As Felicity wandered through the empty halls she imagined the little Queens running, barely managing not to knock off the expensive pieces of art that she knew not so long ago lingered at every turn. Now most of the building was empty, sculptures and paintings packed away as each member of the family abandoned the house whether out of necessity, in search of a new start or as a result of revenge being executed with them as main targets that had one Queen removed from the equation completely. Oliver left first after a conflict with his mother and then stayed away because of the memories. She hardly faulted him for that.
She half heartedly examined the interior but with each moment that passed, the more she felt she wasn’t up for the task. She was… nervous. Yet, her brain supplied that a mere nervous was an understatement of the year.
She was supposed to be the big guns in the game that was plotted to save what remained of the city.
When his fingers gently entwined with hers and their eyes locked together with intensity that could light up a whole room, she was breathless.
“He took the wrong woman.”
She widened her eyes at that, wondering if the blow to the head wasn’t more serious than she assumed, leaving her with talking hallucinations as companions.
But no, she was lucid, otherwise she wouldn’t have felt the pain when her teeth bit into her cheek at the next revelation.
Oliver Queen had said almost inaudibly that he loved her.
Then he was straightening her fingers from the tight grip that she had his hands in and placed a cold object inside her grasp. The glass syringe, she guessed still looking at him, filled with the blue Mirakuru cure she herself put inside earlier.
“Do you understand?” His face was inches away from hers. It was a patchwork of broken skin, bruising and stubble.
His words dawned on her.
Everything suddenly fell to place. It was all a ruse. She weakly managed to nod her head.”Yes.”
She realised Oliver’s earlier words were said for pretences sake and… God. She swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat.
They needed to turn back the clock and get Slade to be the man he was before Mirakuru, only he wouldn’t exactly be that. He could never be that but it would make him fightable like before. Defeatable. They could work from there.
Oliver was still standing in front of her, his hands placed on the upper arms whilst his eyes were surveying her face. He was giving her a chance to back down, but she wasn’t going to take it.
The sheer look of determination she sent him, caused him to draw his lips in a thin line.
He turned to leave and then her hands shook.
She stood staring at the closing mansion doors with with a small weapon hid inside her hand. The plan was implausible. It was perfect, and something she could bet the other man wouldn’t see coming.
At the same time, she couldn’t help but think they would be playing with fire; one wrong move and they’d get burned. Just like Oliver’s words burned through her every fibre.
I love you.
The wound by her hairline throbbed in pain bringing her out of the trance that had her standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes still on the auburn oak door.
She cringed at the shriek that just came out of her mouth. It resembled something taken out right from a cheap production of a horror film with an overused storyline.
She swallowed, berating herself. Of course she had to make her fear known when the comms where on.
She forced a laugh that sounded fake even in her ears.
“Ugh, just some silly shadows,” she mumbled. She couldn’t exactly answer Oliver directly, when tiny cameras where planted at almost every surface. It was hard trying not succumb to the overwhelming need to sweep the place, and throw each of the little spy devices away. It was so tempting, it actually hurt.
When she didn’t think of stumping on the cameras with the heels of her boots, her mind would return back to Slade. And yes, she was wearing boots with two inch heels; at five foot four they were a necessity she couldn’t live without even when the city was being roamed by a super army of destruction spitting men.
When she thought of him tracing her movements, that is if the plan worked, her back would automatically stiffen. She was horrible at this; looking at ease in an empty mansion whilst waiting for her captors to arrive. She then had to count to ten, take several deep breaths, like Shirley the overwhelmingly flexible yoga instructor, taught her in a class to which she only managed to stick to for three weeks.
All that in an attempt to look relatively calm.
Her chest rose as she inhaled. She let the air leave through her nose. And again.
Sitting down in the armchair in the Queen’s private library, she stifled a gasp. She didn’t think it was working; almost jumping out of her skin, at a shadow of a moth no less, was probably a good indication. She knew it was a mistake to give up on yoga; instead of biting her lip she could be doing a feathered peacock pose.
Oliver’s voice filled her ear. “Felicity. You can still leave.”
She ignored him.
Slade was as much her enemy as he was his. The moment he took Thea she came to hate him. When he took Roy, she had sworn to do whatever it took to bring him down. And he did destroy the lair with her computers, or his men whom he created did.
Regardless, she wasn’t about to back down now.She couldn’t do that yoga pose but she could be like a peacock, who eats poisonous snakes without getting harmed.
She was doing this as much for herself as Oliver and all her friends.
Felicity Meghan Smoak was going to be hell of a surprise to the man terrorizing the city, of that she was sure, even if every now and then she would chew on her lip.
A bit of fire, loopy enemies and dermis and she was beginning to sound like Oliver. Talking about herself in third person. She sighed
Diggle wouldn’t be amused.
She needed this to be finally over and catch up on her sleep.
Forty two minutes later her tablet beeped alerting her that the thermostatic imaging found two men trod their way towards the entry and her heart dangerously bounced in her chest.
This was it.
Neither of them were Slade, but two rather large individuals with faces hid by masks with bulging muscles, soon lifting her off the ground. When one of them tried throwing her against his shoulder, she instinctively threw her elbow onto the man’s face, a move Diggle was kind to teach her, which was of course not at all thought out. No attack from her side could even begin to leave a mark on a moving, breathing wall of concrete, a mistake that left her wondering if she fractured her elbow.
Next thing she knew, she was hit in the head; she guessed the Slade’s soldier hardly liked flying elbows nudging his chin. It left her vision blurring which then tilted upside down when he once again threw her body on top of his shoulder, like she weighed nothing. That was the last thing she registered just before she slipped into a dark slumber.
The Arrow stood before her whilst she was pressed against Slade, acting as a human shield of sorts with a shiny metal blade far too close to her throat. Her eyes were darting from the weapon to Oliver, back and forth.
Was it safe to assume she would be coming out of this alive?
“…to see my enemy so distracted, he doesn’t see the real danger is right in front of him.”
The real danger, held in a twelve centimetre syringe that she clumsily grabbed from the inside of her pocket. She had to use her left hand as the right remained too tender to even move let alone master enough force to get the needle inside the hard muscles of her assailant.
Oliver send her a reassuring look and she knew now was the time. She threw her hand with the cure into Slade’s body, puncturing the skin, sending the liquid into his bloodstream. She shuffled away, somehow managing not to trip on her feet.
She heard Oliver, over Slade’s grunts, shout to Sara to get her and Laurel away.
Everything after that happened quickly. Oliver defeated the man with the eyepatch without killing him and soon had her and Diggle flying with him back to Lian Lu. Slade was put away in Argus’s prison, where he was left screaming that he always kept his promises. Not this time she thought wryly.
When Diggle left her and Oliver alone on the stony beach, his earlier words rang in her head, loud and clear.
She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“You did it.” she said following Diggle’s movements.
“I had help.” His tone carrying a note of something she wasn’t familiar which caused her to turn around.
“Yeah.” She said facing him, her tone chirpier than usual. She had to hear him say it, so she carried on with her chatter. It was easier now, his eyes somehow managing to give her the confidence.
“It was really smart, the way you outfoxed him. Talk about unthinkable. You and me I mean.”
The look in his eyes back then seemed so clear and so sincere that he had her fooled. For one terrifying second she let herself imagine the unthinkable and she needed to hear a definitive no, so there was no room for her brain to question whether there were crumbs of truth present in his words.
So she could move on.
“When you told me you loved me-” she closed her eyes, and tugged her glasses. “You had me fooled. For a second-”. He was looking at her, squinting his eyes at the sun, silent as a grave.
She let out a deep breath.
“-maybe you might have meant it-” She said lightly shaking her head, unconsciously letting him know that she knew that wasn’t the truth. He said nothing and her lips curled downwards. “-what you said.”
She wanted Diggle to come back so the conversation could be over.
His lips formed a smile.
“You really sold it.” she carried on, despite wishing that her mouth would seal shut, yet her brain wasn’t having it.
His smile stretched before he answered. “We both did it.” His adam’s apple twitched and a part of her wanted to scream. That was not the ‘no’ she was looking for and neither was it validating the “I love you.”
Instead she too offered him a smile, a timid, tiny smile but a smile nevertheless.
“Lets go home.” Slowly he nodded his head, moving past her. She watched the battered man walk towards Diggle and wondered how she got herself into this; a world where everything was so unclear and uncertain, where foes threatened them on regular basis when once her life was so simple.
Yet she had a feeling, if given the option there wouldn’t be much she would change.
Back in the plane, she placed her head back against the headrest in the hope that her galloping thoughts would finally succumb to dreams of something other than a crazy, justice seeking, blade wielding eyepatched man.
She has had enough of Slade.
For five minutes she managed to stay still before her eyelids darted open again.
The last memory of falling asleep in her sky blue duvet was untraceable, almost as if it had happened in another lifetime.
And maybe it has. It felt different now.
Sky blue duvet.
That just reminded that they were about fly above an ocean. No wonder she couldn’t keep her eyes closed. Her subconsciousness remembered and now that it was fully in her thoughts, she was certain she wouldn’t be sleeping for another fifteen hours. At least.
“-no worries Diggle.”
Oliver’s voice edged closer. She was too exhausted for conversations and from the looks of it so is he. He lowered himself onto the seat next to her and they ended up sitting in silence, side by side.
At first she feared it may be awkward with the words still lingering between them like flashy neon lights, but it turned out to be nothing but comfortable.
Weirdly enough, now she seemed to be even more aware of him. His smell, how he breathed.. Two hours later, she ended up leaning in on his shoulder and he responded by placing his arm around her.
His warm hand rubbed comforting circles against her skin, lulling her to sleep, all oceans and an Australian man long forgotten. Sleep quickly embraced the man next to her as well.
They were in sync.
Diggle and Lyla found them a few hours later; Felicity’s head in the middle of Oliver’s chest and his on top of hers.