Rated PG, no warnings apply. Laurel ponders something thatâs been bothering her while on a stakeout. Felicityâs willing to play along.
Because she was bored and sheâd already reviewed the most recent minute orders from her current cases four times, Laurel switched on her comms. âYou know,â she said, âthereâs one thing Iâve never understood.â
âYeah?â Felicityâs voice came on right away, but she sounded distracted.
âWhy the stakeout?â
âWhat?â
âWhy am I sitting on a roof when itâs stupidly cold in some random part of town, just watching? Itâs not like crime statistically has a chance of occurring right here in thisââ Laurel checked ââalleyway between a Subway and a dry cleanerâs. So why am I being parked here?â
âTake it up with Oliver,â Felicity said dryly. Maybe a bit smugly, too, because unlike Laurel she was seated in a well-heated basement with all of her computers around her. âHeâs the one who swears by it.â
The less she had to talk to her ex, the better. Laurel settled back grumpily, her uniform creaking a little as she did so. Sheâd been assigned this sector and instructed to âfind a roof or something, stay out of sight.â As far as she could discern, Oliver didnât know anything more than she did about the crime rate in the area. This was just how Mr. Green Grumpypants decided vigilantism should go around here, apparently.
âI could be in a coffee shop,â Laurel said, swinging her tonfa around. âSomewhere warm, with great wifi.â
âIn that outfit?â
âIâd wear street clothes over it, obviously.â
âWhat kind of street clothes would fit over the buckles?â Felicity asked. There must not have been anything happening with the others in their stupid stakeout spots because she sounded idly interested rather than distracted. Before Laurel could reply that loose clothing would be optimal, Felicity went on: âJust how long does it take you to get out of the suit, with all those buckles?â
Laurel smiled. âFrom anybody else, Iâd suspect that was a line.â
âOh my gâthat wasnât what IâI mean, I definitely wasnât trying toââ
âFelicity, Iâm teasing.â
âIâm setting your ringtone to âMambo Number Fiveâ so you never it out of your head,â Felicity said, grumpiness radiating through every word.
âOuch,â Laurel said. âAlso, thereâs a zipper.â
âWhat?â
âFor me to get in and out of my suit easily. It zips up. The buckles are mainly an aesthetic choice.â
âOr you asserting a heretofore hidden dominatrix side,â Felicity said, still sounding grumpy.
Laurel had to laugh, and repeat exactly the same thing sheâd told Thea: âTake it up with Cisco. Maybe heâhold on.â
âWhat is it?â All grumpiness vanished from Felicityâs tone.
âI heard something. Not sure.â Laurel crept to the edge of the roof and crouched there, peering down at the alleyway. Sheâd heard something that sounded distinctly like glass breaking from the direction of the dry cleaners.
A second later, the back door burst open. A man stumbled through, shoved forward by one of the two men in ski masks and dark clothes that followed. Laurel needed only to see the glint off the bright gold Desert Eagle in one of their hands before she clipped her line in and jumped.
Less than a minute later, out of breath and sporting at least one new bruise along her ribcage (lucky shot), Laurel helped the victim to his feet. She kicked the gun away. âYou okay?â she asked.
He gave her a shaky nod.
âGood. The police will be here any minute. Go inside to wait for them, and lock the door.â She didnât stick around to see if he would follow her orders. She cast out her line and hauled herself up onto the roof, sprinting across to put as much distance between the scene and herself as possible. She tagged on her comm as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop. âHey, remember how I said it was statistically unlikely for a crime to happen right underneath me and how these nightly stakeouts are stupid?â
âYeah?â Felicity said.
âLetâs never, ever tell Oliver he was right about something.â
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If they were so determined on Keith being the Black Paladin, Lance being the Red Palading, and Allura being the Blue Paladin. They should have given Shiro the Blue Lion since day 1 - that would have been very interesting seeing the man with the most qualities of a lead being delegated to a support position. While another man who displayed any qualities you want in a leader is put in charge of a weapon of mass destruction. Instead we got this stubbornness try to remove Shiro any way possible.
There are so many things I would have changed, the first being not taking one of my main characters out for 24 episodes, undermining my storyâs own lore, and not making the most dramatic moment of the series to date a fight between a main character and a main characterâs clone. It guts the emotion of the scene.Â
But what do I know? I like IHOP pancakes, not burgers.Â
Hi, all! Itâs been forever. Hereâs a 1578 word fic I wrote set in my Momsverse AU, where Laurelâs foster kid is Stephanie Brown and sheâs also dating Felicity, who has a kid of her own. Previous installments have been Present Tense, Cautionary Tale, and The Nightmare Fallout. This oneâs PG-13 for a couple of swearing instances and takes place when theyâre comfortably living together and being cute and domestic because life is hell but fiction is great.Â
Buzzing from a persistent phone was a bad enough sign while dating a vigilante. But when said vigilante picked up that phone, squinted at the screen, slammed it back onto the nightstand, and proceeded to burrow deeper under the covers, that was an entirely new one for Felicity.
âPlease tell me thatâs not work,â she said, cracking one eye open. âIf you get up, Shay will get up, and then weâll all be up. Canât they find somebody else?â
âItâs not work.â Laurel pulled a pillow over her head.
âThen why is it buzzing?â
âBecause life is hell.â
âSomething had better be on fire.â Giving in, Felicity levered herself up on one elbow and stretched over her girlfriend, reaching for the phone and the nightstand. âAnd if itâs not, itâs going to be when I get a hold of whoever it is.â
Laurel grumbled. âItâs the Legends group chat.â
She did not emerge from under the pillow, and the phone was locked. Felicity could have made short work of the security, but instead she just tapped the button on the side to silence it. Why Laurel couldnât have done that herself, she didnât know.
Wait: âThe Legends are in town?â
âNo. But theyâre in this time zone. Or period. I donât know, theyâre halfway across the world which is why theyâre texting at four in the fucking morning.â Laurel reached out blindly with one arm, nearly clipping Felicityâs chin with her elbow as she located a handhold and tugged. âPlease donât validate them with attention. Theyâll never learn otherwise. Itâs time for sleep.â
âYouâre the one who didnât silence your phone,â Felicity said grumpily, but Laurel did have a point. She acquiesced to the tugging and cuddled in, grateful for the body heat since theyâd set the thermostat too low again. She was just drifting off to sleep when the sound of a pitiful cry broke over the baby monitor.
âGoddammit,â she said, but Laurel was already shoving the covers off. âYou donât have to, itâs my turn.â
âPenance for my sins of not shutting my phone off,â Laurel said, collecting the object in question from the nightstand. She stumbled a little on the way to the door, grunting as her shoulder hit the wall. Felicity was sure she heard her mutter, âBesides if I donât answer them, theyâll probably just show up in person and itâs a school day.â
Felicity couldnât argue that one, so she decided just to go back to sleep instead.
At some point, Laurel must have settled Shay back down to sleep, for she was curled up next to Felicity, phone clutched in one hand, when the alarm went off. She groused wordlessly, batting at Felicity when she tried to shake her awake.
âYou said it yourself, babe,â Felicity said, sing-songing the words just to tease her. âSchool day. Wakey-wakey.â
âGive me coffee or give me death,â was the reply from somewhere in the covers.
Steph at least proved easier to wake than her foster mother, as the teenager was already up and working on her combinations against the training dummy Oliver had given her for her seventeenth birthday. She bounced from foot to foot, chattering away at Felicity about school and an upcoming history project as Felicity made coffee. Felicity could not remember a single cheerful morning from her own teenage years, but she kindly did not inform Steph that she might be an alien.
She also felt no remorse in sending both her and Shayna in to haul Laurel out of bed after the coffee was ready. Probably mean, but Laurel would be upset at being late for work the day after a night off.
She looked somewhat more awake and put together as she joined Felicity and the girls for breakfast. She set her phone on the table, facedown.
âAre they still going at it?â Felicity asked.
Steph looked up from her last minute calculus homework. âWho?â
âThe Legends,â Laurel told her foster daughter. âAnd yes. Itâs led to a very intense debate. People have taken sides. Theyâre writing manifestos. Well, Ray and Nate are writing manifestos. Saraâs just mooning them, as far as I can tell.â
âOver what?â Felicity asked. âPlease tell me theyâre not fighting. I donât think time can take another Strudel Incident.â
âGideon has built in protocols to keep that from happening again,â Laurel said.
Like that would actually stop the Legends. âSeriously, what are they arguing about?â
Laurel sighed. âShayna.â
Even the toddler turned to give her a puzzled look over that one.
âSara,â Laurel said with that patented mix of fondness and aggravation that applied to her sister, âwas apparently bragging about being Aunt Sara, which means Nyssa is Aunt Nyssa by privilege of marriage. Except that an argument started that since you and I arenât married, can Sara actually claim âauntship?â And if Sara gets to be Aunt Sara, Ray wants to be Uncle Ray. And then Nate had opinions and it escalated from there, as you can imagine.â
Felicity realized she was staring with her coffee mug halfway to her mouth. Carefully she put it down. âTheyâreâŚarguing over what my kidâs going to call them? Thatâs what led to them blowing up your phone at four oâfuâdging clock in the morning?â
âYes,â Laurel said, grimly.
âHold up. Iâm your actual legal kid,â Steph said. âIf Sara is Aunt Sara to anyone, it should be me.â
âYes,â Laurel said again.
âSo why does Shay get all the attention?â
âDo you want to call them Aunt or Uncle So-and-So?â Laurel asked.
Steph paused. âNo,â she said slowly, as though discovering it for herself as she spoke.
âExactly. Though every single one of them has chimed in that they would be honored by the title, so thereâs that.â Laurel reached out and squeezed Stephâs shoulder. âYou know they consider you their favorite mascot.â
âHa, ha,â Steph said, but she looked a little pleased as she ducked back to focus on her math homework.
âIâd say that I canât believe this has led to an argument this big,â Felicity said. âBut thatâs a lie. I fully believe it.ââ¨Â
âYup,â Laurel said, picking up her phone and walking it on its edges across the table. Felicity could see that she had 72 new messages.
âHow is that even an argument?â Felicity asked.
âI donât know. At one point I saw a message from Sara about âblood is thicker than waterâ and then Nate, being the twerp he is, pointed out that itâs actually âthe blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.â Which means friendship bonds are stronger than family bonds. So I learned something, amid all of the inanity. So thereâs that.â Laurel twirled her phone around, clutching her coffee in her other hand like a lifeline. âNone of them, by the way, have thought to ask either you or me to weigh in on this.â
âYouâre in the group chat,â Felicity said. âThey probably consider that your giving approval.â
âThey donât know Iâm in there. Somebody tried to add Dinah and got the wrong one. Nobody has noticed.â
âHonest mistake. There are like thirty of you now,â Felicity said, grinning when Laurel wrinkled her nose at her.
Shay, gnawing on a strawberry slice, blew bubbles at the both of them.
âThis is going to become an all-out war if we donât do something,â Felicity said.
âProbably.â Laurel handed Shay another strawberry slice.
âSo are we going to do something?â
âHonestly? Iâm not sure. Iâm kind of impressed by the caliber of arguments theyâre making for and against their case.â Laurel shrugged. âItâs a little like a busmanâs holiday for me.â
âWould it bother you to have them all be Shayâs honorary aunts and uncles?â Steph asked Felicity.
âAnd with one simple question, she proves herself capable of more logic than an entire group of time travelers,â Laurel said dryly, as Steph and Felicity laughed.
âIf they promise to stop blowing up my girlfriendâs phone at all hours of the night, they can try and convince Shay to call them any non-offensive thing they like,â Felicity said. âItâs ultimately up to her.â
âOkay, good.â Steph turned to Laurel. âCan I see your phone?â
âDonât set it to Thai again, please, that took me over an hour to get it back to English.â But Laurel handed over her phone.
Felicity made a mental note to check in on Stephâs hacking ability, as Laurel hadnât even unlocked the thing and Steph had the messaging app open in record time. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard for a few seconds before she hit SEND and handed the phone back.
There was a pause and then seventeen messages seemed to come through at once.
âWhat did you just do?â Felicity asked.
âOh, nothing much.â Steph buffed her nails on her school blazer and blew on her fingers. âJust ensured that Shaynaâs going to have the best birthday presents from now âtil, like, eternity. If they want aunt or uncle status, awesome birthday gifts are the bare minimum. Youâre welcome, little sis.â
She leaned across the table, fist extended. Gleefully, Shayna bumped her own strawberry-juice-stained fist against Stephâs knuckles.
Felicity met Laurelâs eyes over her coffee cup, mostly to hide her smile. âHave I mentioned lately that I love our life?â Laurel asked, and Felicity toasted her with her mug.
On the table, now ignored, Laurelâs phone continued to buzz away furiously.
As far as statements went, Laurel knew it was weak, but it had been twenty-four hours of sheer hell and every nerve in her body felt shot. She would be clever after sheâd stared at the inside of her eyelids for a minimum of eight hours, preferably more.
It didnât matter what she said at all, though. Silence reigned over the lair as several familiar and even more unfamiliar faces gawked at her in her battered gear, listing slightly as she stood in the doorway.
And then a cry pierced the quiet, followed by the click of running high heels. Felicity slammed into her hard enough that if she hadnât braced, they both would have tumbled to the groundâand clung. Even though it made her bruised ribs sting, Laurel held on right back. âIâm sorry,â she heard herself saying. âI know my note said it would only be a few weeks, but the time-unit wasnât very accurate. Please tell me Iâm not, like, a month off. I never meant to make anyone worry.â
Felicity jerked back, and Laurelâs heart ached to see that sheâd begun to cry. âA month off? Laurel, youâve been gone six years.â
Laurel raised her wrist to the light, her chest tightening. A bruise would have faded to green and yellow by now. If it truly was a soulmark, it could only be the stuff of dreams and fairy talesâtwo of the farthest things from her reality.
Laurel gets a soulmark and discovers several things she knew about herself to no longer be true. A love story in three parts.
Read on AO3.
Rated PG-13, Laurel/Felicity, tw for recovery and addiction, grief, injuries. After a long delay on the part of the author, Team Arrow races off to Nanda Parbat to stop Raâs and Felicityâs timing, as usual, is terrible.
It was an unbearable flight to Nanda Parbat.
Every part of Laurel burned with shame to be sharing a jet with her sisterâs killer. Knowing that they needed Malcolm Merlynâs help, that they couldnât save Oliver or the city without him, didnât bank the fires at all. Knowing that he was their only chance to save Nyssa from whatever her father had in store for her.
Because of this, Laurel took the seat on the jet farthest from Malcolm. The others gave her a wide berth until Felicity plopped down in the seat next to her and unceremoniously tucked her legs under her. She rested her head on Laurelâs shoulder. âIf I stare at my tablet for another minute, I am going to throw myself off the plane. Please talk to me so I can stop playing the ten thousand things that can go wrong in a loop in my head.â
âIâm not sure Iâm good for conversation right now,â Laurel said.
Felicity grimaced. âOh, sorry. I can leave you alone.â
âNo, itâs fine. Please, stay.â
Felicity seemed to think it over for a minute. She shifted in the seat, getting more comfortable.
Obligingly, Laurel forced herself to relax. These little displays from Felicity had become almost commonplace after Diggleâs wedding. In the past few months theyâd gone from hesitant friends and teammates to instinctually supporting each otherâwith a great more affection. Felicity was usually the one to initiate things, bumping her elbow into Laurelâs side, hooking their arms together while they walked, or simply hugging her in greeting. And Laurel, cut off from her father with her sister gone and mother long ago having abandoned her, found that she was practically starved for casual touch. It was almost pathetic how needy she sometimes felt.
So now when Felicity cuddled up to her, Laurel pushed some of her bad mood aside and absently reached up to toy with her friendâs hair. Felicity tilted her head, almost imperiously, toward Laurelâs hand. Laurel almost wanted to laugh as she stroked Felicityâs hair. She could be so much like a cat sometimes.
âWhatâs that smile for?â Felicity asked.
âNo reason.â
They faced impossible odds when they landed. Several uneasy allies against an army, one possibly led by a man close to all of them. Laurel had no idea what to expectâhad Oliver truly lost his mind? Would they be able to stop the plane? Would the League simply be waiting to kill them, as the âAssassinsâ in their title would indicate?
She pushed the fear aside. âYou should get some sleep,â she told Felicity. âItâs still a long flight.â
âYou should, too.â
âIâcanât. Not with him here.â Laurel pasted on what she hoped was a brave smile. âBut no reason for both of us to suffer. Get some sleep. Use me as a pillow, if you want.â
Felicity popped up the armrest between their seats. She curled upâagain like a catâand settled in with her head in Laurelâs lap. After a few seconds she grumbled and repositioned herself. âI need lazier friends. All of you are hard muscle. Itâs not comfy.â
âSo sorry for my rocking bod,â Laurel said, and Felicity laughed.
Before long, Felicityâs breath evened out and she went lax. Laurel carefully stretched and wrangled a blanket over her, making sure not to wake her. Across the cabin, she met Malcolmâs eyes. He raised an eyebrow at Felicity sleeping in her lap then at Laurel herself.
Laurel glared, and turned her attention back to the window, fury burning in her chest. Sheâd brokered deals that gave repugnant criminals sentences far more lenient than they deserved. That injusticeâfor the greater goodâhad led to so many restless nights. And it had nothing on the self-loathing coursing through her now.
If Sara could see her now, all but breaking bread with her killer, she would be so disappointed.
Felicity made a noise in her sleep and wriggled to get more comfortable. She groped around until she found Laurelâs handâwhich she tucked under her chin like a security blanket. It was, to put it frankly, adorable. She had her fingers wrapped around the leather cuff, with absolutely no idea what lay underneath.
In the time Oliver had been away, leaving the team to carry on without him and find their rhythm again, the circuit board feather had grown more intricate. Maybe it was because sheâd stopped fighting against the idea that Felicity could be her soulmate. Maybe it was because theyâd been through hell together lately and that had tightened whatever bonds existed. Either way, she didnât mind.
The guilt, however, gnawed away at her. The mark might be on her skin, but it belonged just as much to Felicity. Felicity, whoâd probably spent countless hours daydreaming about soulmarks. The longer Laurel put off telling her, the worse it would be when she inevitably found out.
But every time Laurel moved to share, her courage withered. This was entirely new territory for her, and Felicity was fresh from a relationship with Ray. It made sense to take her time and make sure. Maybe the increased contact was simply a touch-starved Felicity replacing what sheâd lost with a close friend. Or maybe the soulmark wasnât one-sided. Either way, all of this was now to Laurel. And Felicityâs friendship mattered more than ever, so she really, really did not want to screw any of this up.
Besides, there was a strong chance they wouldnât even survive the next twelve hours. If they didnât stop Raâs al Ghul, it wouldnât even matter.
Cold comfort, at best.
Half an hour before they were due to land, Felicity woke up and began the final checks on her tablet, barely sparing Laurel a glance. Laurel let her work in silenceâor as silent as Felicity, who tended to mutter to herself even during an intense hacking session, could getâwhile she steeled her own nerves for the upcoming fight. At the fifteen minute warning, she picked her way to the private cabin to change into her armor. She pulled on the first layer, leaving the jacket on the bed, and held a staring contest with her mask and the wig. The entire League of Assassins had to know who she was by now. What did it even matter?
She had just stuffed the wig back in her kit bag when a soft knock sounded at the door. Felicity poked her head in. âTatsu says weâll have a hike when we land, so Iâve been sent back to remind you to put on sunscreen andâwhatâs that on your arm? Did you get a tattoo?â
Laurel jolted, her gaze snapping to her wrist. The cuff had been pushed up her arm so that the edge of the soulmark peeked out.
Casually, she nudged the cuff back into place, hoping her hand didnât shake with the cold terror suffusing her. âItâs a feather,â she said. Not technically a lie.
âWhy is it covered up? Can I see it?â Felicity asked.
âIââ Laurel cast about for an excuse. She was about to blurt out that the tattoo artist had done a terrible job, but she was saved by Diggle showing up to let them know the plane was about to land and that he needed Felicity to confirm a few last minute details for him.
Felicity followed him out, though she did cast one quizzical look at Laurel as she left.
Laurel pulled on her jacket and buckled into her armor, but she had to admit that the nerves werenât entirely to blame on the battle ahead.
* * *
By the time they were escorted into the main chamber of Nanda Parbat, Laurelâs left arm felt as though sheâd plunged it straight into a brazier of burning coals. She walked toward the back of the group, teeth gritted, arm tucked close to her midsection. If the guards noticed dripping blood, they didnât comment.
Sheâd peeked at the wound a few times on the forced march into the headquarters, but she didnât dare get a better look. One of the assassins had sliced the back of her arm when sheâd followed Felicity to provide cover. Though sheâd managed to winch some of the buckles on her sleeve closed to apply pressure, she could feel the warm slide of blood down her arm and onto her wrist, right over the soulmark.
When Oliverâgod, his eyes were so empty of the Oliver Laurel knewâlooked at in the line, Laurel slid her arm behind her back. She did let out a hiss of pain when a guard grabbed her by the elbow to march her into the cell. She covered by demanding to speak with Nyssa.
No answer, of course. At this point, she wasnât even sure the guards could talk. Laurel kept her teeth gritted, hoping her friend and trainer was safe.
In the cell, her vision went briefly white when they clapped manacles around her wrist. Laurel hoped she seemed casual as she took a seat on one of the stones, but it felt like more like collapsing. She needed to tend her arm, she knew. It was growing worse by the minute.
But the cut sliced near the soulmark and no way in hell was she letting Malcolm Merlyn see that. Laurel angled her body away and applied pressure to her arm. She gritted her teeth harder.
âI canât believe Nyssa would agree to marry him,â Felicity said.
âI donât really think there was much agreeing,â Diggle said in a bitter voice.
âWe need to focus on getting out of here alive,â Merlyn said.
âIs thatâŚeven a remote possibility?â Ray asked nervously.
Laurel tuned the rest of them out. Her hand shook as she unbuckled some of the straps on her sleeve.
âWait a second,â she heard Felicity say. âLaurel, whatâs wrong with yourââ
The door to the cell slammed open. In short order, Diggle was taken off by one set of guards and Malcolmâshouting in Arabicâby another. Laurel kept her jaw clenched and her wound out of sight of the guards.
The minute Malcolm and the guards had vanished, Laurel cleared her throat. âSo, funny story, I got sliced pretty bad.â
Felicity dropped an oath Laurel hadnât heard since law school and scrambled over. âOhâoh, damn, thatâs a lot of blood. Laurelâhell, thereâs so much blood. And youâre really pale.â
She reached for Laurelâs sleeve, to push it back, and Laurel instinctively tensed and pulled her arm away.
This was not how she wanted Felicity to discover the soulmark.
But Felicity actually tsked at her, like she was Oliver or something. âLaurel. Youâre obviously hurt. Just let me look.â
There was, Laurel saw, absolutely no way of hiding it. And her arm hurt so badly. So she held her arm out, and waited.
âGod, they really got you,â Felicity said in a rush. âWhy didnât you say something sooner?â
âItâs not deep,â Laurel said.
âHelp me with her sleeve?â Felicity asked Ray, whoâd been hovering worriedly behind her. âYou donât have a first aid kit on you, do you? Laurel, stay with us, please donât pass out.â
âIâm not even dizzy, Felicity. Itâs fine.â
âStill, this looks bad. Seriously, you should have said something!â
âLetâs maybe patch her up before the guards come back,â Ray said. âThatâs who youâre worried about noticing, right?â He looked at Laurel, a line between his eyebrows.
âNot exactly,â Laurel said, and she grimaced as they ripped her sleeve. That would take forever to repair. She would have to send Cisco an apology fruit basket if they made it out of this in one pieceâthough things werenât looking too hopeful at the moment.
Felicity continued to scold as they applied as much first aid as they could to Laurelâs arm. She didnât seem to require an actual response, and Laurel figured it helped her to have somebody to berate, so she let her attention drift in and out. In the end, they tore off strips of Felicityâs hoodie for makeshift bandages, layering those on while she gritted her teeth and did a few breathing exercises sheâd picked up at the single yoga class sheâd managed to attend in the past few months.
She didnât dare look at her wrist, where she could see a good inch of the soulmark that wasnât hidden beneath the manacle.
âWhy didnât you say anything?â Felicity asked again. âThat couldâve been super serious, Laurel. It still might be, if we donât convince the guards for basic supplies allowed to us by the Geneva Convention.â She raised her voice for the last bit, directed at the cell door.
âI donât think these guys follow the Geneva Convention,â Ray said. âMy nanotech could clean that right up. If we get out of here.â
âTh-thanks,â Laurel said, carefully moving her arm.
âNice ink, by the way,â Ray said. âSeriously cool design.â
Laurelâs stomach dropped. âThank you,â she said what she hoped was a casual voice. She knew he was just being people-pleasing affable Ray, but she kind of wanted to kick him.
âInk? Oh, right, your tattoo!â Felicity perked up slightly in spite of the worried pall across her face. âI didnât get to see it earlier. May I?â
It took every ounce of willpower Laurel had left not to yank her arm and wrist behind her. Instead, she gave in to the inevitable and held out her arm.
Ray eagerly leaned in closer. âThe featherâs because youâre the Canary?â
âSeemed fitting,â Laurel said, using the excuse of blood loss to lean back against the column.
âThe colors are really pretty,â Felicity said, sounding genuinely impressed. Laurel swiftly stole a look at her; Felicity had her fingers resting lightly on the manacle, and her face didnât portray any sense of understanding. She patted Laurelâs thigh.
She thought it was just a tattoo.
âIâm going to go ask the guard for a first aid kit, or whatever the Nanda Parbat equivalent is. God, I hope itâs not leeches,â Felicity said, and Laurel grimaced.
As Felicity climbed to her feet and walked toward the cell door, Rayâafter glancing at Laurel for permissionâgently lifted her arm. âWhatâs this pattern? Itâs really intricateâoh, circuit board. Neat. Bringing the Canary into the digital age?â
âThatâs definitely one interpretation,â Laurel said.
She saw Felicityâs shoulders tense, and the woman stop in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder with a puzzled frown.
And the cell door slammed open, making all of them except Tatsu jump. As Diggle stumbled back into the cell and Felicity shouted at the guards for medical supplies, Laurel leaned back against a column and closed her eyes.
This truly was it. Felicity was a literal genius, and it didnât even take one of those to see why Laurel might be evasive over a tattoo. Why she might not want a sworn enemy to see what was supposed to be a simple bit of ink. What a circuit board feather might mean.
Where did that leave them now? Laurel had no idea.
She heard shuffling on either side of her. âHow is she?â Diggle said.
âIâm fine, though this stings like a bitch, so if youâve got any grand rescue plans, now would be a great time,â Laurel said without opening her eyes.
âSorry, I left them in my other coat,â Diggle said.
And then Laurel felt the manacle on her wrist move slightly. She opened her eyes to see that Felicity had eased it down so that it hid the soulmark from sight. Surprised, she met Felicityâs gaze, which seemed to radiate alarm. Her eyes had gone almost comically wide, and her throat worked.
Tatsu, Laurel noticed, was regarding both of them with interest. Laurel braced for the questions to come.
But Felicity just turned to Diggle. âPlease tell me Oliver has some plan to get us out of here.â
Diggle only shook his head, grimly. All hope had faded from his face.
âFine. ThatâsâŚfine. Weâll just have to do it ourselves.â Felicity met Laurelâs gaze, not looking away. âWeâre going to get out of here. And when we do, this team needs to talk. About a lot of things.â
Then she turned away, leaving Laurel in utter confusion.
* * *
Dying sucked. Dying and knowing that sheâd been betrayed by Oliver was even worse.
Worst of all, Laurel had time to think as she collapsed to the ground in a coughing fit, feeling the virus seize her muscles, was that she hadnât told Felicity ages ago. She should have taken the chance, and damn the consequences. As black overtook her vision, she curled up, clutching her wrist. Her last vision was of Felicity, chained up on the other side of the cell, meeting her eyes before they both passed out.
* * *
On the flight back to Star City, Felicity stayed on the other side of the plane. Not once did she look at Laurel, who spent the flight ineffectually stitching up her sleeve and worrying over Nyssa. Any calls she placed to her father went straight to voicemail. Not that she expected that to work, but it burned. After the third, she nearly threw her phone at the seat opposite in disgust.
âNo luck?â a quiet voice asked, making her jolt.
âGod, warn a girl, will you?â Laurel released her death grip on the arm rest. âI donât really want to die of a heart attack.â
âSorry.â Felicity gingerly sat down next to herâkeeping a healthy distance this time, Laurel noted with a sinking stomach.
âItâs fine. Weâre all a little on edge.â
âUmâŚâ Felicityâs gaze flicked down to Laurelâs wrist, which sheâd once again covered with Saraâs cuff.
Laurel instinctively glanced toward Malcolm, who was once again meditating near the front of the plane.
Puzzled, Felicity peered that way as wellâand then understanding seemed to dawn. She leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. âI guess I see why you werenât in a hurry to tell us youâd nearly sliced your arm off.â
âThatâs a little dramatic, donât you think? Itâs a fairly shallow cut,â Laurel said, frowning.
âStillââ
âIt worked out. I didnât want him to know.â
âYeah, heâs apparently not alone in that, is he?â Felicity frowned.
Laurel winced. âI donât think nowâs a good time to get into that.â
âOr ever, apparently, as it really didnât look like you were going to tell me at all.â Felicity scowled. âBut never mind that, we have other problems. I wanted to check over your arm.â
âItâs fine. I already cleaned it up earlier with the medkit. It barely even hurts anymore.â
âEven soââ
âFelicity, itâs fine,â Laurel said, scowling back at her. âAlso, itâs my arm, I think I would know whether itâs okay or not.â
She wasnât entirely talking about the cut on her arm, she realized.
And Felicity seemed to know that, for she held Laurelâs gaze for a long, simmering moment, clearly annoyed. Then she rolled her eyes and stalked off, muttering about how vigilantes were all alike. Laurel wasnât sure she liked that much, as being compared to Oliver tended to rankle, but at least Felicity had retreated to the other side of the plane, giving her some much needed space.
If this was any sort of victory, it felt like a hollow one. Laurel sagged back against the seat and stubbornly returned to work on her sleeve. She did not look Felicityâs way even once.
God, this was a mess.
* * *
And of course Oliver wasnât a traitor.
An asshole? Sure. That much was obvious from the way Diggle nearly laid him out flat. But secretly he had been on their side all along. The helter-skelter plans he had devised with Malcolm Merlyn showed just how much Raâs and his men had backed everybody into a corner. Laurel could appreciate that much. But now that everything was out in the open, she could admit his betrayal still stung. Hope also didnât seem to be in great abundance among the team. Theyâd been outsmarted by Raâs: fractured by broken trust; Roy had faked his death; Nyssa had lost her heritage. And there was no way in hell they could physically fight a pathogen.
But why let a little thing like semantics stop them?
âCan you talk to your father?â Oliver asked her directly. He was considerate enough to wince, but not thoughtful enough to send anybody else on his task. âWeâre going to need police backup to canvas all of Star City.â
The last thing she wanted to do right now, with everything so raw, was confront the man who sheâd hurtâand who had lashed back at her in turnâfor months. But Laurel nodded and pulled on her jacket. âIâll do my best,â she said, as she knew better than to promise anything where her father was concerned.
âGood, then everybody has their orders.â Oliver looked at each of them in turn. Laurel wasnât the only one who glared back. âGood luck.â
Laurel exchanged an eye-roll with Diggle and turned away without glancing in Felicityâs direction. Since their tiny dust-up on the plane, theyâd avoided each other.
She wasnât surprised when Nyssa fell into step next to her. âHowâre you doing?â she asked her friend, quietly.
âI have had better days,â was Nyssaâs neutral reply.
Sheâd always had a thing for well-crafted understatement.
âGod, I need a drink,â Laurel said, and Nyssaâs face radiated alarm for a split-second. âBut Iâll settle for a burger on the way. You hungry?â
âI believe the term Americans would use here is âstarved.ââ
âWorks for me. I need to get my car keys from my locker, soââ
âLaurel! Wait up!â Heels clicked along the tile in the hallway as they both turned to see Felicity hurrying along toward them.
âI shall wait in the car,â Nyssa said.
âOkay. The combination on my locker isââ
âI do not require it.â And Nyssa sauntered off.
Laurel had only a second or so to wonder if Nyssa worked at it or if being that unsettling came naturally to her, before Felicity arrived, a little out of breath. She nearly careened into Laurel in her hurry, and possibly would have fallen over if Laurel hadnât grabbed her arms with an alarmed, âWhoa! Whatâs the matter?â
âMatter? Huh? Ohâoh, nothing.â Felicity flushed and stepped back out of reach. She looked at Laurelâs wrist and away just as quickly. âI justâI didnât want what I said to you on the plane to be the last thing. Just, like, in case. Not that I donât have the utmost faith in you, I totally do, but as this year has more than proved, bad stuff happens and you can never really know, you know?â
âKnow what?â Laurel asked, as the words had tumbled out on top of each other in a rush.
âJust know.â Felicityâs flush darkened. âNone of this is coming out right, which is the story of my life. Look, justâwe have so much to talk about. Just be safe out there, okay? Um, donât die.â
And Laurel found herself jerked into a hug that was as strong as it was short. She blinked and Felicity was scurrying away, the back of her neck bright red.
âHey!â she called back before she could stop herself. Felicity turned, still walking. âThe same goes for you, too, you know.â
âThanks!â The grin Felicity flashed at her as she vanished around the corner could light up entire city blocks.
* * *
Eight hours later, Laurel gritted her teeth and lowered herself into an ice bath. It turned out literally saving the world didnât even factor in: injuries sustained in the fight hurt just as bad after saving thousands from a killer virus as they did after a humiliating loss.
Which was downright rude, but not much she could do about it.
She blew out her breath at the cutting shock of cold before she deliberately relaxed her muscles in the frigid water. The city was safe. Nyssa was safe. Even Oliver was safe. Raâs al Ghul had been defeated, things with her father somewhat aired out if not entirely fixed. Sheâd earned this chance to kick back and tune out and deliberately not think about anything.
Easy enough to do when she had the base to herself. Diggle had gone home to Lyla and Baby Sara, Thea had vanished somewhere to broodâLaurel planned to track her down laterâshe had no idea where Felicity had vanished to, and Oliver was packing to leave. He had asked Felicity to go with him so maybe sheâd changed her mind and was packing.
Laurel didnât really want to think about that.
Using the ice machine to fill the base tub seemed like way less work than stopping to buy ice on her way home, so Laurel had done that. She let her head rest on the back of the tub and half-closed her eyes. The slosh of water and ice lapping against the sides of the Jacuzzi tub lulled her into a doze.
âUhâŚhow naked are you in there?â Felicityâs voice from the doorway made her lift her head, and smile in spite of herself. Felicity had her hand over her eyes.
âPer the baseâs âno nudity rules,â Iâve got a sports bra on, and shorts,â she said. âIf you canât handle the sight of naked abs, you picked the wrong team.â
âAinât that the truth.â Felicity hovered in the doorway for a long moment, hand still over her eyes, and Laurel watched her seem to literally decide whether to stay or go. Not that Laurel blamed her: Laurelâs own stomach had suddenly tied itself in knots.
Evidently, the more courageous part of Felicity won, for she lowered her hand and picked her way across the base. Sheâd traded her Nanda Parbat attire for a cute pencil skirt and a polka-dotted top. Only when she drew closer did Laurel see that the polka dots were actually butterflies. She hesitated and took a seat next to the tub, her eyes on the wrist that Laurel had left uncovered.
Later had arrived.
âMay I?â Felicity asked.
Laurel, not sure she trusted her voice, nodded.
It felt different than Ray or Nyssa observing the mark. For one thing, the mere brush of Felicityâs fingertips triggered tiny electrical pulses through her arm and shoulder. While Ray had looked intrigued and Nyssa coolly interested, Felicity seemed more awestruck.
âYou know, I really thought I had hallucinated it,â Felicity said, tracing a finger along the featherâs spine. Laurel shivered, and tried to blame the ice bath. âIt was pretty dark in that dungeon. Itâs circuit board. Just like you said at the wedding, only you werenât talking about Oliver.â
Laurel nodded again. âIt had already come in by then. NotâŚas detailed.â
âGod, and these colors.â Felicity shook her head. âI guess this means youâre my soulmate.â
âWell, youâre certainly mine,â Laurel said. âI donât know if it goes both ways.â
âCan it?â Felicity finally met her gaze and smiled, and Laurel promptly forgot to breathe. âIâd really like it to.â
âIâahââ Her brain suddenly refused to cooperate. âWhat about Oliver?â
Felicity blinked. âWhat about him?â
âYouâheââ Why were there no words? âLook, there were some very pining looks thrown around. It was not subtle. At all.â
A slow grin began to spread over Felicityâs face. âWere you jealous?â
âAbsolutely not.â
âBecause you sound jealous. Just a little bit.â Felicity tapped a finger against her lips, looking contemplative. âYou know, itâs probably a little mean to be flattered, but I think I am.â
Laurel groaned and contemplated ducking her entire head under the water. âSure, be flattered. You know, these last few months have beenâŚconfusing. I didnât even really believe in soulmarks and then all of a sudden, Iâve got one. For my best friendâanother woman. Iâve never been attracted to women before, but my soulmate is a woman, and now I donât even know if Iâm gay, or straight, or what. I donât know what I am.â
Felicity pursed her lips. âAre you sure?â
âI just told you Iâm not.â
âHmm. I think your soul might be.â When Laurel gave her an exasperated look, Felicity laughed. âIâm not trying to be all mystic or whatever, I swear. Itâs just that your soulmark happens to be the colors of the bisexual flag.â
âBisexual? Like Sara?â Laurel asked. She lifted her wrist to frown at the soulmark. Months before, the thought of being anything but straight had nearly sent her into a towering panic. But now, perhaps, she shared an identity with Sara, one more little connection.
âOf course,â Felicity said, âno one really knows how these marks work. The colors could be coming from me.â Laurelâs gaze cut to her, and she smirked. âWhat? You didnât suspect anything? Not even when I kept accidentally hitting on everybody, no matter their gender?â
âYouâre magnetic. Itâs a kind of magic with everyone you meet,â Laurel said. It was one of her favorite things about Felicity, actually. âI guess I just thought that since you and Rayâand you and OliverâŚâ
âHuh. Yeah, I can see that. Oliver and I did have something, once upon a time. It literally blew up in our faces.â Felicity shrugged, and Laurel froze as she scooted closer, her eyes sparkling. After the last few weeks of sheer misery, it felt like a light in the darkness, and she didnât know whether to trust it. âMaybe I could have had something with Oliver again, but see, there was this stunningly gorgeous teammate of mineâyou should see her, she is seriously cuteâwho just kept popping up in my life with food, and making me laugh, and debating thingsââ
âArguing, you mean,â Laurel said.
âSheâs a lawyer, itâs part of the charm. And she always made me feel special, even when she was exposed to the genuine horror that was my goth phase.â
âThat picture was incredibly cute, though.â
Felicity let out a put-upon sigh. âI do occasionally question her taste.â
Laurel flicked water at her, and she yelped, holding her hands up in a time out gesture.
âI didnât make you feel special,â Laurel said. âYou are special. The sheer force of you made a fancy magic doodle manifest on my skin. Thatâs talent.â
âWhat can I say? Iâm magnetic.â
âYou are.â And damn if self-confidence didnât look amazing on her. Laurel wanted nothing more than to play along, to smile back and just flirtâsheâd missed this so muchâbut the sinking feeling in her stomach refused to go away. âAre you still mad I didnât show you? I know you love soulmarks.â
âAre you kidding? Soulmarks are terrifying. Youâre literally wearing your heart on your sleeve with absolutely no guarantee the other person feels the same way. Iâm impressed you didnât take off running when I figured it out.â
âManacles,â Laurel said.
âEven so.â
âMassive blood loss, too.â
âOh, if youâre going to be pedantic about it.â Felicity wrinkled her nose. âI really am sorry about what I said on the plane. Like, I thought about it and I realized: I might not have showed you ever if it had been me. So I totally get it. Not that brave either.â
Laurel eyed her. âI donât know. You seem plenty brave right now.â
âI have literal, colorful, and very detailed proof you like me.â Felicity grinned. âIt gives me a little bit of an edge.â
But as much bravado as she projected, Laurel could still see the way Felicityâs thumbs twitched, never stilling, and how her chin trembled just slightly. Felicity was as nervous as she was. That, more than anything she had actually said, sent a wave of sudden calm through Laurel.
âHey. Come here.â Laurel reached out with her dry arm.
Felicity immediately wrapped her fingers around Laurelâs wrist, thumb tracing the spine of the feather as she leaned in. Compared to the icy water, she felt like a furnace. The kiss was slow at first, both of them hesitant, until Felicity changed the angle. She slid her fingers into Laurelâs hair, tugging a little. Amusedâand ridiculously turned onâLaurel kissed her back with just as much fervor. She touched Felicityâs cheekâ
Felicity jerked back with a yelp. âCold! Gah!â
âUh.â Laurel looked down at the bath and shook her head to clear it. Sheâd completely forgotten about the literal ice water. âSorry,â she said with a wince.
Felicity clapped her hand over her mouth to unsuccessfully stifle a giggle. âWait, did you forget where you were? Got a little carried away, did you?â
âYou started it.â Laurel flicked water at her, laughing when she shrieked. âItâs not that cold.â
âYes it is, and I am staying decidedly out of range of you and your icy fingers of death.â But Felicity laughed as she scooted back. âWhich is not to say that I am opposed to what we did, and in fact I would like to do so again, but somewhere decidedly less frigid.â
It came out, Laurel noted, like a question. The hesitance seemed to be creeping back.
âWe should.â Laurel folded her arms over the edge of the tub. Her grin was probably dopey as hell, but she didnât care. âTomorrow night? Now that we donât have the end of the world to worry about for at least a couple weeks, we should maybe go to that new Thai fusion place on Main. Seven oâclock?â
âItâs a date, soulmate.â Felicity closed her eyes in horror as Laurel cracked up. âOh god. Letâs both pretend I never said that. In fact, Iâm justâgonna go. While I still have a modicum of cool left. And sense, too, because, like, youâre all wet and you like me andâokay, bye.â
And distinctly bright red, she scurried off without a second look.
Left alone in the base once again, Laurel waited until Felicity was definitely out of hearing range before she indulged herself and ducked under the water to let out a happy screamâone from which she surfaced with a gasp and a great deal of swearing. Elated or not, she was still in a literal ice bath. And enough of that, really. Sheâd deal with the aches on her own later. She climbed out, trembling.
Even freezing, she couldnât stop smiling. The rest of her might have felt cold, but her wrist burned with warmth. She held it up to the light, flexing it as she admired the colors. For the very first time, she saw the mark as neither a trap nor even slightly cursed. Felicity knew and she felt the same way. Things with her father wereâŚbetter. Theyâd saved the city. Maybe just this once she was entitled to a shred of happiness, Laurel thought as she dressed to go home and face-plant onto her mattress and stay there for at least twelve hours.
No, she determined. She had a date with her actual soulmate. The soulmark was permission to be happy.
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yesokayiknow replied to your post âok but felicity and nyssa for the brotp meme bc i feel like they spend...â
re the last point: ......how many times has she said that to laurel
Nyssa gave Laurel a long-suffering look before glancing over her shoulder and giving Sara a pleading donât-make-me-do-this sigh. Sara merely waggled her eyebrows, so Nyssa turned back. âBecause I have lost the bet,â she said, stressing every syllable, âI am to tell you that your pants look very nice. They would look better on Felicityâs floor.â
Laurelâs eyebrows skyrocketed up. Behind Nyssa, Sara promptly lost it. Felicity, whoâd turned bright red already, could not seem to make eye contact all of a sudden.
âNoted,â Laurel finally said.
Nyssa huffed in annoyance at Sara, the traitor still cracking up in the corner. âCome along, then,â she said, and Sara followed, leaving Felicity and Laurel standing there in all their glorious awkwardness.
But as she left, the two of them heard:Â âBut truly, if she is being respectful of Felicityâs domicile, she should at the very least fold the pants or hang them upââ
Sara and Felicity, also Laurel and Nyssa for the brotp thing.
Just so you know, thereâs a theme going on in my inbox right now.
who steals french fries off the otherâs plate
Sara steals fries all the time. âI will buy you your own plate of fries.ââI canât pay you back, turns out saving literally all of time doesnât pay that well.âFelicity sighs as Sara takes three more fries. âLetâs just consider it a gift, then.â
Laurel is actually the fry thief. Nyssa is kind enough to let her think she gets away with it.
who jokingly moves in for the kiss when someone asks if theyâre a couple
Sara. I canât think of a single universe where this isnât Sara. Even in the ones where she doesnât exist. She would just somehow spontaneously manifest herself into being JUST TO HAVE THIS JOKE.
You know, of the two of them? Maaaaaybe Laurel? But she would have to be feeling super goofy.
who has to bust or bail the other out of jail
Felicity has been collected by the time crew no less than six times to come help them get Sara out of jail.
Canonically? Laurel doesnât bust Nyssa out of jail even when she should. In my head? Nyssa 1000% showed up to get Laurel out of jail one night after she started a fight with a dudebro.
who gives the other advice/comfort about dating issues
Felicity and Laurel for this one. Even though theyâre both worse at relationships than the other two.
who shamelessly cheats at games by reaching over to cover the otherâs eyes
ALL FOUR OF THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE STINKERS.
who immediately calls dibs on the top bunk
Sara. Felicity talks excitedly about it because she always wanted to go to camp and get the top bunk but this does not budge Sara one bit.
Laurel. Because sheâs the big sister and therefore a brat.
who starts and who wins the pillow fights
Could go either way but honestly, Felicity. Sara has better aim. Felicity is startlingly ruthless.
Laurel. Nyssa is very puzzled but winds up enjoying herself. They call it a draw later on over hot cocoa.
who says âyour pants would look better on their floorâ to the otherâs potential crush
I feel like Felicity would be a great wingman but also the euphemisms would be terrible.
Laurel would 10000% help Nyssa out any way she can.
Rated PG, trigger warnings for death and grief, Laurel/Felicity. Thanks to @yesokayiknow, @stungunmilly2, Oswin, and Ivan for the inspiration! @felicityremarkablesmoak provided the title, which comes from the amazing Carly Rae Jepsenâs Roses.
Laurel dies, but death will never stop Felicity.
Read on AO3.
Felicity sits down at a cafĂŠ and orders a coffee. She can feel warm sunlight on her shoulders, even though part of her insists itâs not supposed to be sunny, and the air smells of crisp lettuce and the BLTs she always used to order at this place. Felicity stares at the menu and wonders why everything feels so perfect, yet altogether wrong.
A woman sits across from her, chair scraping on the tiles. âBeen awhile,â says a voice, and Felicity blinks, looks up from the menu to seeâ
âthe wall in her room as she wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping. Sheâs not in a cafĂŠ, sheâs in her bedroom. She sits up and breathes as the pieces of the dream fall apart in her mind. She knows that cafĂŠ. She used to go there to meet Laurel for celebratory lunch every time Laurel won a case.
Felicity hasnât been there in two years.
She doesnât fall back asleep.
* * *
She canât stop being curious, so instead of grabbing lunch at the deli around the corner from her office, she walks six extra blocks to the cafĂŠ. Only itâs not there anymore, it shut down six months ago and a bright orange sign for a bubble tea shop greets her.
Dejection floods through her so intensely that she feels the raw edge of grief sudden, no longer dulled by time.
When she turns, she sees a single feather on the sidewalk.
Itâs ironic. For somebody who claimed the bird in her name, Laurel used to be kind of squeamish about loose feathers on the street. âTheyâre full of bugs and mites and disease, Felicity, donât touch that.â
Felicity picks up the feather.
She goes home and googles how to clean feathers, which she does with judicious prejudice (thanks, Laurel). Itâs a pretty feather, a splash of yellow into the brown, and when she searches for it online, her blood chills.
A canary feather.
She checks twice, three times, but it doesnât change. Not a species native to the area. It has to be some kind of weird fluke, part of some art piece that fluttered off and sat on the sidewalk where she used to meet the Black Canary for lunch.
She pins it to her lampshade on her nightstand anyway.
* * *
âSomething up?â Curtis asks on their lunchbreak, which theyâve taken to spending together in hopes of repairing their relationship.
âJust my subconscious being a royal jerk,â Felicity says, and launches into some stuttering and innuendo to throw him off the scent. Sheâs gotten so good at faking it that her friends canât tell the manufactured babbling from the real. She does her best to forget about all of it until sheâs walking home and a warm breeze passes by. It smells like the blintzes she used to pick up for Laurel on stakeout nights.
She finds a second canary feather while crossing the street.
That night, sheâs back in the cafĂŠ in the middle like good dreams always start, and Laurelâs laughing but Felicity canât remember what she said and thatâs okay, Laurelâs there and sheâs so beautiful when she laughs andâ
Felicity wakes up again, not in a cold sweat, but with a grin on her face that fades when the truth comes crashing back in.
* * *
After that, she finds feathers everywhere. First single feathers on the sidewalk, one at a time, some brown and white, others with a bright slash of yellow. Then dozens at a time, on the balcony of her apartment, by her car in the parking garage. The dreams become clearer. Â She begins to remember bits of what Laurel says, complaints about the judge on her court cases, small talk, compliments. She remembers the things her heart forgot about Laurelâs smile.
And Felicity wants to tell her a thousand things she never said while Laurel was alive, things like we took you for granted and how did you stay so calm in the face of so much pain? But she always finds herself talking about whatever Laurelâs chattering about, laughing along with her.
âYou should get more sleep,â Laurel teases one night.
âIâd get to see you more,â Felicity agrees.
Laurel, for the first time, looks away, her cheerfulness dropping like a marionette with its strings cut. Before Felicity can ask why, she opens her eyes to see the base ceiling, a horrible crick in her neck from falling asleep at the computers.
Felicity goes homeâvia cab at Oliverâs insistenceâand stares at the boxes of feathers. For months, sheâs reminded herself the dreams arenât real. Laurel is gone. Death takes people and it doesnât always return them and Sara has won all the fatal lottery tickets the Lance family can possibly have. She canât live within these dreams anymore. She has to give them up.
So she unpins the first feather from her lampshade and moves to put it in the box with the others. As she does, a strange compulsion makes her stand, grab her purse, and leave her apartment.
The workers at the craft store all give her a wide berth, possibly due to the manic glint in her eyes, but she finds the material she needs. For thirty six hours, she toils, barely eating, using every bit of jigsaw puzzle knowledge sheâs ever possessed until a wide set of wings, angelic and whole, spread over the wall.
Theyâreâperfect. Save for one missing piece. Felicity holds the final feather in her hand, her throat working.
She falls asleep still holding it.
* * *
In her dream, sheâs not in the cafĂŠ. Sheâs not in any place she recognizes at all, actually. A bedroom, sunny and breezy, a fluffy white duvet on the bed and Klimt prints on the walls. Laurel lounges on a pouf chair, feet bare, in her uniform with the top shoved down to her waist so that the lace tank underneath shows off her arms.
Sheâs just asked Felicity a question, but Felicity canât remember it for the life of her. âNo, Iâm not sure itâll work,â Felicity says, answering anyway. âBut itâs not like Iâm sure of anything these days.â
âWhat are you so afraid of?â
âThat Iâll try and lose myself, the way Iâve already lost you.â
Laurelâs lips curve upward. âFelicity Smoak. Afraid to try something. Now thereâs a day I thought Iâd never see.â
Youâre not seeing it, Felicity wants to say, because youâre dead.
âThe worst has already happened,â Laurel says. âSo why not try?â
âWhat if I fail?â
âWhat if you donât?â
And Felicity wakes up.
âIâm afraid Iâll lose myself?â Felicity asks, shoving her legs out bed and running her free hand through her hair. She twirls the feather in her other hand and looks at her creation with a snort. âIf thereâs one thing thatâs obvious here, itâs that Iâve already lost it.â
And she really has. What does she think this final feather will do? Complete the wings and somehow conjure up a healthy, alive Laurel in her apartment? She doesnât even believe in magic. Itâs stupid to hesitate, and foolishness tastes bitter in her throat. Upset with herself for an undying sense of hope when itâs bound not to work, she all but crams the last feather into place.
Nothing happens.
* * *
Felicity goes to work hating herself for even hoping in the first place.
She stays late, though she avoids her coworkers. Helping out the team requires being clipped and brusque and repeatedly but firmly rebuffing all offers to talk. When she finds herself considering a hotel room instead of going home to face the wings, she scoffs and marches straight to her apartment instead. Felicity Smoak does not run from her fears.
Though she might avoid looking at them for a little while, after coming home. Out of shame.
Itâs only when sheâs preparing for bed that she finally looks. And she drops her toothbrush.
The wings are gone.
* * *
She tears her apartment apart, looking for anything else the intruders might have taken, but only the wings are missing. She almost calls every member of her team to come and stay with her, but she doesnât want to explain the mania of the past week, or the dreams, or any of it. With the wings gone, reality seems to reassert itself into the cold corners of her mind.
Hell, she probably hallucinated it all in the first place. Itâs not like she showed the feathers to anyone else.
She ignores the minuscule thread of hope in the back of her mind that Laurelâwhat? Might come gliding in through the window on a set of wings made from glued canary feathers?
She ignores that thread. It hurts too much. And she doesnât sleep a wink.
* * *
Felicity canât fight it forever. Even in college she sucked at all-nighters. Which is why she eventually gives in, climbs atop a stack of exercise mats in the base, and passes out while Rene and Dinah spar.
Sheâs in the room again, she sees immediately. Only this time there isnât a feeling like sheâs been there for a long time and just canât remember it. This time sheâs standing on the windowsill like she climbed in.
Laurel flips through a magazine on the same pouf chair, in a Starling City Comets  baseball tee and loose sweatpants.
Her grin is blinding when she looks up and spots Felicity. âThere you are! I thought you were avoiding me.â
Felicity canât make her mouth form words. âUhâŚâ
Laurel jumps to her feet and crosses the room by parkouring over the bed. She grabs Felicityâs hand and itâit feels so real and warm. âWell, câmon, donât be shy. Let me see them.â
âSee what?â Felicity asks, and Laurel gives her a strange look.
âSee what?â Laurel echoes. âYouâve been working on them forever. Iâm just sorry it took me so long to get you the feathersââ
And it clicks in Felicityâs mind that somethingâs moving at the edges of her vision. She turns her head.
A pair of wings engulf her vision, ten feet tall and stretching out from her shoulder blades. Wings. Just like the ones she built on her wall, only these rustle with life, each feather perfect. Felicity reaches out in wonder, her fingers brushing lightly over the tips of the feathers sheâs spent hoursâdaysâweeks staring at.
âYou donât remember,â Laurel says quietly, sliding one finger down a longer feather near Felicityâs shoulder.
Felicity can shake her head. That touch seems to shiver through her very core.
âYou built these.â Laurelâs voice contains an odd mixture of sadness and pride. âBecause we never have enough time. Itâs the only way to get to me faster. Youâve been working on them for months, whenever you come see me here.â
âWhereâwhere is âhereâ?â Felicity asks, hysteria rising in her voice.
âItâs where Iâm needed.â Laurel squeezes her hand. âFor now.â
âIs this real?â
âI ask myself the same thing every day. Yes, I think. Or at least I hope it is.â Laurelâs smile turns sad. âIâd hate to think that the place where someone loves me enough to build wings to come see me is only a figment of my imagination.â
âIâŚâ
But a sound of fighting from somewhere beyond the room makes Laurel turn away. When she turns back, sheâs in her uniform and mask, her tonfa flush against her forearm. âI have to go,â she says, and to Felicityâs shock, she leans forward and kisses her.
Itâs perfect and sweet and over too soon, as Laurel runs for the door. Before she disappears, though, she winks over her shoulder at Felicity. âThey really do look great,â she says, and runs out.
Felicity tries to chase after her, but the room swirls into mist, leaving her dangling above gray nothingness with her wings beating. And though she flies around for hours, she doesnât find Laurel again.
She wakes with the memory of that kiss and that wink on her mind. Was it real? She canât tell. She has no choice but to keep living her life while she tries to figure that out.