#sorry Meegan I had too :)

[krist-420]

Me and Meegan at a Halloween Show (I’m wearing fairy wings lol)

Me and Meegs lol

#halloween show #I had to put this up #lmfao #goth/ metal #new metal #nu metal #Halloween costumes #sorry Meegan I had too :) #my guitar #guitar #twins #my twin #surprise meegs don’t kill me #christian metal #Christian band

[clarepreed]

Scorched

Story Summary and Content - 5,716 words. Will discovers Melanie has succumbed to heat stroke on her run. Hyperthermia, seizure, cardiac arrest. On-site resuscitation, Stryker LUCAS 3 device, ambiguous ending.

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Will

“Are you sure?” he murmured, speaking close to her ear. Strands of her corn silk hair stirred with his breath. “The guys will be absolutely fine if you play disc golf with us. And maybe you shouldn’t get too hot. We started a lot later than we meant to.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. One more time to try to get to know them before I give up.” Melanie made a face, her freckled nose crinkling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t blame you,” Will said. For some reason, his friends Avery and Meegan didn’t seem to get along with his fiancée. Granted, he thought most of it was Meegan, with Avery not speaking up out of a misguided sense of loyalty.

We’re all too old to behave like that, he thought, angry and frustrated that he couldn’t fix the situation.

He didn’t understand how they couldn’t like Melanie. He was biased, of course, but she was wonderful. One of the kindest people he knew. That understandable statement about “giving up” was one of the strongest things she’d ever said against someone.

Will leaned in to give her a hug. Her skin was already damp and warm, her cheeks flushed. Petite and on beta blockers for migraines, the heat often got to her before he even noticed the temperature was unpleasant. “Drink plenty of water, find some shade, and I hope you have fun. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Love you,” she said, stretching up to kiss him.

Melanie 

She was lost.

After almost ninety minutes of thinly veiled disdain from Meegan and silent discomfort from Avery, Melanie really had given up.

She’d run out of water forty-five minutes prior and was obviously not close enough to the other women to ask for some of theirs. Nauseated and headachy, she didn’t think she could stand the two of them another minute.

“I’m going to head back to the parking lot,” she’d told them, leaning down to rub her cramping calf muscle. “I don’t feel very good.”

Avery stirred at that, asking: “Are you okay? You look like you’re getting a sunburn.”

Before Melanie could answer, Meegan made an annoyed sound and tossed her hair. “Let her go if she wants to go, Avery! Jesus!”

Melanie looked at Avery. “The two of you will be okay?”

“Obviously!” Meegan barked, making Avery blink at her rude tone.

Melanie shrugged, sighed, and left, fighting back self-pitying tears as she ran down the trail. Running was difficult and painful with leg and side cramps, but she knew she’d need to get back and drink some water before that would get any better.

At some point, however, she’d taken a wrong turn, or multiple wrong turns, and now she was lost, the sun beating down on her every time she emerged from the canopy and the humidity overwhelming her when she ran back into a wooded section. She wasn’t even on normal trail anymore; she’d ended up on a paved section that she kept expecting would terminate at the parking lot and yet somehow never did.

Melanie ran down the hill and stopped in the patch of shade at the bottom, dragging her phone out of the deep pocket in the side of her navy blue leggings.

Sweat made it hard for her to grip the phone. It poured out of her, dripping off her nose, trickling down her spine. She couldn’t get her thumbprint to read on the device, and then she realized she still didn’t have any service anyway, so unlocking the device didn’t matter. She shoved the phone in her pocket and shook her water bottle before remembering she was out of water and had been out for a while. The bottle slipped from her hands without her even noticing, dropping into the dead grass with only the quietest of sounds.

“I think there’s an intersection of trails up ahead,” she muttered, squinting through her smudged sunglasses. “And hopefully legible signs.”

The last signs she’d passed were too faded to read.

Heaving a sigh and feeling queasy, Melanie took off at a jog. The sun beat down on her shoulders and stung her scalp. She was sure she’d long since sweated off her sunscreen. The bottle was back in the car along with her day pack, since the plan had been to stay out fewer than two hours. Fair-haired and freckled, Melanie knew she should have known better.

She also should have known better than to be out there at all. The fact that she was the only one walking the cracked, paved trail told her everything she needed to know. Melanie increased her pace, hoping to get to the next intersection soon. 

If there had been anyone else out there, they would have noticed that she was all over the place, struggling to keep herself upright and moving forward.

Will

He was so shocked he repeated himself. “She just ran off?” He’d already checked his phone; no messages or calls from Melanie.

“Ave, you’ve been gone… hours!” Loren, Avery’s boyfriend, exclaimed.

“She doesn’t like us and she didn’t feel good so she said she was just going to come back here.” Avery shrugged, though she had the grace to look concerned. “I thought she knew how to get back! I did ask her if she was okay.”

Will ignored the comment about Melanie “not liking” his friends and reached up to grab his topknot. It was a nervous gesture. “She wasn’t feeling good? In what way?”

“It’s really fucking hot out here,” Meegan replied in an exasperated tone, fanning herself with her hand as she sipped water. “She was hot like the rest of us!”

“We should have come back with her,” Avery said, giving Meegan a What’s wrong with you? look. “She had leg cramps and said she was nauseated. Her skin was really red. She, uh, ran out of water really early, too.”

Will spat out a quiet curse and then said: “She’s on medication. She gets hot fast… what the hell, Avery!”

Avery paled, looking at her boyfriend.

“What do you want to do, Will?” Loren asked, shaking his head.

“Look for her! If the girls beat her back, something’s wrong or she got lost.” He gestured toward the parking lot. “I’m gonna load my pack up with water.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back any minute,” Meegan said, her tone saccharine and dismissive. “You shouldn’t have to give up your second round. I’m sure she’ll call.”

“None of us had service out there!” Avery protested.

“It’s too hot for a second round anyway,” their friend Bruce said.

Will slung his backpack of discs onto his back and jogged to his station wagon. Opening the back hatch, he dumped his discs in the car before filling his bag with Melanie’s sunscreen and water from the cooler. 

“Avery and I are coming with you,” he heard Loren say. “Just give us two minutes.

“Alright.” Will closed the back hatch and slung his bag over his shoulders. “And the others?”

“Bruce, Meegan and Doug are staying back in case she shows up here. Also, because Meegan is a bitch.”

“Melanie doesn’t have a problem with Avery and Meegan,” Will said, his tone harsh.

“I know. It’s just ‘cause Meegan wants you to bone her.” 

“That’s ridiculous.”

Loren shrugged and called out: “You ready, Avery?”

The three of them ran down out of the parking lot and onto the main trail. Will noticed the pavement shimmering ahead.

“Shit it’s so hot out here.” He cringed at the way the hot air burned in his chest.

He felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

 

Melanie

She wasn’t going to be able to keep up her current pace.

The sun continued to beat down on her, drilling into her skull and giving her a throbbing headache. And she was running out of steam; whatever energy she’d had earlier had drained away with the sweat.

She looked into the distance. The sky farther out was dark, looking very much like a thunderstorm was headed her way. She hoped it was moving quickly; in addition to the heat, the air was humid, and breathing felt a bit like sucking on the steam from a boiling pot of water.

She tried to remember the max length of the paved trail, but couldn’t. One arm eventually connected to the municipal Greenway. 

That thought made her stumble. She snatched her sunglasses off her face, tried to wipe them off on her shirt.

“I’m not on the Greenway, am I?” She muttered, looking around her for any markers that would identify where she was. There was a bench ahead on the right, but that didn’t help her locate herself; they were all over the place. “Dammit…”

She felt strange. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, and it was hard to catch her breath. She staggered to a stop.

Melanie’s eyelids fluttered, and the world around her canted dangerously to one side. Her right leg folded, and she fell over, landing hard in the broken asphalt running along the edge of the trail. Her legs burned with a series of scrapes and cuts, and she rolled onto her back, flinging an arm over her eyes to block the glare. 

Moving around like that made the nausea build and her mouth tingle. She laid there for a while, thinking the nausea would subside. Instead, it built, making her stomach pulsate.

Gagging, she pushed herself upright and tried to spit into the dirt. Her mouth was too dry, and she couldn’t pull together enough moisture to spit. 

Can’t stay here. She had a niggling feeling that something might be wrong with that thought, that embarking on what already felt like an endless search for the right trail might be a bad idea. She didn’t have the wherewithal to examine the thought further.

Melanie forced herself to her hands and knees, then wavered there for a long time before she gained her feet. She’d stopped sweating at some point, and her skin felt tight and hot. Standing took her several tries, but eventually she hauled herself upright.

Thirsty…

Hot.

She shuffled downhill, her thoughts a useless, whirring pinwheel. 

Will…

Melanie panted, feeling like each breath was incrementally harder, desperately trying to suck in another.

Her last truly coherent thought was that this had all happened faster than she would have guessed.

Momentum carried her down the slope until her legs gave out, and she muttered “Oops” as she landed hard on her knees. She tipped over, dumping herself on the hot asphalt. She hit on her right side, giving her temple a glancing blow, then sprawled on her back, eyes closing against the bright sun.

Will

“We’re going to have to split up when the trails do,” Will said, anxiety making his tone more commanding than usual. They’d been running for fifteen minutes so far with no sign of Melanie. “We don’t know which way she went.”

“How do you want to—”

Loren was interrupted by Avery, who came to an abrupt stop, nearly causing her boyfriend to run right into her. Before he could speak, she burst out: “Is that her?! Straight ahead and up the hill?”

Will squinted. The asphalt was still shimmering, and he didn’t see what she was talking about. He was about to call whatever she was seeing a mirage, when he blinked and the glimmering mirage coalesced into an identifiable shape. There was a small person laying in a crumpled heap on the hot pavement.

“Oh my God!” Will took off at a sprint, his feet slamming the pavement. “Melanie! Melanie!”

When he reached her, he threw himself down, his bare knees making contact with the hot asphalt. “Ah! Fuck! Mel?!”

She was sprawled on her back, eyes closed. Her face was so red he could hardly see her blonde eyebrows. He could hear and see her breathing fast and shallow. She’d been sweating heavily at some point, based on the stains in her shirt and the way the fine hair around her face stuck to her skin. When he touched her, however, her skin felt hot and dry.

Loren and Avery stopped close by, and he heard Avery say: “Oh my God!”

Will gathered Melanie’s limp body in his arms and staggered to his feet, carrying her a few meters away to a shadier spot in the grass. Loren helped him lower her to the ground, supporting her neck and saying: “Will, it looks like she hit her head.”

Loren was right; he could see an abrasion along her left temple.

“I’m running back for help,” Avery said. She held a sweating water bottle out to Loren. “That was frozen this morning, it’s still really cold. I’m going back to where I have signal and calling 9-1-1, she needs an ambulance!”

“Please,” Will said, shrugging out of his back pack. “Tell them she has heat stroke, she’s unconscious and breathing fast… She takes propranolol, it makes it hard for her to regulate her temperature!”

Loren cracked open the bottle of icy water as his girlfriend took off downhill.

“Melanie!” Will called, giving her arms and hands a quick squeeze. Loren poured water in her hair and over her neck. “Melanie, please, open your eyes! Dammit, we shouldn’t have even come out here today! Melanie!”

They soaked her clothing and tucked bottles still cold from Will’s cooler underneath her arms, hoping that would help.

“We can’t give her any unless she wakes up,” Will said. He was patting Melanie’s face, lightly slapping her. “Wake up, honey. Melanie!”

“You’re right.” Loren leaned back on his heels. “What else can we do?”

“We just need to keep her from getting worse while we wait on the ambulance.” Will watched her pant for a while, then slid his thumb up to her eyelid. He pried them open one at a time, but he didn’t know what he was looking for. Her light eyes stared up and through him before each lid slipped closed again. “Melanie!” 

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Jesus, I can’t tell if she’s cooled off at all. Do you remember what happens when someone has heat stroke?”

Loren crouched by Melanie’s head, looking almost as worried as Will felt. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Just… if someone is red, dry, and unconscious, you call 9-1-1.”

Will grasped her shoulder and shook her. “Melanie!”

“Huh.” Melanie let out a grunt, and Will saw her eyelids flutter.

“Melanie, hey, open your eyes. It’s Will. I’ve got you and help is coming. Just open your eyes.” To his immense relief, she did. Her blue-grey eyes shifted restlessly, never quite focusing on him. She was still breathing fast and shallow, and he rested his hand on her chest, his touch feather light.

“Take a deep breath for me, Melanie. You’re breathing so fast, I bet it’s making you dizzy.”

“Wh… where…?” she whispered. He could feel her heart beating, so rapid it was hard for him to discern the individual beats.

“You’re still at the park,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. He pressed two of his fingers into her neck, feeling around until he found her pulse. “Just relax, Mel. Take a deep breath.”

“Unh…” Her eyelids fluttered, her face slackening.

“Keep your eyes open, Mel.”

Her eyes closed, and for a long moment all he could hear was the rapid pants of her labored breathing. As he watched her, her body stiffened, back bowing and a strange cry tearing from her lips. The whites of her eyes showed as her lids opened to slits. The panting sound stopped.

“Mel! Melanie!” He put his hand back on her chest. “Breathe! Can you breathe?”

She went briefly limp, then her body started jerking. He heard her breathe again, whistling through her clenched teeth.

“She’s having a seizure!” Loren exclaimed. “Like when my nephew had those fever seizures!”

Will wanted nothing more than to make it stop. He smoothed her blonde hair back from her forehead. She was making little grunting sounds, and a small amount of sticky white saliva frothed up between her lips. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…”

The seizure didn’t last long. Her body relaxed, jaw unclenching. She was taking short, shallow breaths, though now they were much further apart. 

Will wiped the saliva off her face with the bottom of his shirt and then opened her mouth, trying to make sure she wasn’t going to choke on something inside. As he leaned close, she took a breath. There was a long pause, then she took another.

She let it out, and he waited. 

And waited.

“Melanie.” Will shook her shoulder hard.

“Did she just—”

“Melanie, take a breath!”

She remained unresponsive, her chest still. Will’s eyes darted across her face, looking for any signs of movement.

“No, no, no—” He leaned over and grasped her jaw, then pressed his mouth to hers and blew hard. He felt air escape her nostrils and belatedly pinched her nose before blowing into her mouth again. This time, her chest rose, one of her small breasts brushing against his arm.

He was at an odd angle, so he moved perpendicular to her body, tipped her head back, and forced another breath into her lungs. Her chest rose, but otherwise she laid motionless.

“Does she have a pulse?” Loren asked as Will was breathing for her again. Will pressed his fingers into her neck, felt her pulse flutter under his touch.

“Yes, but it’s so fast…” He kept breathing into her, watching her chest rise and fall. Her mouth was over-warm under his, and her skin beneath his hands felt feverish. “Take a breath, Mel. Come on, please.”

To his shock, she did, her chest rising out of sync with the breaths he’d been giving her. She exhaled, and another breath followed a few seconds later.

“That’s right, baby, just keep breathing in and out. Help will be here soon, and they’ll get you cooled off…” He clasped her hand in both of his, feeling her engagement ring against his palm. “In and out. In and out. You’re doing so good. In and out. I love you…”

Will scanned her with his eyes. Her lips looked dusky.

“Does she have any health problems?” Loren asked.

“Just migraines, but the medicine makes her kind of temperature sensitive. Fuck! I shouldn’t have brought her here today, and I should have called for help when she didn’t come back! Melanie!”

Her breaths seemed fewer and farther between, and he released her hand so he could tip her head back and rest his other hand on her chest. “You have to keep breathing, Mel. The ambulance will be here soon and they’ll make you feel better. Please, baby.”

He looked up at Loren. “How long do you think it will take them to get here?”

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” his friend reassured him. “There’s a hospital not too far from here!”

Melanie sighed, and he waited.

Several seconds passed and Will realized she’d stopped breathing again. He bent over her and pinched her nose, blowing a breath deep into her lungs. Then he pressed his fingers into her neck.

He adjusted his positioning once, twice. Waited.

“No…” The word was like an exhalation.

“What is it?” Loren asked, his voice sharp. “Will, what—”

“I think she just died.” His voice cracked, shock running through him like a jolt from a live wire.

Loren was silent for a few seconds, and then he burst into action, crawling around to her other side. “Will, if you mean she doesn’t have a pulse, then we have to do CPR!”

Will watched his friend bend over Melanie, hands clasping together before he pressed them to her sternum. His arms were straight and he rocked his shoulders over his hands, pressing down hard. Melanie let out a huff of air and Loren started counting, his compressions forceful enough to make her head rock and her feet sway.

“…four, five, six, seven…”

Will reached down and took Melanie’s hot, limp hand, squeezing it. Then he released her fingers and grabbed one of the water bottles tucked against her, already warm from her body and the air. He poured the water over her scalp, his hand making a gentle dam to keep the water off her face.

“…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Loren stopped pressing on her chest. “Will! Give her two breaths! Quick!”

Will dropped the empty bottle, noticing that Loren picked up the other. As he leaned over her and forced air into her lungs, Loren emptied the contents of the bottle over her chest.

“If we keep oxygen circulating, the medics might be able to revive her,” Loren said. “They have medication, and a defibrillator, and—”

He stopped speaking so he could start compressions again. “One, two, three…”

Will picked up his empty pack and used it to fan her, hoping the breeze on her wet skin would cool her off. He was trying to decide how long it would have taken Avery to get back to the parking lot, given she was headed downhill and not checking out any side paths. 

“…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Breathe, Will!”

Will complied, watching her chest rise with each breath and blinking back a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea. Loren started compressions again, her shoulders twitching each time he forced her sternum down. Halfway through the set, Will heard a crunch, followed by a gagging sound from Loren.

“What was that?!” he gasped.

Loren was breathing hard and just shook his head. “…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! I think it’s normal, either way we can’t stop, Will!”

Will gave her another two deep breaths. It was disconcerting how warm and soft her lips were, even though, as far as he could tell, she was dead. He let his hand rest on her forehead, his thumb smoothing the fine hairs of her eyebrow. He thought he’d understood that anyone could die at any time, but looking down at her, thinking about all of the plans they’d made, he realized he hadn’t truly believed it. She was supposed to be invincible.

His head ached with regret and grief.

“…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

“Please,” he whispered. “Come back. Melanie, please come back…”

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

He ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. She had a small nose with a straight bridge and the faintest of wrinkles near the tip from repeatedly scrunching up her face. Usually to laugh at something he’d said.

“Thirty!”

He pressed his lips to hers again and gave her his breath.

“One more round and then we need to switch, my arms are getting tired!”

Another breath. “Okay. You’ll let me know if I’m fucking it up?”

“Yeah—two, three, four, five…”

Close as he was, he could hear spurts of air escape her lips each time Loren shoved his hands down into her breastbone. The pressure made her throat click.

“…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”

“Please, please, please don’t die, don’t die… Please don’t die, Mel.” He made himself shut up and took a deep breath, tears pricking his eyes and a wave of dizziness rolling over him. She couldn’t afford for him to lose his shit.

“Thirty!”

Will leaned over to give her two more breaths, and then he shifted down her body, clasping his hands together and pressing the heel between her breasts. Loren reached out and pulled him forward so that his shoulders were over his hands, and then Will shoved them down into her sternum. Her chest gave to the pressure, and he felt a sick chill roll through him. He popped back up and then pushed her chest down again, noticing as he did so that her stomach bulged slightly with each thrust of his hands.

“…three, four, five, six, seven…”

“That looks good, Will. I think we’ve been doing it right, helping her right…”

“…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…” What am I going to tell her parents? I’m supposed to protect her.

What am I going to tell MY parents?

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Will leaned back, panting more from emotion than exertion, watching as Loren tipped Melanie’s head and gave her two rescue breaths. Her chest rose and fell with each, and then it was Will’s turn.

As he started the new round of compressions, a sound pricked his ears. A siren.

“…two, three… Loren, is—”

“That’s the fucking ambulance!” Loren shouted. “Keep going, don’t stop, they’ll tell us when to stop—”

“…twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, if you can hear me, baby, help is coming… God…” He could feel himself starting to shake.

Loren cut in: “Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

Will took a deep breath and continued counting for himself as his hands forced her ribcage to flex. “Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” 

Loren’s breaths inflated Melanie’s chest, and then Will went back to compressions. The sound of the ambulance siren energized him, and he made himself compress her sternum hard and fast. 

“One, two, three, four, five—”

“I see it!”

“…seven, eight, nine, ten…”

The ambulance came to a halt on the path beside them. Will glanced up long enough to see Avery jump out of the passenger seat, her eyes huge as she realized that Will and Loren were performing CPR.

“Oh God, she stopped breathing?!”

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…” 

Someone touched his shoulder. “Sir, we’ve got her now. You did a good job.”

He glanced over. A dark-haired, female paramedic crouched beside him, already leaning around to press her fingers into Melanie’s neck. Will lifted his hands and then scrambled backward. When he tried to stand, he stumbled. A tall paramedic grabbed him under the arm, steadying him until he could stand on his own.

“Are you alright?” the man asked.

“Yes, I…” He felt like he was floating. His head pounded and his stomach throbbed, something that he hadn’t allowed himself to notice before. Everything started to spin and shimmer around him.

The medic squinted at him. “Let’s set you down.”

Will let the medic help him to the ground and then waved him off. “Help her!”

“Got another one, need to get them both in the air con…”

Loren crouched next to him, looking worried. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I went over for a second to check on Avery.” His girlfriend hovered at the tree line, her loud sobs cutting through the sound of everything else.

The female paramedic was giving Melanie compressions now, her back to the tree line. This meant he could see the effect the forceful thrusts had on Melanie’s body. She seemed to cave in around the woman’s hands, over and over again in a rapid assault.

The tall paramedic kneeled by Melanie’s head, opening packets and laying things out beside him. Will watched him grasp Melanie’s head and carefully thrust her jaw forward. He slipped something metallic into her mouth that turned on a light when he cranked it open.

The third paramedic, a stocky younger man, was starting an IV.

“Hold compressions,” the tall medic said. He threaded a tube down the length of the metal device, then retracted the device and connected a bag to the end of the tube.

The medic who’d been doing compressions pressed the bell of her stethoscope to Melanie’s chest while he squeezed the bag, then nodded and immediately started compressions again. The tall paramedic secured the tube with tape, then reached down to pick up a cold pack, activating it with a firm squeeze of his hands and shaking it. 

He tucked the pack under Melanie’s arm, then reached for another.

The paramedic with the IV began to apply electrodes to Melanie’s chest, working around the medic performing compressions. He connected the leads to a monitor and a high-pitched whine filled the air. Will heard someone say: “Asystole. Pushing epinephrine.”

More cold packs were applied to her body. The paramedic performing chest compressions switched off with the tall paramedic and started squeezing the bag.

Will clutched at his head, his breath coming fast. The paramedics were working quickly, but nothing they did seemed to change anything. The monitor whined. Melanie’s lips stayed ashen. Her body continued to limply accept the abuse, her shoulders twitching, small breasts trembling. The tube between her teeth swayed.

“Pulse check!” The medics all reached in, one pressing fingers to her neck, the other her wrist, the third pressing his gloved fingers next to her groin. After ten seconds, he heard: “No pulse, continue compressions, unpack the Lucas!”

The stocky paramedic got up and jogged to the ambulance.

“What?” Will asked quietly, glancing over at Loren. “What did they say?”

“They said they were going to ‘unpack the Lucas,’ but I don’t know what that means.”

Avery had stopped sobbing, Will realized. She was sitting much like he was, with her hands gripping her head, her eyes staring hard at Melanie’s lifeless body.

The stocky man ran back with a plastic case and set it beside Melanie. He quickly opened up the case and pulled out a yellow plastic board, which he laid on the grass above her head. Will saw him pull other equipment out of the case, but he didn’t have any context for what any of it was and he didn’t want to delay the medics by asking questions. 

The tall medic stopped compressions and the female medic slid an arm under Melanie’s back. She lifted, propping Melanie’s unconscious body upright. She was only sitting up for a short time, just long enough for the stocky medic to slide the yellow board under her back, but Will saw her face before her head sagged backward. Some of the red coloring had faded, but instead of red she was going purple-gray.

He would never be able to express what it was like to watch the woman he’d planned to marry flop limply as the paramedics laid her dusky, half naked body back down.

As soon as they got her flat, the tall medic started compressing her chest again and the female paramedic reattached the bag to the tube, squeezing it regularly. The stocky medic picked up something from the case, what looked to Will like a motor with two plastic arms that curved out from the bottom. The stocky medic clipped the arms into slots on the yellow board while the tall medic lifted his hands off of Melanie’s chest, reaching for what looked like a suction cup at the base of a piston. He directed the cup down to Melanie’s naked chest and then pressed a button on the side of the motor. The cup thumped down hard into the center of her chest, and a new sound joined the deadly whine: nn-hit, nn-hit, nn-hit. Will watched them fasten a harness over Melanie’s shoulders.

“Push another epi and then let’s get her on the bus,” the female medic said. While the stocky medic was giving Melanie medication, the tall medic took her right arm and strapped her wrist to the motor. Then the stocky medic took her wrist with the IV and lifted that arm, attaching the strap loosely and sliding his finger under the strap to make sure it wasn’t trapping the IV tubing. 

All the while, the machine pistoned itself with precision into Melanie’s chest as the remaining paramedic squeezed the bag. Will realized he could see Melanie’s engagement ring on her hand, glinting in the hot sun.

He scrambled to his feet, watching as the medics gathered up their supplies. The female medic disconnected the bag and reached down to support Melanie’s head; the others lifted from the sides. They moved her onto the waiting gurney.

Watching them move her, looking so small and vulnerable underneath the machine, Will felt something let go inside of him. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes struggled to focus. He raked his gaze across the tree line, over Avery, then back, his eyes finally settling on Mel on the gurney.

Loren reached toward him, his blurry face contorting. “Hey, you—”

Will collapsed, the world around him fading to black.

He woke an indeterminate amount of time later in the air conditioned back of the ambulance, to the sound of a piston and a high-pitched whine. Bright, artificial lights stabbed him in the eyes, and he tried to sit up, only to find that he was strapped down.

“Will? Just lay there and rest for me, alright?” an unfamiliar voice said. “We had to strap you to the backboard so you didn’t fall off. I put an IV in your arm and you’re receiving fluids. You got a little too hot and passed out on us.”

Melanie…

“Mel—” he twisted, looking toward the rhythmic noise to his right. 

“The Lucas device is pumping her heart for us.” The tall paramedic from before leaned over him. “We’re cooling her down and keeping her blood circulating so the doctors at the hospital can help her.”

Warm and dead, Will thought, shuddering. Did I hear that on television?

The paramedic seemed to be trying to block Will from looking, but he caught sight of her anyway. He could just see her profile, with the tube protruding from between her teeth. Further down, the device pumping her heart. It arched over top of her torso, rocking slightly. The suction cup punched into her sternum over and over again. He could see her breasts wobble and her stomach roll with each forceful, mechanical compression. Her pale legs rocked with the rhythm of the compression device; they’d removed the rest of her clothing and packed more cold packs around her.

“Do people survive… if you have to use that?” he asked, shivering, his voice broken.

The medic leaned over him again and removed the cold packs that Will hadn’t even noticed were tucked under his own arms.

 “Sometimes,” the man said, resting his gloved hand on Will’s arm. 

The paramedics continued to move about the small space, checking the monitor and administering more medication, even speaking directly to him, but all Will could hear was the whine of Melanie’s still heart and the relentless nn-hit, nn-hit, nn-hit of the machine pumping her chest.

#cpr resus #female resus #resus writing #medical drama

[vandermorganable]

I’m sorry but that story about that fan sleeping with Slash sounds fake asf.

1. They’re describing it literally word for word on how Slash describes the way he is with girls and what he likes during sex in his book.

2. A page asked for the photos, they said that they’ll send them and once they send them they can be posted but they never sent them. And why were they taking photos (assuming without his knowledge) in the first place. It’s disgusting to do that without consent no matter who it is you’re having sex with, even more so that you’re planning to distribute these photos to anybody who ask for them, again without his knowledge and consent. He should have a say whether these photos should be shared or not, too. And I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to do that anyways.

3. Meegan has been posting Slash and asking for pics of him ever since the tour started so I doubt that they’re broken up. This fan supposedly had sex with him the day before or morning of when Meegan posted the pic of the flowers Slash had sent to her so if they were broken up by then why would he send her flowers and say that he misses her, especially since this fan said that he’s tired of her. And they still follow each other, which probably means nothing, but I checked and he doesn’t even follow Perla and Meegan doesn’t follow Mark (her ex-husband) so why would they still be following each other if they’re not together.

4. They’re conveniently on birth control so he didn’t have to wear condoms, knowing that he doesn’t like condoms, as if they knew they were going to have sex with him or went there with the end goal to have sex with him.

5. And the thing they said about London. London has said before he didn’t want to be in his dad’s shadow so it would be weird for him to perform with his dad’s band. Also, if the band had broken up, they would’ve announced it by now. And if, by chance, it’s true that they have, why would Slash tell some random person he’s having sex with this when London or none of the band has announced it yet. Wouldn’t that be betraying his son, which I feel is something he would never do? Like did he pull out and say, “I know we’re fucking right now, but I have to let you know that my son’s band broke up.”💀

Also, this person said that the band broke up because London’s in a relationship and the singer of the band flipped out on him because of that and I find that so weird because London’s been dating that girl for a while now so…I don’t know. And the lead singer is in a relationship already so why would she be worried about London’s relationship.

I honestly just believe that they got the idea of London’s band breaking up from the fact that London unfollowed the band page (he didn’t unfollow none of the member’s pages btw) and not from Slash himself.(Again, why would he tell a hookup that?)

And this person have copy and pasted this message to at least three different fan pages from what I seen. At this point, they might as well post the pics themselves.

If I end up being wrong, then I’m sorry for doubting you.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

A Goodbye Olicity Exchange gift for Erin ( @canadianbeauty2 ).

 I hope you enjoy this fluffy Meet-cute! (Playlist will be posted with the story on AO3.)

xoxo Meegan ( @it-was-a-red-heeler, cfcureton)

“But—“ “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do.” The ticket agent didn’t look sorry. She looked more anxious than anything, and who could blame her? The skies outside the airport terminal were actually turning green. Felicity huffed a frustrated sigh. “What about tomorrow?” A snarky smile appeared and then vanished from the other woman’s face. “The airport won’t be open tomorrow. Or the next day. We’ll be lucky to be operational by the end of the week.” She stuck a hand on her hip behind the counter. “I suggest you find a hotel to hunker down in. Preferably on a high floor.”

The woman looked away then, back to her paperwork, back to shutting down her terminal so she and her fellow employees could skedaddle home as soon as they were given the go ahead. Felicity swallowed a very explicit swear word. She knew eastern seaboard hurricanes weren’t uncommon this time of year, she just never imagined one would hit while she happened to be in town. Sure, the labs at Wayne Enterprises had seemed empty these last couple of days, but she’d been too busy to ask why, and what little she’d been outside the weather hadn’t seemed all that threatening. It rained all the time in Gotham. By the time she’d realized she should get out of Dodge all the outbound flights that could make it before the storm hit had departed and her return ticket was useless; refunds weren’t an option for cancellations due to weather. Which she’d just learned. Felicity snatched the handle of her rolling bag and yanked it up as she spun on her heel—there had to be another solution to this problem—and walked straight into a solid wall. Wearing a plaid shirt. “Oof,” she said, staggering back a step with her glasses knocked askew. The wall had a hand, and it reached out to cover hers on the handle of the suitcase, stopping her in case she fell. “You okay?” The wall had a nice voice. Too bad she was not in the mood to appreciate it. “I’m fine. Sorry.” “No problem. Did you have any luck?” “None.” Felicity set her glasses right and finally looked up. The wall had piercing blue eyes, a good amount of scruff, and tousled hair that was either perfectly haphazard or intensively styled. The head tilt was a nice touch. “Are you trying to get out too?” she asked. “No, I just like hanging out at airports during natural disasters.” He shrugged both shoulders the slightest bit. “It’s a hobby.” Great. A comedian. She rolled her eyes internally and steered around him, determined not to let anything distract her from finding another way out of this city. The click of her heels was almost the only sound as she marched through the echoing terminal to the car rental counter. Only one employee manned the long line of counter space; he was at the very end, of course. He looked up with bored eyes as Felicity approached. “I need a car, please.” The clerk regarded her briefly before shuffling through a stack of papers. “You’re in luck. I have one left.” She sighed with relief even as she heard the zing of suitcase wheels approaching from behind. She couldn’t help glancing that direction to get a look at the poor bastard who’d just missed out on escaping the city. It was the wall. The paperwork slapped onto the counter as Felicity handed over her credit card and snatched up a pen, eager to get on the road. She was halfway through initialing all the boxes when the machine beeped and she heard the clerk grunt. “Your card’s declined.” “What?” He tossed it back on the counter. “Looks like it’s expired,” he offered by way of explanation. Dread flooded her veins. Oh, Frack. She could picture the new one, sitting on her kitchen counter at home. She’d meant to activate it before she left. The clerk must’ve read the expression on her face because he shot her a mildly incredulous look. “You don’t have another one?” “No,” she moaned. “I only carry one.” She heard the guy behind her shift his weight. “We take cash,” the clerk offered. “Here.” A hand reached around her from behind and laid a card on top of her paperwork. Felicity’s eyes went wide. “No, I—“ “We both need out of here ASAP. There’s only one car. We can share.” She whipped around so fast her ponytail flew. He met her eyes and smiled benignly. Felicity’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, fish-like, as she tried to come up with an excuse to say no. She saw his eyes shift to glance at her mouth and her spine straightened in indignation. “I don’t think it would be appropriate, under the circumstances.” His smile never faltered. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think you have much of a choice. The airport’s closing, and no hotel will take your expired credit card either.” He spread his hands and waited. Felicity’s shoulders dropped, defeated, and she turned to finish signing her name. “Fine. But I’m driving.” ————————————————————————————————– The car was easy to spot in the otherwise empty lot. It was sporty. And red. Felicity suppressed an eye roll. He fit both their bags in the trunk—barely—without comment and waited patiently for her to unlock the doors before squeezing into the passenger seat. She was putting the key in the ignition when it hit her. “This isn’t going to work.” “Why not?” “It’s a stick shift. I can’t drive a manual.” The dread was back. She held her breath to keep from crying and scanned the empty space around her, praying this was just a crazy mistake and there was another vehicle waiting for her. “Can you?” she asked, still looking around. “Can I what?” “Drive a stick.” “I can.” Did he sound a little hesitant? Felicity looked at him. “So I’ll go back and add your name to the rental agreement and then you can drive. C’mon.” She was already unbuckling her belt, but he hadn’t moved. “What’s the matter?” “I don’t have my license.” “You’re traveling out of town but you don’t have your license?” He shook his head no once. “How does that even happen? Never mind. We don’t have time. What do I do first?” He stared at her, dumbfounded. “You want out of Gotham before this hurricane hits? Then teach me how to drive a manual.” He studied her for half a second, expressionless. “It would help if I knew your name.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a frown as she studied him. “First names only.” He nodded acceptance soberly. “I’m Felicity.” “Oliver. Nice to meet you.” “Tell me.” “Okay. Before you turn the key, make sure you’re in neutral. The pedal all the way to the left is the clutch…” ————————————————————————————————– “Do you learn everything this fast?” “Probably. Why?” “No reason. It’s just…impressive.” “Thanks. I think.” Felicity rolled up to the stop sign at the entrance to the parking lot and looked both directions to check for traffic. “And we’re off.” “Wait!” His hand fell to cover hers on the gear shift and she jumped in surprise. “Where are we going?” “To the nearest airport that’s still open.” “No, I mean ultimately. Where are you heading?” Felicity studied him. What if he was up to no good, this one? Her mother hadn’t raised a fool. Still… “Starling City,” she offered after a beat. His eyes lit with surprise. “Great! Me too.” “Huh.” “What?” She squinted at him, suspicious. “Nothing.” She checked both ways again and eased the sporty little car out into the street. “Let’s go.” Oliver looked uneasy. “You’re sure you have to fly?” “Fly? Yes. It’s how I got out here, so it’s how I’m getting back.” “But I can’t.” The gears ground a little. “I think you missed second.” Felicity grunted. “Fully aware.” They pulled up to a stop light at the entrance to the airport and waited for it to turn green. “Do I get on the highway from here?” “Am I supposed to know?” “You’re the navigator.” Oliver sighed but logged into his phone. “We should have a plan.” “We have a plan. Closest open airport. That’s the plan.” “What about a train?” “A train?!” “Yes. We could take the train.” “Like hobos?!” “There are still passenger trains in the 21st century, Felicity.” “Nope. No way. I have to be in Starling by Friday, no exceptions. I can’t poke across country by TRAIN.” “Okay, hear me out. Today’s Monday. It’s a twelve hour drive to Chicago. I have a buddy who’ll put us up for the night. From there it’s two days by train. Or,” he waved a hand around, “you can get yourself a flight outta O’Hare. Either way we’re back in Starling by Thursday at the latest. Straight ahead to the on ramp.” The light turned, and they rolled forward while Felicity made weird faces and fought with the gear shift. “Ungh.” “Just think about it. The closest major airport that’s still open is probably in Pennsylvania anyway. We’ve got time.” Traffic was heavy but moving as the last evacuees headed out of Gotham. They entered the highway and picked up speed, and Felicity shifted into fifth for the first time. “Smooth. Good job.” “Thanks. So tell me, when you showed up at the airport this morning you were planning to, what, use your boyish charm to get on a flight without government-issued ID?” “First of all, I’ve never heard anyone younger than my mother use the phrase ‘boyish charm’.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Second?” “Second, I didn’t lose my license until late last night, so I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to come up with an alternate plan.” “No passport?” “Didn’t expect to leave the country so didn’t bring it.” “Guess that rules out taking any shortcuts through Canada.” “Funny.” Ten miles passed below the tires with neither of them speaking. Felicity watched him from the corner of her eye; he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his jeans cuffed. Casual but very tidy. How his profile could be just as good as looking at him head on she would never know. Normal people never got that lucky. His thumbs danced around his phone screen before he glanced up. Her eyes flicked away and she prayed she hadn’t been caught looking. “My friend is willing to put us up if we decide to drive to Chicago.” Felicity’s nails tapped the steering wheel in a rapid pattern while she mulled over her choices. “Okay. We’re heading west in any event, so see if you can find me a flight from anywhere closer than Chicago. Otherwise we’ll plan to stay with your friend. Deal?” Oliver nodded once and got to work on his phone. ————————————————————————————————– She’d expected—probably irrationally—traffic to thin dramatically as soon as they left the city, but the lines of cars and trucks only increased as they caught up to the myriad of people who had left the path of the storm in a reasonable time frame. Before long the westbound lanes had slowed to a crawl. “Ugh, okay. Tell me again why people drive manuals on purpose,” she muttered, down shifting as taillights lit up in front of her. The sky was no longer green here, but the rain had started a few miles back and the air felt heavy. “Bad news, I’m afraid. No flights until we get to Cleveland, and those are going fast. It’s only five more hours to Chicago from there, and a free night’s stay.” Felicity spared him a glance and then wished she hadn’t; those eyebrows lifted in question and the faint puppy dog expression were her undoing. She sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I get my own bed.” ————————————————————————————————– Hours passed. She discovered they liked the same music, or rather Oliver seemed to have no opinion on her tastes either way, so she didn’t have to pull rank to choose the radio station. He filled the car without asking, and always brought back some snack or treat she didn’t ask for when he returned from paying. Interstate traffic was back to normal, mostly just them and the big trucks, and Felicity was so grateful not to have to think about when to shift she wanted to fist pump. “I could drive,” he offered once. “That wouldn’t be legal.” “It would only be a problem if we got pulled over, which I would never let happen.” “Pulled over or involved in an accident.” “Well that’s morbid.” “That’s reality. I prefer being realistic. It keeps you from being disappointed.” Oliver was quiet then, staying so still she risked a glance at him. He was studying her. “Have you always been this way?” “What way?” “Closed off. Cynical.” Felicity’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I am NOT closed off. I have lots of friends. Many friends. A few…select…close friends. And ‘realistic’ and ‘cynical’ are two very different things.” “Is that so.” “Yes. People find me quite charming.” “People.” She shot him a look. “Historically.” This conversation was going nowhere good very quickly. Felicity could feel the beginnings of a babble bubbling up from her chest, and she didn’t dare let that happen. “We need to find a place to stop.” He said it in such an authoritative way she took her eyes off the road to stare at him. The nerve of him, ordering her like that. “Look, Mister—“ “Felicity, you’ve been driving practically non-stop for hours. You need to eat.” She waved the half-eaten candy bar in her lap at him in illustration, but he only huffed an annoyed sigh. “Real food. You need an actual meal, and time to move around. And relax.” “In my family, the driver gets to decide when and where we stop.” “Well in mine, the person paying makes the final call.” She was in the process of passing a semi so she could only throw a quick glare at him, but she didn’t miss the raised eyebrow he was giving her back. “The next exit has restaurants.” “Fine. But only if it’s fast food.” ————————————————————————————————– He chose a sit-down restaurant. Felicity sat on her side of the booth and tried to hold on to her annoyance, but everything on the menu looked amazing and she was so relieved not to be moving she wanted to weep with gratitude. When she glanced up Oliver was staring at her over his menu. “What?” “Nothing.” His eyes flicked down. “What are you going to get?” She watched him purse his lips as he considered. “The Monte Cristo, I think. You?” “An omelet sounds good. I can always go for breakfast.” He grunted agreement without looking up. The server came and went, and then Oliver leaned back and stretched his arms out across the back of the seat. He had an impressive wingspan, she noted. And those lovely ropey veins peeking out from under his sleeves— “So what’s waiting in Starling that has you rushing home?” Small talk now? Great. Okay. Felicity took a sip of water to stall. “I have, um, a presentation Friday. A present—a pres—an interview.” She shrugged and tried to pretend her face wasn’t turning red. “I have an interview.” “An interview.” “Yes.” “For a job.” “Yes for a job. What else?” His brow knit in concentration. “You just didn’t seem sure.” “It’s very, um, it’s a big step for me. You know, a challenge. Growth.” She shook her head enough to flick her ponytail over her shoulder and couldn’t meet his eye. “I’m excited about it.” “Yes. You look thrilled.” If this conversation didn’t end immediately Felicity was going to actually die. “I’m gonna go wash my hands,” she declared, already scooting out of her seat. The food was on the table by the time she returned, and they ate with little comment. Oliver made her get dessert, even after she protested that she was disgustingly full. When the check was paid he ushered her from the restaurant but snagged her arm to drag her three laps around the building to shake everything out. “Anything else, Coach?” she quipped as she rounded the front of the car to unlock the doors. He rolled his eyes, but she also thought she caught the hint of a smile as he ducked to get in on his side. The next few hours passed in a blur. Oliver quizzed her on trivia he unearthed on his phone, and once she’d explained the concept of Mad Libs to him, he went searching for those too. The sun was beginning to set when they pulled into the last rest stop before the final push to Chicago. “C’mon, Felicity, get those knees up,” he ordered, jogging in place in front of her on the sidewalk by the restrooms. “Oliver, this isn’t funny.” “You don’t wanna get a blood clot from sitting too long in one position.” “People are staring.” “Let ‘em.” Felicity called him a name under her breath but bounced around as instructed. Across the parking lot a trucker blew his horn in appreciation and she threw a hand out in that general direction. “You see what you’ve done?!” Oliver grinned and the sight of it made her a little light headed. She told herself it was all the jogging. A little before 10pm they pulled up to a big house in a nice suburban neighborhood; a McMansion, her mother would call it. Fittingly, Felicity killed the car in the driveway by accident, but neither of them commented as it shuddered to a halt, preferring to stare out the windshield at nothing. “That…was a long day,” she said finally. “Agreed.” He sighed. “Don’t forget the hand brake.” “Yup.” Oliver carried her suitcase up to the porch without being asked as a tall handsome stranger waited at the door. The two men hugged unabashedly while she stood a step below them, looking away discretely to allow them their moment. “Tommy, Felicity.” Oliver made the introductions with a motion of his head, his arms being full. Tommy smiled and stepped back to allow them to pass. “Welcome. It’s not often we get hurricane refugees this far west.” Tommy’s smile was rakish but friendly. “Guest room’s up and to the right. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Oliver set his suitcase down in the foyer and gestured with hers. “I’ll put this up there for you.” Felicity saw Tommy’s eyebrow twitch up in surprise and suddenly felt weird and exhausted and done with everything. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m gonna go up now.” She caught Oliver glancing back at her from the stairs but ignored him in favor of shaking her host’s hand and wishing him a good night. “You okay?” Oliver asked quietly as she trailed him into the bedroom. “Fine. Just tired.” “You did an amazing job today. I still can’t believe how fast you picked up driving a stick.” “Thank you…for paying my way here…and for finding us a bed. Beds. A bed and a couch. Whatever.” Oliver chuckled at her accidental innuendo, but she could tell he was worn out too. “Good night, Felicity. Sleep well. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.” He showed himself out and closed the door as he went, and for the first time since the morning she thought about how crazy it was that she was trusting this virtual stranger—and now his friend—with her wellbeing. Felicity got ready for bed and was out by the time her head hit the pillow. Below her the low drone of male voices catching up carried on late into the night. ————————————————————————————————– It took Felicity a full minute the next morning to remember why she was waking up in a strange bedroom. “Oh God,” she muttered to no one as she collected her shower things and peeked out into the hall before scurrying to the bath. The house was silent. Felicity repacked her suitcase and perched on the bed to collect herself and check for flights out of O’Hare. She could get enough cash out of an ATM to cover a plane ticket, and then she’d arrange to repay Oliver for her share of the car rental and her meals. She could be home by dinner tonight. Easy peasy. A door downstairs closed and male voices drifted up the stairs, so she set her phone aside without picking a flight and went in search of breakfast. The house was nice, a little on the bachelor pad side, maybe, but clean enough. It appeared Tommy lived here alone. The man in question was perched on a bar stool at the kitchen island in sweats and a tee shirt, laughing at something Oliver was saying as he scrambled eggs in a skillet. It was such a domestic scene Felicity thought maybe she’d been under the wrong impression about her traveling companion. It was a strangely disappointing discovery. “Morning,” Tommy offered brightly. “Pull up a stool.” “How do you like your eggs?” Oliver asked. His hair was mussed from sleep, but even the flat spot on the side was endearingly sexy. Stop it, she admonished herself sharply. He’s gay. “I’m not, actually. Scrambled okay, or would you like another omelet?”

Oliver turned away smoothly to plate the current batch as Felicity’s jaw unhinged. Fracking frack, she’d said that out loud. Tommy was grinning openly at her. “He is awfully pretty, isn’t he? But he’s a total ladies’ man, I promise you.” Tommy gave her a bold wink. “We both are.” “Easy,” Oliver warned gently, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon to his friend and turning back to start again. “Scrambled’s fine,” Felicity muttered, mortified, from behind her hands. Next to her Tommy chortled. “I’m putting peppers and onions in it, just so you know. You don’t eat enough vegetables.” Felicity’s face popped up from behind her hands to protest. “Hey—“ He pointed at her without looking away from the stove. “Corn Nuts do not count. We’ve talked about this.” She huffed a sigh and looked away, only to find Tommy watching her with one curious eyebrow lifted. When her plate and his were ready Oliver circled the counter and threw a leg over the bar stool on Tommy’s other side. “Made up your mind about flying or taking the train?” Felicity stabbed her eggs. “I should fly. I have to finish my presentation.” “Plenty of time for that on a train.” “I need to fly. Besides, a train trip sounds expensive. I can’t ask you to cover both of us going.” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know who he is, right?” “Shut up, Tommy. It’s not a problem, but I’ll do whatever you want. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Felicity didn’t miss the warning look he shot his friend before setting his empty plate in the sink and walking out of the room, but Tommy flipped on the small tv at the end of the counter to watch sports and ended any chance of her asking questions. She hauled her suitcase downstairs on her own and was sitting primly on a leather ottoman in Tommy’s living room when Oliver reappeared in a dark blue sweater with just a hint of white tee shirt sticking out underneath. Felicity pressed her lips together firmly to keep her thoughts on the inside. “Do you have time before your flight to drop me at the train station? If not, Tommy said he could do it.” “I—oh. I, um, I haven’t picked a flight yet.” Oliver stood and considered her silently for a moment. “No?” She shook her head, feeling more ridiculous by the second. She’d made her choice, now she needed to follow through. “I can drop you at the station on my way,” she decided. He nodded at the same time Tommy materialized over his shoulder. “You kids all set?” Felicity stood and stepped forward as Oliver shifted their bags onto the porch. “Thank you for everything, Tommy. It was great to meet you.” He bussed her cheek and then smiled down at her. “See ya around, I’m sure.” She felt her brow contract in confusion but didn’t ask him to clarify since Oliver was back and the two of them were busy hugging and back slapping their goodbye. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah? And say hi to your folks for me.” “Will do. Thanks, Tommy.” “Any time, brother.” Felicity groaned under her breath when she got into the damned stick shift car but started it on the first try all the same. Oliver looked impressed. The ride out of the suburbs was mostly silent save for Oliver’s directions. He was a good navigator and seemed to know the city’s layout well. Felicity tried to imagine dropping him at the curb and driving on to the airport, never to see him again. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out her mouth before making her decision. “Is there, um, a rental car return near the train station?” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity waited with the bags and people watched while Oliver bought the tickets. The train station was certainly an interesting place. He was running a hand through his hair as he returned, but she didn’t know him well enough yet to figure out if that meant bad news was coming with him. “Did you get tickets?” “Yep. It’s boarding now, we should hurry.” “Is everything okay?” “What? Oh, sure. It’s fine. It has its own bathroom, which is nice.” “It?” There was a pregnant pause as Oliver grabbed the handle of his suitcase but wouldn’t meet her eye. “It,” he repeated. “They only had one bedroom compartment left. It has two beds,” he added quickly, already wincing at her potential explosion. Felicity could only shake her head. “This is like bad fan fiction,” she muttered to the air. She trailed him through the station, watching him check the train ticket and follow the overhead signs to their platform. The closer they got to their destination the more crowded it became; other travelers jostled them as they moved either to or away from the waiting trains. And then Oliver was glancing back at her and reaching a hand out to grab her and pull her closer, not allowing them to get separated. Felicity stuck close, one hand on her suitcase handle and the other held protectively inside his, her mind a blank as she tried to process this new development. His broad shoulders made a great shield, preventing her from being bumped or stepped on as they negotiated the crowd on their way to the correct platform. She could smell him from this range, a mix of an understated cologne—or maybe deodorant—and whatever detergent he used. He stopped suddenly and she face planted softly against his sleeve with a small “oof”. It made her want to giggle. “You okay?” “Fine,” she grinned, slightly loopy on his scent and the feel of his warm firm grip on her hand. “This is it.” She peeked out around his (very nice) bicep at the big silver train in front of them. Oliver looked back at her and winked. “Here we go.” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity realized she was staring as he lifted her suitcase up onto the shelf and made herself look away. If she didn’t get it together this was going to be two very long days. She smoothed a hand over her tightly cinched ponytail and sighed. “Well, what do you think?” The room had two twin sized bunks–the bottom of which converted to a couch during the day–and an upholstered armchair, a window, and a door to a minuscule bathroom. That was it. “It’s…small.” Like, a mobile prison you have to pay to stay in small, she added in her head. “We don’t have to spend all our time here, you know. There’s a dining car for meals, and an observation car. You can work on your presentation interview thing while you watch the world go by. You’ll love it. Trust me.” This was so not ideal, and she wanted to be mad, or at least annoyed, but she was finding she did trust him, dammit. “Do you prefer to be on top or bottom?” Felicity stiffened, her face going hot. “I beg your pardon?” Oliver huffed a laugh. “The bunks. Would you like the top or the bottom?” “Oh. Um.” She studied them in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner, though she was really just trying to stop blushing. Honestly, the idea of sleeping in the bottom bunk had always made her nervous. What if the person above suddenly fell through? Ugh. It gave her shivers. “Top,” she decided. Oliver nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. “You hungry? Thirsty?” He looked so earnest  Felicity almost laughed. “I could eat,” she decided. “Lead the way.” The train started moving while they were walking down the hall; Felicity yelped as she lost her balance and Oliver shot an arm out to steady her. This time she was the one to reach for his hand and he took it immediately. They stayed that way until he ushered her in front of him at the entrance to the dining car and they were shown to their table. Felicity scooted into her side of the booth with an eye on the neighborhoods of Chicago sliding past the window as the train picked up speed on its way out of the city. Heading west. Heading home. The thought filled her with something other than anxiety for the first time since she realized a hurricane was bearing down on Gotham. “What?” Her head swiveled back to Oliver in surprise. “What, what?” “What has you smiling?” She shrugged and tried not to blush as the server handed them their menus. “Just excited, I guess. I’ve never traveled by train before, unless it was the subway. You seem like you have, though.” Oliver nodded without looking up from his menu but saved any further explanation until after they’d received their drinks and ordered lunch. When the server had moved on, he leaned his elbows on the table and gave her his full attention. “I’ve known Tommy for as long as I can remember. His family and mine were very close when we were growing up. But then his mother died when we were nine years old. His father—“ his eyes dropped to the table—“was never the same, after. When we were twelve he moved them to Chicago, so the next summer and every one after that my parents let me take the train—this route, actually—out to stay with them for a month.” “That’s why you know Chicago so well.” He flashed her a quick grin, but he was clearly revisiting the past. “They lived downtown back then, and Malcolm was not a vigilant parent. We had the run of the city from an early age.” He huffed a laugh. “Probably way too early, actually.” His soup and her salad showed up, so he paused his story to let them both take a few bites. “We picked the same college here in the Midwest so we could be roommates. It made my dad furious that I didn’t go to his alma mater, but…” He shrugged. “Se la vie?” “Exactly.” “When’s the last time you saw Tommy?” “Oh, we try to get together once or twice a year. We meet up to ski or travel when we get the chance. Europe, Southeast Asia, wherever.” “That’s pretty good though, considering.” She grinned, suddenly feeling flirty. “Do you still take the train?” He smiled too. “No. It’s been many years since I rode the train.” His eyes lifted to scan the space around him before settling back on her. “It’s nice to be back.” Their entrees arrived and they both focused on making a start before they resumed their conversation. “What about you? Where did you go for college?” he asked. “Boston. But I grew up in Las Vegas.” “Mmm, I love Vegas.” “Yeah? You wouldn’t say that if you lived there.” “Probably not, but that’s true of a lot of places.” He took another bite of his sandwich before he went on. “So how did you end up in Starling?” Felicity had been munching happily on her burger, but now her brow crinkled into a frown. “A job opportunity. Or at least that was the idea. Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.” Oliver quirked a brow. “Hence the impending job interview?” “Sort of.” “I feel like I’m missing something.” Felicity sighed and set her burger down. “I thought I had my dream job lined up in Starling, so I moved across the country only to bomb my interview. Bomb isn’t the right word. I nuked it.” She paused to illustrate an explosion with her hands, complete with sound effects. Oliver winced in sympathy. “I’d already spent the money to move, so I had to stay and find something else. The job I got has been a soul-crushing experience, to say the least.” “That sucks. I’m sorry. But hopefully this interview on Friday will get you something better. Something you love.” Felicity turned her attention to the view out the window, but she wasn’t really seeing it. “Maybe,” she said finally. ————————————————————————————————– He hadn’t been exaggerating about her loving the observation car. It was crowded, but Oliver managed to find them two seats near the back and motioned for her to sit. The chairs were large and comfortable and swiveled so they could be turned toward the view out the windows. The windows themselves carried on up into the roof, which let in lots of sunlight and beautiful views of the clear blue sky. “Wow,” she managed finally. She’d brought her laptop but for several minutes only sat with it on her knees while she watched the scenery flying past. Oliver chuckled his agreement, leaning back in the neighboring chair and stretching out his legs to cross at the ankles. Felicity made herself look away to get some work done while Oliver drifted off to sleep, but she found herself glancing up to peek at him from time to time. Since they were headed the same direction as the sun it stayed almost directly overhead through the afternoon, making her deliciously warm and sleepy, and eventually she stopped fighting it and curled up in her seat, work temporarily abandoned, to nap. His head was tilted her direction when she woke; it was obvious he’d been watching her sleep. She blinked at him a couple of times, clearing the cobwebs from her brain, and the corners of his mouth lifted briefly. “I like train travel,” she decided quietly, making his smile come back. She sat up and stretched before collecting the laptop she’d abandoned at her feet. “Get much work done?” “Not much,” she admitted. “But I finished the research in Gotham, so now I just have to write it up. Shouldn’t take long.” “You get out to Gotham a lot?” He showed no sign of being eager to leave their spot so Felicity folded herself back into her chair and swiveled further to face him. “Hardly ever. I called in a favor with a friend at Wayne Enterprises and managed to get some time in their labs.” She made a motion with her hand. “On the down low.” Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “Sneaking around behind Bruce Wayne’s back? Impressive.” “It’s worse than that.” She grinned. “My friend IS Bruce Wayne.” His brow contracted then, and Felicity felt a thrilling little shiver run up her spine: Oliver was clearly a bit jealous. The frown only lasted a second and then he readjusted to sit up straight. “So what are you working on?” Felicity fought the urge to glance over her shoulder before speaking. It had been her secret for so long; even Bruce didn’t know exactly what she was working on. The best policy, she decided as she opened her mouth, was to be as vague as possible. “It’s a bio stimulant implant the size of a microchip with a basically limitless battery that will hopefully help people with traumatic spinal injuries walk again.” They both realized what she’d said at the same time. Oliver’s brows shot up into his hairline; hers did too, but for an entirely different reason. “Frack,” she whispered under her breath. Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay, Felicity, your secret’s safe with me.” He shook his head in wonder. “That sounds amazing. Where did you say you went to college?” “I didn’t. MIT.” His expression of wonder didn’t change. “Well I don’t know what company you interviewed with, but they were crazy not to hire you.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “You had to be in that interview. Ugh.” “What was so bad about it?” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Run me through it. Break it down.” “What, like sports?” He grinned wickedly and she sighed. “I can’t believe you’re gonna Monday Morning Quarterback me.” Oliver laughed. “Only if you want.” He glanced up behind her head at something. “You thirsty? We could get a drink before dinner.” Felicity decided a little alcohol might help dull the pain from the memory and nodded. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip her arm through his as they strolled to the club car. ————————————————————————————————– “So. The interview.” Felicity scooped up her wine glass and took a healthy swallow to fortify herself just as their appetizer appeared at the table. He raised an eyebrow. “You promised.” “I did no such thing!” Oliver indicated she should get first dibs on the mozzarella sticks before dipping his head to make her look at him. Felicity rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed a beleaguered sigh. “Okay.” She said it around a mouthful of cheese, dropping the remainder of her first stick back onto her plate and wiping her hands. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He grinned in that way he had, close-mouthed and dimples showing, and she almost choked on her bite; her eyes bugged as she swallowed. “First of all, the power went out in my hotel the morning of the interview, so—“ she waved a hand around her head—“my hair was still wet when I got there. And I’m pretty sure there was shampoo in it.” He chuckled and she pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t laugh.” “Sorry. Please continue.” “You may have noticed I tend to babble when I’m nervous.” “It has not escaped my attention.” She nodded agreement. “And one of the heads of the company, I’m talking a VIP, was conducting the interview.” Felicity took another bite. “This is a woman I’ve seen on the cover of tech magazines. Sitting across the table from me. In Louboutins so new I could smell them.” Again with the smirk. He was too much. “I have no idea what all I said to her during those fifteen minutes. I’m pretty sure I blacked out for some of it. To top it all off my tablet wouldn’t talk to their system, so my presentation wouldn’t run. I basically had to explain my bio stimulant idea in interpretive dance, which is not a good look for someone with multiple degrees in Computer Science.” Oliver groaned in sympathy but then leaned forward on his elbows. “All that sounds like purely bad luck. You weren’t incompetent, Felicity, just a—“ he waved a hand around before selecting his own mozzarella stick—“victim of circumstance. Did they give you any feedback afterward?” She nodded as she swallowed her bite. “They said it was my lack of experience, which I can’t fault. I was coming straight out of graduate school. The degree looks good, but it doesn’t make up for actual work in the trenches. I think if the interview itself had gone better I might’ve convinced them to overlook that and give me a chance.” “Well,” Oliver decided after a sip of beer, “it still doesn’t sound like you nuked it. And it seems like you have a second chance to show them what you can do.” His eyes flicked from the marinara dipping sauce up to her. “I assume that’s where you’re interviewing Friday?” Felicity squirmed under his gaze. “The interview is actually with my current employer. For a promotion.” Oliver studied her. “The soul-sucking one? Do you really want to do that?” “I’m not sure I have much of a choice.” She sighed and shook her head quickly, wanting to change the subject so she didn’t have to think about it. “I’ve never asked what you do for a living. What had you out in Gotham just before a hurricane?” Oliver took his time finishing his bite; stalling, she thought. “I work for my family’s company. I was out on the coast entertaining clients.” “Entertaining.” “Yes. You know, wine, women, and song. Stuff like that.” Felicity tried to keep a serious face but failed miserably. “Is that your only job? Entertaining?” She pulled her lips in to keep from laughing, but he caught her anyway and mock glared. “I have other roles. Ribbon cutting, check presentation. This particular one just happens to play into some of my strengths from college.” “I see. Did you major in Wine, Women, and Song?” The stern look he was giving her was ruined by the twinkle in his eye. He took a sip of beer and shrugged. “More or less.” Felicity focused on dunking her last stick in sauce. “Well, there are worse jobs, I suppose.” “Very true.” He paused. “But the older I get the more I wish they’d give me a chance to be more than a glorified party host.” They chewed in silence for a moment, sucked down into temporary melancholy over the current state of their careers. Oliver swallowed and caught her eye. “Another drink?” “God yes.” ————————————————————————————————– Amtrak, as it turned out, made a pretty good steak. It wasn’t exactly a candlelit dinner in an intimate setting, but there were linen tablecloths and real napkins. Also, the baked potatoes were huge. “I know I’ve said this five times already, but yum.” Felicity wiped her mouth and sighed in contentment. “Better than an airplane, then?” There was a gleam in his eye as he said it. “Better than an airplane.” Felicity smiled at him. This felt good. It felt right, crazy as it sounded, sharing a meal with this man she’d known less than 48 hours as they rolled across the country chasing the sunset. Of course, after two and a half glasses of wine everything felt right. She swayed gently in her seat but told herself it was the train and not the alcohol. Trains were sway-ee. “I don’t think that’s a word.” “What?” Oliver smiled at her, a kind of indulgent look that transformed his face and told her she was adorable, even when she couldn’t control her brain-to-mouth conduit. It crinkled the skin around his eyes and exposed his utterly fantastic cheekbones. He was— “You’ll give me a complex if you’re not careful,” he said softly, looking down and brushing a crumb from the tablecloth. “Wha—what?” He chuckled. “You’re thinking out loud again. It might be time to call it a night.” “Really?” Felicity pouted. “Wait til you sleep on a train. It’s fantastic. Very soothing.” “Are you going to sleep with me?” Oliver coughed. “Sorry, what?” Felicity felt her face turn red. Her filter—or whatever passed for it in her brain—was gone. Washed away in a sea of red wine. The Red Wine Sea. She giggled self-consciously. “I didn’t mean SLEEP with you. I meant sleep with you. Sleep, sleep. Not…the other thing.” He was already scooting out of the booth and reaching for her hand, but he was smiling. “I know what you meant, Felicity. You’re safe with me.” She was on her feet suddenly, and close to him. So close she had to tip her head back to look at him. He was tall. And looking deep into her eyes. “You know that, right?” Felicity swallowed. “Know what?” She’d lost the thread of this conversation, but she didn’t really care. Everything was fuzzy and nice and she felt like giggling again. Oliver turned away with her hand in his but she pulled against him, leaning back on her heels and making him stop and turn to look over his shoulder. “I want to do something first.” ————————————————————————————————– The sunset was just a faint pink line separating the sky from the earth by the time they stepped into the observation car. The lights were dimmed, and the car was practically empty. Above them, unencumbered out here by light pollution, the night sky had exploded with stars; Felicity gasped when she saw it. Her hand slipped down from his arm and their fingers entwined as they took in the view. “It’s…” “Remarkable,” he finished, but when she glanced over, Oliver was looking at her, not the stars. ————————————————————————————————– Felicity awoke slowly, feeling fuzzy and parched and a little achy. The sunlight peeking around the edges of the window shade let her know it was probably time to be up, but the constant movement of the train was so comforting, she was tempted to let it lull her back to sleep. Wait. Train? Her eyes popped back open and she stared at the ceiling as she tried to puzzle out why the hell she was on a train. Train. Oliver. Oliver! She peeked her head slowly over the side of the bed, but the room appeared to be empty. His bed had been slept in, at least. Felicity sighed and ran her fingers through her hair and then flung the covers off and set about getting out—down? She had no memory of getting UP—from bed. She moved slowly down the ladder; the last thing she needed on this trip was a visit to the ER. How that would even be accomplished from a moving train she had no idea. Did the ambulance have to match speed, racing alongside as they passed her across on a stretcher? That didn’t seem right. She stopped thinking about it because thinking made her head hurt. A cursory inspection told her she was unharmed and dressed in her pjs. Had she dressed herself or… Too much. Too much to think about. Felicity squeezed into the ridiculously tiny bathroom—it was like camping at 60 miles per hour—to take care of things and put her hair in a haphazard ponytail. Her suitcase was basically unreachable on its high shelf in her current condition, but Oliver’s denim jacket was laying over the arm of the chair, waiting to be worn. Calling out to her. Felicity slipped her arms into the giant sleeves and wiggled her feet into her shoes. She found him in the observation car, in the same seat he’d occupied the day before. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, cradling a cup of coffee in both hands. Oliver looked up as she approached and smiled softly; he looked exhausted. She opened her mouth to say hi but her eyes raised to the view out the window first and all thoughts vanished: sunrise over the northern plains had turned the world into a canvas of light and texture that, even hungover, she wanted to drink in. “Oh…” “Pretty cool, huh?” “It’s…” “I know.” The tone of his voice finally brought her around. Felicity dropped her gaze to his face and tried to process the way he was looking at her. Oliver waved to the empty chair next to him and she tucked herself up into it. When his eyes skimmed over the jacket she blushed. “Couldn’t get my suitcase down,” she explained. “It’s okay. Looks good on you.” She was swimming in it, so probably not, but it was sweet of him to say. He offered his coffee to her without comment, and any other day she would be sorely tempted, but her stomach flipped and she blanched and waved him off. Also, it appeared to be black; how someone could drink coffee with no cream or sugar or seasonal flavoring was beyond her. His mouth quirked into a brief smile. “A little rough this morning?” Felicity attempted a nod and immediately regretted it. “Mmhmm,” she offered instead. If she didn’t move her head, she could keep looking at the beautiful scenery without wanting to die. “What…exactly…happened last night? After the observation car?” Oliver took a sip of coffee. “I was wondering when you lost the thread.” His fingers rotated the paper cup as he spoke. “After the observation car you talked me into going back to the club car where you had one more drink and then sang karaoke for an hour.” Felicity cringed. “I didn’t know they even had karaoke on trains.” “They don’t.” Her eyes tracked slowly to him; he was expressionless except for an amused twinkle in his eye. “Oh.” “Yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I am…SO sorry.” Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay. It was cute. The bartender was pretty good at harmonizing. You made a good team.” “Oh. God.” “Hey. Look at me.” She cracked open the eye closest to him. “It’s okay, Felicity. I didn’t mind taking care of you.” “Really?” “Really.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Ready to go get your suitcase down?” She unfolded from the seat and let him stabilize her as they moved through the car. “I still have questions.” “Shoot.” “How did I get into my pjs?” “You did that.” “And into bed?” “Well, I did that. You gave it a good try first, though.” “Oh God, Oliver.” He chuckled as he held the door for her. “You were adorable. Even the conductor thought so.” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity’s stomach rallied in time for lunch and then she climbed—unassisted—back into her bunk and fired up her laptop. She finished her presentation while Oliver napped below her; she would pause every few minutes to listen for his soft snores, and once she leaned out over the edge to look at him. He’d confessed over their meal that he’d feared she’d fall out of bed in the middle of the night and break her neck, so he’d hardly slept. He claimed she’d vehemently opposed the idea of sleeping on the bottom bunk when he suggested it, which had eventually brought the conductor down to check on all the commotion. She blushed fiercely every time she thought about it. Oliver stirred and sat up just as she saved her finished presentation and shut down her computer. “C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s take a walk.” They grabbed a soda in the club car and wandered back to the observation car. The view out the windows had changed to oil fields and miles and miles of freight cars. Felicity jumped in surprise the first time a train passed them going the other direction at sixty miles an hour and they both laughed. Dinner was quiet; neither of them drank. They found little reason for small talk, preferring to say everything necessary with just looks and smiles. Every time Felicity thought of their arrival in Starling City the following morning she got an achy feeling in her chest, like the end of something precious was approaching. They sat up late in the club car and didn’t return to their compartment until almost midnight. Oliver waited in the hallway to give her privacy so she could get ready and tucked into her bunk before going to bed himself. They lay in the dark for several minutes before Felicity spoke up. “Oliver?” “Yeah?” “I have a confession.” “Okay.” “The presentation isn’t for my interview Friday. I don’t work at some fancy company. I work at a Tech Village. It was the only job I could find. I’m interviewing for a promotion to Assistant Manager.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “The research on the implant is, well…I spent my entire savings on the plane ticket to Gotham just to prove to myself that my idea isn’t crazy. That I’m not actually a failure. I…I just thought you should know.” “Felicity, I think your idea is brilliant. And I think you should approach that first company and ask for another chance to prove yourself. You owe it to yourself to find out if things could be different.” She nodded into the dark but didn’t dare try to answer; a tear crept down her cheek. Below her Oliver sighed. “I have a confession too.” “‘Kay.” She sniffed discreetly. “I didn’t lose my driver’s license in Gotham. Not the way you think, anyway. The night before we met, I was entertaining clients, like I said, but things got out of hand and I ended up getting arrested. I spent several hours in the city jail and had my license revoked. As soon as we get to Starling, I have to come clean to my family and go to court and probably do community service.” He sighed into the dark and she turned over, tempted to climb down the ladder and give him a hug. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you.” “Thank you,” she whispered, though it didn’t seem adequate for the way she felt. “You’re the one who deserves the thanks. I went to that airport having no idea how I would get home. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be in Gotham somewhere, riding out a hurricane.” “Well I couldn’t have escaped without your credit card and your crash course in manual transmissions. No pun intended.” She heard him huff a laugh. “So really I should be thanking you.” “I guess we made a pretty good team.” She smiled into the dark. “Yeah, I guess so.” “Good night, Felicity.” “Night.” Far off in the distance, the mournful shriek of the train whistle announced their arrival at another crossing. ————————————————————————————————– Oliver Queen sat at his desk and stared out the window at the building across the street. The woman who had the office opposite him kept a variety of plants in the window and was giving them their daily drink of water. “Oliver? Your mother would like to see you.” “Okay. Thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his suit jacket. It was only four floors; he took the stairs. It had been exactly one week since he had parted from Felicity at the Starling City train station with a handshake. A handshake, for God’s sake, when what he’d really wanted to do was kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her for days by that point, but at the last second he was afraid of ruining the bond they’d begun to form the second she demanded he teach her how to drive a stick. The memory made him shake his head as he flipped a wave to his mother’s EA and pushed through the glass door into her office. “Oliver, I want you to sit in on the interview I have in a few minutes.” “Okay. Any particular reason?” Moira Queen rolled her eyes without actually changing expression. It was one of her superpowers. “You’ve asked for more responsibility, so I’m giving it to you. I want your input on this potential new hire.” She passed him on her way out the door he was holding open. “Research and Development doesn’t really have an opening at the moment, but this person comes with a rather special referral letter.” “From who?” She glanced back at her son with a knowing smile. “Bruce Wayne.” Oliver groaned. The head of HR and a representative from R&D were already seated at the conference table when they took their seats. Oliver smoothed his tie, only half listening as his mother exchanged pleasantries. “Here we go again, eh?” the HR VP was saying. Moira pretended to fix her perfect hairdo. “Well it can’t be any worse than last time. I never did figure out what she was trying to say about my shoes. I assume it was an attempt at a compliment, though who could tell?” They both chuckled. “If what you’ve said about this idea of hers is legitimate,” the R&D rep put in, “I don’t care how awkward she is. A bio stimulant implant to reverse paralysis? That could be a game changer.” Oliver became very focused on the conversation going on around him. He sat forward and loosened his tie, suddenly warm. “But she has no experience,” his mother was saying. “Can we be sure the work is even hers?” “Mom…” “Exactly my point. Her resume says she currently works at…Tech Village.” “Mom, I…” Moira gestured through the glass at her EA, the signal to send in their victim. Oliver stood up. “Mom, I need to speak to you. Now.” She frowned at him. “Oliver, what—“ “Outside. Please.” She sighed elegantly and rose to follow him out into the hall opposite the one occupied by the EA. Damn Queen Consolidated’s glass offices; Oliver grabbed his mother’s elbow and gently steered her further away from the fishbowl of a conference room. “What is it, Oliver? I have a lot of appointments today—“ “Mom, the person you’re about to interview. I know it didn’t go well the last time, but I’m telling you, she’s the real deal. Felicity’s brilliant, and she learns so fast it’ll make your head spin. She has amazing ideas, and she’s funny, and kind, and you have to give her a second chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.” Moira searched her son’s face, confused. “Oliver, you know this young woman?” “Yes. She deserves this chance. Please.” She studied him a moment longer. “I’ll…I’ll keep your recommendation in mind. But right now we’re keeping her waiting.” He squeezed her elbow when she tried to turn away. “Mom, I—I can’t be in the interview.” She raised an eyebrow and waited. “It would be a conflict of interest.” “Oh, Oliver.” She sighed and gave him the look she usually reserved for Robert Queen. “No, it’s not like that. She’s a friend. I traveled cross country with her last week to get away from that hurricane. She learned to drive a stick in under ten minutes in an airport parking lot and then drove us twelve hours to Tommy’s, and…” He sighed. “I can’t.” Moira extracted her arm gently from his grip and smoothed a hand over his sleeve. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll let you know how it goes.” “Thanks. And mom?” She turned to look over her shoulder and Oliver gave her a brief grin. “Be nice.” ————————————————————————————————– ONE YEAR LATER “Here ya go. I got you the big bottle, just in case.” “Ungh. Thanks.” Felicity fiddled with the cap ineffectually until he grabbed it back and opened it for her. Oliver watched her take a swig before popping a pill. She chased it with more water and wiped her mouth. She was sweating; actual beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. He laid the back of his hand there to check for fever. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. This is fine. I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine, Felicity. Is this—“ “Normal?” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth again. “Unfortunately, yes.” A flight attendant passed them with an eye out for seatbelt violators and Felicity handed him back the water bottle so she could check hers for the fifteenth time. “How come you never told me you were afraid to fly?” Oliver prodded gently, still stunned by what he’d witnessed over the previous twenty minutes. “Six months ago, when I insisted we drive seventeen hours to Las Vegas to visit my mother, I thought that would be a clue.” “I figured you just wanted a road trip.” She shook her head quickly and moaned as the plane shifted back from the gate. “Nope.” She closed the shade over her window quickly. “You’re sure there isn’t a train we could take this time?” That surprised a laugh out of him. “There is, in fact, no train that will get us all the way to Hawaii, Felicity.” Oliver clicked his tongue in sympathy and took her hand. “I wish you’d said something, honey. We could’ve picked somewhere closer for a honeymoon.” “No way. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. This will be fun. As soon as the pills kick in.” Oliver was still trying to process. “The day we met. At the airport. You…you’d flown out from Starling and were trying to get back…” Felicity smiled for the first time in hours, though it was strained. “The pills work, I’m telling you.” “And until then?” “Until then…oh God.” The plane began accelerating toward take off. “Felicity, look at me.” He waited until she opened her eyes. “It’s going to be fine. I love you.” And then he leaned toward her and captured her lips with his own. She melted against him as the world dropped away.

#arrow #olicity #olicity secret santa #goodbye Olicity #submission

[othercaptainamericasuggestion]

Tag Game

//was tagged by @nomadsuggestions. Most of the questions are just copied, but a few of them I changed because the others didn’t seem relevant or I didn’t want to answer them. 

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you would like to know better!

Name: Steven Grant Rogers

//Megan

Nicknames: Stevie, Steeb, any stupid nickname Bucky gave me 

// Meg, Meegan, MB, Meggie, Teeb, the Godspeed Teeb (a reference from the Martian plus Teeb)

Gender: Cis Male (because mod knows nothing about trans and therefore doesn’t know how to play one... as if I know how to play a man)

//Cis Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

//Bisexual, but questioning

Zodiac: Cancer

//Leo

Birthday: July 4th, 1918

//July 24th

Age: Nearly 100

//Nearly 17

Height: 6′2

//5′3 (I’m smol)

Hair Color: Blonde/Brown

//Brown with golden streaks because ya girl’s got some natural highlights

Eye Color: Blue with hints of green

//Green (but green eyes are the only eye color that can change colors, so mine change different shades and also change to blue a lot)

Favorite Bands/Solo Artists: Sam got me hooked on Martin Gaye. I also like a lot of 1940′s artists (Cliff Edwards, Jimmie Davis, Judy Garland, Hank Williams, Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday)

//Fall Out Boy, Troye Sivan, EDEN, Ed Sheeran, Imagine Dragons, Bastille, Conor Maynard, Sleeping At Last, The Cab

Song Stuck In My Head: Bucky showed me a song called Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men, and it’s been stuck in my head

//Youngblood by 5SOS (even though I really don’t care for 5SOS due to some bad memories associated with them)

Last Movie I Saw: The Little Mermaid and Moana at movie night with Buck, Nat, and the nieces.

//Fallen Kingdom (I don’t care for the Jurassic series, my brother and dad do, but man, that movie made me love the series. Also my dad won’t stop making fun of me because I cried over a Brontosaurus.)

Last Thing I Googled: “Most Dangerous Drug”... you know why

//”Greenhouse Academy Season 3″ I was wondering if it was renewed yet/if there was a release date.. There was nothing to be found

Other Blogs: // @bigboypatriot, @bernardsuggestion, @tjhammondsuggestion

Do you get asks: Yes, but mostly from the murder nieces. 

//Mostly Courtney, but yes. I love them more when they’re from someone else though because the “murder nieces” don’t ask any real questions/say anything worthwhile. They just mention drug night or “naughty uncle Steve.” I mean, I love those too, but actual questions or messages mean more to me.

Following: I follow a lot of friends or people I’ve had association with.

//aka I follow suggestion blogs I’ve interacted with or want to interact with

Average Amount of Sleep: Each night is different depending on situations (like being kept up until four or having nightmares), but on a good night, I get about 8-10 hours. 

//I sleep heavy and when I don’t have to wake up early, I can easily sleep 10-12 hours. 

What I Am Wearing: T-Shirt and Sweatpants

//T-Shirt, leggings, nike running shoes

Dream Job: If I were to have another job, it would probably still be pretty unconventional. Animator or illustrator, maybe?

//I want to be a screenwriter, but also if that doesn’t work out, I would want to be a child psychiatrist.

Nationality: American with Irish-born parents

//American (with backgrounds of Irish and British)

Favorite Book: The Great Gatsby or The Grapes of Wrath

//The Great Gatsby is one of my favorites, but I have had a deep love for a series called the Wolves of Mercy Falls for a long time. 

Favorite Hobby: Drawing

//Writing

Favorite Shows: There is a lot I need to catch up on, but Parks and Rec is one that was highly recommended to me and turned out to be one of my favorites. Friends is a good one too. And one that is not so popular, Sun Records. Sadly, it got cancelled after the first season. 

//Riverdale is my number one favorite, but I also love HTGAWM, Sherlock, Stranger Things, MINDHUNTER, Scandal, Parks and Rec, The Office, Sun Records (rip), Eyewitness (rip), Conviction (rip), Agent Carter (rip), all the Arrowverse shows. 

Most Annoying Question You Are Asked: What was it like getting out of the ice? 

//How do you spell your name? or more annoyingly, them not asking and spelling it wrong. 

Favorite Place: Will always be Brooklyn

//Washington DC just has a place in my heart ever since my trip a couple months ago. 

Dream Trip: I would love to take a trip anywhere relaxing. Buck and I are currently taking a trip to Northern California. 

//London. I have wanted to go to London for years.

Play an Instrument: I tried to play piano when I was younger, but couldn’t get the hang of it. 

//Used to be able to play trumpet, took piano lessons when I was younger but forget everything

Favorite Food: It’s a boring answer but pizza. 

//I love pasta. Pretty much any kind. I just love it. 

Favorite Celebrity: Sebastian Stan because have you seen him? 

//Chris Evans

Favorite Movie: 12 strong is a pretty good one off the top of my head. 

//Any the Marvel movies, but besides that, I love the Great Gatsby (the one with Leo not Robert Redford) and Big Hero 6 (technically a Marvel movie, but whatever)

Lucky Number: 4? Maybe?

//24, I guess.

Things You Watch On Youtube: I like Buzzfeed Unsolved

//Buzzfeed Unsolved, Dan and Phil (FAVES), Good Mythical Morning (and a lot of others, but those are my currents/all time favorites)

I tag @whitewolfsuggestion @ask-natasha-anything @howardstarksuggestion @buckysuggestion @star-lord-suggestions @murderchildsuggestions @steverogersuggestions @buckybarnessuggestion @liliastan @killmonger-suggestions @skinnystevesuggestion @stevesuggestion @quake-daisy-suggestions @edwin-jarvis-suggestion @peterparkersuggestion @agentcartersuggestion @harleykeenersuggestions @korgsuggests @butterfingers-suggestion @dum-e-suggestion

Sorry if you were already tagged! 

#tag game

[funnythingshere0-blog]

Weird Queen prank outside hospital where Kate just delivered baby boy

New Post has been published on http://funnythingshere.xyz/weird-queen-prank-outside-hospital-where-kate-just-delivered-baby-boy/

Weird Queen prank outside hospital where Kate just delivered baby boy

THE Queen appeared in a black cab outside St Mary’s Hospital in London, where Kate Middleton has just given birth to her third child.

Only it wasn’t really Her Majesty, but a lifelike waxwork mannequin dressed in a pink jacket and pearls.

The crowd of royal fans waiting outside the Paddington hospital found the bizarre prank “very funny”, according to onlookers. The black cab attracted instant attention with many rushing up to the door for a look inside, before having to be told “it’s wax.”

It wasn’t immediately clear who had planned the joke, as media and well-wishers waited for a sighting of Kate and the baby boy after Prince William left the Lindo wing promising to be “back in a minute”.

A scarily good waxwork driving past the Lindo Wing #royalbabywatch pic.twitter.com/qrZIDOB4WK

— Ben Jary (@BenJary) April 23, 2018

The first royal appearance for the new #RoyalBaby … of sorts. ‘The Queen’ in a London black cab. #BabyCambridge pic.twitter.com/xvNA7Nusie

— James Brookes (@jamesbrookes_) April 23, 2018

😂😂😂😂😂 LOL at the fake mannequin of the Queen driving by in a black cab outside the Lindo Wing #royalbaby #lindowing pic.twitter.com/x2wJ4MykZj

— The Blonde Tonic (@AmmeGrace) April 23, 2018

The Duke of Cambridge left the hospital around 4pm, London time, before returning with Prince George, 4, and Princess Charlotte, 2, in accordance with tradition.

Outside the Lindo wing, royal superfans who had been camped out for two weeks mixed with curious tourists and hospital staff trying to make their way through the madness.

John Loughrey, who has also attended the engagement announcement of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle in November, told news.com.au he was “going to celebrate with fish and chips.”

Maria Scott of Newcastle, had been there for more than two weeks and said: “We’re very proud of our monarchy.”

“It’s really important to show support because they need to know how much they are loved by the people,” she said.

The “town crier” said the “name will be Philip, I promise you,” while others speculated on Albert or Arthur.

Town crier predicts #Philip for #Royalbabyname pic.twitter.com/AaF78fZp3h

— Victoria Craw (@victoria_craw) April 23, 2018

Friends Onkar and Sukhdev Singh celebrate historic #royalbaby and what it means for #PrincessCharlotte @newscomauHQ pic.twitter.com/qVUsoVxD2R

— Victoria Craw (@victoria_craw) April 23, 2018

Ladbrokes spokesman Alex Apati said “customers think they’re onto something with Arthur” which has become a punters favourite recently. The agency also favours traditional royal names like Philip, Frederick, and James.

“History and tradition kind of says that the names are very straight down the line … nothing too out there.

“A gender neutral name? Alex maybe?” he said.

Friends Onkar and Sukhdev Singh said they were “really excited” hearing the news and jumped straight on a train from West London to wait outside the hospital in the hope of catching a glimpse of the young Prince and Princess.

“It’s such an amazing day in history in that it’s the first time a woman has been ahead of a man in succession to the throne,” Onkar said in reference to the fact Charlotte will not be bumped down the line because she is female.

“So that makes a woman fourth in line for the throne after today … we can all celebrate that as British people.”

Jade, from Bournemouth said “when you actually wake up to the news that she’s gone into labour, it’s just so exciting. The royal family has got so much going on this year as well.”

Jade drive up from Bournemouth to see #royalbaby 3 and will be outside #Lindowing ‘for the duration’ @newscomauHQ pic.twitter.com/xiEPXfiKWA

— Victoria Craw (@victoria_craw) April 23, 2018

Hot tips on the new #royalbabyname from Babar and Grace outside the Lindo wing @newscomauHQ pic.twitter.com/yygO6JNYQG

— Victoria Craw (@victoria_craw) April 23, 2018

Friends Barbar and Grace said the birth was “absolutely fantastic” while toasting the baby with a glass of wine.

“As long as it’s healthy and they’re happy then it’s fantastic news,” she said, tipping Albert or Charles for a name.

Vanessa Crossley and Joanne McLoughlin, from Lancashire, told news.com.au how they saw news of the royal arrival while going for a morning run so came back down to watch.

“It’s really exciting … Nice they’ve got a growing family,” said Joanne, who is picking “traditional English names” for the baby.

“Perfect. It sounds like it’s all gone smoothly,” Vanessa said.

Royalist Terry Hutt, dressed in a suit with the Union Jack flag on it, said: “All I want to see is a healthy baby.” The 82-year-old former soldier slept for a fortnight on the pavement outside the hospital in wait.

The Duchess of Cambridge delivered the baby at 11.01am local time (10.01pm AEST), around three hours after she arrived at the hospital by car.

While some are perplexed by the royal fever sweeping the world, others said the world needed some happy news, as the story began trending on Twitter.

Comedian David Walliams joked that Prince Harry “just got demoted again”, with the newborn now fifth in line to the throne, bumping his uncle to sixth place.

However, for the first time in history, the baby did not usurp his older sister merely because he was male.

It’s a boy 💙👶🏻👑 Such wonderful news . . . The kind of news I like to read #royalbaby pic.twitter.com/1NKySjQ6Qp

— Luke Williams (@OfficialLuke) April 23, 2018

Prince Harry just got demoted again. #royalbaby

— David Walliams (@davidwalliams) April 23, 2018

I think it’s safe to say that the Duchess of Cambridge, Kate Middleton and Prince William won’t be naming their third child “Prince Donald Trump of Cambridge”. Just saying…. #royalbabywatch

— Ed Krassenstein 💎 (@EdKrassen) April 23, 2018

My mom gets mad at me if I text her while I’m in class but she has no problem texting me about #royalbabywatch while I’m in class?

— Serena Morales (@SerenaKMorales) April 23, 2018

When you find out you’ve a new nephew but you’ve been moved down the line for the throne…#RoyalBaby pic.twitter.com/89UlROvMy0

— Rowan Meegan (@RowanMeegan) April 23, 2018

A Facebook page just asked people what the #RoyalBaby‘s name should be and one of the top comments is “Mohammed”… I love the Internet so much 😍

— Femi (@Femi_Sorry) April 23, 2018

Kensington Palace announced the news both online via a noticeboard outside Buckingham Palace, which will stay there for 24 hours.

“Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge was safely delivered of a son at 1101hrs. The baby weighs 8 lbs 7oz [3.8kg],” the palace said.

“The Duke of Cambridge was present for the birth. The Queen, The Duke of Edinburgh, The Prince of Wales, The Duchess of Cornwall, Prince Harry and members of both families have been informed and are delighted with the news.

“Her Royal Highness and her child are both doing well.”

Only when you have a #royalbaby are you expected to stand outside in heels for a #photoshoot 😂 #royalbaby3 #MondayMotivation #royalbabywatch #TheCrown

— Jason Ring (@jasonjring) April 23, 2018

.ICYMI the #royalbaby is yet another reptilian .Sure maybe it’s a boy #reptile .BUT Barbara Bush Has been repurposed to fufill prophecies .set before our times on this earth #royalbabywatch

— Johnny Hollywood (@Ivan_Internable) April 23, 2018

Walked past @lindowing on way to an interview, the crowd was impressive, and to think it’s the THIRD one… #RoyalBabyWatch pic.twitter.com/oK5B2jFmHz

— Will Cole (@_WilliamCole) April 23, 2018

Line of Succession

The Queen | Prince Charles | Prince William | Prince George | Princess Charlotte | #royalbaby | Prince Harry | Simon Cowell | Hugh Grant | Po of the Teletubbies | Rowan Atkinson | Helen Mirren | A cup of tea | Kanye West

— St Peter (@stpeteyontweety) April 23, 2018

Why are Americans obsessed with the British royal family? It’s quite odd. #royalbaby

— Paul Joseph Watson (@PrisonPlanet) April 23, 2018

There is no truth to the rumour that the baby will be presented on the balcony, whilst playing the Circle of Life. Sorry. #royalbaby

— Prince Charles (@Charles_HRH) April 23, 2018

Speculation is growing over a possible name, with Arthur, Albert, Philip and Frederick among the favourites. Royal names usually have a strong connection with tradition, but despite being born on St George’s Day, the baby is unlikely to be called George, since his eldest brother has taken the name.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Metamorphosis (2017 OSS gift for @bandanab310--Ariel)

(General audiences, no warnings apply)

Happy Holidays, Ariel @bandanab310 ! I hope you enjoy!

Meegan @it-was-a-red-heeler

April, 2019

 Felicity let herself into their apartment with a sigh; this was not exactly a peaceful place to be at the moment. Oliver’s re-election campaign yard signs leaned in great stacks against every available wall. A couple of card tables with chairs were shoved in corners for volunteers to use in the evenings. Buttons, leaflets, and unopened boxes of pencils sporting “Re-elect Mayor Queen” along their sides were piled up everywhere. Why virtual elections weren’t a thing yet, she would never know. 

She kicked off her shoes into the mess—because who would notice?—and headed straight for the fridge. She’d had a weird metallic taste in her mouth all day, and she had missed lunch. 

Felicity stood staring into its stainless steel depths for several seconds before deciding on the orange juice, yanking it out of its spot in the door. She practically tossed it over her shoulder across the room; the carton was empty.

“William!” She used her loud voice, which didn’t happen often, but that OJ had really looked good. A non-communicative grunt was the only reply from the direction of his room.

“Could you come in here please?” Felicity was getting lightheaded from her skipped meal, which only added to her annoyance about the juice. She snagged a cheese stick from the fridge before closing the door, but couldn’t open the package because she suddenly had to lean one hand against the counter to fight a wave of dizziness. 

“William…” she started to repeat before she went down on her knees in a half faint.

“Felicity?!” William’s voice cracked in the way it sometimes did nowadays, and he hovered over her awkwardly. He was in a phase where he still wanted to be affectionate with his step mother, but at the same time avoided touching her like the plague. It was, in equal measures, endearing and embarrassing.

“Call your Dad,” she said, breathlessly, dropping her forehead to her lap. Before William could stride away for his phone she remembered the cheese stick in her fist and waved it over her head at him. “Can you open this first, please?”

He snatched it up and ripped it open, then laid it back into her shaking hand before galloping to his bedroom. 

She couldn’t make out the actual phone conversation, but William’s voice was higher pitched than usual; she’d scared him, poor thing, and probably overreacted herself. In less than a minute he was back in the room with her.

“Dad said I should get you a drink of water,” he told her, already pulling a cup down from the cupboard. Now that he had a physical direction to follow he seemed to be more calm. Oliver, of course, would’ve been very steady and reassuring on the phone, even if he was currently freaking out on the inside. “He’s on his way,” William added.

“Can you get me the crackers,” she asked faintly, having nibbled her way through most of the cheese.

“I think I ate them all,” he replied. 

Felicity blew out a slow breath before sipping water from the cup.

“There was a bagel left this morning,” she said then, not looking up. She missed William’s cringe of shame.

“I ate that while I was looking for the crackers.”

He sprang to the pantry and began rummaging for something she might like. 

“I found some pretzels!”

“That’ll work,” she confirmed, sitting up and taking a bigger drink of water. 

William handed the bag to her and then wiped his hands on his jeans. He looked spooked, like he didn’t know if he should stay or go.

Felicity crunched through a couple of pretzels, savoring the salty flavor on her tongue.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to stay with me. I’m feeling better.” She gave him a faint smile as she reached into the bag again. He hesitated, torn about what to do. Finally he came to a decision and dropped to the floor next to her, stretching his legs straight out in front of him, the pretzel bag between them. 

“You’re all legs anymore,” she observed weakly, mirroring his pose and waggling her feet slightly as she compared the length of his legs to hers. She took another handful of pretzels and nudged the bag toward him. He helped himself, but sparingly.

They were still sitting side by side, talking about his day at school, when Oliver came through the door, a small brown paper bag in his hand. William levered himself up off the floor to make room as Oliver came into the kitchen and crouched in front of his wife.

“Hey,” he said softly, a trace of a smile mixed with some concern on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I forgot to eat lunch today, that’s all, and it caught up to me. Sorry to worry you.” She laid a hand on his arm and his smile grew. 

“What did you bring me,” she continued, eyeing the bag. Oliver unfolded the top and reached in. He pulled out a pint of mint chip.

“You thought I needed ice cream?”

“The ice cream is to soften the blow of the other thing I brought you,” he said quietly, a twinkle in his eye. He pushed the bag toward her and she shot him a look before peeking inside.

There were several beats of silence while she sat staring into the bag. William, leaning against the fridge, shifted his weight closer out of curiosity, but Oliver’s gaze never left his wife’s face.

Her eyes finally lifted to his, her lips pursed and her expression hovering between thoughtfulness and mild shock.

“Oliver, it’s a pregnancy test.”

“Yep.” He nodded slowly.

They had recently agreed that they weren’t trying to get pregnant, but they weren’t trying not to, either. 

Felicity’s eyes flicked to William and back, then she leaned closer to Oliver.

“We just went off birth control last month,” she hissed, and Oliver grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. She smacked his arm.

“Don’t look so smug, Mr Queen.”

That was apparently the last straw for William; Felicity thought she heard him groan “Oh my God” under his breath as he took off for his room. Oliver’s grin got bigger. 

He stuck out a hand and she took it so he could pull her to her feet as he stood.

“Go take it. I’ll start dinner.”

A couple of hours later, test confirmed and celebratory dinner over, Felicity stuck her head into William’s room.

“Thanks for taking care of me earlier,” she said, and he looked up from his homework to shrug at her, his way of saying don’t mention it. “I hope we didn’t gross you out too much with all the baby-making talk,” she continued before she could help herself.

“Felicity, honey,” Oliver called sweetly from the living room, “don’t make it worse.”

“Right. Sorry! I’ll leave you to it. But I hope you’re excited about it. The baby, I mean. Because I am. Okay. Bye.” She gave a funny wave and a little curtsy as she backed away from his doorway. She almost missed his reply, it was so soft.

“I’m excited too.”

June, 2019

Felicity cupped a handful of water from under the running faucet and slurped it up before swishing and spitting.

“Gah. I’m getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.”

“So stay home today. Rest up.”

She shook her head quickly, then groaned as she made herself dizzy and her stomach flipped again.

“Can’t. William’s jeans look like Capri pants. He can’t go one more day in them.”

“Maybe I could do it,” Oliver offered. Felicity wiped her mouth and slid past him into the bedroom to find her shoes.

“Negative. That boy has looong legs, but the circumference of a fence post. It’s nearly impossible to find his size. It takes a lot of patience and sharp eyesight.” She adjusted her glasses with no irony whatsoever.

“I’m an archer, remember? I have good eyesight.”

“I know you do. It’s your patience I’m worried about.”

Oliver sighed in exasperation.

“Can’t you order them online?”

“Again, he needs them tomorrow. Besides, he’s totally picky about the style and the weight of the denim.  I don’t trust what I can’t hold in my hand.” She reached out to rub his arm as she moved past him. “It’s fine, Oliver. A little exercise and fresh air are good for me, right?”

She paused at the front door, purse in her hands.

“One of these days he’s going to be full grown, and I won’t have an excuse to go shopping all the time.” She winked at him and Oliver couldn’t help smiling.

“You do love shopping.”

August,  2019

 “Oh my GOD I hate shopping so much.”

Felicity plunked her forehead onto the bar counter dramatically, her ponytail flopping back and forth as she shook her head. Oliver, watching her from his spot at the kitchen sink, chuckled but didn’t answer. 

William poked his head out from his bedroom with a look of pure remorse on his face.

“I’m sorry, Felicity. I can’t seem to stop growing.”

“Oh!” Her head popped up off the counter, and she slid down from the barstool to come to William’s side, her eyes wide with concern. “I didn’t mean you, buddy. I meant me!” She rubbed a hand over her baby bump. “Suddenly nothing fits anymore.”

Felicity stood in thought for a second, her eyes on her belly. “Iris was able to go right up until she delivered wearing a pair of Barry’s jeans halfway unzipped,” she finished, bemused. 

“I have jeans…” Oliver began, but her huff of exasperation cut him off.

“Barry and Iris are practically the SAME SIZE. This”—she gestured wildly between them—“would not work.”

“Well I think you’re gorgeous, whatever you’re wearing,” Oliver said without hesitation, his eyes alight with love as he stared at her middle.

“Hey. My eyes are up here, big guy,” she quipped, but there was a smile on her face. 

William’s eyes suddenly went wide, and he disappeared back into his room for a second. He reappeared with a brochure in his hand.

“I almost forgot! I’m supposed to ask you if I can take this Safe Sitter course at the library. For, you know, when the baby comes.”

Felicity’s eyes lit up, and Oliver’s misted over.

“That’s a great idea, Will!” She looked over the material and then nudged him with an elbow. Her stepson blushed under the compliment.

“It was actually Aunt Thea’s idea.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck in a perfect, unconscious imitation of his father. “She’s going to take it too.”

This time it was Felicity who got choked up, and when William drifted back into his room—sensing an awkward moment of pregnancy tears—she practically launched herself across the room to bury her face in Oliver’s chest. 

“How is it that so many people love this baby already,” she asked in wonder, her voice muffled by his body. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head, not even trying to stop the happy tears. 

September, 2019

 Felicity sighed in utter contentment, one hand rubbing her belly, the other raking through her husband’s hair. She was propped up in bed, and Oliver was scooched down so that he could rest his cheek on the swell below her breasts. Every once in awhile they would both feel a kick, and smile. 

“I measured William yesterday,” Oliver murmured. “He’s officially 5’8”. That’s four inches this year alone.” Felicity shook her head in wonder.

“Have you noticed his sort-of mustache,” she asked. Oliver nodded against her stomach, his eyes going wide. “When do you have the talk about shaving,” she continued. “I mean, how does all of that work?”

Felicity was continually surprised by the amount of maleness in the apartment all of a sudden. She hadn’t even lived with a father for most of her life, so being overrun by testosterone was an interesting phenomenon. 

“And don’t think I’m going to do it, either,” she warned. “I covered deodorant with him.”

Her comment was met with silence. 

“You’re also in charge of the sex talk,” she added, unnecessarily. Oliver was giving her puppy dog eyes, but he sighed in agreement.

“I know. I’ve been putting it off, because he hasn’t seemed to have the, um, interest in that sort of thing that I had at his age. But it’s probably past time.”

He’d been staring past her shoulder as he talked, the fingers of one hand tracing random patterns over her belly, but he glanced over at Felicity and huffed a laugh at the expression on her face. 

“What?”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity,” she asked, curiosity and a little heat in her eyes.

“Thirteen, or so.” He grinned, finding it harder to ignore his own stir of interest that she had triggered. 

“Well thank God for small favors,” she said then with a laugh. “I don’t think I could cope with a newborn and a horny teenager at the same time.”

The thought sent them both into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, and they laughed until Felicity had to shove his head off of her to rush to the bathroom before she wet the bed. 

He made it up to her when she got back. 

November, 2019

 “I know you told me not to tell you, but you’re waddling,” Thea said cheekily, breaking off a piece of carrot in her back teeth while Felicity glared. 

“You’re officially banned from Thanksgiving. Go home.”

Thea grinned at her, jumping off her barstool to throw her arms around her sister in law’s neck and smooch her cheek. Felicity swatted her away good naturedly while Oliver smiled over his sweet potato casserole preparations.

“Who else is coming,” she asked, as William drifted into the room looking for food.

“Curtis, Dinah, and Rene and Zoe. The Diggle’s will stop by later, but they’re eating with his folks.”

Thea watched her nephew’s face redden by three shades when Felicity mentioned Zoe Ramirez. She pulled her lips in and tried to keep her mouth shut, but her eyes were dancing with mischief.

Felicity saw and laid a warning hand on her arm until William disappeared again, like a grumpy house cat.

“Don’t tease him. He’s got it pretty bad, and we don’t think she’s noticed. Or maybe she has and she’s not interested. Either way it’s been hard.” Felicity paused and rested one arm on her built-in belly shelf, sliding the other under to support it from below. 

“Not long now, mama,” Thea said softly, and Felicity made an attempt at a smile.

“It’ll be less crazy around here now that the Mayor’s been re-elected,” she sighed, as her husband caught her eye and winked. 

Hours later, post-food, and friends, and cold leftovers with more friends, the family of almost-four sprawled on the sofa to relax in front of the football game. 

“The baby needs a name,” William said softly, out of nowhere. Felicity was in a half-snooze, her feet propped in Oliver’s lap, but she raised her head and regarded him for a moment. 

“We have Robert Thomas, if it’s a boy. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s going to be a boy,” he pressed, his eyes lowered. Oliver had been staring at the screen, but his son’s tone made him turn his attention away from the game. 

“What makes you say that, buddy?” He moved the hand that had been resting behind his own head to ruffle William’s hair. The boy shrugged.

“Just a feeling.”

“Well,” Felicity sighed, “we haven’t had much luck agreeing on a girl’s name. Do you have any suggestions?”

William shrugged again, which could mean he didn’t, or it could mean he did but didn’t want to say. The football game was the only sound in the room for several more minutes. 

“My mom’s middle name was Avery,” he said then, so quietly that Felicity had to repeat it.

“Avery?” She and Oliver exchanged a look, and then Oliver said it softly himself, under his breath. Trying it out. A slow smile spread over his face, and when his wife nodded he lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss. 

December 2019

 It was past eleven, but Felicity was up once again to use the bathroom. Her heart rate picked up when she saw the spot of blood in her underwear, which she thought about reporting to a slumbering Oliver, but instead kept to herself until she’d scrolled through her phone contacts for the on-call doctor’s number. 

“Um, sorry to call so late, but I’m spotting, and I was told to call anytime that happened.”

She’d snuck into the nursery to make the call, and she sat back in the glider rocker with her feet up as she talked. 

“What’s your due date,” the OB asked gently.

“It was nine days ago.”

There was a smile in the doctor’s voice when she spoke again.

“Spotting means you’re in labor, Mrs Queen. Try to get some rest, and call me back when the contractions are two minutes apart.”

“Oh. Right. Of course. Sorry to bother,” Felicity spluttered, shocked and relieved and embarrassed all at once. She knew she should crawl back into bed to save her strength for the work ahead, but she found herself wandering toward the kitchen instead. 

She didn’t expect William to be up, but there he was, hunched over the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal.

“Hungry,” she asked with a smile.

“Always,” he replied. His voice had gotten so deep; deeper than Oliver’s regular voice, closer to his Green Arrow growl, actually. 

Felicity stopped next to him for a moment and ran a hand over his hair lightly, straightening a piece at the front while he looked at her. She smiled.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he asked around a mouthful of cereal.

“Nah. I’m in labor.”

“Oh…Oh!” His spoon clattered into the bowl, but she laughed softly and stilled him with a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay. It just started. I haven’t even had a contraction yet.” Although as she said it her back started to hurt a little. 

“Have you told Dad yet,” he asked, resuming his cereal cautiously, as if he was afraid she might spontaneously give birth in front of him.

“No. I’ll let him sleep until things get rolling.”

Felicity walked on past him, pacing a path into the kitchen and back to his spot at the counter. As the minutes passed it was obvious something was happening, and William, although finished with his snack, didn’t move from his spot as she continued her circuit.

“Boy, a lot has changed for us in the last year, hasn’t it,” she mused, hands pressing into the small of her back as she walked. “You’ve grown up and I’ve grown…out.”

William slouched over the countertop and watched her progress.

“Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself,” he said softly. The late hour and near darkness must’ve given him courage, because that was not a sentence she ever thought he would share with her. 

“Being a teenager is crazy stuff,” Felicity agreed. She had more to add, but the sudden pain of a contraction took her breath, and she had to lean straight-armed against the kitchen counter for several seconds until it passed. 

“Don’t forget to breathe,” he cautioned at one point a bit later, and she nodded as another wave began. 

“Hey,” she said eventually. “Could you time these for me?”

William pulled out his phone, hitting the stopwatch when she indicated. 

“Oh wow, three minutes,” he reported after the first interval. 

“Seriously?” Felicity’s voice was edged with a little bit of panic. “This is going faster than I thought. What time is it?”

“Almost 1 am,” he said, swiping a hand through his hair. “Want me to get Dad now?”

“Yes. Now would be good, I think.”

——————————————————————————————— 

Hours later, William was Oliver’s first call.

“I’m going to send your aunt to pick you up, so make sure you’re ready.”

“Is Felicity okay,” William asked, and Oliver’s heart threatened to burst.

“Yeah, she’s great. Your baby sister looks just like her.”

“Boy, we got lucky there, didn’t we?”

Oliver laughed out loud; a rare and wonderful sound, indeed. 

“We sure did, buddy. We sure did.” His eyes filled with tears and he swallowed hard. “See you soon.”

——————————————————————————————— 

Felicity looked up from the bundle of pinkness in her arms and almost gasped; William, although still gangly, filled a good portion of the doorframe, and absolutely towered over his Aunt Thea. We’ll have to measure him again when we get home, she thought wryly.

“Hi, Will. Would you like to hold her,” she asked, and smiled when he nodded nervously. 

Oliver got him situated on the freakishly uncomfortable couch across from the bed, then carefully collected his daughter from Felicity and handed her down to his son.

William held her gingerly, as if she might shatter, and stared at her tiny, scrunched up face. He glanced up once at his father, but it was more of a “go away, I’m fine” then a request for reassurance, so Oliver stepped away to watch.

There was another moment of quiet contemplation on his part before she finally yawned and opened her eyes, regarding him in the way Aunt Thea sometimes did when she was making up her mind about something. 

“Well hello there, Avery Dearden Queen,” William said softly, and across the room Felicity grabbed after Oliver’s hand and squeezed.