#expandlater

Before anyone else can react exactly what Oliver wanted to avoid starts rolling into motion. “DAD!” William’s scream is piercing, and I look up in time to see Oliver’s hooded form freefalling for another second before grabbing onto the rope, favoring the side of his body where the Kevlar is exposed under shredded cloth. The asshole of the week narrows a calculated glare at us.

Son of a bitch! I practically drag him as he tries to stay rooted to the spot, “Move!”

“Who is this young man calling the Green Arrow, ‘Dad’?” Of course the press wouldn’t miss that, would they. I hit at the camera shoved into our faces, pulling him tighter.

“Keep your face covered, don’t say anything to them. You have to move now!” I can feel his shoulders shaking and weaving us past more of those stupid vultures  I dip my head down and whisper into his ear, “He’s fine, he caught the rope, you’ll see him in a couple hours. I swear it to you, but we have to get out of here so he can stop worrying about us as much as we worry about him and focus on what he’s doing.” My concern is split between the man who I know can take care of himself and the young man who is rightly terrified that he’s going to lose another parent.

“Felicity Smoak, is this your son?” I don’t answer, just shed my coat so William can drape it over himself as I demand. “Is he the Green Arrow’s child as he claims? What’s your name son?”

A service elevator is two doorframes and forty feet in front of, if the design of this place makes any sense, us as they follow. “Get the button.” He dashes ahead and presses, clicking sounds like a gamer reach back here while I block the press from following us with the door.

A chime, “It’s here!”

“Where should we go?” I demand into the earpiece.

“Up!” “Down!”

Come on guys! “Someone give us an escape!”

“Go up, you can go two buildings over on the scaffolding then the van will be around the corner.”

I knock over a cart as I dash into the elevator cab, William is frantic at the close door option, with the addition of my one press of the top floor button. The camera guys trip but one reporter almost makes it, the doors barely sealing before he can get in.

“Dam-!“ Wait, young ears! “Darn it!” My attempt at recovering is weak.

His hair, grown shaggy in the past couple months hangs down over his eyes as he stares at the floor, “I’m sorry.” There are tear tracks down his cheeks.

“Oh, no, no-no-no, not you! You’re doing great, we just need to get away from here before anyone catches up.” We make it across and down, though I have to ditch the heels after they catch in the metal grating and I don’t have time to focus on being careful.

True to form, Oliver shows back at the new, spare, Arrow Cave an hour later, bruised but relatively unharmed. He strides in fast, looking around. “William?!” We all point in the same direction and he is met halfway there in a crushing hug. “Are you hurt?” He already knows the answer, having been on the comms with us as soon as he had a chance and then after getting the necessities out of the way spending the whole his ride back here on the line with William.

The kid just shakes his head, the muffled response not intended for us, nor are the reassurances Oliver gives.

We are going to have a problem though. A big problem. The feed was live, and already it’s taking off on social media. Now there’s speculation that not only is he Son of the Green Arrow, but they’re also taking my proximity and defensiveness to be that I, accurately, am helping the Green Arrow, and just as worrying, though inaccurate and offensive, that he is the Bastard Love Child of Felicity Smoak and the Green Arrow. The dedicated have even started trying to mock up what “his father” would look like based on the blurry image they got of him, removing my features and combining them with the few questionable captures of Oliver’s masked and hooded face. They’ve already tried combining my face with Oliver, and Ray, trying to see if either of those match. They don’t. Thankfully.

I can see from the building feed that they’re already circling my building and my home, just waiting for the possibility that I might return there tonight. “No Mom. Mom, no. No! That is a terrible idea.” I roll my eyes at the ceiling, tempted to hang up and blame the connection. “You think they won’t be showing up at your doorstep next?” She doesn’t listen, just continues to try and convince me to bring William out to visit her, or let her fly in. Thank all the secrets in the world that she doesn’t know that at this point he’s my son…step-son…family. He doesn’t either so I can’t quite figure out how to refer to him in my mind without mixing it up because we’ve never talked about what he would want me to call him. He just lost his mother, he doesn’t need to think of me as the person swooping in to steal that position in his life, he’s having a hard enough time finding out Oliver is his hero.

“I will say he and I share our taste in blondes.” She gives a feral smile. “You remind me of Sara when we first met, almost a childlike innocence. Lips press against my cheek in what can only be taken as a threatening kiss. “If you hurt him You Will answer to me. The league may be disbanded, but there is nowhere in this world we will not find you…and you know the thing about assassins?” She continues through my wheezing, still noisy even if it feels so much less like I’m drowning out of water than before I slept. “We know how to kill fast, but we also know how to drag it out. This I promise you.” She ghosts a finger down my forehead, over my nose, across my lips, ignoring the coughing, “Keeping you alive will be no mercy.”

“Nyssa, what are you doing in here?” Oliver! His footsteps are solid and have him right next to us.

“Just discussing how we plan to take our bride to the marriage bed.” She says it with a smile.

He frowns.

I keep coughing out my lungs.

“Nyssa…”

Her response is just as succinct, “Husband.” I know he got it annulled before we even got to Ivy Town. She’s just doing it to get a rise. She’s pissed about something, why does that include me?

“Please find somewhere else to be.” A politely phrased demand, with all the anger his quiet voice can intone, while placing himself between the pair of us, brushing a hand over mine.

When we are alone I manage to rasp, “Why’s she angry with me?”

“She’s angry with me.”

“Why?”

“I had to choose, and I chose one over many.” He runs a hand across his jaw, looking anywhere but at me, starting to pace the room.

“What?”

“He gave me a choice, everyone or William.”

“You chose your son. Of course.” I state the obvious fact, waiting for the reason she’s pissed. His head droops, still not looking at me. “Why are you acting like you were wrong? He’s the only one who didn’t choose this life.” I have to catch my breath for a second, “You made the right decision.”

His shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“Oliver Jonas Queen, you made the correct choice!”

“Not everyone survived.”

Who?! No! No, don’t ask! It’s not real until… I can’t move over to him, “Oh Oliver… come here.” I scoot over, making just enough space on the small bed for him if we both lay on our sides. Pushing wires out of the way I wait only long enough for him to reluctantly lay down, facing me, before wrapping him in a hug. “You made the right choice.”

“Hey.” I rasp, stiffly trying to uncurl from the tight huddle against the feverish body beside me while Oliver skids down the slant towards us.

Hand on a radio he tells someone we’re here, alive before getting to the bottom. He almost scoops me up, instead stopping his outreached hands, kissing my forehead and trying to check me over.

“You’re ok?” We both say at the same time.

There is a pause, then he says hesitantly, “Felicity, honey, you’re looking rough.”

Ignoring the obvious truth of it I start, “I’m o-“ my body tries to invalidate my words with a coughing fit. When I manage to breathe again without gasping I turn to questions, my teeth chattering as I try to remember the important things, “William…everyone…did they-?”

“William’s fine, the team…mostly fine. They went to the water- I picked them up in the boat. They said you two…why would you-?”

“I couldn’t just… leave her in a cage to-” I wheeze, my breath stolen.

His hands, still gentle, tighten, the warmth only making me recognize it everywhere else more intensely. The words are quiet, “I love that you care so much, but next time go with the damn group!” He starts saying something, cuts himself off, then starts again, “We flew over this part a day ago, but with the destruction, and lack of bodies…we didn’t see this until the drone- your jacket…” I knew I left it up there. His eyes stray to the other two down here with me then starts to work his arm under my shoulders.

“Slade, he- help him!”

“You first.”

“Oliver,” my hand rests on his, “he got hurt shielding me, please…don’t make me win this. Him.”

I push him, when he tries to protest again and start coughing when trying to argue more. He hurries up and pulls Slade up in a fireman’s carry.  Crawling up as he carries him, I slip getting an additional layer of mud painted along my front, nearly sending me sliding to where Evelyn still lays. Strong hands lift me up the rest of the way.

“You’re a sight-“ John. I hug onto him as he passes Oliver, who nods and goes back for the last of us.

Someone in an ARGUS uniform is looking over Slade in a small aircraft…not a plane, not a helicopter, something I’m too exhausted to make sense of. When I start coughing again, wet rattling aching worse in this position, John grabs an oxygen kit and fits the mask over my face. “Her leg…” The cool air is both horrible with my freezing body, and wonderful as it helps me breathe, I still feel like I’m going to fall asleep any second, so I strain and finish the half thought, “it’s broken…tried to help…”

I get a blanket, an IV, and space to curl up between friends. Two sets of hands hold mine, warming them from ice. OTA forever. I fall asleep before we even take off.

We land on top of a hospital in China not long after and they cart the others off, approaching me with a wheelchair. Oliver, his green hoodie filthy from contact with me, sets me down but my fingers grab his arm before he can leave. “Let go Felicity, I’ll push.” Reluctantly I do.

I end up in a small room, the staff don’t speak English so Oliver is the one lucky enough to translate as I argue that I can clean the mud and ash off myself. “You tell them-,“ I have to pause to catch my breath. Having snatched a washcloth from one of the nurses, I go to town on scrubbing my arm where they want to place sensors, “I’m perfectly capable-“

He starts and they cut him off with words and motions, “They want you to let them do their jobs, they can check to make sure there isn’t anything that needs treatment while they-“

I speak over both of them while the plastic is pulled off a sticky pad and one of the machines to the side starts a quiet beeping, “I am able-“

He holds up his hands, saying something to them, telling me to wait, then gesturing at the nurse who resumes a fast monolog. “The doctor thinks it’s pneumonia.” Pneumonia? “All the smoke you were breathing in…” Stupid pneumonia brought on by stupid smoke inhalation from a stupid idiot trying to blow us all up.

I don’t let my exhaustion show, dipping the washcloth in the basin and continuing to clean towards my fingertips. Of course it’s a ruse, of course it would be easier to let them do it, but I need to be doing something, need to be productive and not show just how much I’m still freaking out on the inside. Hospitals are not my favorite place to be… “Convince her I can do this myself.” I say pointedly, smothering another hacking cough.

Oliver looks like he wants to be away from this showdown of stubbornness but speaks fast. The staff is not pleased. I get serious frowns and a long tirade full of gestures in my direction. He doesn’t translate, and I have to hold my breath to keep the next cough, desperate to get out, lodged in my throat.

Oliver chimes in with an exasperated response when there is a fraction of a second pause. Whatever he said does the trick, because I find the things I need on a small side table pushed up to me as they shuffle out.

“What’d you say?” I ask, tugging off my now brown-gray pants.

He turns towards the closed door, “I let them know how much experience I have loosing arguments to you and how pointless it is to try when you have your mind set on something.”

“Are…are you trying to…why are you turning?”

“Just giving you some privacy.”

Are you insane? You’ve seen-touched-more all of me… “Don’t be weird. Help with the-” I motion at the closure at the back of my shirt, trying to catch my breath again.

He does. “Want me to unhook…?”

I nod, unfolding the shapeless hospital gown. The pressure of my bra eases and the relief is like a blessing. Managing a sincere, “Thank you!” while he cuts the fabrics to allow it to pull off without taking out the IV and monitor leads.

Oliver takes the second washcloth and starts getting my face and neck while I clean my hands, both of us silent. He is extra gentle around the singed skin, and the abrasions from the crash, pausing each time I need to try and clear my lungs.

The thought comes up and I voice it without really considering if it’s an appropriate time, “Marry me.”

“What?” The panicked half smile, the fast glance at the monitors and IV, like he thinks I’m delirious and not really aware of what I said.

I made up my mind, if I got through this I would ask. “We can work on us, but I-“ more strangled gasping for air ruining the moment, “Marry me?”

His eyebrows scrunch together, “I’ve asked you that twice and almost fake married you once.”

“Me too.”

“We can talk about this la-“

“Oliver, marry me.”

“Is that a question or a demand?”

“Not really sure, both? There’s too much crazy in-”  A fit takes me, until I’m dizzy and holding onto his arm to stay sitting up.

“Let me get the nurse.”

“I love you,” I gasp out, “More than love you.”

“Yes. Ok? Yes I still want to marry you, but let’s get you better and talk this out before-“

“I’ll take the yes.”

He kisses my now clean forehead, “Lean back, relax, I’ll be right back with the nurse.”

No time…no time, but I can’t just… “The boat is east?” I palm the tablet that can help me get where I need to go. Evelyn, then meet with them, make a shortest path through the island imagery. Just in case…Just in case…Just in case. “Curtis, take this!” he slows from the front of the pack, managing to grab the comms piece as I tap at the tablet, tracing out a path and breaking off at a run, “Get Samantha to that boat- I’ll meet you there!” There is half a second of protests, and I take on my best commanding voice, “Hurry!”

Slade yells out harsh instructions to Nyssa, then in long strides catches up, yanking my shoulder to navigate us, “This way Ms. Smoak.”

Our feet never slow, and they don’t follow us.

I try to think it out, how to disable the devices, I can’t type and run, but I can think. I just need enough to make a safe space…if I can knock individual ones off the network of them…Pull the antennae off, if they can’t get the signal…

As we crash out into the clearing Evelyn is kicking at the cage hard and fast, desperation in speed. She looks up with a snarl, “You just had to take my key, didn’t you?”

“You just had to be a backstabbing bitch, didn’t you? We didn’t have to come for you, but here we are, so shut up, you’re going to need to run.”

“I have a bad feeling about this…” Slades voice is a low growl, “We’re not going to make it to the boat.” He eyes Evelyn as I frantically work on the devices.

Just in case...

Managing to disconnect the first from their network is the hardest, That son of a bitch is smart, but I’m smarter. After that it just takes about ten seconds at each, running an expanding circle to grab the info I need to break the individual ones, the network still refuses to go down as a group.

Slade grabs and lobs the ones I finish away, into the woods, Evelyn resumes kicking. It’s a small circle, is it too small? My fingers fly, code after code. Don’t think about the others…don’t think about them, they’ll be safe, they’re smart, they’re…Focus!

There is a blast from far away and the tablet shows the start of a chain detonation. “God-!“

Slade takes down the lock with one savage kick that should not be possible from someone locked up in an ARGUS cell for any length of time. Pulling down his mask and dragging Evelyn out of the cage to the middle of the ‘safe’ area, “Smoak! Here,” His arm extends, “now!”

The world has gone crazy as I run to Slade, and he pulls us tighter, “Get down then pray to whatever gods you believe in!”

His body covers, wraps around us, Evelyn fighting him. “Relax! Don’t tense, it’s how drunk people survive car wrecks.”

“This is no car wreck.” He pushes us forward, towards the ground, sheltering with his larger frame…

I manage a tight, disbelieving, “Thank you.” As the nearby blasts throw us airborne.

Sometimes I wish I could selectively erase things I made in the past. It would make situations like this less of a reoccurring thing. These idiots need me to unlock the codex, lucky that I am the only one with the information they need to make it work, because I’m the idiot who created it. When the snatch and grab failed to work earlier in the day and their limited window of opportunity rapidly closing their genius plan is to siege us.

My team, my friends, make a circle, fighting while I stand there in the center like useless bait. Even with all of them, there are too many of these people and they just keep getting closer.. At least they’re not using guns, or knives, or-

“Give us Ms. Smoak and we’ll leave the rest of you alone. She will be returned, unharmed, when she has unlocked the codex.” John doesn’t even hesitate, punching that smug asshole in the face, a valid response I have come to expect from any of them.

A thought slithers across my mind. It’s too easy, it couldn’t work…right? The sounds of fighting are so loud and close that I can barely think it through. They need me, and they need it done in the next two hours or else they’ve lost their window…It could work! “Tranq me.” I get the side eye, but otherwise am ignored. “They have a limited window and need me cooperative for it. Come on…” I look for the weakest link, ”Curtis.”

“No. Hell no.” He’s just close enough though, I grab the tranquilizer gun holstered on his leg while he’s busy fighting. Sometimes you’ve gotta do it for yourself.

Curtis curses, taking a hit while grabbing at my hands.

“Greenie! She’s going to-“ Greenie? Have you lost your mind?

‘Felicity?” Oliver’s altered voice is strained with exertion over the comm.

“Yes Sir?” I try to make it light, distracting from my goal so he won’t stop, drop, and grab.

“You need to be ready to run.”

“Actually, just the opposite.” I don’t miss the looks John and Dinah give each other, collectively backing in a step as another swarm of bodies joins our opponents. I cock the weapon, unfamiliar with this one, but it’s definitely one of the tranqs in its bright colors. “I need to take myself out of the equation.” I flinch as it punches deep into muscle. Son Of A Bitch! More immediately strike into the already numbing area with faint noises, and my leg starts then manages to not quite give out. I didn’t realize this was quite so automatic… “Oops.”

My racing heartbeat spreads the drugs through my system, making the room start to spin before I can even get my hand to release. The tranq gun clatters to the ground and I start to follow as everything goes wobbly.

A green blur swoops me up. I make a whimper at the dulled flare of pain as he yanks the darts out of my thigh. “Four? God Felicity, four!?” His voice is stretchy, a long tunnel of sound, swirling like the drain of shadows engulfing me.

I don’t feel so… My mouth opens and closes, words failing as chills wrack through me. Can’t-

“What were you thinking? That’s enough to take d-“

<{———{[{  

My cocoon starts fraying, edges of noise and light bleeding into the delightfully smothering gray. Beeping, hissing, some monotone chatter of a PA system…too far away to understand. Pale swaths of light make me close my blurry eyes again before they can focus.

<{———{[{  

Something pulls open my eyelid, another something shines painfully bright light into my eye and I groan a half formed protest at the intrusion. My name is called and I complain a weak, “Turn it off.” Only to have it blind my other eye.

“That was the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.” When Oliver is that quiet, in that tone he is lethally angry

“It worked.”

“It worked? It worked in stopping your heart.” That would explain the pain. “If I hadn’t sucked some of the extra out before it…You never do something like that again.”

A small nod is my agreement. He keeps snarling, and I try to listen, I do, but I’m so tired….

<{———{[{