[To be honest, Anon, this was a little bit of a confusing prompt. I wasn’t sure how to have a fic about the Lances but keep it high in “Olicity content” other than the subject of conversationg being Olicity.
Anyway, I love writing Lance, and it was fun exercise to write a little Laurel. But this one was a bit of a struggle since it was sort of low in plot-content, and more rambling. Hopefully you guys will still enjoy it.]
—The Smoak Girl—
“What…what happened?” Laurel looked at her father, shock in every inch of her face, hardly daring to believe what he’d told her.
Lance shook his head wearily,resting his head in his hands. “I dunno, Laurel,” he said weakly. “I just know there’s been one death. One. One that we could directly link to the Arrow in the last year, and that was the death of the Count. Three arrows to the heart.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Laurel frowned, trying to follow her father’s thoughts. She hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. He looked so distressed, defeated. There was genuine anxiety building behind his eyes, and fear etched in his face. Her heart clenched with worry.
“Because it was him this time, too, Laurel. I know it.”
“I was there…when they found the body. He was pinned to the wall with an arrow through his throat. We’re keeping the media quiet about it for now, but word’s bound to get out that the Arrow’s killed again.” Lance grimaced, shaking his head.
Laurel’s mind reeled. That wasn’t the Ollie she knew. Knowing who the Arrow was…it had been insanity inducing trying to come to terms with everything she knew about Oliver Queen and everything she knew about the Hood. But her comfort, what got her through the night was knowing that every day for the past two years he had been gradually becoming a better person, fighting to do the right thing, to be a hero. But to remember the number of lives he had taken when he first came home…it made her stomach churn.
This, though…this was…
“Brutal,” her father finished her thoughts. He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “And that Smoak girl is in the hospital,” he sighed, “which just makes my day even worse. I worry about that woman.”
Lane waved a hand, worried he’d given away something. “Oliver Queen’s—”
“Assistant. I know. We’ve…met,” Laurel trailed off on the insufficient word, her frown deepening. She certainly had met Felicity Smoak, had seen her take down one of the most frightening men Laurel had ever met: Slade Wilson. She’d been wondering for months about Felicity Smoak, about who she was and how she had become so indispensable to one of her closest friends without Laurel ever realizing it. She’d barely noticed Felicity Smoak until the night Slade kidnapped them both. “Is she all right? Why is she in the hospital?”
Lance shook his head. “She got caught in the explosion this afternoon. I don’t know that it had anything to do with the murder tonight, but…”
“An Arrow to the throat suggests that it does,” Laurel shivered, piecing it together and running her hands over her arms. “You mentioned the Count.”
Lance nodded. “The last time the Arrow killed—”
“—was the night the Count kidnapped Felicity Smoak,” Oh, Ollie, she thought silently, do you even know? Do you even realize how deeply you’ve fallen?
“That girl’s gotten involved in some things that have me scared for her. I just hope she comes out of all this all right one day.”
Laurel’s face was grim. “Dad. Is she okay?”
“She’s in intensive care.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see her. She saved my life last spring. It’s the least I can do.” Besides, someone would need to watch over her so Oliver could get some sleep.
Because Laurel had no doubt that now that he’d gotten his vengeance, Oliver had not left Felicity Smoak’s side for a moment.