel, though, and Oliver, Bruce, and Lyla were setting up a line of defense. Sara was there, too, at least until her coming “capture.” 

Felicity would keep watch from the foundry until 10:30, when she’d make herself a sitting duck in front of Verdant. Felicity was absolutely certain that Slade also had access to the traffic camera feeds (just like she did), so she had no doubt that if she made herself vulnerable in view of a city camera, Slade would snatch her up (since both she and Sara had ostensibly declined Slade’s invitation for a meeting). That was the plan, anyway.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Oliver’s quiet, “Here we go.” She watched as thirty or so of Slade’s army approached the tunnel. Their numbers were more limited than Oliver had feared, and Felicity had a feeling that fact was owed to Isabel’s ouster from QC. The facilities they’d found earlier in the night were crude setups, meth or Vertigo labs converted – poorly – into Mirakuru operations. It seemed likely that what Slade and Isabel had really wanted from QC was access to the state-of-the-art labs and equipment. Without it, Slade  was limited to the primitive facilities he’d cobbled together and a less potent version of the serum. If they made it through tonight victorious – and without heavy losses – Felicity felt certain they’d owe that success in part to Oliver’s successful expulsion of his now-former-but-still-a-bitch partner.

Felicity refocused on the screens in front of her as the first clash began between their team at the tunnel and Slade’s army. She’d never get over watching Oliver fight. She didn’t consider herself someone who was attracted to violence. But she’d also never seen anything so beautiful as Oliver in the middle of combat. He moved almost like a dancer, all light feet and terrifying grace. The contingent of super-soldiers was triple the size of their team in the tunnel, but they didn’t stand a chance against the training and abilities of the Arrow, Batman, the Canary, and eight extremely well-trained spies, led by the incomparable Lyla Michals. 

Just then, Felicity’s phone rang out its alarm. A five minute warning.

She waited until Oliver took down the man he was currently fighting before she engaged her comm, and told him quietly, “It’s time, Oliver. I love you.”

She watched as his eyes closed tightly for a brief moment before he nodded once, knowing she’d be watching him on the video feed from the cameras at the tunnel entrance. “I love you. And I’ll see you soon.”

***

Knowing the scene that was going to greet him wasn’t the same as actually being prepared for it. Oliver knew that now. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for seeing Felicity – his Felicity – with a sword to her throat. Oliver glanced from a stoic but obviously scared Felicity to a smirking Sara behind her. He was grateful, then, for the fact that Wayne was lurking somewhere in the wings waiting for Oliver’s signal. He was grateful, too, for Sara Lance and the years of hard lessons that had turned her into a weapon. He hated what she’d been through, but in this moment, he knew he was lucky that, no matter what happened to him or to Wayne, his friend had the skills and the courage to get Felicity out of here when the time came. He also knew, though, that Felicity was no slouch; when it came right down to it, she could save herself (and the rest of them, honestly) if she needed to. He was surrounded by strong women. Thank God.

His attention moved from the women back to his former friend when Slade said with a sneer, “You've been busy, kid.” 

“It's over, Slade. Your army is broken.” 

“And I pity them. But once again, you miss the point. I have the one you love. You're going to do as I say, exactly as I say. Otherwise, I'm going to kill her. I will say, Oliver, I was surprised when I discovered your relationship with Ms. Smoak. I had thought you had a thing for stronger women. Now that I've met her, though, I can see the appeal. She is quite lovely, your Felicity. Smart and brave. But unfortunately for her, being smart and brave isn’t enough to protect any woman from your poison, is it?”

“Slade…” Oliver began just as Felicity pulled slightly away from Slade. Oliver winced as her movement brought Slade’s blade in closer contact with her delicate neck. He started to move toward her as Slade jerked her back into his body.

“‘Twitch, and I will open your throat.’ Those were my first words to you, kid. Do you remember? I do. I remember the exact moment. My blade against your neck. Just like my blade is against the neck of your beloved. If only I'd killed you then, everything would be different. Drop the bow, kid. Do it.” 

With no other choice, Oliver dropped his bow.

“You know, I spent countless nights dreaming of taking from you all that you took from me.” 

“By killing the woman I love?” 

“Yes.” 

“Like you loved Shado.” 

“Yes.”

“You see her. Don't you? What does she look like in your madness, Slade? What does she say to you? I remember her being beautiful. Young. Kind. She would be horrified by what you've done in her name.” 

“What I have done? What I have done is what you lack the courage to do! To fight for her! But you’ll know my sorrow soon, kid. When your beautiful Felicity’s body lies at your feet, her blood wet against your skin, you will know how I feel!” 

“I already know how you feel. I know what it's like to hate. To want revenge. And now I know how it feels to see my enemy so distracted, he doesn't see the real danger is right in front of him.”

At their agreed-upon signal, Oliver watched with quiet pride as Felicity drew back the syringe she’d been hiding in her hand since the beginning of Slade’s taunting and plunged it deep into Slade’s neck. Felicity scrambled away as quickly as she could as Slade dropped to his knees and Sara took out her own captor. Wayne descended from his hiding place in the rafters to neutralize two of the soldiers who’d joined the fight against Sara, and Felicity moved out of the melee straight into Oliver’s waiting arms.

In seconds it was all but over: Felicity was safe with him. Sara and Wayne had dosed the other four guards, and Oliver felt like he could take a full breath again. He gave himself a too-brief moment to savor the feel of her, strong, vital, and alive, before he was pushing her behind him and moving toward a prone Slade.

“Get them out of here,” he told Wayne as he advanced on a now-panting Slade Wilson. And he felt more than saw Sara and Wayne join Felicity behind him and move toward the exit. He was grateful that Felicity hadn’t objected when he told her he needed her back in the foundry as quickly as possible. He needed his brilliant partner monitoring the rest of their teams and supporting the SCPD. Oliver would join her there once he delivered Slade into ARGUS custody. Lyla’s custody, to be clear; he didn’t trust Amanda Waller not to repurpose Slade for her Suicide Squad as she had recently done with Deadshot.  Lucky for them, Lyla Michales had enough power with ARGUS to keep that from happening, for now at least.

Oliver was drawn from his thoughts of the ARGUS situation by Slade's gasping voice: “We both know there's only one way that this can end. To beat me, kid, you're going to have to kill me. But in the moment of my death, you'll prove one thing – that you are a murderer.”

“You’re wrong. I don’t have to kill you to beat you. I have a team, a partner, who showed me another way. You’re done. Your army is defeated. Isabel is back in FBI custody, and the mayoral candidate you bought and paid for has been dethroned after his ties to you were revealed. It looks like the SCPD has a lot of questions for Councilman Blood. You have no play left Slade. It’s done. I don’t need to kill you. We’ve already won.”

Chapter Text

“Where am I?” Slade asked as he sat up gingerly.

The bars and stone walls suggested a clear answer to that question, but Oliver offered one of his own: “As far away from the world as I could get you. Where you can't hurt anyone ever again.” 

Slade smirked Oliver as he rose slowly to his feet. “That's your weakness, kid. You don't have the guts to kill me.”

Oliver shook his head, almost sadly. “No. I have the strength to let you live. I don’t need to be a killer.” 

“Oh, you're a killer. I know, I created you. You've killed plenty.” 

“Yes, I have. You helped turn me into a killer when I needed to be one. And I'm alive today because of you. I made it home because of you. I got to see my family again. And I found Felicity. Found a purpose because of you. But over the past year, I've needed to be more…And I faltered. But then I stopped you. Without killing. You gave me a chance to become what Felicity has always told me I could be: a hero. So, in spite of everything, I have to say thank you. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for teaching me how to survive. And thank you for giving me a chance to prove, to myself, my team, and my city, that I’m not the killer I once was.” 

“Oh, you’re still a killer. You just need the right motivation. And I’ll make sure to provide you with exactly the motivation you need to show the world who you really are. You think I won't get out of here? You think I won't kill those you care for? If you leave me alive, you’re going to regret it. I promise you that, kid.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Slade. Because you're in purgatory.” With that, Oliver rose from where he’d been seated just outside Slade’s cell and moved toward the hatch that would take him from the underground ARGUS bunker back toward the beach where Felicity was waiting for him. As he lifted himself through, he nodded to the armed ARGUS guard.

But as he closed the hatch behind him, he heard an enraged Slade Wilson yell after him, “I keep my promises, kid. I keep my promises! I keep my promises.”

***

Oliver found Felicity waiting for him near the prop plane they’d used to get from southern Japan to Lian Yu.

She was smiling as he joined her on the beach. “Last time I didn't notice; It's actually kind of beautiful here.” 

When Oliver smirked at her and tilted his head to indicate his confusion and disagreement, Felicity went on: “Don't get me wrong, I'm counting down the seconds until we shove off minefield island. I mean, like, now. Let’s go now.”

He smiled at her, genuinely, and with all the love he could put into the small expression.

“Yeah. Let’s go. But…I was thinking. Maybe, instead of going back to Starling, we should take a little time. Travel a little.”

“What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Queen?”

“Well, Ms. Smoak, I was thinking maybe a warmer island, very few other humans, a stocked kitchen, and an enormous bed.”

“We didn’t make any arrangements for that, Oliver. And Bruce is still skulking around Starling. You know he’s going to make a move on Nyssa or Sara. He’s not going to give up on whatever his vendetta against the League is. And I didn’t really pack for a vacation. I don’t have any beach clothes with me.”

“Oh no. What a shame. I guess we’ll just have to find you a bikini or two and walk around naked the rest of the time.”

“You’re shameless.”

He stepped closer to her, pulled her into his arms, and looked deeply into her eyes. “I am. I’m also so fucking in love with you, Felicity Smoak. Run away with me for a little while? Bruce and the League and Sara and everything else will still be there when we get back. Let’s take a week. Just you and me.”

“You make a persuasive argument, Queen.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for, Smoak?”

At that, he lifted her and threw her over his shoulder, smacking her ass as she laughed loudly.

“Our prop-plane-chariot awaits.”

***

True to his word, Oliver had found them an isolated bungalow on a warm beach. The resort staff had delivered the two of them, their meager luggage (though Felicity had insisted on buying a bit more than just a couple of bikinis), and enough fresh food for Oliver to feed them for the next seven days. It was perfect. Paradise.

Paradise , Oliver thought as he rolled to his back and watched a still naked Felicity sleep on. It was still early, maybe just after 6 am. Oliver couldn’t sleep in; it wasn’t possible for him anymore, not after the island. But he’d gotten better at resting. And waking early meant he almost always got to spend some quiet moments in the morning watching the love of his life sleep. Just like he was doing now. 

Felicity slept hard and she always did so in full body contact with Oliver. Some nights, she pinned him to the bed, an arm thrown over his stomach, her head resting on his Bratva tattoo. Other nights, she tangled her legs with his and buried her nose in his side. Even the few times they’d fought before bed, she’d slept curled into him. Before her, Oliver hadn’t really found sleeping with another person comfortable. He liked his space. And then, after the island, his restlessness and the nightmares made him sure he’d never really be in place to sleep next to another person. But Felicity had changed all that. She’d changed everything. And now, in the still quiet moments of the morning, in a bungalow in the middle of nowhere, Oliver felt content for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever. He had the woman, the partner, he needed. Whatever came at them next. Whatever ARGUS did. Whatever the League did. Whatever Bruce Wayne did. If he had Felicity, they’d figure it out.

On that thought, Oliver smiled and turned to her, pushed the sheet from her body and slid down, intent on waking her slowly in her very favorite way.

Absolute paradise.