Chapter Text
The brick townhouse was nondescript, sitting in a row of similar houses that dated back to the 1940’s. A modest home for a modest man.
At least, that’s what the neighbors or any passersby would have thought from the outside. Felicity knew better.
Having grown up there, she knew about the Rembrandt hanging in the master bedroom—a particular favorite of her father’s—and the Tiffany lamp in the parlor her mother would show off when they had guests. Countless, priceless items littered the house, and even more—so much more—had been stored in the vault in the basement until her dad’s contacts could unload them on buyers from all over the world.
As she looked up at the brick facade, she wondered if the Faberge egg her father had given her when she’d turned eleven was still on the desk in her old room or if he’d sold it after she’d left.
A large hand fell on her shoulder and she turned to see Diggle standing beside her. He had her bags in one hand and was giving her a kind, but slightly-too-pitying-for-her-liking look.
“You ready for this?”
In her peripheral vision, she could see Oliver slowly walking up the path, his gaze burning into her.
No. She wasn’t ready. But she was here, and they had a job to do.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she muttered, hopping up on the porch and pulling open the wrought iron security door.
Despite having priceless stolen works of art in the house, the front door was never locked. Probably because her father had taken in his fair share of misfits over the years and they were constantly coming and going. Coming to him for advice, or a job, or just a bowl of Oliver’s famous chili.
For a moment—a brief moment—she felt a deep sense of nostalgia for this old house. For the chatter she’d come downstairs to every morning. For the smell of Oliver’s cooking wafting from the kitchen. For the life she’d naively thought she’d wanted.
But she didn’t want it. Not anymore. So she stuffed that nostalgia away, tucked back in a box that she never pulled out no matter how tempting, and stepped inside her father’s house.
It looked the same as the last time she’d been there, a few extra trinkets now scattered across the mantle, but otherwise it hadn’t changed at all. Even the chatter, shockingly familiar, drifting from the kitchen made her feel like she’d stepped back in time.
“Who’s here?” she asked, turning to Oliver.
He shrugged, stepping around her. “Everyone.”
“Oliver,” she said, grabbing his arm below the elbow. “Who’s everyone?”
She said it slowly, her eyes narrowing as he purposely avoided her gaze. She heard one voice in particular rise above the rest and knew why.
“You called my mom?” she asked incredulously. Her annoyance was already ratcheting up a notch and she hadn't even seen her mother yet.
“I didn't. No.” He glanced away again. “Sara did.”
Felicity's heart plummeted into her stomach. For one terrifying moment she thought she might throw up. Or cry. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Sara's here?”
Oliver must have heard her tone because he blinked at her. “You love Sara. What's wrong?”
He looked so concerned. He reached for her, but she couldn’t let him touch her. She couldn’t handle that right now. So she crossed her arms tightly around herself and looked at her shoes, scuffing her toe along the hardwood floor.
“Nothing, I just…”
“Hey,” he murmured after a moment. “We’re all here for you… for Noah. It’ll be okay.”
He thought she was overwhelmed and, in a way, he was right. Just not for the reasons he suspected.
Oliver waited for a reply, but when she only nodded, he disappeared into the kitchen and the chatter rose into a merry greeting. Her feet felt like lead, but then Diggle’s hand came down on her shoulder again. She jumped slightly, almost having forgotten he was there.
“Say the word and I’ll have you on the first flight back to Boston.”
She turned to him, affection warming her and easing away some of the tension. “This is why I love you.” She grinned. “But I don’t think I can run from this one.”
He smiled back. “Go say hi. I’ll put your bags in your room.”
“You’re the best.”
He smiled again before disappearing up the staircase, leaving Felicity a moment to steel her nerves. Then she stepped into the kitchen.
If she thought walking through the front door was like stepping back in time, then walking into the kitchen was like a punch in the gut. Oliver stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious, while her mom leaned against the island, hands flying through the air as she spoke to him. Sara stood quietly to the side, eyes focused on Oliver, while a familiar young brunette and two boys Felicity had never seen before laughed beside her.
“Felicity!”
A blur of brown hair launched itself at Felicity, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back to see Oliver’s little sister grinning up at her. Well, she was still little, but they were a lot closer in height now than they’d been before she’d left for MIT.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” Thea grinned, then turned, waving over one of the boys. He was wearing an old, tattered red hoodie, but had a sharp jawline that made him look more like a model than her father’s usual street urchins. “Felicity, this is Roy Harper.”
“So you actually exist,” the kid said, eyeing her up and down. “They talk about you like you’re some kind of legend. You’re just a girl.”
“Show some respect,” Oliver said, reaching around Thea to smack him upside the head.
The kid looked properly chastised, shoulders slumping. She didn’t miss the way Thea wrapped a comforting hand around the boy’s forearm.
The other boy—older, with a flop of brown hair and a bright smile—introduced himself as Barry Allen. “It’s great to finally meet you, Felicity,” he said, looking like he was unsure if he should try to shake her hand or not. “Oliver and Sara told me a bunch of stories. Is it true you once stole a kangaroo from the city zoo on a dare?”
Felicity winced. “Yes, but I… don’t really like to talk about it.” He looked disappointed, so she added, “Let’s just say it was a traumatic experience for both me and the kangaroo.”
That wasn’t her best heist and it had certainly left her with a real fear of kangaroos, but she felt another warm rush of nostalgia remembering how Oliver had dared her and Sara to break into the zoo and steal something. They’d done it, gleefully, until the kangaroo had woken up in the back of the van, kicking and growling for several blocks until it finally managed to kick the back doors open and hopped off into the night.
Felicity and Sara had both freaked out in the moment, but Sara hadn’t developed the same phobia of the animal that Felicity had. Obviously, because she was Sara. Strong, fierce, perfect Sara.
Without meaning to, she glanced in Sara’s direction and the blonde girl smiled kindly. “Hey, Felicity.”
Before she could reply, a hand wrapped around her arm, tugging her into a hug. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Donna cooed, squeezing Felicity a little more than she’d like. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“I’m not back.” Felicity’s response was blunt, but that’s how she had to be with her mother. Donna had never wanted Felicity to go to MIT, and she needed to be firm or risk her mother trying to cajole her into staying.
“Oh, honey, you’re standing here, in the middle of the kitchen. You’re back. Even if you don’t want to be.” Donna shrugged off her attitude, the way she’d always been able to do, and turned back to Oliver. “I’m surprised you didn’t have to throw her over your shoulder to get her back here.”
Oliver looked slightly uncomfortable, his eyes twitching back and forth between the Smoak women, but he didn’t say anything. A good idea if he’d ever had one, Felicity thought.
“Dad’s in trouble,” she said, her voice hissing from between her teeth. “Of course, I’m going to help. Even if he did bring this on himself.”
Donna’s heavily made up eyes narrowed ever so slightly, head tilting as she took in her daughter’s expression. She reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Felicity’s face. “He’ll be okay, you know. He’s been in worse spots than this, and he has you guys on his side.”
Something like guilt rose up in Felicity’s gut, and she turned away from her mother’s supportive smile.
Donna was unfazed and turned the smile on Oliver instead. She reached over and squeezed his wrist where it rested on the countertop. “Thank you again for helping Noah, and for bringing my baby girl home.”
Felicity could feel Oliver’s gaze burning into her and she couldn’t take it anymore. She moved around Donna, back into the living room and away from the prying eyes in the kitchen.
She knew Oliver was following her before she’d even made it over the threshold.
“What’s wrong?”
The guilt churned again, but she didn’t want to address it, so she turned on him, ready to ask why he’d thought it was a good idea to get her mother involved. Why he’d bothered to do any of this, actually. Why he cared so damn much about her family, her father… her…
Then something else churned in her gut and instead she hissed, “You brought your little sister into this? Since when?”
He blinked twice and then shrugged. “Since our parents have been vacationing in Europe for the past three months. Besides, I didn’t bring her in. I just brought her here.”
“Just here is bad enough,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
“It’s better than her spending all her time alone in that mansion with just Raisa.” He shook his head. “At least she’s got people around. Family.”
“This isn’t a family, Oliver. It’s a criminal organization.”
Oliver frowned, a mixture of confusion and hurt pulling at his features, but he quickly slammed his walls in place, erasing any semblance of emotion from his face. “Either way, all these people are here to help your father. So maybe show a little appreciation.”
“I don’t even know if we should help him,” she admitted, hanging her head.
And there it was. What she’d been struggling with since Oliver had showed up in Boston. To rescue her dad or to leave him to his fate? After all, he’d built this life for himself. For better or worse.
The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“You really want to leave your father to rot in prison?” Oliver asked. There was a surprising lack of judgement or accusation in his voice. Just a gentle prodding, urging her to think.
Was that what she really wanted?
“No.”
“Well,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets, “that’s that question answered. Now we only have to figure out how to get him out.”
She looked up, a small crinkle between her eyes. “Yeah, how are you planning to do that?”
He sighed. “I have a few ideas.”
“Do any of those ideas involve a baseball bat and Malcolm Merlyn’s face?” she asked, only slightly teasing.
He glanced at her sideways, a small smile tugging at one corner of his lips. “No, that was Sara’s idea.”
A lead weight settled in her chest at his mention of Sara, but she pushed it away, suddenly ashamed of herself. It had been years and Sara was her friend. It was stupid to still feel like this.
They sat around the kitchen table, eating healthy portions of Oliver’s reheated chili as they chatted. Felicity found she and Barry got along pretty well. He was smart and easy to talk to. Roy was a bit standoffish, but clearly head over heels for Thea, and Felicity couldn't help but like him.
Most of the meal was spent trying to dodge personal questions from her mother. But Donna wasn’t discouraged, she just switched tactics and instead caught Felicity up on her own love life. She’d apparently started dating Quentin Lance since they’d last spoken.
“I went straight for him,” her mother said, hand to her chest, as Felicity put down her spoon, vaguely nauseated, and not from all the chili she’d just eaten. “I swear, since we started dating I haven't lifted so much as a dime.”
Her mother looked so proud of herself, but all Felicity could feel was horror. Donna was dating Sara’s father. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was also a detective for the Starling City PD.
“Donna, I know you have a lot to catch up on—” Oliver said, collecting the empty bowls from the table and placing them in the sink, “—but we really need to start working on the plan.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, hon. I'll leave you to it.” She leaned in quickly, giving Felicity a small peck on the cheek. “Go on and save your daddy. We’ll catch up later.”
Felicity glanced back at Oliver, but he was looking at his sister pointedly. They seemed to be having some sort of unspoken argument, and it appeared that Thea was winning.
After a moment, Oliver sighed. “Only if you stay out of the way.”
“Promise!” Thea chirped, smiling brightly.
Oliver pursed his lips, but then looked at Felicity and nodded. “You still have a passport?”