Chapter 8 (Or: "That Time Thea Got the Team Back Together")

                                    

                                          
 As soon as the door closes behind the reporter, Thea calls, "What do you think?"
                          
She turns just in time to watch him move like a shadow from the back of the apartment.  It's a new characteristic; he used to walk less like a ghost and more like an actual human being before he shipped off to Iraq.  But despite that, he still looks like the brother she's known all her life:  dressed in a gray sweater and jeans, leaning against her wall.
                          
But there are some things that aren't like her brother.  His posture is stiff as a board, and his eyes dart around the room as he enters it.  Sometimes loud noises make him jump.  And, every great once in a while, when he thinks she isn't looking, a sadness so deep washes over him that she wonders how he manages to hold it in.
                          
But they don't talk about that.
                          
They're Queens, after all, and Queens don't talk about their feelings.
                          
Ollie throws her a small smile—the most he ever gives her anymore.  Instead of answering her, he pulls a cell phone from his pocket.  It takes him a minute to navigate the touch screen, but she can see him press the "2" on the dialpad before he holds it up to his ear.  Thea's brow knits in confusion as she wonders who he's calling, but then she wonders who number one is.
                          
"Dig," is his laconic answer, winking at his sister as he says it.  What he wants to dig, she doesn't know, but Thea has long since accepted her brother is a mystery she isn't going to solve.  "We have a client.  Pack your bags for Moscow. We leave in five days."  There's a brief pause.  "I can't slip past security—they've seen me at the hospital too many times."  Thea frowns.  What hospital?  "She'll need to be reminded we're using the Uncle Deke play to spring her—and make sure she's written it down."  Suddenly his face brightens in a way she hasn't seen it in years.  "You let me worry about scamming the Gulf Stream.  I need you to scam us a pilot."  Another pause.  "No, you pass the word on to Harper.  I'll handle Felicity."
                          
The name resonates immediately.  Hadn't Laurel said something about a potential pickpocket named Felicity?  Thea snorts.  That sounds about like her brother's type:  the more dangerous and volatile, the better.  Maybe some things haven't changed.
                          
He's barely slipped the phone back into his pocket before she asks, "Is that your girlfriend's name?  Felicity?"
                          
The name isn't completely out of her mouth before he tenses.  He throws her a warning look before giving her the complex answer of, "No."
                          
She tries again with, "And who is Dig?  Is that a member of your team?"
                          
Silence greets her.  In response, Thea simply places her hands on her hips.  They lock eyes for a long moment, and finally Ollie heaves a deep sigh.  "Speedy, the less you know, the better," is his response.  She rolls her eyes as she mouths it along with him.  It's textbook Ollie at this point:  the moment they start anything beyond small talk, he shuts down.
                          
"I'm so sick of you telling me that!" Thea snaps, her exasperation boiling over.  "I see you more now than when you were doing... God knows what in God knows where"—he flinches—"but I feel like I actually knew you back then!  You never tell me anything anymore!"
                          
His expression stays neutral—not that she expected anything less.  He used to argue with her, often yelling and revealing that volatile temper.  But not since the Corps kicked him out.  Now it's all icy glares and calm tones.
                          
In response, Ollie simply stares at her as though she's someone he's never met.  It's eerie, watching her brother regard her like a stranger on the street.  Not soon enough for her liking, the familiarity comes back in his eyes and he sighs.  "Sometimes I still think of you as the little girl who followed me around in pigtails," he admits in a gentle tone, both an apology and not at the same time.  "I forget you've grown up, too."