Chapter Text
The rational part of Felicity knew there must be a logical explanation why Oliver hadn’t arrived back at the loft by noon. He might have had more on his plate than what he told her on the phone. Maybe he just needed more time to take care of their attacker. Maybe he was caught, getting tortured and kille—
No, she couldn’t think like that. She had to stay positive for the sake of their daughter and her own sanity.
She would wait a couple more hours, and Oliver would come back to her unscathed with some stupid explanation. Yes, that would do.
Felicity sighed, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to override her positive attitude. She was worried. Of course she was. For weeks she had believed they were fine, that everything was over and they could focus on preparing for the arrival of their small angel.
We’d been lured into a false sense of security.
She thought to herself as a shudder ran through her body, awakening the agonizing fear she had felt when she was in the hospital after the poisonous arrow had threatened to take their daughter away. Glancing at the clock, she placed a protective hand on her bump, trying to fight back the stress gnawing at her nerves.
The baby needed a calm environment, she remembered the doctor saying after signing the release documents all those weeks ago. How could she be calm though when her love was in an unknown place and condition? How could she remain calm when she had no idea if their daughter was about to grow up fatherless?
She couldn’t just do nothing. There must be something she could do to help and find Oliver. Logically, she knew she was a liability in a life and death situation but the thought of not seeing Oliver Queen again was unbearable. She had to weigh her options… Not that there were too many viable ones.
One, she could go to the police and report him as a missing person. The station would do a thorough investigation then close it without any real leads. Plus, it wasn’t like she could just tell the police department the whole truth…
Two, she could hit the streets and try to find some clues about his whereabouts, but this plan was almost as bad as the first. She couldn’t fight, she barely knew how to fire a weapon and if the past attacks had proved to her anything it was that she barely stood a chance against those people.
She also had to take into consideration her pregnancy. Her doctor already classified her as a high-risk pregnancy which meant one wrong move in this dangerous situation, and she could say goodbye to her unborn daughter.
Naturally there was also the option Oliver would prefer, that is to flee the city, stay low and remain safe. But… How could she sit on her heels when he could be actively bleeding out somewhere? As if on cue, she felt a small pain at her side as her baby daughter seized the opportunity to kick her ribs. Her daughter was right. Their family included three people: Felicity, the baby and Oliver. She couldn’t leave him behind.
With that in mind, Felicity walked up the stairs, going to the master bedroom to change clothes and head out. If anyone knew how and where to find Oliver, it would be his men at the Queen Mansion. Her steps were small and quick as she stopped at the top of the stairs, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over her.
She had already been attacked twice – thrice – at the Queen Mansion and there was a big possibility it was a trap again. Their unknown attacker had made it clear to her; he wanted Oliver to suffer. It was only a matter of time before his radar would turn on her again and she would be taken too.
Straightening her posture, Felicity moved forward, opening the cabinet on the left and grabbing the first clothes she could find. She had no time to waste; Oliver was counting on her. Their baby was counting on her.
Pulling on one of his oversized shirts, she looked out the window, looking at the various skyscrapers that spread across the city. The shirt carried his scent, giving Felicity the strength she needed before strolling over to the nightstand and grabbing the gun she had placed there after the last phone call with Oliver. After making sure the safety was on the gun, she placed the gun under her belt, ready for the worst but hoping for the happy ending they deserved.
She knew it was a bad idea. She knew Oliver would scold her, rightfully so, but just like him, she would do anything to protect the people she loved and that included Oliver Queen too.
With a final look at herself in the cabinet mirror, she ran down the stairs, keeping a protective cover on her bump.
---------------
The roads of Starling City were buzzing with afternoon traffic, so much that by the time she’d arrived at the Mansion, it was past five. Dark clouds covered the brightness of the sun, painting the gates and the surrounding greenery of the mansion in a gray silhouette. The windows were covered with curtains, no light seeping through the house. Even from afar, Felicity noted there was no movement. She couldn’t see any guards at the main door, nor the usual black vans parked to the right. At first glance the house seemed abandoned.
Felicity parked her car near the front, gripping the wheel for emotional support and closing her eyes for a moment. “Let’s do this,” she whispered the words of encouragement, feeling a small response from her daughter in the form of another kick. Leaving the key in the car, she stepped out of the vehicle, feeling the cold breeze touch her face.
She had a bad feeling.
Taking another moment to hesitate, she looked around, making sure no one was creeping up behind her before closing the driver’s side slowly, careful to make sure the noise wouldn’t draw the attention of anyone to her. Strolling along the familiar gravel under her shoes, Felicity made her way to the main door, sneaking inside the mansion. Just as outside, the house was eerie with no souls in sight. Everything was in order.
Stepping inside fully, the house was shrouded in darkness, the lights turned off, the curtains drawn, which was bad because for one, she had no idea where the switches were and for two, because turning on the light could possibly give her position away to any lurking danger.
Pulling out her phone, she turned on the flashlight, making sure to illuminate only the path in front of her. Remembering the location of Oliver’s study, Felicity strolled up the stairs slowly, looking back relentlessly as if a shadow could attack them at any moment. She could feel the panic rise in her chest at the familiar situation, the hopelessness clinging on her nerves as she reached the top, stopping for a second to make sure no one was in the hallway.
The building was so quiet, Felicity could hear the wind colliding with the structure of the mansion, ravaging a small battle, the storm outside grew closer. Heart thundering in her chest, she paced down the hallway, reaching the outskirts of his study, when she felt another kick by her daughter, an obvious reminder that she needed to calm down.
Looking around one more time in the empty hallway, her fingers reached for the doorknob, hesitating for a second before pulling the door open slowly and peeking inside. At first glance the study was just as empty as the rest of the house seemed to be, hence she took a step inside, the creak of the door making her bite her lower lip. If anyone was inside, lurking in the shadows, the noise would draw them in her direction.
As soon as the door closed, she turned the lock, hoping to keep any ghosts outside and let out a small sigh. She needed to focus, she made it this far, she couldn’t let fear overrun her emotions.
Backing away from the door, she looked around, noting the darkness in the room while gently lifting her phone, noticing, to her surprise, that the curtains were drawn, which seemed out of place as no matter how many times, she’d been there before, the curtains were never drawn. Flashing more parts of the room, she took in her environment bit by bit, noticing the couch she had crashed on when she fainted, the dark brown desk in the middle with an open laptop and a stack of papers along with the endless bookshelves on the opposite side.
She hurriedly sat down in front of the laptop, placing her phone face-down to keep a dim light around the room as she waited for the machine to come to life, hoping to find any clues as to what had happened to Oliver. The wind picked up its pace, crashing violently against walls, as a thunder rolled across the quietness of the house, making her jump a little.
The laptop booted up, the encryption staring back at her.
“Frack,” she whispered to herself, trying hard to think of any possible passwords Oliver could have given. She did not have the privilege of time to hack his computer, but whatever clue his files held, she needed to know to find him. Oh, how she wished they could be back at the loft instead, watching the fire dance in the living room’s hearth while they cuddled on the couch.
The last few weeks were a domestic bliss before it all came crashing down. Between them cuddling every night to making love in the mornings, Felicity had felt wanted for the first time since her mother’s death and her father’s disappearance. She had just gotten used to it finally, feeling more confident in her skin by the day when Oliver disappeared too.
She couldn’t take losing him. Amid the drama, the affair, the gossip at QC, the pregnancy and the danger, Oliver had become the most important person in her life. He became her rock, supporting her when her pregnancy symptoms got the worst out of her, offering gentle massages and always making sure she had everything she needed. She remembered when two weeks ago Oliver had driven to the other side of the city in the middle of the night to satisfy her crazy cravings over salted-caramel ice cream and pickles.
Opening a couple of drawers, Felicity looked for any clues about his password, knowing well enough that even though he was no computer wizard, he wouldn’t be naïve enough to just write his password on a sticky note. Much to her tiny hope, she had found nothing, but paper stacked upon paper, some office supplies and a weird arrow-shaped rock with a writing she couldn’t understand. Pulling back the last drawer she found a pistol underneath some documents, and she stopped for a second, her fingers freezing when a sudden lightning illuminated the room through the curtains, her nerves slowly getting the worst of her.
She needed to log in to his laptop; find whatever information she could find and get out of there as soon as possible before anyone noticed her car. Shaking her head a tad she placed the weapon on the desk, her eyes focusing back on the screen.
If she were Oliver what would be her password?
Tapping on the keyboard impatiently, she tried to remember his deceased sister’s birthday, only then hearing the knocking sound of the rain on the windows.
The storm had arrived.
Felicity attempted a few password combinations she could think of with no luck, because of course it would have been too easy had the pass been a birth date of one of his family members. Felling her stomach growl, she looked down, caressing her bump softly before murmuring the words she needed to hear more than her daughter did.
“It’s going to be okay; we are going to be okay. Your father is a fighter,” she felt the unshed tears burning her eyes, her throat tightening as a sob desperately tried to escape her chest and she turned her head up, trying to ground herself.
“We are going to be okay,” Felicity repeated, clenching her eyes shut and thinking of the last the time she had felt the warmth of Oliver’s hand, his rough fingers stroking her belly gently, whispering words of love to her daughter, while pressing soft kisses on her skin.
A sudden thought crept into her mind, her fingers moving on autopilot across the keyboard as she typed in on her own birthday, watching the numbers fill up the screen.
07241989.
She pressed enter, relief washing over her small figure as the words ‘Welcome Back’ appeared before her on the screen, making a small mental note to herself to remind Oliver how sappy and predictable this password was. The head of the Bratva needed a lesson in cybersecurity, she thought, giving a silent praise though since she really did not have the time to crack open his system.
Most of the files on Oliver’s laptop were in Russian and Felicity made another note to remind him that once he was back, he needed to teach her Russian. It was unfair how she couldn’t understand a word. Whenever they had made love, he always seemed to have whispered unknown words into her skin, never giving in to her pleas to tell her what he was saying. While on one hand, she’d always considered it as a turn on, on the other hand she had always hated mysteries.
The storm raged on outside, the raindrops smashing violently against the windows, creating a smoothing background noise as she made her way through the files, looking for any info about their attacker or Oliver’s last known location. Opening the second drawer again, she took out the pen drive she had noted beforehand, fidgeting it between her fingers as she opened another set of folders when a familiar name popped up on the screen.
Tommy Merlyn.
Felicity didn’t know much of the man other than the scandals and tabloids that used to fill up the news outlets when he and Oliver had reached adulthood. From what she gathered though, Tommy died almost a decade ago. Furrowing her eyebrows, she found a list of old articles surrounding his death, from pure speculation to theatrical twists, her breath hitching as she read the following words:
Merlyn had died trying to protect his wife and daughter from an unknown housefire, claiming the lives of every inhabitant, including the Merlyns, housekeeping and guests.
Her stomach churned, unease settling in her bones as she plugged in the drive, ready to copy anything she could find on his laptop. She couldn’t puzzle together why Oliver had so many articles on his late-best friend or how it could connect to their attacker, but she had no time to analyze the files there since she had to get out of the house as soon as possible.
She watched as the files were copied over along with different Russian folders and files she would translate once she was back in the warm safety of the loft while looking deeper into subfolders. A familiar number caught her eye and her breath hitched, staring at her own Day of Birth as the title of a folder. Curiosity getting the best out of her, she clicked the folder open, suddenly looking at hundreds of files from pictures she had never seen to articles from her university era to medical reports relating to her life and pregnancy.
Could it be that Oliver had put it together? For what use?
She clicked on one of the photos, her fingers freezing over the keyboard.
It was her and Oliver.
At her previous checkup.
Oliver couldn’t have taken this photo.
It was from a security camera in the corner of the room. She doubted Oliver would hack into a hospital’s system to find that moment. Felicity knew the Bratva could hack into the room’s cameras had they wanted to, but for what purpose?
They weren’t looking at the camera. She was lying on the bed smiling, looking at the monitor at her bedside as the doctor pointed at something on the ultrasound. Oliver was squeezing her hand supportively, a small smile dancing at his lips too.
Shaking her head, she copied the files onto the drive as well, waiting impatiently when a thunder rolled through the sky, breaking the white noise the rain had faded into beforehand. She didn’t flinch though, didn’t jump, her gaze fixed onto the screen when it suddenly flashed dark, the cursor blinking quickly on the top left corner.
She yanked out the pendrive, pocketing it into her jeans as she tried to reboot the system when a message popped up on the screen, chilling her in place.
>> You should not be here.
>> Run.
Felicity felt the weight in her stomach, the realization that she had been watched the whole time washing over. She knew coming here was reckless, that there was a high percentage that the Mansion could be dangerous, armed with men who didn’t know of her, armed with their attacker’s men. For the first time since arriving on the scene, the slow chill of fear creeping up on her back, creating goosebumps on its wake.
She was alone.
She had no one to rely on only herself.
This time, Oliver wasn’t there to protect her. In fact, none of his men were.
The emotions rolled through her like the storm outside, arriving silently then breaking havoc all at once. She drew back her trembling hands, drawing in a deep breath as she pushed the chair back, ready to stand up and get out of there.
Two minutes.
That meant whoever was coming was already in the close vicinity of the Mansion, hence she couldn’t just run back to her car. She would be spotted and ambushed on the scene with no real chance of rescue. As if afraid to be captured right away, Felicity tiptoed to the windows, using her fingers to draw back the curtain just enough to peek outside.
The storm was ravaging, the trees swaying back and forth, making it hard to see anything as she tried to map out the scenery below. Her car was there as far as she could see with no visible signs of tampering. She wasn’t sure it was safe to head out and drive away. Not just due to the threat of an ambush but what if someone put something on her car? Maybe she had watched too many action movies, but she could actively imagine the supervillain planting a tracker on her car or placing an explosive below.
Okay, maybe the last part was overexaggeration, but she couldn’t take the slight chance of that becoming true, right?
She should have stayed at the loft, safely behind an army of alarm systems instead of whatever this was. Gulping down the nausea and the fear that threatened to completely overtake her, she moved her focus from her car towards the lines of trees, scanning the area for any lurking eyes waiting for her to come out of the house. The way the rain was pouring though, it was tricky to make out any shapes, specifically a pair of human eyes tens of meters away. Even on a shiny day it would be hard to locate anyone, let alone in this storm.
Before she could move from the window, a movement caught the edge of her eyes, diverting her gaze towards the gate of the Mansion far away as a black SUV appeared behind the gates. A paralyzing fear overtook her body, sticking her in place as she watched figures doing something at the gates before it opened and the vehicle turned towards the building. The gate was open when she arrived. How was it closed? Who were those men?
The flutter of daughter’s kick broke her out of the haze, and she stepped back, quickly mapping her options. She couldn’t go back out now; she ran out of time. Oliver would definitely give her an hour of brainwashing and peptalk at the stupid recklessness that resulted in the mess she was in. Oh god, she needed to puke. Placing a hand on her mouth to fight back the gagging, ran towards the door, picking up the pistol she found in the drawers. She knew she had no chance face-to-face but with the weapon in her hand and the other tucked under belt, maybe she would have the option to make it out of the house.
She opened the lock on the study, not caring anymore about the sounds it made, or the creaks of the door, or the hard thud as the wooden frame collided with the walls. She had no time to be careful. They knew where she was. Tiptoeing around would be useless now. Her only chance at making it out was slipping out of the back of the building.
The back.
The Mansion was a labyrinth, and she had no idea which way she was supposed to go. She had only been in the back garden once but in the panic of the moment she couldn’t remember. No, she had to pull herself together. She may not know the exact location of the garden door, but she knew she had to get down to the main entrance. It was risky, she had no knowledge of the positions of the men from the black van. For all she knew, they could be already waiting downstairs for her. No, she had to stop, there was no time to analyze the whole picture. She needed to trust her gut and right now she needed to sprint her way through the hallway, down the stairs and disappear in the maze of the house. Maybe she didn’t know her way around but taking into consideration the sheer size of the building, neither would the attackers.
With the pistol in her hand, and her phone in the other, she ran through the carpeted hallway, taking two steps at a time to speed down the stairs, which ideally would be a challenge for her small legs but with her pregnant belly in the picture, all she could do was say a silent prayer for miracles and a hope that her daughter would be fine. She didn’t’ know what she would do if after everything they had been through, she lost Oliver and her baby. Reaching the last step of the stairs without any accidents, she stopped on her tracks for a second, debating which direction and hallway to take. For all she knew the living area was on the right side, she had only ever been on the right side.
Nodding swiftly to herself, she ran, knowing well enough her life and the life of her child depended on the outcome of the next few minutes. Just as she passed the living area, turning towards another hallway in the dark, she heard the echo of what she assumed to be the main doors slamming open, signaling to her that she was not alone anymore in the house.
Felicity bit down her lower lip, the pain keeping the tears and panic at bay as she reached the end of the hallway, looking around in a haze but it was dark and she was alone and she just wanted Oliver back. The sound of boots nearing prompted her movement and she made a swift decision turning towards yet another hallway she prayed would lead to the garden. If she made it out alive, she would never step afoot in this creepy, big, probably haunted, mansion ever again.
The darkness of the hallway turned into a gray silhouette, and she sighed a momentary sigh of relief, seeing the minimal light that still illuminated the garden light up the edge of the hallway where a door stood. It was the only obstacle between her, the house and the garden. She ran and ran, her back aching, her lungs burning when she reached for the knob and it didn’t bulge, it was closed. Of course, it was closed. A sob erupted from her throat, the panic no longer just on the surface as she shook the door, not caring about the noises it made or the shadows it called out for.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the movies, the fear of her life, the fear of the life of her child, but she pushed and pushed until the door creaked open and she looked, watching a piece of glass sticking out her palm. How did it even get there? She had no time to think through as she ran, the heavy drops of rain quickly soaking her dress and hair. She could barely see through her glasses as the rain poured down on her, her own tears mixing with the water.
She reached the line of trees at the back of the garden, not daring to look behind as the muddy, slippery ground swallowed her steps, the earth sticking to her shoes making each step harder. Through the chaos of the past few minutes, she reached the southern fence, praying for any kind of damage, hole or opening that would allow her to run out onto the road that ran beside the mansion. Between the high fence, her pregnant belly and rain, she had no way of climbing over. She ran near the edge, her fingers trailing the lines of the fence in case she slipped, which looking back later, she thanked every being in the universe she did not.
For the first time since the whole situation began months ago, it seemed luck was on her side as she spotted a small gate, clenching her fingers over the knob as it clicked open. She had no idea if the people she saw and heard in the house were tracking her, if they knew about the back opening, the road that paralleled the greenery or how far away they were. Logically she knew they couldn’t be that far away. She was a petite, pregnant woman with little to no training in the past few weeks, her stamina was nearing its end and if it wasn’t for the adrenaline, she would have already collapsed.
Jogging at the edge of the road, she allowed herself to look back over her shoulder, a small relief taking over the fear of seeing no souls behind her. She couldn’t relax, night was slowly approaching, the rain was heavy and cold, and she was miles away from the nearest point of civilization. In fact, she had no idea where the road was leading to. Pocketing her phone, her free hand came up to envelope as much of her bump as possible, trying to warm the area beneath her palm.
A thunder broke through the sky as a silver sedan slowed down next to her and she looked at the driver with wide eyes, the momentary relief she felt turning into agonizing terror.
“Ma’am! Do you need a lift?” Yelled through the chaos of the storm an unknown voice and she wrapped another arm around her belly, trying to cover the obvious tale sign that she was pregnant. Not that it would matter. She was wearing Oliver’s oversized shirt, yes, but the way the water seeped into every molecule of her, the clothes clung to her figure, showing her curves and the obvious bump she had.
“C’mon, you can’t stay here,” the driver stopped the car and with that she stopped in her tracks too, weighing her options. She had no doubt the man was not in on the whole situation but getting into an unknown man’s car was another reckless point she couldn’t take. It was cold though, the rain did not slow, the wind did not slow and she was freezing.
The man stepped out the car, keeping a safe distance and stopped near the hood, hesitating whether to come closer or not, fearing she would be spooked and run away like a startled deer. His hands slowly opened the passenger door, giving her a slow and silent invitation.
Hesitating for a second, her legs moved forward and she found herself standing between the door and the man, glaring at the inviting warmth and seat the car was showing. As if reading into her hesitation, the man held out his hand, his voice gentle, “I’m John, John Diggle.”
Taking her small into his she stared up at him, trying to mask the fear she was feeling. She could see the genuine worry in his eyes, probably wondering what a pregnant woman was doing in a storm on an abandoned road alone as nighttime was threatening to take over the last rays of light.
“Are you in danger? Should I call the police?” Felicity shook her head; words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t have him call the police. Revealing that Oliver was the hunted head of the Bratva might just be the push for their attacker to kill him. If the person had Oliver to begin with, as she had no idea still where he or his men were.
“Look, I’m not going to hurt you, but I can’t leave you here. I either have to call the police, or you can let me take you home. You are freezing in here and I’m sure you would appreciate a warm car.”
Nodding, she stepped inside the car, her drenched clothes quickly seeping into the cushion below her weight.
Another stupid thing to do, way to go, Felicity.
She thought, hearing the thud of the door close as the man, Diggle, walked around to get into the driver’s seat. Maybe blindly trusting an unknown person was just as stupid as driving to the Queen Mansion alone to begin with but what other choice did she have?
As Diggle started the car, blasting hot air through the A/C, she looked at him, taking in his features with his dark hair and skin and the kindness in his eyes as he looked at her from time to time before focusing on the road again.
“I’m Felicity,” she whispered, the gravity of the whole situation finally catching up and breaking through the fog in her brain.
“Okay, Felicity, can you show me where to drive you?” Diggle opened the map on his phone, beckoning in its direction with his hand and her gaze following his movements before she reached up, her wet fingers fidgeting with the screen. He handed her a tissue, and she tried her best to dry her fingers before typing in an address that was a street away from the loft. Of all the reckless decisions she had made today maybe this was the only thoughtful one.
The drive passed in silence and Felicity was thankful for her silent hero, the warmth seeping into her freezing bones as drops of water dripped onto the floor of the car. The rain outside was still pouring cats and dogs as the city lights grew closer. She melted back into the seat, loosening the fearful edge she was on. For now, it seemed she was safe. Fidgeting with her fingers, she looked down, a silent tear flowing down her cheek followed by another as a sob shook her small body, goosebumps shattering the illusion of safety she felt. Diggle didn’t say a word, although she could hear his long sigh, the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to figure out her situation and what course of action he should do once they arrived at the address she typed in.
Felicity got so lost in herself, the sobs shaking her frame violently that she didn’t even notice when Diggle parked the car, waiting patiently as she worked out the emotions of the day, not once breaking the silence. She didn’t know him but, in a way, it was comforting, safe even, something she would never be able to give back. He was a good man, that she could feel.
Looking up from her lap, she noted the rumbling of the engine, the sound of rain hitting the windshield, the blowing noise of the air conditioning and the feeling of a pair of eyes looking at her patiently.
“I’m sorry. It’s… It’s been hard,” is all she could say as a hiccup broke up from her throat. And boy did he have no idea how hard it’s been.
“Look I don’t know you, but you shouldn’t be alone. You could come back to us, my wife and I could lend you the guest room for the night, no questions asked,” a small smile curled up on her lips but then as quick as appeared, it vanished. She didn’t know them yes, but she couldn’t put them in more danger.
Shaking her head, she reached for the car handle, muttering a few words without meeting his gaze, “Thank you for the ride. I’ll never forget your kindness. You probably saved our lives,” she muttered the last few words, looking down at her lap. She would never be able to return the favor.
Her fingers wrapped around the door handle, tremoring in waves, the adrenaline which had been her anchor point in the past hour slowly receding. One shaky leg after the other, Felicity got out, murmuring another thank you and a small smile. While Diggle’s expression told her he wanted to press the issue further, he didn’t. He nodded simply and waited until she almost disappeared from the view then sped away.
Embracing herself in a tight hug, she walked down the street, the raindrops beating down her body again. The warmth of the car long gone, she treaded lightly, fighting back the choking sobs that threatened to spill all over again.
She had just done the most reckless and stupid thing she could ever do. Two things, to be precise. Felicity had no idea how she could have been this stupid. It was really the mantra of the day. One thoughtless action after the other. She could have died. She could have lost the baby. She could still lose the baby. Oh god. What would happen to Oliver if he were to comeback and she had gotten herself killed for nothing?
He would follow her to the afterlife to scold her.
Chills ran down her spine, the familiar entrance of their building coming into sight finally. Tonight, she would allow the adrenaline to crash over. Tonight she would lick her wounds.
But tomorrow, no more reckless actions. No more self-pity.
Tomorrow, she would regroup and fight back.
---------------
When she thought about the next day, Felicity thought she would wake up around eight in the morning, eat breakfast and get to work through the files she had copied from Oliver’s laptop. But nope. Instead, she slept for a total of fifteen hours. Fifteen! And that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part had been when she tried to roll over in bed and get up, only to find every single one of her muscles sore.
Guess who needed to start exercising more? One Felicity Smoak.
She made a mental note to herself, to remind Oliver once he had been found to train with her a little. Gently of course, not to endanger the peace of their growing baby.
Speaking of babies. The only reason she had gotten up in the first place was due to her daughter playing on her bladder.
Had that not happened, Felicity was sure she would have slept for more hours. As if the fifteen-hour adrenaline crash wasn’t bad enough.
Pushing the memories of yesterday aside, Felicity focused on the task: checking the files from Oliver’s laptop. Maybe it was the sheer number of the files. Maybe it was the overwhelming number of Russian files. Maybe it was her curiosity.
Before digging too deep into the mystery of Bratva business, she found herself clicking on the folder containing her date of birth, ready to rummage through the files. The folder loaded hundreds of pictures and articles with it, along with several subfolders, all titled acronymically. DOB, UNI, OB and the list grew on.
Most acronyms were easy to guess, like UNI meaning her university life and everything it entitled. From the classes she took, the campus she stayed on, every little creepy fact and photo was listed in alphabetical order.
Had Oliver put this together?
Felicity sighed rubbing her fingers into her temple. Ever since she woke up, she had been fighting a headache, as if her aching muscles were not enough.
She exited her university folder, when her eyes caught a glimpse of another subfolder and her fingers froze. Fear trickled in her veins, her breath hitching just as her pulse spiked. The folder was titled DOD0428.
Date of Death.
Two days from now.
Her date of death.