#ameliam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dust2dust34 · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Always: April 2033 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated (and @dust2dust34)

Summary: Will gains a little perspective on some of the more complicated aspects of his life from his friend and coworker.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note. The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love! Also? As far as this chapter goes... say hello to Alex. At times, though rarely in this chapter, Alex speaks a bit of Spanish. You'll find translations in the end notes. Thank you to @latinasmoak and @alizziebyanyothername for their continual help with Spanish.

A/N: Janis and I have started a Redbubble account for FICoN! The first thing we have up is our Ellie the Elephant tattoo that we got a few months ago - check it out here! (Her awesome husband helped to make it more Redbubble-friendly.) More will be coming soon! If you have any ideas for something you’d like to see, let us know!

(read on AO3)

April 2033

The bond between the guys on Will’s crew is absolute. There is nothing the four of them would not do for each other. It goes hand-in-hand with the job. Will knows that, but it still feels special to him, unique. Any one of them would jump in front of danger for the other, any one of them would die for the other, if needed. Their kinship isn’t brotherhood, exactly, but in some ways it’s something more.

Still… that doesn’t mean Will doesn’t want to strangle two of them right now.

“Oh my hero.”

The singsong voice is designed to grate on Will’s nerves and wow is that working. “Stop.”

“So big and strong, let me cling to your arm with the lights out, my what an impressive bicep you have.”

“I swear to god, Javi…”

“All part of the job, ma’am, now let’s stand here and stare at each other longingly like a cheesy ass chick flick for the next five minutes.”

“Elliot…”

“But how will I ever repay my big strong hero for saving me from the non-existent fire?”

“I bet the next round that Will’s got a few ideas on that,” Elliot smirks, leaning back in the booth and raising both eyebrows as he takes a huge swig from his mug of beer.

Will wants to brush him off, wants to punch him in the shoulder and call him a tool and demand he grab another pitcher. But it hadn’t been just any girl and the way Amelia’s eyes had widened in surprise, the way her gaze and her hand had lingered on him… it’s thrown him for a loop and he doesn’t have it in him to shrug off the guys’ teasing right now.

But it’s Javi who’s the last straw. He turns away from them and wraps his arms around his own head making mocking kissing noises. Elliot laughs like it’s the funniest thing ever. And… yup, that does it. Will shoves Elliot’s shoulder hard before sliding out of the booth.

“I’m getting another pitcher. I might share if you two grow the fuck up before I get back,” he tells them, trying to sound unruffled. His voice sounds a little thick even to his ears, though, and he knows he’s mostly failed. But that’s only underscored by Alex slapping Javi upside the back of his head.

“No sean pendejos,” Alex tells the other two. The most senior member of their team sounds very much in charge and both Javi and Elliot immediately look like they’ve been put in their place. Alex has a way of doing that. “Know when to fucking knock it off.”

Will pauses just a moment, tossing a grateful look toward Alex before heading over to the bar. Suitably chastised or not, he needs a bit of distance from Javi and Elliot right now. They’re good friends, great teammates and they’d even been decent - if messy - roommates for a while before he’d gotten his own place, but neither Javi nor Elliot knows when to let things go, when to grow the hell up. Will does. He learned that lesson the hard way, for the most part. And that’s something that’s led to him relating more to Alex than their other teammates in recent years.

Today can’t have been easy for Alex either, Will knows. Mostly, that’s for different reasons… but all the same, he can’t imagine the other man is much in a joking mood right now.

“Can we get a pitcher of the seasonal IPA on tap, please?” Will orders when the bartender walks by. She’s quite familiar with their group by now - more than a little familiar with Javi, actually, but that was a year ago - and she tosses back a “Sure thing, babe, coming right up,” with a wink before turning away.

The bar isn’t crowded tonight, but Five Alarm’s got a rep for spicy food, a solid rotating tap and a regular hangout for firefighters so there are still a couple dozen people hanging around. A few college girls down near the end of the bar are overtly staring at him and while Will might happily welcome the attention another day, he’s really not in the mood at the moment and he offers up little more than a polite nod of recognition before turning away.

“You off your game, vato?”

Will doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Alex who’s joined him at the bar. He has presence, fills a space effortlessly with his tall, bulky form. And Will had known the older man would come the moment he’d stepped away. Alex takes his role as team leader very seriously whether they’re on or off the clock.

“Not playing a game at all,” Will answers. “Not today, anyhow.”

Alex just hums in agreement and it’s the near silence that finally pulls Will’s attention to his friend. He’s leaning against the bartop on his forearms, looking past Will to grin at the girls down the bar. It’s flirtier than Will had been, for sure, but no more serious. Alex has a girl and he’s not that kind of guy.

“It’s not like you,” Alex says after a minute, catching Will’s gaze with a heavy look. “Your girl’s got you in knots.”

“She’s not my girl,” Will answers immediately. And, wow if that’s not the crux of it. The way his voice cracks under the strain of emotion only serves to emphasize his words.

Amelia is not his girl. She’s his… she’s his something though. She’s his ‘what if,’ his ‘someday,’ his ‘if only.’ The connection between them defies reason, but every time he sees her it grows exponentially and feels more and more well-founded.

Every day is different in his line of work. Normally that’s something Will loves about being a firefighter. He never knows exactly what the job will entail on any given day. But today… today had thrown him for a loop.

Being called to City Hall for what turned out to be a false alarm - lightning had struck the generator and several people had smelled smoke - had given things an uneasy start. His grandmother, who has been mayor for most of his life, had foolishly chosen not to evacuate, valuing her phone call over safety protocol.

Watching Alex read her the riot act had given Will more joy than he should probably admit, but it had also set him on edge. Because Alex was right. Because the mayor refusing to evacuate set a terrible example for her staff and knowingly endangered everyone in the building as well as any emergency response personnel showing up at the scene.

So he’d already been in a weird place when he’d barely caught the sound of someone singing to themselves and been drawn off path as he and the boys had been heading to talk to the site manager.

“Our boy’s got a siren pulling him in,” Javi had laughed, much to Elliot’s amusement, but Will hadn’t listened to them at the time.

He’d known who it was. There hadn’t been a doubt in his mind.

And he’d been right.

He’d found Amelia in a barely open storage room with earbuds in as she rifled through files and the very sight of her had taken his breath away. He hadn’t even registered the snickers of his coworkers at the time. That’d come later - they’ve been persistent - but in that moment he’d seen nothing but Amelia, heard nothing but Amelia. He’d taken off his helmet and leaned against the doorframe, just watching her silently until she she’d caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and jolted, pulling the earbuds from her ears.

Her eyes had barely flickered toward his friends before honing in on him, cementing that ever-present connection between them. It hadn’t taken more than a look, nothing more than her eyes lingering on his to make his heart flip and his breath catch.

Maybe he shouldn’t feel this strongly about her, maybe it defies reason, but he can’t help it and every time he sees her, he finds something else that draws him in. And he can’t let go of her, not entirely.

“Fine, that girl that isn’t yours has got you in knots then,” Alex amends, pulling Will back to the present. “You got history or what?”

It’s a harder question to answer than it should be. “Not exactly,” he answers after thinking about it for a moment.

“Ah,” Alex says. He clearly gets it and Will is beyond grateful that he doesn’t need to explain further. “Sorry, man. Sometimes that’s worse.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees with a heavy sigh as he rakes a hand through his hair. “It is.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Alex offers, clapping Will on the shoulder. “She sure as hell didn’t look disinterested today.”

It’s true. She’d been all false starts and stilted gestures, instinct drawing her closer to him, but resolve making her pull back. The push and pull of it all had felt tidal, left him drowning in a riptide of emotions. Truth be told, he’s fairly certain she didn’t fare much better. That she hadn’t even heard the fire alarm because of faulty, outdated equipment and her music had sparked something in Will. The knowledge that had this been real - had there actually been a fire - he might’ve seen her again under far more dire circumstances had set him on edge, made him more protective, heightened absolutely everything, and she’d picked up on that immediately.

He can still hear her voice swearing to him softly that she’d have evacuated if she’d known, that she wouldn’t have knowingly put herself in danger. And a moment later… a moment later when lightning had struck again nearby and the power had died, taking the lights out with it, she’d yelped and grabbed his arm in a momentary blind panic. Without even thinking about it, he’d pulled her closer. And, with the lights out and his buddies fishing for flashlights, he’d held Amelia protectively in his arms and everything, everything had been right.

But the lights had come on and with that his dreams had faded away. She’d stepped back, seemingly embarrassed and chastising herself as she brushed her hair behind her ear and avoided his gaze.

For a moment.

Resolve aside, nothing seems to keep them from connection for long and her eyes had found his again soon enough.

But he knows Amelia, knows her better than she thinks, and he’s well aware that today won’t have changed anything between them in the long run. It’s just another of their series of near misses. And, as much as he would give almost anything for it to be more, Amelia’s going to keep her distance.

“Maybe,” he agrees anyhow, wanting to get off the subject with Alex.

“Javi and Elliot are gonna shut their traps about it either way,” Alex vows, drawing Will’s surprised gaze. “The boys don’t know when to quit ‘til I knock their heads together a few times. They’re set straight now, but I can’t promise Elliot isn’t gonna bring up how hot she is.”

“I can’t promise I’m not gonna sock him, then,” Will grumbles.

“Come on, vato,” Alex says with a tisk. “Girl’s got legs for miles and a rack straight off a swimsuit calendar. Can’t blame any of us for noticing that.”

Well, that’s irksome. Elliot’s one thing. The guy’s his brother and he’s got a good heart, but he’s also forever making lewd comments about women. Alex is another thing entirely. With three years on Will, Alex is the oldest member of their team and the most experienced.

He’s also the most professional. Even over drinks, Will’s a little surprised to hear him talking about any woman’s body so openly, especially if it isn’t with a wink and a grin and definitely referencing his girlfriend.

“Marisol’s gonna love that,” Will bites out, feeling more than a little bitter at Alex’s observation.

“Not much of her business what I notice these days,” Alex replies tightly, nodding at the bartender as she drops off their pitcher.

“You broke up?” Will asks surprised.

“Yeah. Again,” Alex replies grimly. “Ain’t everybody who’s cut out to be a firefighter’s girl, you know? Mari likes the idea of it, but reality is something else.”

It’s true. The schedule alone is a burden to their loved ones - 24-hour shifts are a bitch - but the constant danger wears away on them, too. Some people are built for that. Others aren’t. It’s one of the reasons Will tells himself he keeps to more casual relationships. That’s easier to deal with than the thought that he’s so hung up on the very idea of Amelia that it’s affecting his life.

“Sorry, man,” Will tells him as the bartender puts a pair of mugs down in front of them and Alex moves to pour them both some beer. Elliot and Javi are chatting up a pair of girls over near the pool table, so it looks like they’ve lost their booth. That’s fine. Will finds he’s feeling a bit restless anyhow.

“It’s life,” Alex shrugs, trying to look unaffected. Will doesn’t buy it for a second. He and Marisol had been back together since early last fall and she’d all but moved into Alex’s place. But he’s also not about to say anything like that. “You got plans tomorrow?”

The change of subject is swift and deliberate.

“I’ve got Bethy for the day,” Will tells him. Just the idea of his baby sister perks him up some. She makes everything brighter. “Not sure what we’re gonna do yet, but David’s working so I said I’d take her. Better me than some babysitter, right?”

“You should bring her over,” Alex tells him. “Javi and his brothers were gonna come over for the game. Elliot said he might join, too, and I think Javi’s got some nieces and nephews comin’. We can do a barbeque, toss the kids in the pool and let ‘em play. Beth would have fun.”

Bethy’s not-quite-three now and she loves the water. She’s a miserable swimmer, but she gets so much joy out of Will tossing her up in the air and splashing about.

“Yeah, maybe,” Will agrees. “What time?”

“Game’s at eleven,” Alex says, taking a swig of his beer. “Anytime’s fine, though. Nothing else I’m doing tomorrow other than handing Mari a box of her stuff whenever she drops by.”

Ah… So then that’s what’s going on. Invitations to Alex’s place aren’t uncommon, but Javi dragging along his entire extended family definitely is. And Elliot hates soccer, which is absolutely what game Alex is referring to. But both of the guys had to have known about Alex and Marisol’s split before him and planned to be there as silent backup.

“We’ll be there after her morning nap… assuming she takes one,” Will promises. “Want me to bring anything?”

“Whatever Beth’s gonna eat,” Alex tells him. “I’m not sure she’ll eat anything in my kitchen.”

She won’t. He’s right about that. Beth’s a picky little eater.

But while Will is busy mulling over what to bring along to Alex’s place tomorrow for Bethy, he’s also suddenly aware that his friend is watching him with a strange, contemplative look on his face.

“What?” Will asks warily.

“Nothing,” Alex says, shaking it off and taking another sip of his beer.

“No, really, what?” Will asks again after a minute. Alex isn’t the sort to leave things unsaid and the idea that he’s biting his tongue now sits poorly with Will.

“Man, I don’t think you wanna know,” Alex tells him ruefully. It has the opposite of his intended effect. Will sits up straighter, every bit of his attention turning toward Alex.

“Tell me anyhow,” Will challenges.

Alex still hesitates, winces and licks his lips, looking off to the side before speaking in a lowered voice. “Your girl…” he starts, his voice trailing off at the end.

“Amelia?” Will asks, suddenly on the defensive.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees with a heavy nod and piercing dark eyes. “Amelia…. She’s hot and all, man, but I don’t get it.” Will blinks quickly at him in stunned surprise as Alex continues. “I don’t have to, I know. It’s none of my business. But all the hot girls in this city and you get hung up on some cold, cut-throat politician?”

“She’s not!” Will insists before realizing he’s a little too loud. The girls at the end of the bar are paying far too close attention. “She’s not,” he repeats in a much quieter voice.

“If you say so,” Alex agrees, but he clearly doesn’t believe the words.

“She’s driven and passionate, but she’s not cut-throat. You don’t know her,” Will insists. And it’s true. Alex had been around her for all of ten minutes. He’s judging her largely by her association with Moira. And, while he surely has his own reasons for that, there’s so much more to Amelia than just her relationship with her mentor.

“Okay,” Alex says, holding up one hand in surrender. But Will isn’t ready to let it go.

“Amelia is… she’s someone who knows exactly what she wants in life and she’s not willing to settle for anything else,” Will informs him. “She wants to make a difference in the world. She’s not after power or money or anything like that.”

She’s not like my grandmother, he wants to insist. He knows that’s what Alex meant, even if he left the words unspoken.

“She’s smarter than anyone gives her credit for, but she knows how to use that to her advantage and she does it to push political agendas that help people,” Will tells him. “She’s a loyal enough friend that she put off graduating college by a semester to support a friend who needed her. She drinks black coffee like it’s water and she’s the first one in the office in the morning and the last one there at night because she’s that dedicated to her work. She wears high heels even though most of the time it probably makes her the tallest person in the room, probably because it makes her the tallest person in the room. And she has a plush bouquet of daisies on her desk that I sent her a year ago, even though we haven’t really talked since then. She’s not cold and she’s not cut-throat, Alex. She’s just… she’s scared of being hurt and she plays it safe and defensive more than she should because of it.”

“Will…” Alex says slowly, cautiously, like he’s not sure if he wants to be sticking his nose in this or not. “Bro, even if you’re right… girl like that’s gonna break your heart and you gotta know that. The scared ones, the ones who hold back pieces of themselves always do.”

There’s a surprising lack of judgement in Alex’s voice. Instead, it’s all sympathy, and somehow that hits Will even harder.

“You aren’t askin’ my advice, so I’m not gonna give it,” Alex tells him. “But speaking from experience, there isn’t much that sucks more than loving a girl who’s scared of her own feelings. And you add to this that she works for your grandmother… man, that’s just messy.”

“I’m not letting Moira Queen screw with my life more,” Will announces firmly, the muscles of his jaw tightening at the thought of his grandmother. “She doesn’t get to have that kind of control.”

“You’re awfully pissed at her for somebody you aren’t giving any control to,” Alex notes.

Something angry rises up in Will at that. If anyone in the world had solidarity on this with him, he’d have thought it would be Alex.

“How can you say that?” Will asks. “How can you expect me not to be pissed at her? After everything she’s done. To me. To you. How can you just brush her aside?”

“Because I matter more than she does,” Alex answers immediately. The confusion must be plain on Will’s face because Alex offers him a sad smile and a shake of his head. “Me hating her wouldn’t make my life better, vato, and it wouldn’t bring my father back, God rest his soul.” Alex pauses and crosses himself at this. “Hate is toxic, man. It’ll eat you alive. I ain’t never gonna forgive her for what she did. A part of me is always gonna feel like that little boy waiting for his papa to come home after the ground split open and swallowed part of the city whole. But I also had to let that go. You’ve got that choice, too.”

The surge of guilt Will used to feel - just for being a Queen, just for being his grandmother’s grandson - doesn’t wash over him the same way, this time Alex brings up his father’s death in the Undertaking. But it laps at the edges of his being, anyhow.

“I don’t know how,” Will confides. “How do you just decide to forgive her? She doesn’t deserve it.”

“No,” Alex agrees. “She doesn’t. But I do. You do, too. I wish she were in jail. Personally, I think she belongs there. The jury didn’t see it that way. Not in this life. But everybody answers for their sins eventually. I gotta believe God’s gonna hold her responsible for all the lives she took when she meets her maker. I’ll leave that to Him and live my life like my Papa would’ve wanted me to. You oughta think about doing the same.”

Will wouldn’t know where to start and he honestly has no clue how to respond, but he’s saved by Javi and Elliot joining them, the girls they’d been hanging out with are nowhere to be seen.

“Beer!” Elliot smiles brightly, stealing Will’s mug.

“Hey!” Will protests, shoving his friend.

“You’re the one who put it down,” Javi says. Like that’s some kind of excuse.

“Don’t look at me,” Alex shrugs. “I learned that years ago.”

“It’s cool,” Will says when Elliot tries to hand him back his mug. “I’m gonna head out anyhow, I think. I’ve gotta pick up Bethy in the morning and it’s getting late.”

“You’re no fun, old man,” Javi tisks, but he’s laughing as he says it and Will knows better than to take him seriously.

“We seeing you tomorrow?” Elliot asks. “Javi’s sister’s coming and she’s va-va-voom.”

“Hands off my sister!” Javi says, whirling on Elliot and suddenly deeply serious. “Sisters are off limits. Not cool, man. Not cool at all.”“Chill, Javi. He was kidding,” Alex says, gripping the other man’s shoulder hard in an attempt to rein him in. It might work better if anyone actually believed Elliot wasn’t serious. Still… Will can’t believe Elliot would ever screw around with Javi’s sister. Their team means a hell of a lot more to all four of them than to risk it over something like that.

“I’ll be there,” Will agrees. “Bringing Bethy with me, so maybe try to keep it PG. Okay?”

“You got it,” Elliot agrees. “I’m cool, Javi. I swear. I’m just messing with you.”

While those two have some kind of silent communication thing going on, Will tilts his head toward Alex in long-overdue thanks. He’s always valued Alex’s insight to things and tonight is no different.

“Have a good night, vato,” Alex tells him. “Think about what I said, yeah?”

There’s no doubt he will, really, but Will can’t imagine ever finding the level of peace with his grandmother that Alex has managed. Maybe he’s just too close to it. Maybe it’s because they’re family that it’s so very complicated. But the parts about Amelia…

“...there isn’t much that sucks more than loving a girl who’s scared of her own feelings.”

It’s true, Will thinks as he bids the boys goodbye and heads out. But that doesn’t change that he knows they could be happy together if she gave him half a chance, that he would never, ever break her heart if I could help it. And he doesn’t know how to turn off his own feelings any more than he knows how to make her comfortable with her own.

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse, so go send some love to @so-caffeinated!

#forever is composed of nows #ficon #pieces of always #william queen #alejandro castillo jr #arrow #arrow fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: cowritten #so-caffeinated #dust2dust34 #ameliam

20 notes · View notes

hackergoddessfelicity · 5 years

Note

I don't have twitter so I can't reach out there but I'm a big fan of Ameliam and I love your AU on twitter! Have a nice day!

Aww thank you so much! @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 have established some incredible characters and I’m trying to do them justice.

4 notes · View notes

ao3feed-oliverfelicity · 5 years

Text

Providence

read it on the AO3

by Bre, So_Caffeinated (so_caffeinated)

Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not.

Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she'll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move... And her life.

Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart.

Words: 8674, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of Forever Is Composed of Nows

Fandoms: Arrow (TV 2012)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Will Queen, Amelia Prescott, Jules Queen, Alex Castillo, Ellie Queen, Nate Queen, Oliver Queen, Felicity Queen, John Diggle, Lyla Michaels, Sara Diggle, Laurel Lance, Billy Malone, Moira Queen, Thad DeWolfe the Third, Domino, Maggie Chen, Deedee Chen, Bethany Ford, Eric Lin, Original Characters

Relationships: Will Queen/Amelia Prescott, Jules Queen/Alex Castillo, background Oliver Queen/Felicity Queen

Additional Tags: Ameliam, Trigger Warnings, Character Death, Graphic Violence, Alcohol Abuse, PTSD, Sex, Infertility, Traumatic events involving a child/children, Off-screen violent death of a (different) child, mentions of off-screen suicide (not a known character), I swear this is not as depressing as the triggers make it sound

read it on the AO3

#ao3feed #fanfic #olicity #arrow #oliver x felicity

4 notes · View notes

lupsona · 6 years

Photo

Babe @ameliam.02 in our cute camo pants ✨✨✨✨ Link in bio ✔ ` ` ` ` ` #wardrobe #clothing #ootd #outfit #styleoftheday #fashionbloggers #fashionblog #beautybloggers #fblogger #fbloggers #bbloggers #style #styling #fromwhereistand #onlineshopping #haul #outfitoftheday #styleblogger #whatiwore #fashiondiaries #outfitideas #outfitinspiration #stylegram #styleblog #stylediaries #whatiworetoday #aboutalook #chictopia #lupsonastyle #lupsona

0 notes

so-caffeinated · 1 year

Text

I’m literally using a world building program and writing the history of 13 different fake nations for this royalty AU story, you guys. When I tell you I don’t do things halfway... please understand that I mean that in every way possible. All this to have Will and Amelia make out in fancy historical clothes. lol...

#royalty au #this story needs a name #i am ridiculous #writing #my writing #ameliam #FiCoN #trope bingo #writing plans

9 notes · View notes

dust2dust34 · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Always: June 2036 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated (and @dust2dust34)

Summary: Will and Amelia run into each other a year after the gala.

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

Excerpt:

Everything stops.

Or, at least, it does for them.

She can’t even breathe when his lips part in surprise, and his eyes go pained and soft as he drinks in the sight of her. It feels like a caress, like his gaze physically slips across her skin, and she shivers at the phantom sensation tracing across her face, her neck, her body. She feels it head to toe in a painfully intimate way, in spite of the fact that it’s her face his eyes mostly linger on.

Not once does he look to her companions. Not once do his eyes dart to his sister. It’s just her. It’s just them. It always is when they’re in a room together. Time and distance and life can’t change that, apparently. There’s something terrifying in recognizing that, but it’s also so very addictive and she craves this connection in a way that defies reason.

The smile that pulls at his lips is subtle enough, gentle enough that it would be easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. But she is. She can’t take her eyes off of it.

“Hi,” he mouths at her.

“Hi,” she mouths back.

(read on AO3)

June 2036 - Home Away From Home

Amelia’s missed Starling City, but the two things she’s missed most about it are right in front of her.

“Look at you, all put together and shit!” Celeste declares. Amelia barely has time to smile before the blonde is hugging her tightly. “I couldn't even find matching socks this morning.”

“Who says her socks match?” Maggie questions with a quirk of her eyebrow, taking Celeste’s place to embrace Amelia. “I’ve missed you,” she declares brightly.

“Me too,” Amelia replies, grinning widely as she steps back and takes in the sight of her friends. “It’s been way, way too long.”

In truth, they’ve seen each other every few months, but it feels like an eternity, anyhow. Business brings her to Starling now and then, but their visits rarely linger. Both of the girls had made the trip to Central City when Amelia first moved there, in theory to help her get settled into the large flat she and Thad had settled on. In actuality, it had amounted to little more than Celeste unashamedly enjoying the view as Thad carried in furniture while Maggie nitpicked the arrangement. It had been blatantly obvious that all of her ‘I think that needs to go a little to the left, Thad’ comments had been entirely designed to make him continue with the heavy lifting and all the bending over. Good sport that he is, Thad had just smiled and shook his head as he took directions.

But that was last August and in spite of the occasional coffee or rushed lunch-meet-up, Amelia has missed her girls pretty badly. Her job is great and everything is fine with Thad, but there’s no substitute for her girlfriends and FaceTime just doesn’t cut it long term.

“Come on,” Maggie tells her. “We’ve got a table over near the patio. Celeste called ahead.”

“They don’t take reservations, though,” Amelia points out as she follows the girls across their favorite brunch spot, weaving through a maze of tables toward the patio.

“They do when you’re sleeping with the host,” Maggie confides quietly.

“You are?” Amelia asks in surprise. “What happened? I thought you and Jeremy were pretty serious.”

“Not me,” Maggie scoffs, tilting her head toward Celeste, who smiles and wiggles her fingers in greeting. Amelia turns to look back toward the host, who she hadn’t even noticed, before giving Celeste a thumbs up of approval. This is an opinion that’s only furthered when they get to their table and find a pitcher of mimosas and a bowl of fruit already waiting.

“So… someone’s smitten,” she notes as she takes a seat and raises an eyebrow toward Celeste.

“He’s sweet,” she acknowledges, unfolding her napkin and draping it across her lap. “But I think he likes me more because he knows I’m leaving town at the end of summer.”

“You’re leaving?” Amelia asks, freezing and looking at her friends as they trade glances.

“She was going to wait until you were at least two mimosas in before bringing this up,” Maggie informs her.

“Well, get pouring then,” Amelia instructs, gesturing toward the pitcher in front of Maggie. “Where are you going?”

“I took a job teaching English in Shanghai for a year,” Celeste says, popping a strawberry in her mouth.

“In China? Do you even speak Mandarin or Cantonese?” Amelia blinks at her.

“Nope,” Celeste says with a shrug. “Don’t need to. It’s an immersion program.”

“Celeste…” Amelia ventures warily, trading a knowing glance with Maggie. “Honey, you hate kids.”

“I’m teaching adults,” Celeste replies.

“You don’t really like them in big doses either,” Amelia deadpans.

Maggie snorts and nods. “Believe me, you are not the first person to point this out to her.”

“It’s just for a year,” Celeste points out. “I can make a bit of cash and explore the world a little while I’m at it. I can put up with having students for a year.”

“I thought you were going to be a dental hygienist?”

“Right, but then I remembered people cry at the dentist and I don’t like crying people,” Celeste says, as if this is plainly obvious when you think about it. And, honestly, knowing Celeste it kind of is, but Amelia remains stuck on the idea that her friend is moving to China for a year. Like Starling City wasn’t far enough already.

The waiter stops by, takes their orders, and it gives Amelia a moment to keep working through her thoughts. She’d been planning on being good, had been going to stick to an egg white omelet, some dry toast and a bit of fruit, but Maggie’s thrown her off kilter so she says ‘fuck it’ and orders the eggs benedict instead.

“It’s fine, Amelia,” Celeste points out. “Just means I’ll be more tired when we FaceTime because of the time difference. And… maybe you can come visit me? I can take you on a tour of the sights, absorb a bit more of the world than the inside of your office…”

“Yeah,” Amelia laughs. “I’m gonna take a few weeks off of work to cross the world for fun.”

“It’s called a vacation, Amelia,” Maggie points out. “I highly recommend them on occasion. Jer and I are talking about going in the spring. His mom’s parents still live there and he wants to introduce me.”

Truth be told, Amelia’s a bit surprised to hear Maggie planning things that far out with her boyfriend. Yes, they’ve been together a while now and yes, they’re fairly serious, but Maggie’s never been the ‘plan ahead’ type. Not really. She’s not as spontaneous as Celeste by any means, but Amelia’s never known her to think that long term with a guy before.

“You and Thad could join us,” Maggie adds.

“Can you see that?” Amelia asks with a laugh, soaking in the ridiculousness of that idea. She can picture it perfectly. “We’d be completely lost. I’d be calling my office every five minutes and he’ll be in session by then anyhow.”

“For my money, you both need to learn how to relax,” Celeste notes, sipping her drink. “Thad’s great, but you both work too much. You’ve gotta live too, babe.”

Amelia just sighs in reply because as much as she adores Celeste, they could not be two more opposite people if they tried. Her friend balances her, gives her a much needed fresh perspective at times, but she can’t always relate to her perspective. Her job is her life. And she loves making an impact. That’s all she’s ever wanted.

Or, at least, it’s all she’s ever admitted to herself she’s wanted.

“Well, hello,” Celeste says, leaning back in her chair and looking somewhere past Amelia’s shoulder. “Been awhile since I’ve seen him. How is it that he’s even more attractive, now? That’s just unfair.”

“He’s always been hot,” Maggie adds. “And a flirt. Why am I not surprised to see him at brunch with a girl?”

Amelia turns to follow their gaze and her heart promptly lodges itself in her throat because there - three tables over on the patio - is Will Queen looking as attractive as she’s ever seen him. He’s pulling out a chair for a brunette and a strange mix of irrational jealousy and attraction sweeps through Amelia at the sight. Lord, but he’s wearing the hell out of those jeans. That’s just unfair. But, then the girl that Will’s with brushes her hair behind her ear and it pulls Amelia’s attention to the other woman, leaving her blinking in surprise.

“That’s one of his sisters. Jules,” she tells Maggie and Celeste absently. Her gaze slips back to Will. Watching him is like a guilty pleasure, like picking eggs benedict when she should be having an egg white omelette. But she’s so weak when it comes to him. She always has been. She hasn’t seen him in a solid year at this point, but looking at him now, it feels like no time has passed at all, like she’s right back on that dance floor in his arms.

It’s such a dangerous thought. He has a way of challenging all her plans, all her assumptions about life, without even trying. Hell, he hasn’t even noticed her yet and already she can’t think straight.

Somewhere in the background of her mind, it registers that Maggie’s talking.

“Huh?” she asks, looking back at her friends who are both staring at her curiously with raised eyebrows.

“I asked if you knew his sister,” Maggie clarifies, wry bemusement lacing her words. “But I think I have more questions now.”

“I don’t know her. Her, uh… her picture was on Moira’s desk. And all of the family’s pictures were in plenty of news clippings,” Amelia answers, nervously licking her lips before reaching for her drink, half for fortification and half to keep herself from saying more.

Wow had that been true, though. She’d somehow avoided compiling press clippings at the start of her internship - that job had already been assigned - but the very next day after she’d reluctantly turned Will down the first time he’d asked her out, Moira had requested an analysis of recent media coverage on her family. Amelia’s a bright girl and it hadn’t taken more than a few minutes to figure out why she was given this assignment. An up-close view of his revolving-door love life via the paparazzi had made Moira’s point more clearly than she could have had she spoken it.

And yet… and yet she can’t help but think there’s something more than the press has ever seen living in the space between them. In the many shots she’s seen of him walking hand-in-hand with a girl or kissing her or with his arm wrapped around her waist, she’s never once seen him looking at any of them the way he looks at her.

And that means something. She knows it does.

She can’t help looking back in his direction, craving a glimpse of that look, of the delicious intensity that fills the air between them and feels like it sinks right into her skin, pulling at the core of her being. No sooner do her eyes find him again then he looks up and catches sight of her.

Everything stops.

Or, at least, it does for them.

The smile that pulls at his lips is subtle enough, gentle enough that it would be easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. But she is. She can’t take her eyes off of it.

“Hi,” he mouths at her.

“Hi,” she mouths back.

It all hangs in the air, whispers of words unspoken filling the space between them. There’s so very much they’ve left unsaid. It feels appropriate that this greeting, too, is no more than a mimicry of words.

“So... you know him, though,” Maggie declares loudly, snapping the thread of tension and pulling Amelia’s gaze back to her friends.

“I… sort of,” Amelia admits, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s complicated.”

“Only because you made it complicated,” Celeste sighs, taking a bite of her food.

Damn… when had their meals gotten here? Amelia blinks and looks down at her place setting to find a still-warm plate of eggs benedict.

“You want to tell me how that was ever going to be uncomplicated?” Amelia dares her friend, taking a forkful of roasted potatoes.

“Oh! Happily,” Celeste says, placing her forearms on the tablecloth and leaning in Amelia’s direction. “When he asked you out the first time, you could have said yes. There. Uncomplicated.”

“What the hell did I miss?” Maggie asks, leaning back in her chair. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because you were part of her excuse,” Celeste informs her, gesturing expansively with her fork. “He kissed you like back in the Mesozoic era, so clearly it broke girl code for her to go out with him a few millennia later.”

Maggie’s astonishment makes it flatly clear how ridiculous she thinks this is. “Are you completely nuts?”

“No,” Amelia protests petulantly, cutting her food a little too aggressively with the side of her fork.

“Sorry. I misspoke. That wasn’t meant to be a question,” Maggie elaborates. “What I meant is - you’re crazy. And I have no desire to be your excuse, my love. So, date him or don’t, but don’t make me your reason.”

“I’m with Thad now,” Amelia points out. “I have been for more than two years. We live together.”

“You weren’t then,” Celeste reminds her. “And, Thad’s a good guy, but…”

“But what?” Amelia challenges.

“Honey, we just want what’s best for you. You know that,” Celeste cautions, trading silent looks with Maggie, who huffs in clear frustration. “But you don’t look at Thad like that,” Celeste elaborates. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want someone who sweeps you off your feet and just makes you feel?”

Amelia swallows hard, her eyes darting back to the other table. Will’s sister is talking to him. He’s listening - she’s pretty sure of that - but he’s still watching her. And so, for that matter, is Jules. Will’s face is all longing and appreciation. Jules’ is a far cry from that. And Amelia finds herself looking back to her own companions with reddened cheeks.

“No,” she says. “No, I don’t. What I want is something that makes sense. I want… I want a life with purpose and a partner that fits. I don’t want to be so wrapped up in someone that who I am doesn’t work without them. I don’t want to lose myself in someone and feel like who am I has been cleaved in two when they're gone.”

When she thinks about it later - or, more accurately, tries not to think about - she’ll realize precisely how much she’s given away in this moment.

“But… what if they don't leave?” Celeste points out. Her voice is hesitant, like she’s treading very carefully. Her heart’s in the right place and Amelia can respect that, but it doesn’t make this conversation any easier.

“Someone always leaves,” she replies bluntly. “Breakup or death, everything ends eventually.”

“Sweetie…” Celeste says gently, putting a hand over hers. “You aren’t your mom.”

“You’re right,” Amelia agrees. “And, as much as I love her, I never want to be.”

The light had gone out of her mom’s eyes the instant her dad died. And it’s never come back. She walks around like half a person, like someone forever lost. All her plans and dreams died with her husband and, as beautiful as Amelia remembers her parents being together, as sappy and wholly in love as they always seemed, she can’t imagine it was worth it. Not now. Not when it seems like part of her mom died along with her dad.

And yet…

And yet she remembers with perfect clarity her parents dancing barefoot in the kitchen while her mom hummed a song she’d been working on. She remembers being six years old and watching from the doorway, completely unnoticed. She remembers thinking that’s what love looked like, the way they were so absorbed in each other that the world around them didn’t matter anymore.

Because they had each other.

In spite of herself, she still thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. But, she’s not sure she’s strong enough to have something like that and then lose it. Watching her mother struggle with her dad’s death has been bad enough. Experiencing that firsthand is too terrifying a thing to contemplate.

“If you asked her… I’m pretty sure she’d still say it was all worth it,” Celeste points out. Maggie is being conspicuously silent and Amelia can’t help but wonder why. It’s a rarity for her, to be sure.

But she has Celeste to defend herself against already and she isn’t about to invite Maggie’s opinion at the moment.

“Well, maybe my mom’s just stronger than I am,” Amelia suggests. “She survived four miscarriages, her husband’s sudden death, her father going missing in action when she was just a kid, her mother’s alzheimer's…” She stops, shakes her head. “I can’t imagine surviving half of that. And I don’t want to have to.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Amelia,” Celeste ventures hesitantly. “But just surviving life because I’m afraid of living it wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“That’s not-” Amelia starts. Every inch of her wants to deny those words, in spite of the fact that they also ring with a kind of truth. But she’s interrupted by a soft baritone voice that glides down her spine like the tip of a feather.

“Hey.”

Will stands less than two feet away from her, hands in his pockets and an uncertain look on his face. Is he nervous? Just the idea of that sends a thrill through her. For all her insistence to the contrary, for all that her logical thoughts know she ought to stay far away from Will Queen, instinct drives her in the complete opposite direction. Right for him. She has to play with the edge of the tablecloth just to keep her hands to herself because he’s right there.

“Will...hi,” she replies after a moment when Celeste kicks her under the table. “Hi.”

He reaches up with one hand, grabs at the back of his neck and looks at her sheepishly. “I don’t want to intrude, but I had to come say hello.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” The words tumble out immediately, spoken too quickly and all in one exhale. “It’s good to see you. You look… you look good.”

“Really good,” Celeste adds with a wink and an ‘okay’ sign made with her hand. Maggie openly smacks her arm. Hard. “What, like he doesn’t know? Come on. He owns a mirror,” Celeste protests, glaring half-heartedly at Maggie and rubbing the spot she’d been hit.

Will’s lips twitch into a half smile at that as he tries to hold back his amusement at her friends, but his attention only barely flits to Celeste. Amelia finds whenever they’re together, his gaze never leaves her for long. It would be terrifying how much she loves that if she let herself think about it.

“How’ve you been?” he asks. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, winds up with them in his pockets again.

She wants to take them in hers instead. She wants to lace her fingers between his and soothe that obvious anxiety by stroking her thumbs against his. She wants it so badly that she has to flatten her hands against her thighs and force them to stay put.

“I’m good,” she tells him. “Everything’s really… good.” God, has her entire vocabulary fallen out of her head? “You remember Celeste and Maggie?”

He blinks for a moment before looking to her table-mates. It’s a bit of a respite for a moment because she feels like she can breathe again without the weight of his eyes pinning her down. But he also looks a little lost. And how, exactly, is that so very appealing?

“Camping trip back in the Mesozoic era,” Celeste clues him in, pointing her thumb at Maggie. “She’s the one you made out with. I played wingman.”

“Oh…” Will says uncertainly. “Right. Hi.”

“You’re adorable when you’re worried, you know that?” Maggie snorts, shaking her head. “I’ve got nothing but fond memories of some really excellent kissing the better part of a decade ago. I never gave you my number, so I’m certainly not bummed that you never called. I’m not holding any kind of a torch. And I don’t regret a lovely evening well-spent. So... stop holding your breath, Will. We can be buds. Pull up a chair and join us.”

The relief on his face is palpable as he chuckles at himself, and something about seeing it makes Amelia smile. It’s incredible how quickly he can pull emotion out of her, how effortlessly. He’s not even trying, but just the sight of him makes her feel things. In the moment, she loves it. It’s like downing that first sip of ice water when she hadn’t even realized she was thirsty. But… God, she’s so parched.

She must make some kind of noise, because he looks at her expectantly all of a sudden. But his eyes also drift down to her lips when she pulls her lower lip into her mouth and bites into it gently to cage in whatever other traitorous noises might choose to make themselves heard next. The way his brow tightens at the sight tells her quite clearly that she’s done nothing at all to mitigate the building tension, though.

“I should, uh… I should let you ladies enjoy your brunch,” he says after a moment. He looks like it’s the very last thing he wants to say, though.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Celeste scoffs, chugging a rather impressive amount of mimosa to polish off her glass. “Sit. Stay. Wait… that sounds like I’m talking to a dog. I didn’t mean it that way. Just… take my seat. I need to go powder my nose anyhow and Maggie is going to come… watch me do that.”

It’s the most absurd thing Amelia’s ever heard and she shoots a disbelieving look at her friends. Celeste just shrugs shamelessly as they stand.

“We’ll be back in a few,” Maggie says, giving Celeste a warning look that Amelia can’t quite make sense of. “In the meantime… have a nice chat.”

“Live a little,” Celeste adds with a wink.

The worst part is that she’s glad, that she wants them to step away for a few minutes, that she utterly craves the opportunity to just sit and talk with Will. She wishes she didn’t, but she’s weak when it comes to him, when it comes to how he makes her feel, that he makes her feel.

So, she doesn’t protest as her friends walk off. In fact, she sort of relishes it.

“Won’t your sister miss you?” she asks, looking from Will to the table he’d been sharing with his sister just a few moments ago.

“She had a call she had to take,” he replies. Sure enough, the dark haired girl is talking animatedly into her phone. Amelia has the distinct impression that she’s keeping her brother in her peripheral vision, though. And she’s not fool enough to think she’s gone unnoticed. “I really didn’t expect to see you here.”

Surveilled by his sister or not, Amelia returns her focus to Will. “I was surprised to see you, too,” she admits.

“Look, I’m… I was gonna head over to the bar. Get myself a coffee and my sister a bloody mary,” he says, nodding his head toward the long bar along the far wall of the restaurant. “Would you join me?”

The now-empty pitcher of mimosas feels like a sign - mostly because she chooses to take it as one - and in spite of the fact that this feels like a test she’s suddenly losing, she puts her fingers in his outstretched hand and lets him help her up. It takes a second for him to let go of her once she’s standing and, when he does, his calloused fingers graze against the sensitive skin of her wrist, sending absolute lightning bolts of feeling ricocheting through her body.

Desire is nothing new to Amelia. But this is in a class all its own and she feels paradoxically powerless to it and powered by it. Just being near him makes her head swim and her heart pound and it sets her mind down the path of ‘What if? What if? What if?’

She tells herself it’s instinct, as they walk to the bar, for his hand to rest on the small of her back. She tells herself it’s instinct that she leans into him some, that she savors it.

She’s a liar.

The bar spans both the inside of the restaurant as well as the patio and they wind up out in the sun. That’s better anyhow. The natural lighting flatters him immensely and she’s well past any attempts to pretend not to notice how absurdly handsome he is.

“You’re still in Central City?” he asks. There’s a note of hesitation in his voice and she knows what he’s not asking.

“Yes,” she confirms. “I am.”

He nods and places his order with the bartender before licking his lips and looking down to the bartop. She chimes in asking for another pitcher of mimosas and there’s a long moment of silence after the server walks away before Will speaks up again. But he doesn’t look at her when he talks this time.

“You’re happy there?” he asks. “You’re happy with… Central City? It’s what you want?” Half of him doesn’t want to hear her answer and it’s obvious. Because any response she gives won’t be a good one. Not for him. He wants her to be happy, but he doesn’t want her in Central City. She knows the truth of that right down to her toes. Just a few minutes in his presence and she knows that he wants what he’s always wanted. Her. Them. A chance.

“I’m successful,” she replies. “There’s a lot of opportunity there. It’s good for me.”

“That’s not an answer,” he tells her.

“It’s not?” she asks.

“You know it’s not,” he counters.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not. But it’s honest and it’s enough for her. She’s decided it has to be. But in moments like this, it doesn’t feel as simple as that.

“I saw you, you know,” she tells him. He watches her curiously, waiting for her to say more without pushing her. “On the news a few months ago, going through that window with all the smoke pouring out so you could save that baby.”

Recognition dawns on his face. “The house with the Christmas lights,” he says. “They stapled the strand to the roof and it went through the wire. I remember. They were lucky everyone survived.”

She nods, but her focus isn’t on that family. “I was standing in my kitchen making dinner and I just… I stopped because there you were rushing into a house with flames pouring out of it. And I was so… I was so…” The words escape her. They’re all too much. She’d been too many things, felt too much all at once, and even recalling it now feels overwhelming.

“You were ‘so’ what?” he asks. His voice is a little lower, a little breathless.

“Terrified. Amazed. Regretful. Impressed. I don’t know, Will,” she shakes her head. “I don’t even know.”

“Tell me…” he stops and blows some air through his thinned lips. “Tell me about the regretful part.”

“You know about the regretful part,” she replies.

“Tell me anyhow.”

There’s a desperate edge to his voice, a plea, and it’s gutting because she feels that, too. She knows what he wants to hear. She knows what he dreads hearing. And she knows - in some ways - they’re the exact same things.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she tells him in a near whisper. She tries not to hold his gaze, but she can’t help it. He draws her in so fully, so consistently, and she feels powerless against his pull. “This is a bad idea.”

“I don’t care,” he replies. It’s earnest and so very raw. His beautiful eyes look at her like he just wants something, anything to hold on to. And she can give him that. The truth will absolutely offer him that. But it’s all so temporary.

“This can’t change anything, Will,” she tells him. “I still belong in Central City. I’m still going back.”

“I know,” he admits. “But I still need to hear you say it. Please.”

The look in his eyes is so serious, so exposed, and she wonders when she started to have this much effect on him. She wonders how. By all rights, neither of them should have so strong an impact on the other. They’re scarcely more than acquaintances, after all. A connection like this defies logic and it throws Amelia for a loop. But then, everything about Will Queen always has. So, she thinks, maybe she just needs to stop trying to define him, define this, fit him in some kind of a box, because what they feel for each other surely defies all attempts at categorization.

“All the ‘what ifs,’” she tells him. Her voice is soft and her eyes unwavering from his. It feels like a confession, like a bid for absolution that she surely does not deserve. Because in spite of her regrets, she can’t see herself changing a thing. Not before and definitely not now.

She must be silent for too long because he prompts her with a gentle “The ‘what ifs?’”

“Yes,” she breathes out, swallowing hard. “What if… what if I’d seen you before Maggie did? What if I’d gone with you to the fair?” The words are hard mostly because she can see it. She can see herself as a college girl with her arms wrapped around his neck, laughing in the river at their campsite. She can see holding his hand on the ferris wheel. She can imagine it so clearly.

And that only makes everything heightened more when Will’s pinky brushes against hers.

It’s far from accidental. Neither of them look down at their hands resting on the bartop, but she can’t hold back the soft moan or the way her eyes slip shut as his finger runs against the length of hers. It’s nothing but a brush of fingers. It could be the most innocent thing in the world. But it’s not. There’s absolutely nothing innocent about it at all.

A shock of feeling races through her, leaves his touch resonating everywhere. It ripples across every nerve ending. And the way her finger twitches toward him, the way her pinky curves to the side, exposing the soft skin between her fingers to his touch is entirely instinct.

There is no hesitance on his part in running his finger against the newly exposed, softer skin of the inner side of her pinky. It’s far and away the most sexual moment she can remember having in years and it’s in public, at a well-lit brunch bar with her friends and his sister in full view.

But she can’t care about the company nearby. Not right now. Not with her entire body tingling and her head spinning. Not with his breathing heavy and his pupils damned near eclipsing the blue of his eyes as he stares her.

She could get swept away in this if she let herself. It’s incredibly tempting. This feeling - Will - is so addictive and she finds she’s already craving more of this, of him, of them. She’s going to have to stop, going to have to go cold turkey very soon.

But not yet.

“What if I’d kissed you at the gala?” she continues. Her voice is so quiet that she might have wondered if he’d even heard her at all had his finger not stiffened and curled around hers. It’s enough to make her press on. “What if I’d stayed and given us a shot? What if I were braver? What if I’d listened to my instincts?”

There’s the slightest bit of pressure against her fingers, an urging to turn her hand over, and she gives into it easy despite her better judgement.

“And what did your instincts say?” he asks. His fingers slide up to her wrist as he talks and he traces soft, lazy circles against her pulsepoint. The shock of feeling sets her cheeks aflame, makes her feel alive, and she suddenly can’t get enough oxygen.

“Oh, God, Will,” she lets out in a hushed rush of breath. It feels painfully scandalous. She bites into the flesh of her lower lip and lets a curtain of her hair hide her face. If she’d thought about it, she probably would have known he couldn’t let that stand. It seems like he can’t bear to stop looking at her whenever she’s near and soon enough the fingers of his free hand are tucking her hair behind her ear again.

“If they’re saying ‘Oh, God, Will,’ I think I like your instincts,” he tells her. He tries to make it sound amused, but that sort of falls flat because he’s clearly, obviously, every bit as turned on right now as she is and his voice is far too gritty to be flippant.

“My instincts don’t matter,” she tells him. But in great contrast to her words, she can’t make herself pull her hand away and she finds her own thumb stroking along the vein of his inner wrist without even thinking about it. He sucks in a wild breath and lets out a truncated whimper, his whole frame curving toward her like he’s seeking out more of her presence.

“I think they do,” he tells her. “I think they matter most. I think instinct tells you what to fight for.”

She recognizes that for the plea that it is. “I can’t, Will. We can’t. You know that.”

“What I know is that I can’t imagine going without seeing you for another year,” Will replies levelly. “I know that just a glimpse of you makes my day brighter and I’ve never met anyone that I want to learn everything about before. Not like this. Not like you. I know I’ve had enough of ‘what if.’ Haven’t you?”

The worst of it is, she has. She can’t imagine another night in her kitchen watching him on the news as he risks his life for a stranger, knowing she doesn’t even have the right to call him up afterward and ask him how he is. She can’t begin to fathom the sense of loss that she knows would hit her if something happened to him. But that still isn’t enough to derail her entire life.

“I’m with someone, Will,” she reminds him - and herself - pulling her fingers back and blinking hard, trying to force logic back into her own mind. “I’m not a cheat.”

“If you think this isn’t already cheating, you’re fooling yourself,” he replies quietly. He looks a little ashamed as he says it and it echoes strongly with the feeling roiling in her gut. “It might not be an affair, but we both know your heart isn’t entirely with him and that’s the more important part.”

She pulls her hand away entirely at that and rubs at her brow because he’s right. He’s right and that’s not fair to any of them.

“He deserves better than this,” Amelia sighs. It’s thready and uneven. “So do you.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Will ventures. He’s pulled back a bit, torn himself from her physical space, but it seems like it takes effort for him to force a respectable distance between them.

“I don’t already?�� she laughs. It’s not a pretty chuckle by any means. It’s twisted, a little bitter and a little self-effacing.

“No, Amelia,” he tells her. His voice is longing but distant, as is his gaze. “I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

“Okay then,” she agrees. “What is it you think, Will?”

“I think you’re right,” he tells her. “I think he does deserve better than this. And so do I. But I think you deserve better, too.” She finds herself frozen in place, watching him, waiting for him to continue. “I think your head wants one extreme and your heart wants the other and you haven’t figured out how to have a bit of both, yet. I think you deserve to be successful and happy - blissfully, absurdly happy. But you’ve told yourself you have to have one or the other and that’s just not true.”

“That’s not it,” she says after a moment. Her fingernail digs at a groove in the bartop and she, for once, cannot bear to look at him at all.

“It’s not?” he asks.

“No,” she counters. “I know it’s not a trade off. I enjoy my work and I don’t need him to be successful in my own right.”

“Then, what-”

“It’s easier,” she blurts out, interrupting him and daring to look up at him again. “What he and I have is… solid and supportive. It’s good. It is. But I’d survive if I lost him. I’d be okay. I’d still be me.”

“You’re settling because you’re afraid of being hurt,” Will realizes aloud.

“It’s not settling,” Amelia replies in a huff. “It’s choosing what’s best for me.”

“Does he know that?” Will challenges, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I’ve been with him two years, Will,” Amelia reminds him. “I’m pretty sure he’s well aware of what our relationship is and is not by now. What’s so wrong with picking something simple? With choosing not to risk everything?”

“Without risk there’s no reward, Amelia,” Will tells her. It sounds a little pitying and she knows both his words and his tone are going to stick with her a long time. “The point is the risk. The point is loving someone so much that it would forever change you if you lost them. Don’t you want that?”

“No!” she replies sharply, wrapping her arms around herself. “No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says softly. “I think you want it more than anything or you wouldn’t be here with me right now. But I think you’re scared of it all the same. I think you’ve been hurt badly and you don’t want to go through it again.”

That’s not quite true, but it still hits a bit close to home and it’s enough to steel her resolve and stiffen her backbone. “I need to get back to the girls,” she announces. She doesn’t look at him as she says it, instead noticing that the pitcher of mimosas she’d ordered is next to her. How long has that been there? It seems like she loses track of the world around her whenever he’s near.

“Okay,” he agrees immediately. That throws her. She’d expected a fight. Her surprise must show, judging by the look on his face. “I want to see you again. All the time. I want to… I want to take risks with you, Amelia, to have something that I’m terrified of losing. But I don’t get to make that choice for both of us. I know that. And anything I could say is pointless if you don’t want to take that risk, too.”

“I can’t,” she replies, her voice broken and wet. It’s a lot to expect him to accept, to even understand, but he smiles sadly at her like he gets it. It’s far more than she deserves and she knows it.

“I know,” he says. She doubts that’s true, but she’s pretty sure he knows she believes it. And that’s enough. It has to be. He slips off the barstool and hesitates just a moment before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. It’s more innocent than the way their fingers had danced together earlier, but it still leaves her rattled and trying to hold on to the memory of his scent and the feel of his lips on her skin. “Take care of yourself, Amelia. Call me next time you’re in town.”

“Is that a good idea?” she asks as he pulls away. There’s barely a respectable space between them and he smiles sadly as his gaze caresses the details of her face, committing them to memory.

“Probably not,” he admits. “But I’d love to hear from you anyhow.”

“Maybe,” she agrees noncommittally. Despite herself, she can picture doing that. She can see calling him up and meeting for coffee. But she also can’t see it ending there. Just the idea of that, just the possibility of something more with him, something real, sets her heart fluttering and sends a thrill rushing through her veins.

And, despite herself, she thinks maybe… maybe that’s something she’s underrated.

If the very idea of him is enough to make her head spin, what would it be like to really kiss him, to make love to him, to laugh together curled up on the sofa, to wake up tangled in his arms. It’s not that she wants these things that surprises her, it’s the force she wants them with. There’s so much there to explore between them and leaving it all uncharted just makes her feel… empty. She feels empty all of a sudden. And there’s something profoundly sad about that.

“Will,” she says, making a wild grab for his arm as he moves away. He looks back at her and she knows she’s got a big piece of his heart in her hands. She doesn’t know how to keep it safe while she protects her own, but she’s going to try. “I’ll think about it,” she promises. “About everything you said and about next time I’m in town. I just… I need to think.”

She expects him to say that she’s already thinking too much, that she needs to learn to just feel instead, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say a word, instead bringing their joined hands up to kiss her fingers before letting her go and heading back to the table his sister still occupies. Someone else has joined her there - her boyfriend of the last year or so, if Amelia remembers news reports correctly - but her attention is quickly diverted by her own table where Celeste and Maggie sit staring at her with twin astounded expressions on their faces.

Great. So… that’s gonna be fun.

It takes a moment before she feels steady enough to carry that pitcher of mimosas back to the table so she just sits there staring at the finger his pinky had been running up and down minutes ago. She can still feel it, like a phantom sensation she’s not sure will ever leave her. She’s not sure she wants it to.

He’s so… He makes her feel so much. She’s spent a very long time telling herself that she doesn’t want that, that it’s too dangerous and foolhardy. So, why does that all feel like a lie right now?

When her hands stop shaking and she feels even enough to walk without spilling spiked orange juice everywhere, she gets up, grabs the pitcher and turns back toward her friends.

But the first thing she notices is that Will is nowhere to be found.

The second is that his sister is glaring daggers at her.

Amelia doesn’t know Julianna Queen, but she’s long had the impression that the other woman is not someone you want to piss off. She offers up a thin, disaffected smile before choosing to ignore the Queen girl, because that is really the best plan she can come up with at the moment. Besides… Celeste and Maggie are waiting for her.

“So…” Celeste says as Amelia reaches them and sets down their drinks. “I’m pretty sure you’re both gonna owe me child support.”

“What?” Amelia asks, wholly perplexed.

“I totally got pregnant just from watching the two of you together,” Celeste announces, filling her glass.

“Celeste…” Amelia groans, rolling her eyes as she sits down with her friends.

“She’s actually not wrong,” Maggie chimes in, though she sounds a whole lot less charmed than Celeste does.

“Do you have any idea how many people search their whole lives for a connection like that?” Celeste challenges, shaking her head in disbelief. “And you’re gonna just throw it away without even giving it a chance?”

“And you?” Amelia asks, looking at Maggie. “Are you ‘Team Will,’ too?”

“Hell no,” Maggie scoffs. “I’m ‘Team Amelia,’ now and always. But I do think you’re being incredibly unfair to your boyfriend of several years if you’re making heart-eyes and playing footsie with another man at the bar.”

Ouch.

“I wasn’t,” Amelia counters, feeling her cheeks heat up at the denial. But even she doesn’t quite believe her words. There may have been no feet involved… but it’s not like Maggie’s all that far off. Her wrist still tingles.

“Honey, I love you and I want the very best for you always,” Maggie confides in her. “But is that really Will Queen? Anyone with eyes can see the chemistry and I get how attractive that can be - believe me - but that’s far from all you need in a relationship. You and Thad live together. You’re serious and you’ve been building your lives together for quite a while. Now, either that’s what you want or it’s not, but you need to figure it out because pining for one guy when you live with another is asking for trouble.”

Amelia isn’t sure quite what to say to that. Maggie surely has a point, but Celeste sort of saves the moment by jumping in with a question. “Do you love him?”

“I barely know him,” Amelia protests.

It takes a moment for her to register that she’d automatically assumed Celeste meant Will instead of Thad. And, wow, the implications of that alone…

“Your soul does, though,” Celeste replies weightily. It’s cheesy as hell, but she also fully means it because that’s just who Celeste is. “You feel it. You can’t tell me otherwise because I have eyes and I know better.”

“But Thad-”

“Thad’s a great guy,” Maggie cuts her off. “And he loves you. I like him. He’s good for you, but it doesn’t really matter what I think. What matters is what you think. And, if you’re using him as a shield to keep yourself from having to feel more than absolutely necessary, that’s shortchanging yourself and completely unfair to him.”

“I think you are,” Celeste chimes in before Amelia has a chance to reply. “And, you know what? Now that I’ve seen you with Will, I think you always have.”

“Excuse me?” Amelia asks, blinking in surprise.

“When did you start dating Thad, honey?” Maggie questions. “And why, exactly?”

“Two… two years ago last March,” Amelia replies uneasily. “And… I don’t know, because he asked me?”

“Will asked you, too,” Celeste points out, taking a healthy swig of her drink. “In fact, if I remember right, he’d asked you more than once.”

“What’s your point?” Amelia asks.

“We think you said yes to Thad because you were running out of reasons to say no to Will,” Maggie informs her.

“That’s not fair,” Amelia says, defending herself.

“To Thad? I agree. It’s totally unfair,” Maggie counters. “But I care about that a whole lot less than I do that it’s unfair to you.”

From anyone else in the world, this conversation would probably have made Amelia defensive, turned into a tremendous fight. But this is Celeste and Maggie and there is nothing and no one that Amelia will ever let come between her and her girls. Even when it’s hard to hear, they have her best interests at heart and she knows it.

“Look, sweetie, we’re going to support you no matter what you do,” Maggie tells her.

“But we’ve seen you with Thad and we’ve seen you with Will. And the difference is… It’s night and day, Amelia,” Celeste adds. “It’s like you come alive around Will, like he wakes up a part of your soul that’s asleep otherwise. And, okay, maybe it’s not him you wind up with. Maybe it would all go up in flames and you’d get a little burned in the process. But do you really want to know you can feel like that and then go back to Thad and your over-organized routine?”

“Celeste,” Maggie says warningly. She and Celeste aren’t exactly on the same page, here. For all that Amelia knows they’ll both be happy for her as long as she’s living the life she wants, Celeste is very obviously pushing her toward Will while Maggie would sooner watch her take the more sensible route.

Amelia doesn’t immediately have the words to answer Celeste’s question, so the blonde pipes up again and what she says throws Amelia more for a loop than anything else that’s been said.

“What would your dad have wanted for you?”

The words hit her like a physical blow, something that’s counteracted by Maggie grabbing her hand in comfort and squeezing her fingers as she hisses something lowly toward Celeste.

What would her dad have wanted for her? Everything. Her dad would have wanted everything. He’d been a simple man, an accountant whose entire life had revolved around his wife and daughter. He would have done anything for her happiness and she knows it. If he were alive today, he’d get along fine with Thad, but she can’t see them relating over much. With Will… with Will it’s different. She can see her dad laughing with him - Amos Prescott had always enjoyed a good sense of humor - and she can see Will earning his respect for how much importance he places on his family. But, more than that, she can easily see her dad’s eyes smiling at the way she so easily gets lost in Will’s presence, at how the whole world dims and fades away when they’re together.

He’d relate, she thinks. He’d want that for her.

“I need to… I need to think,” Amelia says breathlessly, echoing her words to Will. “I just need…”

“Holy shit, did I get through to you?” Celeste asks, blinking in surprise.

“Apparently, I owe you twenty bucks,” Maggie tells the other girl dryly. Amelia barely hears the words, though, because her head is spinning. For the first time, the idea of being with Will, really being with him, is something that sounds like it makes sense, like it could work. If her friends support that, if Will wants it, too… doesn’t that make it sound more realistic? Doesn’t that make it feel more right?

“What am I doing?” Amelia asks. The painful thing - the most painful thing, anyhow - is that she’s actually looking to her friends for an answer. Because she doesn’t know. In this moment, it feels as though everything’s been thrown into question and she genuinely doesn’t have any clue which way is up. That’s terrifying, but it’s also oddly freeing even if it leaves her feeling like she needs to find solid ground to land on.

“It’s okay that you don’t know,” Maggie advises. “You know that, right? In fact, it’s better that you don’t rush into anything. You’ve always been so put together, Amelia. And we love that about you. You’re ambitious and you’re a planner. It’s part of what makes you you. But, you’re human, too. You’re allowed to question things. And sometimes plans need adjusting.”

“Does mine?” Amelia asks. The idea of that is startling and even the thought that she’d be entertaining this notion today would have stunned her this morning. But Will has a way of throwing everything into flux.

“We don’t get to decide that for you, hon,” Maggie says with a wry twist of her lips and a one-shouldered shrug. “But for my money… you’ve got two different decisions here. It’s not about choosing between Thad and Will, even though it might seem like that. The first thing you need to decide is if this life with Thad is what you want. Don’t even make Will a part of that equation. If what you’ve got is what you want then… that’s the end of it. If it’s not, then you’ve got another decision to make about Will. But don’t make this some kind of choice between two men. It’s about you, not them. And that’s why Celeste and I are happy to give our full-throated support no matter what you decide to do. I told you before we weren’t Team Will or Team Thad. We’re both Team Amelia. I meant that.”

“Team Happy Amelia,” Celeste chimes in, nodding. “Like, Team Super-Blindingly-Happy Amelia… who is blissful with her soulmate, who throws her plans out the window for once in her life.” So, there’s no doubt what Celeste like to see Amelia do. And Amelia’s not surprised in the least to see Maggie cast their friend an incredulous look. After all, she’d just so carefully toed the line, trying to make them both seem neutral. “What? It’s not like I’m wrong,” Celeste scoffs, popping a strawberry in her mouth as Maggie shakes her head.

“Anyhow… you were right about one thing,” Maggie decides, looking back to Amelia. “You need to think. But the good part of all this is, there isn’t a rush. Take your time. Take a breath. Mull it over and figure out what it is you really want. It’s not like Will’s going anywhere. He’s waited this long.”

That’s probably true, but it also sends a fresh rush of guilt washing over Amelia. Because she knows… she knows that for as much as she’s always told him ‘no,’ she’s just as clearly expressed ‘maybe.’ For most men, that wouldn’t be enough. Not for interest to last this long, at any rate. Will’s different, though. Or maybe it’s just that they’re different together. After all, it’s not like she’s any less drawn to him after all these years.

“You okay?” Maggie asks. It’s only then that Amelia realizes it’s been a few moments since any of them spoke.

“Yeah…” she replies. It doesn’t sound very convincing, even to her. “I’m just… lost in thought, that’s all. Sorry.”

And, oh is that true. Her mind is racing a mile a minute and it all plays out like a movie in her imagination. In her head, she can see showing up at Will’s apartment. He’d be so surprised to see her that he’d just freeze when he opened the door, that same look on his face as he’d worn when he’d first spotted her earlier today. He’d be barefoot, comfortable in his own space, and he’d step back, holding open the door for her and waiting for her to speak.

“I thought about it,” she’d say after the door shut. Her hands would shake, as would her voice. “I don’t want to go another year without seeing you again, either.”

He’d need more than that. There’ve been so many ‘maybes’ between them that he’d need to hear more. She’d step closer to him, slipping her hand into his as he watched her with tentative longing.

“You were right. Some risks are worth it,” she’d tell him. “I think this might be one of them.”

He’d kiss her then. It’d start soft, disbelieving that this is all real, all hot breath and soft lips. But it would escalate quickly. She knows it would. They can scarcely keep their hands to themselves now, but if she showed up at his home, if she said those words to him… Frankly, she can’t imagine they’d even make it to a bed. She’d be so swept away by him so very easily. Her damned hand still tingles from where he’d stroked her wrist and finger earlier. The notion of how every inch of her body would resonate with his touch is heady, makes her flush and swallow hard at the very idea. He’d make love to her so thoroughly, so passionately, that it would further solidify that crazy connection between them. But, truth be told, she’s fairly certain she’d be lost in this thing between them from the moment his lips touched hers. He’d pull her under like a riptide and she’s not sure she’d ever surface.

But, for the first time… she thinks that sounds like something equal parts dangerous and appealing.

“Earth to Amelia!”

“Huh?”

The image in her head fades slowly and she knows it’s very, very obvious where her mind was from the twin looks on Maggie and Celeste’s faces.

“It’s late, hon,” Maggie says. “We’ve been here a bit and I need to meet Jer soon. Are you gonna be okay? Do you want me to cancel with him? We can go veg out in your hotel room and hash through this if you want.”

“No,” Amelia counters immediately. “Thank you, but no. I think I’m going to just take a walk and clear my head. I’ve got a meeting scheduled in a bit, too.” Neither of the girls look all that convinced. “Really, I’m fine. I’m good, actually. I wish we had more time together, though. Brunch a couple times a year isn’t enough.”

“Jer and I will be up in Central City this fall,” Maggie tells her.

“And I’m not going to head to China without seeing you again,” Celeste informs her. “Can I bum your sofa for a few days this August?”

“Of course,” Amelia tells her, a grin spreading across her lips. “You always have a place with me and that would be fantastic. I’d love to see you.”

Whatever else in her life might be in flux, she will always welcome the chance to spend more time with her girls. She’d known she had missed them, but she hadn’t quite realized how badly until she’d actually seen them.

“For real, where the hell is our server?” Maggie asks, looking around the room and shaking her head. “I’m not exactly in a rush yet, but it would be good to pay anyhow.”

Celeste lets out a shrill whistle a moment later and waves wildly toward a man that Amelia only vaguely recognizes from earlier. Honestly, she’s been so distracted that she couldn’t have pulled their server out of a lineup. The man heads over with a clearly fake smile.

“Are you ladies ready for your next round, then?” he asks once he gets there.

“Uh, no,” Maggie corrects. “Just the check, please.”

“Your bill is already covered,” the server tells her. “As is anything else you ladies would care to order. I’ve been told to instruct you that the Dom Perignon would be better without orange juice, but would be an excellent choice.”

“Excuse me?” Celeste blinks, her eyes darting toward the host at the door who she’s been seeing. “Who, uh… who covered it, exactly?” She’s visibly nervous and it makes Amelia wonder if maybe she’s a little less certain of the casual nature of her relationship than she’d let on. But she’s also wrong. There’s no doubt in Amelia’s mind about that.

“It was Will,” Amelia murmurs. She doesn’t even need that confirmed.

“Mr. Queen left you a note as well,” the server says, flipping through the book of checks for his tables until he reaches a loose slip of paper and hands it over. “I presume you’re Amelia?”

“Yes,” she confirms quietly, taking the small piece of paper and unfolding it, half excited and half nervous to see what message he’s left. Ultimately, it’s short, sweet and painfully appropriate.

To no more ‘what ifs.’ Take all the time you need.

She lets out a shuddering breath and her eyes slam shut as her free hand rubs at the furrows of her brow.

“Thank you,” she manages, effectively dismissing the server.

“What’s it say?” Celeste asks eagerly. Amelia’s eyes snap back open at the question and she suddenly finds herself very protective of the message.

“Nothing,” she replies quickly, folding the paper carefully and tucking it behind her license in her wallet. “It’s… it’s nothing. I’m sorry, guys. I need to get some air. I need… I need some air.” She’s nodding at her own words and if it seems a little desperate, a little manic, that’s probably not too far off the mark. “Love you both. I’ll call you tonight? I just… I need air.”

Kindly, neither of them point out that they’re in a restaurant with one wall slid open to blend the indoors with the outdoors. There’s plenty of fresh air. They both stand, each of them hugging her goodbye before Amelia hastily makes her way out the front door, her head spinning and her heart pulled in so many directions it feels like it might just split apart at the seams.

Starling City’s weather is gorgeous, and she takes a big gulp of crisp June air the moment she’s out the front door. It’s cleansing somehow, and the bright sunshine makes for a fabulous excuse to don her sunglasses and take her time lingering outside.

In spite of the fact that she’s not originally from Starling, that she’d only moved here for a job after college - for the job after college - when she sucks in a deep breath of air it smells like home. It doesn’t make sense, but there it is anyhow. Central City has been good to her… very good. Her job, her boyfriend, her life is exactly what she’d told herself she wanted.

But, even before Will threw all of that into question, a part of her was here. Part of her wants to be at this restaurant every weekend with Celeste and Maggie. Part of her wants a tiny, one-bedroom flat to herself in the trendier part of the arts district. Part of her wants… well, part of her wants something else entire. Another city, another life.

It’s childish.

That’s what she decided years ago.

Life is short - life can be so short - and if you sit idly by then all your goals for it will slip right through your fingers. She’s making a difference in Central City. Her work is invaluable. She has a real impact on policy, on people’s lives. She doesn’t have time to entertain ‘what ifs,’ to linger on silly yearnings that can’t go anywhere.

Unless… unless she does. Unless that’s more important than she’s ever given it credit for.

“What the hell makes you so special?”

Amelia jumps at the voice, turning to find one very familiar, skeptical, dark-haired girl leaning against the outside of the restaurant, scrutinizing her like she’s been put under a microscope and the dark-haired girl can’t quite figure out what she’s seeing.

“Excuse me?” Amelia asks. Her voice is uneasy and defensive. She’s not prepared for this conversation in any way.

But then, she thinks Julianna Queen might relish it all the more for that.

The younger girl pushes off the wall and saunters forward, all lithe grace and confidence that Amelia absolutely does not feel in this moment. She’d look dainty if not for the black leather biker jacket and combat boots and her matching unaffected expression. But Amelia suspects that’s an act, an affect put on for the sake of her image.

She’d know. She does the same professionally on a regular basis.

“You,” Jules says again, folding one arm in front of herself and resting the elbow of her other on her hand as she worries her fingers together like she’s trying to physically sort things out. Amelia’s seen the girl’s father do much the same thing while working. “What is it about you that has my brother tied up in knots?”

Thank god for sunglasses, but Amelia can’t credit the mimosas for the sudden color in her cheeks.

“Maybe you should ask him that,” she replies. It’s clipped, uneasy, and Amelia can feel her spine stiffening at the sense of an impending conflict. But, then, she’s extremely sensitive about all things related to Will Queen right now.

“I think he’s put up with enough shit without me quizzing him about why he’s still mooning after you like an eon after one dance,” Jules scoffs.

“A year,” Amelia responds without even thinking about it. She could kick herself when she realizes what she’s said. She suspects that Julianna Queen is not the sort of person you expose your vulnerabilities to, but it’s too late now. “It’s been a year since we danced, not an eon,” she clarifies.

Jules cocks her head to the side and looks Amelia up and down like she’s trying to figure out if she’s something she needs to scrape off the bottom of her boot or not.

“A year,” she allows a moment later. “Have you even seen him since then?”

Amelia swallows hard and looks out to the street. Cars hurry by like ants, unaware and going about their business, life on a mission. There’s no one on their side of the street, but there are plenty of people going in and out of the mom-and-pop coffee shop across the way. It’s the stuff of daily life, the ins and outs of a city’s lifeblood. It’s routine, the sort of thing she thrives on, usually. But her moment right now is not.

“No,” she answers. She doesn’t have to, she knows that, but for all her familiarity with the Queen men, she knows very little of the Queen women besides Moira.

“And a year later he still looks at you like you’re the only person in the room,” Jules points out. There’s no missing the annoyance in her voice and Amelia can’t deny the truth behind her words. She’s not even sure she wants to. “And you sit there looking right back at him exactly the same way. Seems to me like the two of you are still dancing.”

God, there’s a thought. Amelia’s head swims at that memory - or maybe the mimosas - and the breath she lets out is a shuddering exhale before looking back to meet Jules’ gaze.

“Your brother is a fantastic guy,” she allows. It might be the biggest understatement she’s ever made.

“But, what? Not good enough for you?” Jules challenges.

“What?” Amelia asks. It comes out on a disbelieving laugh. “What are you even talking ab-”

“You,” Jules announces angrily. “You with your high-powered job and important life. Just because he’s a firefighter instead of a doctor or a senator or something. Just because he’s a bastard. You think you’re so high and mighty. So much better than-”

“He doesn’t think that, does he?” Amelia cuts off. She doesn’t give a damn what accusations are being thrown at her, doesn’t care in the least what Jules Queen thinks about her. She doesn’t owe her any explanations. But, God, if that’s what Will thinks. If that’s what he believes, what he has believed for years, she’s not sure how she’ll forgive herself.

But Jules doesn’t answer directly. Not right away.

“My brother is better than all of us. He’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

“I know that,” Amelia blurts out. It’s painfully, gut-wrenchingly honest. But, God, she does know that. She’s seen it. His devotion to his family, to his job. His commitment as a brother, as a son. She’s seen it. She’s heard about it for years. Little Nate had rambled on about him all summer as he’d poured coffee around city hall years ago. Aside from his… varied romantic history splashing across the tabloids, she’d also seen much of his dedication to his siblings, his coworkers, his city written out in black and white, played out on television - complete with him in uniform, covered in soot and carrying an infant out of a burning building.

If you want to talk about good men… Will Queen is prime, always has been.

“I’m not… I know I’m not better than him,” Amelia continues, licking her lips. “I’ve never thought that. Not once.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Jules asks. “Why the hell are you still dancing?”

She can remember actually dancing with him, can still smell the hint of his cologne, feel the heat of his palm against her back, remember the rush of his breath as he exhaled her name out against her cheek. She dreams about it sometimes. Waking up is always brutal those nights and her boyfriend’s warm embrace is far from what she wants in the quiet, honest cover of night.

“I’m not,” Amelia protests. “Not anymore. Dancing is wonderful. It’s fun and it’s… it’s a fantastic escape, but it’s not life.”[1] [2] [3]

Maybe. Maybe it’s not life. But maybe she wants it to be. God, she is so ill-equipped for this conversation right now.

“Funny,” Jules says, folding her arms in front of her. “It’s my career, actually.”

Amelia thinks she’d known that, but she’s not certain and she nods her head allowing the other girl’s point. “It’s not my life,” she clarifies.

“Because your life is all big important things without any art in them? Without any joy or expression?” Jules snorts.

“I get a lot of joy out of my work,” Amelia bristles.

“No,” Jules sighs. It’s a pitying noise. “I don’t think you do. I think you get satisfaction and it’s been so long since you’ve had joy instead that you’ve forgotten the difference.”

“You don’t know me,” Amelia tells her angrily - correctly - even if it feels like she does.

“Sure I do,” Jules scoffs. “I know you very well. You’re… pedestrian. You’re a person who hits the same coffee shop at the same time every day and hurries to be at their desk an hour early. You leave late and take papers home to work on at night. You probably haven’t taken a vacation since you started your job. You screw your boyfriend like clockwork twice a week just because it’s been a few days and you feel like you’re supposed to-”

“Excuse me”

“-You aren’t exceptional, Amelia. You’re ordinary. And worse, you like it that way. You’re nowhere near good enough for my brother, so quit dancing with him. He deserves better.”

Jules turns to leave at that, content to have the last word. Amelia will never know what it is that makes her speak up - maybe everything is just too raw to let it end this way - but she knows she can’t allow Jules’ words to stand unchallenged.

“You’re jealous,” she announces. It’s too loud, too sharp, and the incredulous look on Jules’ face when she turns around feels very, very dangerous.

“You want to say that again?” she asks slowly.

“You are,” Amelia tells her, doubling down and pushing her sunglasses atop her head. “You’re so used to being the most important person in his world and you know I’m a threat to that. Because he does look at me and it’s like nothing exists but us for an instant, not even you. Because you see us together and you know it could be so much more than just this, you know it could last. That it could be something real.”

Jules shakes her head, eyes wide and disbelieving as she runs her tongue along her teeth and takes a step closer until their toe-to-toe.

“Oh yeah?” she questions, looking up at Amelia.

“Yes,” Amelia replies firmly.

“Fine,” Jules acknowledges, raising an eyebrow. “Then prove it.”

This time, when she turns to head back into the restaurant, Amelia lets her have the last word. She’s not sure what she could possibly say to that anyhow, but the words ring in her ears.

Prove it.

They echo through her brain with every footstep she takes down the sidewalk. Over and over.

Prove it.

The cool air isn’t really cutting it anymore. It feels stale, stifling and the need to escape hits her full on. Without even thinking about it, she waves down a nearby cab - ignoring that an Uber or a Lyft would absolutely be cheaper, she can’t care about that right now - and climbs in quickly, asking the driver to turn up the air conditioning, please. He looks at her like she’s crazy, but does it anyhow.

“Where to?” he asks.

She rattles off the address from memory and the cabbie does another double-take, but doesn’t ask any more questions before pulling out into traffic and heading down the road.

Will’s note practically burns a hole in her purse. She’s so very aware that it’s there and his sister’s words still rattle around her brain like a dare she wants to take. She ignores both, though, and grabs for her phone instead. What she needs right now is a distraction. She needs… she doesn’t know what she needs.

She needs something to keep her from pulling up Will’s address and giving that to the cabbie instead, that’s what she needs.

As she expected, she’s got a slew of emails from work. None of them are of immediate importance, which is good because her mind could not possibly deal with an actual crisis at the moment. There’s one from her mom, too, though. And that’s the one that pulls her attention.

It’s just her regular, rambling novella about her week. There’s a moment where Amelia considers calling her, where she thinks maybe her mom is exactly what she needs right now. But she makes herself put her phone back and pushes down that impulse, because she knows exactly what her mom would say.

“Your heart has wings, baby girl. You need to let it fly.” She can practically hear it. “Life’s too damned short to keep both feet on the ground. The sky’s the limit and you, of all people, deserve to soar.”

But then her mom is prone to following every impulse she’s ever had. She’s been a risk-taker her whole life and it’s both rewarded and cost her time and time again. Having been there for so much of the cost, Amelia’s never understood how she can keep taking all those risks.

No, she knows what her mom’s take on things would be. What she needs right now is the exact opposite voice. She needs balance and perspective if she’s going to make an informed decision that sticks.

Even if it means her next meeting happens just a bit earlier than had been planned.

“We’re here, lady,” the cabbie announces, jolting Amelia from her thoughts. “Can’t say as I ever saw Queen Manor before. Really is sorta a castle, ain’t it?”

Her gaze snaps to the window to find they have, indeed, pulled up to Queen Manor. It’s been awhile since she’s been here, since Moira was mayor, but it looks very much the same. It’s probably looked the same, more or less, since it was built. It’s enormous, stately and - yes - very castle-like.

“It’s appropriate,” she answers crisply, handing the man considerably more money than the meter reads. “Thanks for your time.”

He’s a whole lot happier with the sizable tip and gets out of the cab to open the door for her. She thanks him absently and barely pays attention as he gets back in the cab and pulls away. She’s too busy staring up at the manor and all that it represents.

“Amelia? Darling, you’re early.”

Moira’s voice jolts her and Amelia turns to find her former mentor strolling through the gardens, her arm looped through her husband’s.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Amelia apologizes, taking a few steps in the couple’s direction to kiss both Moira and Walter on the cheek. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

“Not at all,” Moira counters, waving off her concern. “I’m surprised, not unhappy. It’s good to see you. You look well.”

“You too,” Amelia sighs, offering up a smile. Just being in the former mayor’s presence settles something in her, leaves her feeling more steady on her feet. “And you, Walter.”

“How is Central City these days?” Walter inquires politely. “I hear good things about your work there. It seems as though you’ve settled right in.”

“I… work is good,” she allows. That question would have been a whole lot easier to answer before running into Will and there’s no doubt that Moira’s picked up on her hesitation. The older woman’s face tightens with a forced smile that Amelia long ago learned to read. Walter’s countenance is a bit harder for her to interpret, but she suspects she’s not fooling him much, either.

“Excellent,” he declares. “I’ll let you ladies catch up, then. Shall I have tea brought to your study in a bit?”

“Mmm, yes please. Oolong would be delightful,” Moira agrees, smiling up at her husband as he gives a curt nod and heads off toward the house. He’s barely out of sight before Moira refocuses back on Amelia, her face suddenly gravely serious. “What is it that you need help with?”

It’s been awhile since she’s been around Moira and, while all politicians seem to be fairly good at reading people, no one she’s met holds a candle to Moira Queen.

“I’m that obvious?” Amelia asks with a broken laugh. It’s a bid for time as she searches for words, as much as it’s anything else.

“You need to brush up on your poker face, Amelia,” Moira tells her bluntly. “I trained you far better than this. Now… who do you need me to call and pull strings with? Is it the housing initiative?”

Oh, Amelia really wishes it were that simple.

“No… nothing like that,” Amelia allows as the two of them head slowly toward the house. “It’s not work.”

“Not work?” Moira asks sharply. There’s an alertness to her eyes that tells Amelia she’d have been considerably less concerned if it were. “It’s personal?”

“Yes,” Amelia admits. “Very.”

It’s like a veil slides over Moira’s face as she readies herself for the conversation ahead, something steels within her and Amelia quite suddenly feels like a child being taken to the principal’s office for acting foolishly. Neither of them say another word until they’re indoors though. They head directly to Moira’s study where the older woman gestures toward the sofa silently before taking the higher-seated armchair for herself.

Always jockeying for position, Moira Queen. Retirement can’t change that. It’s in her nature.

But the first question out of her mouth is not one that Amelia had anticipated.

“Are you pregnant?” Moira asks.

It’s said abruptly for a reason, to earn an honest reaction and establish an upper hand in the conversation. It absolutely achieves both aims. Amelia almost chokes on the laugh that bubbles up in the back of her throat.

“No,” she says quickly. “Definitely not. That’s… not a part of my plans.”

“Neither was my daughter or two of my grandchildren,” Moira points out. It’s true, but the barest reference to Will makes Amelia flinch slightly and there’s absolutely no way that Moira misses that. But she lets it pass for now. “How is Thad?”

“He’s… fine,” Amelia replies. It’s the very best description of things with Thad that she can envision. They’re fine. They’re not great. They’re not even really good. They’re… well, they’re fine.

“You’re not unhappy with him,” Moira deduces. “That’s good. He’s a remarkable man.” It’s funny only because everyone else’s measure today had been her happiness, not her unhappiness. But Amelia can’t linger on that too long because Moira’s questions haven’t finished. “Is he having an affair?”

“No,” Amelia replies, a little insulted on Thad’s behalf. “Of course not.”

“Are you?” Moira asks. It’s sharper, more honed. If words could have teeth, she’s fairly certain Moira’s question would leave a mark.

“N… No,” Amelia replies again. It’s a little uncertain, though - she can’t help it - and the disbelief on Moira’s face tells her everything she needs to know about how that response was received.

“The occasional indiscretion happens, Amelia,” Moira informs her. “I can help you, but not if you lie to me, not if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m not having an affair,” Amelia says more firmly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“But you want to,” Moira observes.

“No,” Amelia laughs wryly. She’s so close, but so far off the mark at the same time. “I don’t. I don’t want to do that to him, to either of them, but I’m just... “ She stops, huffs, shakes her head and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Is this enough? Thad is… he’s a good man. He’s smart and kind and handsome. He’s headed places and we get along just fine. Is that enough? Is that… is that all that matters? Couldn’t it be so much more than that? Wouldn’t that be better?”

If there was any part of her that expected Moira Queen to smile and agree, it would have been sorely disappointed. The older woman’s eyes narrow and she raises her chin as she studies Amelia’s uneasy, impassioned face.

“What, precisely, did my grandson say to you?”

Amelia finds herself blinking and staring down at the fringe of the throw rug as her mind races and her mouth goes dry. Coming to her mentor for advice had been one thing, to have been read so thoroughly - so quickly - by Will’s grandmother and confronted with her feelings is very much another.

“He’s very charming,” Moira continues. It does not sound like a compliment when she says it. It doesn’t sound like the Will that Amelia knows, in spite of the words fitting. And she finds herself looking up hesitantly, meeting the Queen matriarch’s eyes with far too much vulnerability showing in her own. “The Queen men always have been. It’s both a gift and a curse.”

“It’s not just that,” Amelia replies. It comes out as a near whisper because it’s an open admission that they’re talking about Will and she can’t quite believe she’s voicing this aloud to Moira Queen. “He makes me feel. He makes me dream. It’s not just that he’s charming. It’s like, when I’m with him, it’s like nothing else matters, like the rest of the world just fades to background noise. And that’s… it’s…”

“Addictive,” Moira acknowledges. “The way he makes it seem like you’re everything to him, that’s something that’s hard to turn down, isn’t it? I should know. His grandfather was much the same way.” Moira gets up, but motions for Amelia to keep seated as she heads over to her desk and unlocks a drawer, rummaging through it. “He reminds me so much of Robert, at times. As he gets older, there are moments where he even looks like him. It’s the smile, you know. That rakish grin that makes even the most intelligent of women swoon and question their own common sense.”

Amelia recoils a little at that assessment, but bites down on her lip to keep from saying anything.

“Do you know what the best part of my relationship with Robert was, Amelia?” Moira questions, pulling herself upright and squaring her shoulders. There’s a binder in her hands that Amelia’s trying not to stare at.

“I don’t think we ever talked about him,” Amelia answers.

“We didn’t,” Moira confirms. “But perhaps we ought to have. The best thing about my life with Robert was that he gave me my son.” The way her face lights up at that tells Amelia precisely how much she values that, but she doesn’t linger on the upsides of her relationship for long. “He was very good at making me feel special, of course. Robert was dashing and a blatant flirt. He had this way about him… well it worked in the boardroom as well as it worked at a party. It drew people to him. But men like Robert - like William - are not the sort who are meant for just one woman. They aren’t built like that.”

“I don’t believe that,” Amelia breathes out. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, but that just makes it more instinctive, more honest. “Not about Will.”

“How well do you really know him, Amelia?” Moira chastises with a shake of her head.

“At least as well as you do,” Amelia counters.

“Yes, well… that doesn’t say very much, does it?” Moira asks.

“Then how can you say this?” Amelia questions, standing abruptly. “How can you stand here and admit you don’t know him well, but tell me what kind of man he is?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” Moira replies, eyes widening and jaw set. It’s a challenge if ever Amelia’s seen one. “So have you. You’re just choosing to ignore it at the moment.” She drops the folder in her hands on the desk with a dull thud. Amelia actually backs up a step like it might bite her. “You started this binder for me, Amelia. Would you like to see what’s been added to it since you last looked?”

Amelia’s heart pounds in her ears and she shakes her head violently before she even realizes she’s moving it. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t need to see that. I know he’s… He’s single. His love life is his own business. It has nothing to do with me at this point.”

The look on Moira’s face is flat out pitying and Amelia hates it - she hates it. Part of her mind screams at her for coming here. Why had she come here? Why - of all people - is she talking to Moira Queen about this? But the bigger part knows that this is exactly what she came for. She’s here to be talked out of her impulses, to bury her instincts and kill the fledgling dreams she holds for more.

“Would it have been your business the night of the gala?” Moira asks. Amelia jerks at the question and bites her lips together shaking her head. She doesn’t want to hear this, not even a little. “Does it matter that he danced so intimately with you, but then he took home a pretty little blonde who stuck around for an hour before leaving with her shoes in hand?”

“Stop,” Amelia pleads. It’s all too much. She doesn’t want to remember that girl so clearly, doesn’t want to be able to picture so easily how Will would have kissed her and taken her to bed. Not when she knows she’d been sitting in her hotel room at the same moment, wondering if she’d done the right thing, second guessing all of her own choices and longing for him.

“Take note of that feeling you’re experiencing right now, Amelia,” Moira advises, rounding the desk and placing a hand on her elbow. “If you choose a man like him, you’ll need to get used to it.”

“She was his date,” Amelia points out, pulling her arm away.

“Yes,” Moira agrees. “And yet he was more than willing to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he pawned her off on his thirteen-year-old brother, wasn’t he?”

“It’s different,” Amelia insists, her voice breaking. “We’re different.”

“My dear… how many women in that folder do you think felt the very same way?” Moira asks with a sigh. A sinking feeling of nausea hits Amelia all of a sudden and her head spins. She grabs hold of the desk with one hand, just to steady herself, and she presses the other over her mouth. “Maybe you’re right,” Moira allows. “Maybe you are different. Maybe you’re special to him. But you are far too intelligent a woman to play those odds.”

“I know I’m right,” Amelia insists, pulling her hand away from her mouth. She ignores the way tears spill over her eyelids. They don’t matter. Not right now. “I’m right. Will is not Robert. And not all Queen men are like you’ve described them. Oliver would never in a million years even look at a woman other than his wife.”

“Oliver’s surprised me,” Moira agrees. “I hadn’t thought him capable of fidelity. If you’d known him in his youth, you’d have thought the same. But Felicity is one-in-a-million and there was a long line of girls before her who thought they were the one who could snag my son. Maybe you’re William’s one-in-a-million, but are you really ready to risk everything on that? Because, you need to be certain, Amelia. This isn’t just your relationship with Thad and your heart you’d be risking. It’s your job, too. Politics is brutal for women. Are you ready for the scrutiny and the rumors that would come with leaving a prominent state senator for a Queen? Are you ready for if he’s more like his grandfather than you want to believe? A cuckolded woman looks weak. A cheating man gets painted by the press as virile. You know that’s true.”

“He wouldn’t,” Amelia argues. “He wouldn’t. Will’s not a cheater.” All of a sudden, she’s back at the bar with Will in her head and she can perfectly picture his handsome face telling her just that, denying even the idea of them doing anything more than touching hands while she was with someone else. God, her wrist still tingles where he’d run his thumb across it earlier. “Do you have one woman - a single woman - in that entire binder that he cheated on?”

Amelia doesn’t really have any reason to have this much faith in Will, but it’s there anyhow. She just knows. She believes him, believes in him, and that pays off in spades when Moira has to take a second to regain her composure. “I don’t,” she admits.

“See?” Amelia asks. It feels like such a victory and a part of her heart soars at the vindication. “He would not cheat on me, Moira. I know that with every fiber of my being. I won’t lie and say that him being with that girl from the gala doesn’t hurt - it does - but it’s also irrelevant. I can deal with the press and the politics. I don’t care about that.”

“You will,” Moira predicts. “You will when Thad’s career pays the price for you leaving him for a Queen. You will when you give up your own hard-won career for a boy with a nice smile and some charming words that you don’t really know at all.”

“What are you talking about?” Amelia asks. “I’m not giving up my career for him.”

“Mayor Lance has a chief of staff, Amelia. She doesn’t need another one,” Moira points out. “And William is never going to leave his siblings to join you in Central City. Are you considering a long distance relationship? Because I have to say, whether you’re right about him or not, that lowers your odds of this working out considerably.”

Just like that, Amelia’s heart drops again and with it, reality sets in. “I hadn’t thought about that yet,” she admits.

Moira sighs and gestures back toward the sofa. This time, they both take a seat and the older woman takes one of her hands between both of her own.

“I understand entirely where you’re at,” she assures Amelia, squeezing her hands before letting them go. “Moments of questioning yourself are normal, but you need to keep your head about you. You’re a logical woman, Amelia, and you have such a promising future. I would never have taken you on as an intern all those years ago if that weren’t true. But we are women in politics and, my own indiscretions aside, missteps are rarely forgiven.”

Amelia nods. “I just…” she says quietly, stopping to swallow hard. “I just love the way I feel when I’m with him. I’ve never felt that before. I don’t want to let go of that. It feels like a mistake to let it go.”

Moira lets out a hesitantly pained exhale and looks off to the side as she blinks hard. “This is an incredibly awkward statement to make,” she allows, speaking slowly. “But I would be remiss as your mentor if I didn’t caution you to be exceedingly discreet, should you decide to engage in an affair.”

“He’s not a cheat, Moira,” Amelia reminds her, trying very hard not to envision precisely what she’s suggesting and flushing at the realization that it’s Will’s grandmother suggesting it. “And neither am I.”

“Then go home, Amelia,” Moira counsels her, her voice firm and unwavering. “Go home to Thad. Take stock of what you already have. He’s a good man. He loves you and you have built such strong foundations of your careers together. Leave these fanciful notions of William for your dreams. That’s where they’ll serve you best.”

Of everything Moira’s said, Amelia suspects this is amongst the least accurate. It’s not that she won’t dream of Will - she will; God but she will - but the idea that thoughts of him will serve her best there.

They won’t.

He’ll haunt her.

And she knows it.

Oh, God, she feels sick just thinking about it all. Her head swims as reality sets it, gripping tight with its biting claws and leaving her feeling pinned in place with freshly made scars. She has never been a fanciful person, not even before she lost her father. But the urge to let go of her own expectations, of all her plans and carefully managed goals, it’s near overwhelming when she thinks of Will Queen. He brings something to life inside her, something she’s never known before, and she loves that little sliver of herself that surfaces in his presence. Letting that go, intentionally turning her back on him and all the possibilities he brings into her life, it feels like mourning a death of lives unlived.

But she only has one life. And it’s one that doesn’t have room for risks as steep and dangerous as Will Queen.

That absolutely doesn’t make this hurt any less, though.

At least Moira doesn’t seem to judge her for that. Amelia’s grateful for that small favor.

“I’m glad you came to me,” the older woman confides, gripping her shoulder tightly in a quick moment of support tinged with affection. “I hope you know you always can. I can understand the appeal of a charming man with a handsome face, but there’s far more to consider than just that.”

Amelia nods and smiles in response, but it’s forced and thin. Her heart hurts and a big part of her just wants to cry.

It’s a surprise when her cell phone rings, breaking the somewhat solemn air that’s filled the room, and Amelia pulls it out of her purse right away, but pauses before answering it.

“You should take that,” Moira counsels firmly.

Thad’s smiling face stares back up at her from the screen. It’s formal, stiff… polite. The kind of smile she can’t imagine ever gracing Will’s lips. He lives so fully, lets himself feel so much, expresses every inch of it.

“Hello?” she asks as she answers the phone. Moira discreetly leaves the office and Amelia clears her throat as she stands and moves toward the giant picture window that overlooks the Queen gardens.

“Hey,” Thad’s voice greets her. It’s familiar and a little rushed. “You should sit down.”

“Why?” she asks sharply.

“I’ll tell you once you’re sitting,” he replies.

“Who says I’m not?” she questions.

“I know you, Amelia,” he replies with a huff. “You’re pacing.” She stops the moment his words register. She hadn’t even been aware she was moving. “You were going to pace the instant you realized something was wrong, no matter where you were.”

“Just tell me,” she snaps, partly annoyed at being kept waiting and partly at the fact that he’s right.

He sighs, clearly relenting. “I ran into Councilman Marks coming out of Representative Pryce’s office.”

“Why would…” Amelia clicks into work mode immediately, standing up a bit straighter as everything falls into place. “Are they screwing with my healthcare initiative? I swear to god, if Pryce gets his slimy hands on-”

“Hey… it’s fine,” Thad cuts her off, but she’s not done ranting.

“It’s not fine,” she insists, shaking her head. “It’s the opposite of fine. I’ve been working on this for six months, Thad. This is the cornerstone of everything I’ve done this year and if Pryce comes in and gets in my way, I will-”

“I took care of it!” Thad says, interrupting her loudly. “Take a breath. It’s fine. I know what this means to you and it’s good for the city. You’re right. I pulled a few strings. You don’t need to worry. I’ve got your back. You know that.”

Guilt surges through her at those words and she finds herself nodding without realizing it. “Yeah… I do,” she agrees after a minute. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he promises before pausing. She can practically hear the smile in his voice and it only serves to make her feel worse. He’s a good man, a kind man who loves her, someone whose life she’s thoroughly intertwined her life with her own. She’s lucky to have him. “Think you’ll be home in time for dinner tomorrow night?”

“I, uh…” Amelia swallows hard and pushes down her guilt along with her longing. Two choices, Maggie had said. Take Will out of the equation entirely. Is the life she has the one she wants? It has to be, she decides. It really does. “Yeah, I will be,” she finishes.

“Good,” he replies. “I miss you, Amelia. See you tomorrow night.”

“See you soon,” she agrees before hanging up and slipping her phone back into her purse. Her fingers brush against her wallet and she thinks about the note from Will tucked behind her license. With her path chosen, maybe she should get rid of it, keep it from sitting there tauntingly, just out of reach. But she can’t stand the thought of that, so she leaves the little slip of paper right where it is.

It’ll stay there for many years to come. But, even sight unseen, it never strays far from her mind.

27 notes · View notes

swagderlander · 7 years

Photo

Happy Birthday @qwertyuiop-sparta & @ameliam-09! by paradiselemonade featuring a man bag ❤ liked on Polyvore

Alice Olivia tie shirt, 3395 TWD / Off shoulder top, 8895 TWD / Temperley London wide leg pants, 19330 TWD / Sergio Rossi strappy sandals, 10605 TWD / KOTUR man bag, 28645 TWD / Stella Dot vintage jewelry, 1325 TWD / Cross ring, 2080 TWD / Lip gloss, 875 TWD

#polyvore #fashion #style #Alice + Olivia #Temperley London #Sergio Rossi #KOTUR #Stella & Dot #clothing

0 notes

rendypram · 7 years

Text

Thought via Path

https://life.idntimes.com/education/maira/cuma-anak-hi-yang-mengalami-11-nasib-hidup-seperti-ini Cuma Anak HI aja yang ngalamin hal ini 😀😄 with indra, andry, Ananda, Emame, Apringga Fitrialdy, Arfan , Dian, Intan, Putri, nmcmemed , Hediana, Albert, Febryan, EL, Achmadi, Gilang, Desyi, Puputri, Darmansyah, Casfull, endang, Feb, Muhammad, Ghaby, Annisa, Aris, Andi, KENEDY , Bou, Andrey, Aldino, Aisya, Carlos, Desy, Dini, Annisa, Dewy, Aji, Angga, Aji, Jae, Ameliame, Charles, Titin Soekma, Arnold Arswenda, Agus, Badaruddin, Anggie Arla, Arfan, Dwan, Shinta, dewibrum, rethadwidyani, Fasha, Ferly, and Badaruddin – Read on Path.

0 notes

follow-us-to-paradise · 11 years

Photo

Mr & Mrs Rivers, 2013.

#Love #holdfasthumanity #ameliam #Amelia Rivers #MV

3 notes · View notes

so-caffeinated · 1 year

Link

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012), Ficon Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Will Queen/Amelia Prescott, Jules Queen/Alex Castillo, Ellie Queen/Sara Diggle, Nate Queen/Penny Bookwalter, Ameliam - Relationship, Julex - Relationship, Elara - Relationship, BookQueen Characters: Will Queen, Amelia Prescott, Jules Queen, Alex Castillo, Ellie Queen, Sara Diggle, Nate Queen, Penny Bookwalter, Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak Additional Tags: AU, Tropes, trope bingo, Playing with words, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Drama, FiCoN - Freeform, Canon What Canon, this verse may never end and i'm cool with that, Roommates, Amnesia, Sex Pollen, Royalty, Rock Star, only! one! bed!, Fake Prostitute, geographic isolation, professors au, Reincarnation, the smart one tutors the popular one, old west au, both of us are kidnapped, oops this is your phone, Coffee Shop, noir, Secret Baby, Fake Dating, soulmate, time travel (which feels redundant given... ficon), Rivals to Lovers, spy vs spy - Freeform, you're sick or hurt and i gotta take care of you, Apocalypse, stranded by the weather Series: Part 7 of Forever Is Composed of Nows Summary:

There are so many ways the next generation of Queen kids might've fallen for someone. Here are a few of them.

With this posting, the Ameliam amnesia story is complete! To start it from the beginning, click here.

#ameliam #amnesia trope #will queen is a prince among men #i fucking love amelia prescott #will queen/amelia prescott #will/amelia #FiCoN #ficon au #trope bingo

8 notes · View notes

dust2dust34 · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Always: July 2035 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: A lot of truths come to light at the Queen family dinner not long after the gala.

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!

(read on AO3)

July 2035 - Growing Pains

There are days Oliver feels every single day of his age. Today would be one of them.

If you’d asked him back during his time on Lian Yu how he’d feel at fifty, he’d have laughed and said long dead. He hadn’t known in those days if he’d make it through the night, much less to his next birthday - or even when, exactly, that day was. He definitely wasn’t concerned with the realities of aging. Now, it’s a bit different. His body doesn’t take the punishments of his life nearly as easily as it had in years prior. A long night fighting for the city leaves him more achy, more exhausted and with a longer rebound time. Digg might be less prone to jumping off rooftops than him, but Oliver knows it’s got to be even worse for his old friend. After all, Digg has a solid eight years on him. More and more, lately, it’s been little Sara at his side in the field, with Digg driving the van or running recon.

They haven’t talked about it yet, but Oliver knows that’s coming. And soon. Digg would never leave the team, but he’s also facing the limits of his own body. Just as Oliver is. And it’s not like that’s going to get better.

But, nights like last night prove quite clearly how much they’re still needed. A serial arsonist with a penchant for high-occupancy buildings had lit up four apartment complexes on the edge of the business district. It had been far more than the city could handle on its own and it’d wound up being an ‘all hands on deck’ Team Arrow situation. Even Ellie had joined in, much to Oliver’s dismay, showing up on scene with a mask and a dark green bodysuit that had given him flashbacks to two decades prior standing in his mother’s kitchen with a rip in time slicing open in front of him.

She’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for her to be ready for this. But she’d been a help last night, keeping a cool head and getting terrified people away from their fast-crumbling homes, organizing chaos in the streets, her very presence calming fast-spreading hysterics. She’d looked so like him, out there, so clearly a part of Team Arrow.

Jules had scoffed when she’d seen her sister’s choice of outfit later. “Slick look, Dart,” she’d snorted.

“Dart?” Ellie had asked defensively.

“Yeah,” Jules had confirmed in a lofty tone. “Dart. Like a mini Arrow.”

Ellie had not been thrilled at the new nickname, but Digg and Roy had overheard it and they’d both found it amusing, so Oliver’s pretty sure it’s gonna stick. Why Jules had been hanging around the lair while they’d been out on a mission is much bigger question. She’s a busy young woman, these days. Between work and her boyfriend, who apparently she’s a whole lot more serious about than he’d been led to believe, they don’t see her that much and it’s not like she’s ever been all that interested in the family business - either one of them. But the more Oliver thinks about it, the more certain he is that she’d heard something about the fires and had just been worried about her family, had wanted to be in a position to know what was happening as it happened. Her snark toward her sister was relief covered up by sarcasm. He’s almost sure of it.

And it’s not like she’d been the only one relieved when the night ended. Oliver’s eyes had sought out Will’s firetruck the moment he’d gotten to the scene and it would be a complete lie to say he hadn’t stayed as close to his son’s location while helping out as he could. Will might be nearly 28, but he’s still his son and Oliver doesn’t think he’ll ever be without the mixture of worry and pride that fills him at the thought of the life his oldest has chosen for himself. Seeing him all business, suited up and covered in ash as he carried a little girl from the building had put Oliver’s heart in his throat. It’s a hell of a thing watching your child run into a burning building, but he has a lot of faith in Will and he knows his worry is both natural and a little excessive. Will knows what he’s doing.

Oliver’s glad he gets to see him tonight, though. Rationally, he knows his boy is fine. Oliver had been on scene until after the fires were out and the danger had passed. Lyla had caught the arsonist - a metahuman from Central City who named himself Human Blowtorch - and everything was stable by sun-up. But Oliver still feels like he needs to see his son whole and hale. He’s going to feel unsettled until he does.

“How’s dinner coming?” Felicity asks, slipping her arms around her husband’s waist and resting her chin against his upper arm. “It smells great.”

“The salmon is ready to broil,” Oliver tells her, abandoning his task of slicing up some zucchini and squash to lace his fingers with hers for a moment. “Rice is cooking. Just the veggies to sauté and some side salads to whip up.”

“Need me to do anything?” she offers. It’s sweet, but they both know better. School lunches she can make like an absolute pro. Her sandwich making skills are absolutely passable. But anything more involved than tossing something pre-made into the oven for a prescribed amount of time runs the risk of both food poisoning and a kitchen fire.

“Maybe check on the girls and Nate?” he suggests.

“Oliver…” she sighs.

“I know. They’re fine. I know,” he mutters, his cheeks flushing a little at the admission.

“Ellie’s not going to stop,” Felicity tells him. “You know that, right?”

“She’s not even done with high school yet,” Oliver points out.

“Oh, I know. If you think I’m fighting for my little girl to be a full blown vigilante at seventeen, you’re misreading me,” Felicity says sharply. “I’m talking controlled introduction here, Oliver. I don’t want her in the field any more than you do, but maybe if we give her a role, a purpose, she’ll feel included enough that she won’t push for a bit. The last thing I want is her sneaking onto another mission again. That’s a good way to get herself or someone else hurt.”

“What did you have in mind?” Oliver asks with interest, tilting his head to watch her.

“A seat at my side,” Felicity suggests. “Provided she keeps at least a B-average. If she’s dead-set on doing this - and I think we both know she is - then at least she can watch some missions and learn that way. And, maybe we could include her in some of the planning stages, let her see how much goes into it.”

That idea has some merit. Ellie’s always had a space in the room, all the kids have. That’s more been out of necessity than any desire to introduce the kids to their nightlives. But none of them have ever had a seat at the table. And the view looks different when you’re a part of it.

“Half of the reason she’s pushing so hard is that she knows Sara’s out there,” Oliver points out. “You know that right?”

“Yes, well… I don’t see that changing anytime soon either,” Felicity replies.

Oliver sighs heavily at that because it’s absolutely undeniable, but he also wishes Ellie could get past her feelings for Sara. In a perfect world, where Sara returned those feelings, he’d be all for it. She’s a great kid, his best friend’s daughter, and Oliver just wants Ellie to be happy. There’s no doubt in his mind that being with Sara would accomplish that. But Sara’s both oblivious and apparently straight, and it hurts to watch his little girl pine for her best friend. He wants so much more for her than that.

“You’re probably right,” Oliver says, simultaneously addressing all of his wife’s points. “We should talk with Digg, Lyla, and Roy about letting her help with some of the logistics, but I don’t want to talk to her about it until the whole team is on board.”

“And Sara,” Felicity notes. “She’s on the team now, too, remember.”

“And Sara,” he agrees quietly, shaking his head a bit. He still forgets sometimes. It had been just him, Felicity, Digg, Lyla, Roy, Sin and sometimes Big Sara for so long. Adding a new person to the mix feels wrong sometimes, but it’s also Sara Diggle and that’s different. It’s also increasingly necessary, he thinks as he shifts his weight, his knee throbbing painfully.

He’s done his best not to be obvious about the ache in his joints, but Felicity is highly attuned to him by now and he’s not surprised in the least when she hums thoughtfully and gives him a knowing look.

“I took some Aleve,” he promises her. “And I’ll put a heat pad on it again after dinner.”

“How about a doctor’s appointment?” she asks sweetly. This is becoming an old conversation and it’s not like she’s wrong, but he also can’t possibly keep off his knee long enough for replacement surgery recovery time. He can deal with the stiffness and the pain. It’s more annoying than anything and it slows him down only very slightly. For now.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are when you’re worried about me?” he asks, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Don’t be distracting, Oliver,” she chastises half-heartedly.

“Absolutely stunning,” he grins, kissing her as she lets out a frustrated little noise before caving. But their little moment is punctuated by the sound of the front door and a pair of voices. It’s scarcely a moment later when the scamper of little feet patter across the floor and a tumble of little girl barrels into the kitchen.

“Hiya!”

“Hi Bethany,” Felicity smiles down at the five-year-old. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Can I have applesauce, Aunt Felicity?” she asks, staring up with those huge brown eyes of hers. It’s jarring for Oliver. She looks so much like Samantha that it makes him do a double-take. He can’t imagine what it’s like for David.

“Please,” Will corrects his little sister, following closely in her wake. “We say ‘please,’ Bethy. But, I’m pretty sure you can wait for dinner at this point.”

She pouts at that. It’s completely forced, but Bethany can make her eyes water and lip quiver on command in a way that none of Oliver’s kids had ever done.

“No waterworks!” Will tells her sternly.

“But… I love applesauce sooooo much!” Bethany protests. It’s a testament to how comfortable she’s gotten in their house that she lets herself be this whiny in their presence. In some ways, he figures that’s a good thing. She’s lost so much, more than she knows, and she needs more people she feels at home with. Samantha would want that for her.

“Then be a good girl and don’t whine, and I’ll make sure you get some with dinner, okay?” Will asks, crouching down to her level and giving her a serious look.

Her sigh is overly dramatic, but she yields even as she scuffs her shoe against the wood floor.

“I have an idea,” Felicity tells her, abandoning Oliver’s side to walk over and take Beth’s hand in hers. “How about you and I go get Will’s old train set and play with that until dinner’s ready?”

“Okay!” she perks up immediately. “But I’m conductor. Can Nate play, too? He plans real good.”

“He does plan very well,” Felicity replies, subtly correcting the little girl’s grammar. “But I think he’s doing homework. How about we just keep this you and me?”

“That’s good too,” Beth decides with a firm nod. “Come on, Aunt Felicity.”

She’s dragging Felicity toward the stairs almost immediately, excitement obvious on the little girl’s face and a happy smile on his wife’s. She really has missed having a little kid in the house. He’s never regretted that Nate was their last child. Their lives are full and busy. But he knows his wife thinks about what it would have been like to have another one, even if she doesn’t bring it up anymore. She’s nothing to Bethany - not really, just an honorary aunt who babysits sometimes - but he can’t help but think they’re good for each other. Beth sorely lacks female influences in her life and Felicity loves having a little one around, even if it’s just for a few hours here and there.

“Clean up when you’re done, Bethy!” Will calls after them as they scurry up to his old room. It’s a weird mix of a guest room and storage room these days, but it does house a fair number of toys their kids have outgrown that Beth likes to play with when she’s over.

“She’s usually pretty good about that,” Oliver notes.

“Yeah, but I stepped on a Lego barefoot last week and that’s an experience I never care to repeat,” Will says, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

Oliver chuckles at that, because it’s true. He’s suffered far, far worse than a Lego underfoot, but there’s something exceptionally memorable about the experience.

“What can I help with?” Will asks.

“Maybe put the salad together?” Oliver suggests. Will nods and moves to riffle through the fridge, pulling out ingredients. Oliver can’t help but watch him for a few moments. When he’d been Will’s age, he’d been headed back to Starling, his body and soul littered with scars and tattoos from the five years prior. Will’s had his own trials, his own scars - physical and otherwise - but Oliver’s infinitely grateful that his son’s life hasn’t followed a path like his. And, in spite of his boy’s dedication to teamwork and helping people, he’s glad that he’s never wanted a spot on the team. Ellie will be hard enough. He’s not sure how he’d cope with the notion of more than one of his kids being a vigilante, even if it would mean they’d have each other’s backs.

“I’m glad you guys busted that nutjob last night,” Will says as he grabs a cutting board and gets to chopping veggies.

“That was Lyla,” Oliver supplies. “I’ll pass along the thanks. Your team all get out okay?”

“From my truck, yeah,” Will nods. “Station 49 wasn’t as lucky. They’ve got two in the hospital.”

Oliver winces at that. He’s proud as hell of his son, but he doesn’t need a reminder of how dangerous his job really is.

“Some of us were gonna head over to visit tomorrow,” Will adds, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth. “Carson’s still in surgery, last I heard, but Perez is doing better already. Elliot’s watching their kids while their wives are at the hospital with them.”

“I’ve got some spaghetti sauce in the freezer if you want to bring it over to Elliot and the kids,” Oliver offers. “So they aren’t living on fast food.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Will agrees. “Elliot can’t manage more than a microwaved chicken pot pie. If there’s enough, I’ll bring some to their wives, too. Hospital food is awful.”

“Always has been,” Oliver agrees. “They at Starling General? Lillie keeping an eye on them?”

“Uh…” Will says, his chopping slows down and he gets a grim line to his face. So, Oliver already knows what’s coming well before he answers. “They are, but I don’t know if Lillie’s covering them. We’re not… a thing anymore.”

“Ah,” Oliver nods.

“Yeah,” Will replies quietly.

“So, how’s Amelia then?”

Will stops what he’s doing entirely at that and just stares down at the chopping board, looking more pained than Oliver had expected. He knew his boy was hung up on Amelia. He’d had a long talk with Felicity after the gala two weeks ago, but he’d missed seeing much of it directly. The absolute look of grief on Will’s face for an instant is striking. For someone who never takes his relationships seriously, he sure as hell looks serious about one he’s not having.

“You’d have to ask Thad DeWolfe the Third,” Will answers after a beat, his face shuttering and his voice sharp and petulant.

“Thad…?” Oliver asks in confusion, thinking of his younger colleague in the senate.

“Yeah… her boyfriend,” Will adds. He sounds all of ten years old and frustrated that Jules stole his snack again.

“Ah,” Oliver notes atonally.

“Yeah… ‘ah,’” Will echoes, going back to chopping with newfound fierceness. “She’s dating Thad DeWolfe the Third. She’s moving to Central City to be Willis’ chief of staff and be with Thad DeWolfe the Third, with his stupid pretentious name and his stupid important job.”

Oliver leans against the counter and studies his son. It’s beneficial in a couple of ways. First off, his knee feels a little better instantly. But, more importantly, it makes Will all the more aware of his scrutiny and the younger man squirms under his appraisal.

“What?” Will demands, dropping the knife and turning to his dad. “Are you gonna tell me to let it go? That she’s doing what’s right for her and I should be happy about it?”

“No,” Oliver tells him, shaking his head. “I’m gonna tell you that jealousy is ugly on anyone. Even you.”

“I’m not-” Will starts.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oliver scoffs. “Of course you are. You’re being jealous and petty and snippy.”

Frustration is obvious on Will’s face, his jaw tight and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Oliver thinks that’s probably going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, because he’s not done talking yet.

“This is new for you,” he tells his son. “I get that. I’ve never seen you care about someone this much and you don’t know what to do with it. It’s eating you up inside and you’re lashing out like a hurt child because of it.”

“I am hurt!” Will insists. “And, you know what? I have a right to be hurt. There this… this thing between us. If she didn’t feel it too, that would be one thing, but I know she does. She’s said she does. But she’s never given us a chance. Three years I’ve been interested in her, Dad. Three years. I’ve asked her out four times since then and she’s always hesitated but said no. But she says ‘yes’ to Thad DeWolfe the Third? How am I not supposed to be hurt by that?”

“You sound like a child who had his favorite toy taken by another kid,” Oliver tells him. “I don’t know why Amelia told you no all those times, but I do know if you ever want to have a shot at her saying yes, you need to check this attitude, because a woman like that does not put up with this kind of bitterness, Will.”

“I can’t help it, Dad,” Will confesses. “I think of her and all I can think about is that she’s going home to him. That he gets to hold her and be with her and make her laugh and she never even gave me a shot. I don’t know how to be okay with that.”

“Well, not by continuing to berate a man you’ve never met for his name and job,” Oliver points out. “You’re better than that. She deserves better than that from you. And you need to respect her choices.”

“I do!” Will insists.

“No,” Oliver corrects him. “You don’t. You tolerate them. Have you even considered why she said no or have you just felt sorry for yourself about it?”

“That’s not fair,” Will says emphatically.

“You’re telling me she feels the same way you do, but she’s still saying no,” Oliver reminds him. “If that’s true, she’s not doing that out of spite or self-sabotage, Will. She’s a woman in politics in her 20s. She made her name working for your grandmother. What do you think people would say if she started dating a Queen after that? How would that impact her job? Her life? This is a rough enough business for women, nevermind young women. She’s fought hard to be taken seriously and you’re a hell of a risk for her. You’re dangerous, whether you think so or not.”

Something he’s said looks like maybe it’s sinking in because Will’s face turns pensive. “You think I’m dangerous to her?”

“To her job? To her heart? Yeah. I do,” Oliver acknowledges.

“She isn’t…. She’s not other women, Dad,” Will insists. His whole face is begging to be understood, to be believed. And, in spite of his son’s track record with women, Oliver buys that the younger man means every word he says. “I’m not looking for a fling with her. I don’t want that. I want… I want to make her smile and cook her breakfast and dance with her again. I want to hold her hand and argue about baseball and take her to dinner. I don’t just look at her and see a good time. I look at her and I see…”

“The future,” Oliver finishes for him. “You look at her and you see everything you want wrapped up in one person.” He sighs heavily because he knows that feeling. He knows it intimately and, though it’s been a lot of years, he can remember clearly how it felt trying to push that down. “But Will… how’s she supposed to know that? How’s she supposed to believe she’s different from the rest?”

“She’s… she’s Amelia,” Will says in frustrated exasperation. His voice breaks on her name and Oliver has to think his son has a point. The emotion is readily evident, but all the same… his track record isn’t exactly a serious one.

“And Lillie was Lillie,” Oliver supplies. It’s succinct and his meaning clear.

“You aren’t exactly low-profile, Will,” he continues. “I know you don’t pay attention to it, but when you get spotted with a girl and it ends up on gossip sites with a headline that says ‘Starling City Royals’ New Princess?’ There’s no way she’s missed that and you have to know she doesn’t want to wind up on a list of your past flames. Her reputation can’t take that and if she cares about you like you seem to think she does, I doubt her heart could either.”

It seems like something clicks in Will’s head at that as he turns his head slightly in thought, eyes darting back and forth for a second before he meets his father’s gaze. “Do they do that to Jules, too?” he asks.

Ah… that’s what his sudden awareness is about. He’s shifted gears into brother-mode. “They do,” Oliver acknowledges.

“So… Jackson…” Will ventures.

“Was around a few months before Jules said anything,” Oliver supplies. “I’m a politician, Will. My office compiles media clips every week that cover anything to do with our family. That’s part of their job. I’ve known about Jackson since April.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Will asks, his eyes bugging out at that notion.

“Do I corner you about all your dates?” Oliver questions in amusement. “No, I didn’t say anything. She needed time to figure out what that relationship was before she brought it up to us. That’s her business. I don’t blame her for that.”

“But you looked into him,” Will challenges. “I know you did.”

“Will, this is going to come as a surprise to you, but my office looks into everyone that any of you are involved with,” Oliver tells him. It’s a little absurd how much he enjoys the look of shock on his son’s face. “Politics is run on reputation, secrets and favors. If there’s something that’s going to hurt my ability to do my job, I need to know that up front.”

“Who I date could hurt your job?” Will asks astounded.

Oliver has to laugh at that. For all of Will’s intelligence, the reality of politics is not something he’s terribly familiar with.

“Let’s pretend for a minute that you were spotted on a date with a daughter of a mob boss,” Oliver theorizes. “How do you think that would go over with my constituents?”

“I would not date the daughter of a mob boss,” Will deadpans.

“Well, you have better sense than I ever did, so thank goodness for that,” Oliver reflects.

“You dated the daughter of a mob boss?” Will asks, eyes bugging out.

“That you didn’t know that is proof my staff is excellent at their jobs,” Oliver points out. “A year or two before Felicity and only for a few months, but yeah. Helena Bertinelli.”

“Wait… you dated a psychotic daughter of a mob boss?” Will questions aghast. “Didn’t she just get out of prison?”

“You can see why it’s important that I know whatever the press knows,” Oliver tells him.

“Thank god your taste in women improved,” Will says a bit dumbfounded.

“Drastically,” Oliver agrees. “I’m gonna put the fish in and sauté these vegetables. It won’t take long. You about done with that salad?”

“Yeah…” Will says, still blinking as he looks down at the pile of ingredients he’s chopped. “Just need to toss it with dressing, but we should probably wait for that a bit.”

“We should,” Oliver agrees, moving to put the salmon in the oven and pouring a bit of olive oil into a frying pan before turning on the burner and looking back to his son. “Not to harp on Amelia… but you’re a good man, Will. I want to see you happy. And… right from the moment I met her, I’ve always thought the two of you could be good for each other.” He ignores the look of surprise on his son’s face. “She’s smart. She’s beautiful. You share a ton of interests and the chemistry is obvious. I hope you two figure it out someday. But that day isn’t today. She needs to see you can take her seriously. She needs to know she can keep the respect her job demands.”

“And me?” Will asks. “What do I need?”

He looks so young, so vulnerable as he asks that. Oliver tries to remember the last time his son looked so much like a child. He finds he can’t.

“In some ways you’ve grown up a lot,” Oliver tells him. “You’re practically another parent to Bethany. You have an important job you’re good at and you take seriously. But you need to figure out how to let go of this petty grudge against Thad. I know him, Will. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve that from you. And neither does Amelia. Give her a little credit. If she cares about you, I’d say her taste is pretty solid.”

Will nods, but he looks a little gutted by that answer. “He’s a good guy?”

“There are a lot of jerks in the capital,” Oliver tells him. “Men and women who take kickbacks and cheat on their spouses. Some cover up drug habits. Some are in the pocket of one lobbyist or another. There’s no shortage of scandals just waiting to blow up in someone’s face. I’ve never heard a bad word about Thad. He’s smart, he’s driven, and he’s reasonable.”

Watching his son’s heart break sucks. The younger man’s shoulders sag and he shakily runs a hand through his hair as he nods and stares at the floor. “Good,” he says quietly. “I want that for her. I do.”

“But, Will,” Oliver says. “He’s not gonna make her laugh. Not like you can. For what it’s worth, I still think you could be good for each other. Someday.”

“Someday,” Will echoes dimly. “But not today.”

“No,” Oliver agrees. “Not today.” For all his son has grown up these past few years, for all that he’s a man with a life of his own, Oliver can’t help but think he needs to do a little more growing up before he and Amelia have a real shot. That’s okay. He’s got time. “You want to go let everyone know it’s about ten minutes until dinner? Ellie’s in the basement. I’m pretty sure Jules and Nate are in their rooms.”

“Sure,” Will agrees. “And, Dad… thanks.”

“For what?” Oliver asks.

“For calling me out,” Will says with a derisive laugh. “I don’t want to be jealous or act like a jerk. And I am actually glad to hear Thad seems like he’ll be good to her. I just… this is hard.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “Well, you’re welcome.”

Will nods and heads to the stairs, leaving Oliver to finish the last touches on dinner himself. It really is almost done and everyone piles into the kitchen one-by-one over the next few moments. Felicity holds Bethany, who keeps playing with her hair and telling her how pretty it is. Nate’s engrossed with something on his phone, barely looking up when he misses the final step of the stairs and almost falls. Ellie looks like she took the world’s fastest shower, her hair still damp. Jules and Will keep talking in low tones that he can’t hear, but absolutely make his parental senses perk up because the way they keep glancing toward him and Felicity tells him quite clearly that they’re up to something. Maybe it’s just about Amelia, though. He can’t know for sure.

“Ellie, grab the rice?” he requests. “Nate, if you could set the table, that would be a big help.”

“I’ll grab the vegetables,” Jules offers as Felicity grabs the salad bowl.

“Don’t forget the applesauce!” Beth says with alarm, earning an expectant stare from her big brother. She very obviously wracks her brain for a moment before she follows up with a delighted “Please!”

Will nods at that and heads to the fridge in search of her applesauce. Soon enough, the seven of them are seated around the dinner table with Will cutting up pieces of Beth’s dinner and Nate chattering on about the mock United Nations they’re doing at school. It’s nice, calm, even if Jules is strangely quiet.

“No Jackson tonight?” he asks his older daughter after a bit. Her fork freezes halfway to her mouth and her eyes go wide.

“Uh… no,” she says, looking to Will who just scratches at his eyebrow and stares at his napkin.

Huh.

“Everything okay?” Felicity asks, clearly picking up on the same vibe he has.

“It’s good. It’s great,” Jules says quickly. “Super great, actually. He’s just working tonight.”

“Really?” Oliver asks. “Because you almost never bring him to dinner. He’s welcome, you know. We understand he’s important to you.”

“Um… thank you,” Jules says. She’s nervous. She’s painfully nervous and it’s incredibly obvious to the point where even Nate seems to pick up on it because his brow furrows in concern as he looks to his sister. “I… will tell him that.”

“So what’s he doing working so late on a Saturday?” Felicity asks. “I’d assumed he had more of a nine-to-five type job, being in marketing and web design.”

“He’s photographing a client event,” Jules says, swallowing hard.

“Well, he can come tomorrow, if you like,” Oliver offers.

“On a Sunday?” Jules asks, her eyes going huge. “I mean…” Her eyes dart to Bethany. “We have other things we do after dinner on Sundays.”

Training. She means self-defense training. That’s something they’re going to have to talk about eventually, as much as Oliver is dreading that. Sooner or later his kids are going to wind up with real, long-term partners and - one day - spouses. It’s unreasonable to think that his secret should be their secret forever. That isn’t fair to their lives. But he also can’t have them telling every person they ever date that their dad is the Arrow.

“Well… maybe he’s not quite ready for that yet,” Oliver agrees. Jules goes positively ashen at those words and he wonders what he said wrong.

“He doesn’t ever need to be here on Sundays,” Jules says. Her voice is firm, but she’s staring at her plate. “That’s not…” She stops and shakes her head. “Other days are fine, but Sundays don’t need to be a part of his life. I don’t want him here on Sundays.”

Something in Oliver’s heart sinks at that, but he can’t quite define what. It feels… It feels like a divide. Like his daughter is setting boundaries, splitting her life into pieces.

“We haven’t really… talked about that yet,” Felicity says to his side, her eyes darting between the kids. “Sundays, in the future, I mean.”

She means as a family. They haven’t talked about it all together. But he and Felicity have. They’ve lain awake at night in each other’s arms talking in hushed voices about how to handle balancing the reality of what they do, the sensitivity of it, along with their kids’ increasingly independent lives. They’d gotten off easy with Will. There’s never been anyone in his life that he was serious enough about to even consider clueing them into their family secret. But Oliver knows that’s not going to be true forever.

“I’m all done!” Beth announces loudly. She’s eaten most of her fish and a tremendous amount of applesauce, leaving just enough to hide her vegetables beneath.

Normally, Will would prod her to at least try her zucchini or eat a bite of salad. That he doesn’t do that today is Oliver’s biggest clue yet that he’s got a much better idea of what’s going on with Jules than the rest of them do. It makes sense - they’re very close - but it also sits poorly with Oliver, sends a sense of foreboding trickling down his spine and sets the hair on the back of his neck on edge.

Because Jules isn’t the only one who looks nervous. Will does, too. And Oliver really can’t begin to guess at what’s coming.

“How about you wash up and go watch that unicorn movie up in my room, okay?” Will asks his baby sister. “If you play really nicely by yourself up there for a bit, I’ll make sure you get some dessert later.”

“Okay!” Beth declares excitedly, scampering from her seat as fast as she can. She knows a good deal when she hears one.

When Beth’s little footfalls fade away on the stairs, Felicity looks back to the kids and clears her throat. “Obviously, none of you are going to say anything about the team until you’ve cleared it with us. But your dad and I talked about this a long time ago and we both agree that it’s not fair to keep the truth from your partners forever. We want all of you to grow up and have healthy, open relationships. You can’t do that if you’re hiding a big part of who you are.”

“Who you are,” Jules says abruptly. “It’s not who I am. It’s who you guys are. That’s not the same thing.”

“Jules, like it or not, the Arrow is part of your heritage,” Felicity tells her daughter. “Just like being a Queen is.”

“No,” Jules insists sharply. “It’s not. I am a Queen. I’m not a vigilante and I never will be. Jackson doesn’t need to know anything about that side of our family. Not now, not ever.”

Oliver’s heart falls a bit at how guarded his older daughter looks. Ellie’s eyes ping-pong back and forth between him and her sister like she’s watching a tennis match. And Nate just kind of stares on owlishly. But Will… Will’s got his hand on his sister’s back lending comfort and support. Oliver can’t even begin to imagine how on edge she’d be without him there.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Felicity says slowly. “I’m not saying you should tell him right now. You shouldn’t. It’s too soon for that, but if one day things get more serious with him or someone else, that’s not the kind of thing you want to keep to yourself forever.”

“Yes,” Jules counters. “I do. I have never wanted any part of Team Arrow and I don’t want to drag someone I love into it either. Jackson doesn’t deserve to have to deal with that.”

It’s unsettling as hell to hear his baby girl declare she loves someone. It doesn’t feel all that long ago when he’d first held her in his arms. She’d been so tiny, so shockingly beautiful. He’d have done anything in the world to keep her safe. He still would. But she’s a grown woman now - twenty-years-old with a life of her own that he has such a small part of - never had that been more obvious than when he’d found out about the boyfriend she’d been keeping from them. He hadn’t lied to Will. He really does get her wanting to keep it to herself for a bit while she sorts through those first few fledgling steps of a new relationship. But that doesn’t mean it hadn’t hurt a bit, too.

“Jules… we talked about this,” Will tells her in a voice so quiet Oliver barely catches the words.

“I’m not cutting anyone out of my life, Will,” Jules clarifies. “And I’m not hiding any part of myself from him. But this isn’t a part of me and I’m absolutely never telling him about it.”

“Well… it’s not like it’s an issue right now,” Felicity says, trying to force a bit of calm into the room. “Maybe when things are a bit more serious we’ll talk about this again.”

“Mom… They are,” Jules says, swallowing hard. Her voice wavers and her nerves are readily apparent. Oliver doesn’t miss the way Will rubs her back a little and he braces for whatever is coming next.

“Excuse me?” Felicity asks, head tilted to the side a little as she waits for some kind of clarity.

“We’re moving in together.”

A rush of blood in his ears is the only thing Oliver hears for a very long moment because clearly he heard his little girl wrong. She’s not actually leaving home to move in with some guy. The choking noise of his wife sputtering on her sip of wine beside him tells him pretty clearly that he heard accurately, though.

“Oh man,” Ellie breathes out from a few seats down as Nate sputters, “You can’t move in with anyone. You’re not even married!”

Felicity coughs even more violently at those words and Oliver finds his eye twitching in a tick he can’t control as he looks to his wife. “Are you okay?” he asks. Because that’s his first concern. It has to be. Everything else simmers for a moment. His muscles bunch up painfully and his damned eye just keeps twitching and his voice feels tight, but all of that is second to Felicity.

“Not if my ears are working correctly,” she manages after a moment, her voice scratchy and her eyes watering as she keeps coughing a little.

“Mom…” Jules sighs in exasperation.

“Don’t ‘mom’ me right now Julianna,” Felicity tells her sharply. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“You’ve been dating him for like a month,” Ellie says, watching her sister warily.

“No,” Oliver cuts in before Jules can reply. “She hasn’t.”

“You knew?” Jules asks astonished. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Neither did you,” Oliver points out. “I figured you would tell us about him when and if it got serious. I guess I was wrong about that.”

“I’m coming to you now, aren’t I?” Jules asks.

“Yes,” Felicity snaps. She’s so very unhappy right now. Oliver squeezes his wife’s thigh under the table, a subtle reminder that - upset or not - Jules does not respond well to being challenged. “You’re coming to us telling us that there’s someone in your life you’re so serious about that you want to move in with him, but you’ve barely even given us a chance to get to know him.”

“How long have you been going out with him?” Ellie asks. Her tone is strange, unsettled, and she looks more like a little girl than she has in years.

Jules bites her lip as she looks at her sister before saying, “Six months.”

“Six… six months?” Felicity sputters. It’s nearly double as long as Oliver had known about and the only one in the room who doesn’t look stunned is Will, who Jules is very subtly leaning into.

“You knew?” Oliver asks his son.

“I found out at the gala,” Will admits. “I wanted her to tell you, but I wasn’t going to step in and do it for her. It wasn’t my place.”

“You didn’t tell me?” It’s Ellie’s voice and it’s so small and hurt. The girls have been closer in recent years. He knows Jules leaned on Ellie after her breakup with Miles and that Ellie has confided in her older sister about her feelings for Sara. Jules is still closer with Will by far, but Oliver has sort of assumed that whatever was going on in Jules’ personal life, Ellie had known about. It seems like Ellie had assumed the same thing.

“I just wanted to keep it to myself for a bit, Elle,” Jules tells her, sounding a little guilty about it. “Is that so bad?”

“For six months? Yeah. It kind of is,” Ellie counters. But it’s all from a place of feeling hurt and Jules looks like she understands that because her brow furrows and she says, “I’m sorry,” to her sister in an anxious voice that practically begs the younger girl to forgive her.

“Sweetheart,” Felicity starts, taking a deep breath. “Jackson seems wonderful. Your dad and I both like him a lot and we’re very, very glad that you’re happy. We want that for you. But don’t you think six months is a little fast to be moving in together.”

“Wasn’t I born like… nine months after you started dating Dad?” Jules challenges. “Didn’t you buy this house after six months together?”

“Those were completely different circumstances,” Felicity counters.

“Why?” Jules asks, crossing her arms. “Because they were yours?”

“Jules…” Will says slowly, giving his sister a heavy look and trying to rein her in.

“No,” Jules says, shaking her head. “No, I’m an adult. I have a great career and so does Jackson. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m kind of crazy in love with him. So, if he wants to share his life with me and live together, I’m doing it.”

“You’re twenty,” Felicity points out.

“And he’s twenty-four,” Jules notes. “Isn’t that how old you were when I was born?”

“I was twenty-five,” Felicity counters warily. “And if you’re telling me that you’re pregnant right now, I’m going to need like a whole lot more wine.”

Oliver sort of feels like dying on the spot at that idea and he can’t even quantify the relief that runs through him when Jules rolls her eyes. “No. Of course not. There are reasons other than a baby to want to live with someone, Mom.”

“Thank God,” Oliver mutters beneath his breath.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she says sarcastically. “I do know how birth control works, you know.”

“But, you can’t do that… You’re not married!” Nate says again, fully astounded and a little scandalized.

The look Will’s giving his little brother is something that’s gonna stick with Oliver for a very long time. “Nate…” Will says, shaking his head a bit.

“Okay… Nate, buddy, you and I are going to have another chat about girls in the very near future,” Oliver tells his son. “And Jules… I’m grateful to know that you’re being careful, but I’m also going to pretend I know absolutely nothing about you having a sex life for the sake of my sanity.”

“How old were you when Will was born again?” Jules asks slowly.

“I never said it wasn’t hypocritical.”

“Well, there’s that anyhow,” Jules agrees.

“Is Jackson even really working tonight?” Felicity asks, pulling Oliver’s attention to his wife. “Or did you just not want him here for this conversation?”

The way Jules pauses and fidgets awkwardly before replying is an answer all on its own. “He is working,” Jules says slowly. “But I didn’t want him here for this. Can you really blame me?”

“Yes,” Ellie speaks up, pushing her chair back and standing. “Because if we’d known him for the last six months, if you’d told me about him at all, this whole conversation would have gone completely differently. Sorry, Daddy, but I’ve lost my appetite. I’ll go pile up the clothes I’ve borrowed from you Jules. I’m guessing you’re going to want them back since you’re leaving.”

“Ellie,” Jules starts, but the younger girl just waves her off as she grabs her plate and heads back out to the kitchen. “Damn it…”

She looks so lost, so thrown by how she’s inadvertently damaged her relationship with her little sister and Oliver can’t help but think, for all her protests that she’s an adult now, she definitely doesn’t look like one in this moment.

“Give her some time,” he counsels his daughter. “You’ve had six months to build up to this conversation. She’s had about six minutes.”

“She’ll get over it,” Will adds with certainty.

Jules looks at him like he’s got all the answers, her eyes hopeful and pleading. It reminds Oliver strongly of the time he’d sworn to her that she’d get the hang of riding her bike without training wheels because he knew she could. They’re five and twelve in his head all over again, and he has to swallow back that memory because those days are long gone and it hurts to have them flash before him while his little girl is talking about moving in with a boy, moving on with her life, and leaving them behind.

“How do you know that?” Jules asks her big brother.

“Because I did,” Will replies with a thin smile. “Because she loves you just like I do, Jules.”

“You’re really leaving us?” Nate asks from the opposite side of the table. He’s next to Felicity and Oliver doesn’t miss the way his wife’s hand grabs her son’s and she holds on tightly. Whether that’s more for Nate’s benefit or for hers is anyone’s guess. She’s always clung to their youngest.

“I’m not going far,” Jules answers. “It’s not like I’m leaving the city. I’ll still be over all the time. I’m here for Sunday dinners, okay? You might even see me more. And you can come over to our place any time you want.”

Our place. God, this would be so much easier if she just wanted an apartment of her own. He could have coped with that. But with a boy…

“Give it longer,” Felicity blurts out. Jules’ brow furrows as she looks to her mother. “I get it, Jules. I’ve been exactly where you are and I completely understand. But… just give it a bit more time. Until you’ve been together for a year, maybe. Or a few more months anyhow. Give us a chance to get used to this.”

“Or what?” Jules challenges, her chin and defenses both up. “You’ll cut off my trust fund?”

Felicity looks so very hurt by that. Her shoulders sag and her eyes water as she blinks down at the tablecloth. Jules has the grace to look a little ashamed at the question, given her mother’s response.

“Of course not,” Felicity tells her, looking back up. “I’m not giving you an ultimatum, Jules. I’m just… I’m worried. And I’m sad. I want what’s best for you. I want you to stop and take a breath before you make a big decision like this. And I need some time to figure out how to be okay with losing my little girl.”

“You aren’t losing me, Mom,” Jules says. She’s back to sounding uncomfortable and it strikes Oliver suddenly how very much she must actually want this to willingly put herself through this conversation. She had to have known it would go like this and Jules has never been one for exposing her own vulnerabilities. “I’m still your daughter. I’m just grown up. I want my own life, my own home, and I don’t belong here anymore.”

Jules doesn’t get it, can’t possibly understand what it feels like for her parents, but Oliver’s heart aches the same way his wife’s does. Because she’s right, because in some ways it’s very much like losing their daughter, even if it’s just losing her to adulthood. Being a parent, he realized a few decades ago, is equal parts holding on to your child and learning to let them go, little by little, bit by bit as they reach for new freedoms and take their own steps out into the world without you.

“You’ll always belong here, Jules,” he says, speaking up for the first time in a while. His voice is rough with disuse and emotion. “I don’t care if you’re 20 or 40 or 60, our home will always be your home. And, anytime you want to come back, the door will be open and your room will be waiting for you.”

“Oliver,” Felicity chokes, as she turns and presses her face into his shoulder. It’s hot and wet and he knows she’s crying, but trying to hide it. She was nowhere near ready for this. None of them had been.

“Does that mean I can go?” Jules asks in astonishment.

“I didn’t have the impression you were asking,” Oliver points out, scooting his chair closer to his wife and wrapping an arm around her. She’s so completely leaning her weight into him that he’s pretty much supporting her entirely.

“I wasn’t,” Jules admits, her voice quiet and a little pained. So… maybe she hadn’t entirely anticipated how this conversation was going to go. In truth, she’s always underestimated her own value to her parents. That’s gotten so much better over the years, but ghosts of it are still there and for a split second Oliver wonders how she thought this would play out. “...Mom. Come on, don’t cry.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Felicity says with a wet laugh, wiping at her eyes before looking to her daughter. “You can tell me you’re moving in with some boy I barely know or you can tell me not to get upset. You can’t do both.”

“Maybe… maybe I did make a mistake,” Jules admits. “Maybe I should have introduced him to you sooner. You’re going to love him, Mom. He’s such a great guy.”

“Well, I hope I get the chance to really know him, then,” Felicity replies with a watery smile.

Jules nods at that. It’s slow and thoughtful. “How about Wednesday nights?” she asks after a moment.

“Wednesdays?” Felicity asks.

“Will almost never works the next morning and Ellie doesn’t have volleyball practice Wednesday nights,” Jules points out. “I can’t bring him on Sundays. I won’t. I’ll still come. I need to practice self-defense so I can protect myself and him. But Wednesdays… he and I could maybe both come. As long as you promise not to do the cooking.”

“I think Wednesdays sound good,” Felicity agrees. “And if your dad is stuck at work late, I can very efficiently order pizza.”

“Okay,” Jules nods. The smile on her lips is small but excited. She’s clearly more at peace with the situation now. It’s still going to be a long night for Oliver and Felicity. He knows full well that just the promise of a weekly dinner isn’t enough to mend his wife’s broken heart - it’s not enough to heal his either - but it’s a step in the right direction. This was always coming… someday. They’d just both thought they had so much more time. “Okay. That’s good.”

“When are you leaving?” Nate asks quietly.

“Probably not for another couple of weeks,” Jules tells him. “We started looking right after the gala, but it’s hard to find somewhere that takes big dogs.”

“You’re taking Buster?” Oliver questions.

“Well… yeah,” Jules agrees. “I can’t leave him. You know that. It’s why I never lived in the dorms for college. But Jackson has a yellow lab, too. Her name’s Bokeh. We need somewhere that will let us have both of them. We did find one place we really liked. It’s kind of near Will’s, actually. There’s a dog park just across the street and there’s this big bay window in the eating area. The kitchen is small, but I think that’s probably okay.”

“Did you put in an application yet?” Oliver asks. She will. He can tell just from the way her face lights up as she talks about the apartment. As much as he hates this, as much as it hurts, he can’t help but be blown away by how striking his little girl is when she’s joyful. He finds he’s looking forward to Wednesday nights very much, all of a sudden.

“I was going to go by and do that tomorrow,” she admits. “I didn’t want to take that step without talking to you guys first.”

“We appreciate that,” Oliver tells her. “Just so you’re aware… when the press asks questions - and they will - my office will have to have something worked up to reply with. I’ll have my chief of staff draft up a blurb to run by you both. I’d appreciate if you both stick on message with whatever we agree on.”

“Is that really necessary?” Jules asks, looking a pinch worried again. “I’m just moving in with my boyfriend. How is that even news?”

“Jules, they’ve been publishing pictures of you two for months and calling him ‘the princess’ new suitor.’ So, yes, it’s necessary,” Oliver informs her. On one hand, it’s wonderful that none of his kids have ever given a damn about their popularity in the media. It’s helped them keep far more level heads than he’d had in his youth. But on the other, it means they don’t understand this at all and they’re blindsided anytime the public cares about their existence.

“That’s not fair,” Jules protests.

“No,” Oliver agrees. “It’s not. But it’s part of being a Queen. And that’s not something you can shrug off like you do Team Arrow. It’s your name, your blood and your heritage. We get a whole lot of advantages in our lives because of who we are. We have to roll with the drawbacks, too.”

“But why does Jackson have to?” Jules asks.

“Because he loves you,” Oliver points out. “Do you think the press covered your mom before she knew me?”

“Well… I mean occasionally by my hacker name,” Felicity muses. Everyone turns to look at her and she flushes a little at the admission. “That was usually trade journals, though. Or… you know… cybercrimes publications. That kind of thing. Ghost Fox Goddess got a bit of play. But that’s sort of beside your point, so go on and pretend like I didn’t say anything.” She’s waving her hands like she’s waving her words away and Oliver can’t help but stop and stare at how adorable she is for a moment. Two decades together and sometimes she still takes his breath away. He stops, watches her, realizes immediately how incredibly, stupidly lucky he really is.

“How are you such a sap, Dad?” WIll asks shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Jules says with a little shrug. “I think it’s sort of cute.”

That’s new from her. But then being in love seems to have changed his little girl a fair bit. For the better, so far. He can admit that. And he wants that for her. He’s always wanted that for her. But that doesn’t make this any easier.

“Man, I’m gonna be dealing with you and Jackson being all ridiculously gooey every week too, aren’t I?” Will groans.

“Maybe if you man-up and get your girl you can bring her along and be too distracted to notice,” Jules smiles sweetly.

The comment falls flat though, and Oliver knows immediately that she’s been too wrapped up in her own life lately to have any clue what’s going on in Will’s.

“I think I’ll be solo at dinner for a bit,” Will answers tightly.

“You never know,” Jules announces in a lofty, sing-song voice. “I saw you two dance. Maybe you changed her mind. Maybe she’ll come running back to Starling right to your door. Maybe you’ve already swept her off her feet and you don’t even kno-”

“Stop.”

Will’s voice is harsh, decisive, lacking any playfulness as he stares blankly down at his empty plate. There’s only one other time Oliver can remember Will’s tone toward Jules taking on this edge of cold frustration. But it’s not Jules he’s angry at. Not this time.

“...I was just playing,” Jules says a bit uneasily. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah,” Will says, clearing his throat and blinking hard before looking up at his sister with no trace of his typically ever-present smile. “I get that. But I still need you to stop.”

“Okay,” Jules nods, watching him with freshly appraising eyes. Oliver wonders what she sees. They’ve always been so in sync, his two oldest. They’ve always understood each other best. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Will says, pushing back his chair and standing with a big sigh. “I should go check on Bethy.”

“Will,” Jules protests, grabbing his sleeve softly.

“Really,” he assures her with a forced smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s fine. We’re okay, Jules.”

She lets go reluctantly with a nod and watches him with concerned eyes as he makes his way from the room toward the kitchen, plate in hand and shoulders drooping sadly. Part of Oliver wishes he could make this better for his son. Watching him heartbroken is so hard. But at the same time, it feels like maybe this is an experience he needs to go through. Will has grown into a wonderful man, someone Oliver is so very proud to call his son, but he’s never had a woman challenge him, never had someone who mattered to him. Not like this. Oliver remembers clearly what a life like Will’s was like, and he knows how much better things were once he had a woman in his life worth fighting for, someone who fought for him too. He can’t say that Amelia will be that woman for Will. Maybe, but right now it looks awfully unlikely. Still, the experience knowing someone like that is out there, that he even can feel that, has to be something that will be good for Will.

In the long run, anyhow.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Jules says, the minute she’s sure Will’s out of earshot. “I didn’t realize she meant that much to him.”

Felicity sighs. “I don’t think he did either,” she acknowledges. “Not until the gala. But don’t bring Amelia up again unless he does first, please? This is hard for your brother.”

“Her name’s Amelia?” Jules asks, looking back and forth between them. “How does he even know her?”

“She worked for Grandma,” Nate informs her. “She’s completely awesome. Is there any more salmon?”

“In the fridge,” Oliver tells him. Nate’s already had two helpings, but it’s not at all a surprise that he’s going back for me. The kid is a bottomless pit these days. “Just leave enough for your mom’s lunch Monday, okay?”

“It’s fine,” Felicity says, waving off the concern. “I have a meeting with R & D during lunch Monday. You can finish it off, Nate.”

“Cool,” he says with a nod. He fidgets as he gets up and, before leaving the dining room, he sort of throws his arms around Jules unexpectedly. She jolts in surprise, but rests her hand on his arm and holds him close anyhow. “I don’t want you to go, but I’m glad it’s not far,” he mutters.

A pleased flush works its way across Jules’ cheeks as she looks up at her baby brother and ruffles his hair. “I’ll still be around, squirt. Just not sleeping down the hall anymore.”

Yeah, Oliver’s trying really hard to not think about where she’ll be sleeping, but at least her words seem to settle Nate a little and he shuffles out of the room with a smile and a small backwards glance.

It’s just him, Felicity, and Jules then and there’s a heaviness to the room that hadn’t been there when it was the whole family. It feels like a metaphor, all of them leaving one-by-one, and Oliver knows instinctively that his wife will have a much harder time with this than she’ll ever let on in front of Jules.

“You aren’t too mad at me, are you?” Jules asks worriedly.

“No,” Felicity says immediately, picking at the edge of the tablecloth. “No, I’m not mad. When I think about where I was in my life at your age… I can’t be mad, Jules.”

She’d been done with college already. She’d been mourning a boyfriend whose death she thought was her fault. At Jules’ age, Felicity had already had her heart broken in ways that Jules can’t even conceive of. It puts things in perspective a bit.

“I’m a little sad,” Felicity continues, in what Oliver knows for certain is a monumental understatement. “I’m going to miss you so much and I’m going to worry about you all the time. But that’s just part of what being a mom is, I guess. Maybe one day you’ll understand that.”

Jules scoffs and rolls her eyes at that. She’s been pretty clear that she doesn’t picture kids in her future. Oliver has to wonder how Jackson feels about that. Have they talked about it? Are things that serious? He hopes they’re on the same page, but at the same time he just wants her to slow down, to savor the moments she’s in. That’s a lesson he learned the hard way in life and one he wishes he could pass on to all of his children, but it seems to be something they need to figure out on their own.

“You don’t have to worry,” Jules assures her. “You’ve raised me well. I can take care of myself and Jackson would never let anything happen to me.”

Oliver’s pretty sure that Felicity was talking about her heart, but neither one of them are about to correct that misconception right now. And besides, Jules isn’t done talking.

“It’s not that I want to leave you guys, you know?” she asks. She looks almost embarrassed by the admission. “But, I want my own space. I’m not leaving you. I’m just… I’m just growing up. That’s all.”

It’s the same thing to her parents, but Jules doesn’t see that. She can’t. And, in truth, Oliver doesn’t want her to. So, he just smiles, nods and reaches for her hand across the table.

“We’re going to support you no matter what, my Julie-bug,” he tells her, watching their fingers. He remembers so clearly when the whole of her hand wrapped around his thumb. But that little girl is gone now and in her place is a beautiful, bright young woman with the whole world in front of her. Letting her go is hard - so very hard - but he can’t help but wonder if she’s more ready for this than he and Felicity are. “Anything you ever need, we’re right here. Whether that’s help moving boxes or someone to talk to or a home to come back to… that’s okay.”

Felicity’s hand settles atop their joined grip. It’s almost imperceptible, the way her fingers shake, but Oliver picks up on it and he knows how very stressful this is for her.

“We’re always going to love you,” Felicity adds, clearing her throat. “No matter what. Always. I can’t lie and say this is easy for us. It’s not. But we both want what’s best for you and if you think that’s moving out and living with your boyfriend… we aren’t going to do anything to stop you. But we do really want to get to know him better and I want to see your beautiful face around this house sometimes still, because you make everything better, sweetheart. And this house will feel so empty without you in it.”

Jules looks stunned. She and her mother so often have had trouble communicating their feelings for each other. They’ve made progress, especially this last year, but it’s rarely been as overt as this and Oliver knows it’s a moment that’s hit them both hard.

Letting go of their hands, Jules gets up and hugs her mother tightly. It’s a firm grip and Oliver watches as Felicity buries her face in the crook of their daughter’s neck and breathes in their little girl’s scent, trying to commit it to memory. His mind flashes back to a hundred times when Jules had fallen asleep on one of their shoulders, her soft little puffs of breath ghosting across their necks. She’d been such a sweet baby, such a reserved but good little girl. In spite of everything they’ve been through with her, in spite of all the challenges they’ve dealt with over the years, he can’t help but think it’s all been worth it because it’s led her to become the incredible, self-reliant woman he sees before him today.

And that woman takes his breath away.

“I love you too, Mom,” Jules says quietly, so quietly that Oliver isn’t sure he really heard it for a second. But his wife’s knuckles turn white as she holds onto the back of her daughter’s shirt and she lets out a shuddering breath, and Oliver knows he heard the words after all. “No matter where I am. Thanks for supporting me and not freaking out too much,” she continues, barely louder.

Felicity’s short wet chuckle answers her as she pulls back slightly and rests a palm against her daughter’s cheek. “I’d support you through anything, Jules, but I can’t say I’m not freaking out. I’ll just keep doing it internally for a bit, okay?”

Jules must think she’s kidding - she’s not; Oliver knows that - because she just chuckles and shakes her head a little before backing off and standing up fulling. “Deal,” she says. “I’m gonna go try to make things right with Ellie, if that’s okay. I just… I need to fix things with Ellie.”

It’s clear that she’s enormously bothered by how upset her little sister is and Oliver can’t help but find that heartening. Just a few years ago, she’d have brushed it off. It wouldn’t have bothered her at all. Some of the change in his older daughter is just age, some of it is the therapy she went through after the kidnapping, some of it is her own professional success. She’s more confident these days, more thoughtful of others. But he also has to wonder how much of this is Jackson. He’d noticed, back in January, that she’d been happier, more open. At the time, he’d credited that to her excitement for her fledgling career. But now… knowing she’d met Jackson at the same time… he has to think that some of it is him. And Oliver is intensely interested in getting to know the young man better because of it.

Anyone who helps his daughter feel open and expressive and happy is worth his time.

“Okay,” Felicity agrees. Her hands rest next to her plate, but Oliver can see her itching to reach for Jules again, to hold on. She’s keeping it together right now, but just barely. “I appreciate that. I think she will, too.”

“Yeah,” Jules echoes, chewing on the edge of her lip. “I hope so… Thanks again.” She sort of shuffles in place for a moment before kissing her mom quickly on the cheek and moving to him, doing the same. She doesn’t linger, escaping the room and bolting toward the stairs.

The breath Felicity sucks in the moment their daughter is gone is ragged and shaky. Her eyes are dewy and her nose a little red. He knows exactly how she’s feeling. He might show it a little less, but she’s far from alone right now.

“I guess I’ll do the dishes,” she says quietly, standing and blinking down at the table as she starts to collect discarded plates. She doesn’t even look his way as she busies herself with mundane chores. It’s clear she’s avoiding her feelings however she can, but he knows his wife well by now. He has no doubt what she needs in this moment and it’s absolutely not to do the dishes.

He gets up and moves behind her, stilling her with a hand over hers. She doesn’t turn to look at him and he doesn’t say a word, but she does freeze in place and let out an unsteady breath that nearly turns into a sob at the end as she leans back into him.

“I want to go back,” she says in a hushed voice. She’s still faced away from him, toward the table, but his arms are around her and his chin rests on her shoulder, surrounding her in his presence as best he can. “I want to do it again. I want my baby girl safe in her crib while I worry about silly things like if it’s too soon to try solid foods or when she’ll start walking. I want to rewind my life just to do it all over.”

Oliver gets it. He feels that, too. Sometimes he looks at their kids and he blinks because they’ve just grown right in front of his eyes. Ellie can’t possibly be applying to colleges yet. Nate can’t be closing in on high school. Will can’t really be fast approaching 30. His little Julie-bug can’t really be moving out with a boy. Just last week, it seems, she’d held onto his finger with her whole hand and called him ‘Daddy.’ They’re so big now and it feels like that can’t possibly be real.

But it is. He knows because he’s held onto every single moment as it’s passed them by, savored every laugh and smile, found joy in little things like waffles on weekends, Will’s ballgames and Jules’ recitals, ice cream with Ellie and camping trips - no matter how ill-advised - with Nate. He can’t claim he doesn’t have a sense of nostalgia that creeps up often these days, but he also doesn’t have any regrets. Not with his children.

“Would you do anything differently if you could?” he asks.

The laugh she gives in return is pained and she turns her head to catch his gaze. “That’s a trick question and you know it.”

“Is it?” he asks. He smiles at her and he can feel the lines around his eyes crinkling as he does. They’re hard-won, those wrinkles, born of laughter and joy and a million moments over the last two decades that he wouldn’t give up for anything.

“If I say no, then there’s no point,” Felicity tells him. “We’d wind up right back here. If I say yes, then I’d change things, I’d change our whole life. And I don’t want that. Not really. I love our life together, Oliver. Even the hard parts. Even the worst parts. Because as hard as this is, as much as I want to stop time and keep them from growing up so fast, that’s only because I’ve enjoyed them so very much.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing her shoulder. “Me too.”

It’s quiet for a very long moment after that. They just stand there, remnants of dinner littered across the table as Oliver holds onto his wife and lets a sense of solidarity build between them both.

“So… Jackson,” Felicity says after a minute. It sounds like she’s testing out the name.

“Jackson,” he agrees.

“Any clue what his last name is?” Felicity asks.

It’s in the media clippings. He knows it is, but in all honesty he hadn’t paid that much attention to them. Not to the extent he should have, anyhow. But hindsight is twenty-twenty and he doesn’t have the luxury of going back and doing things again. Still, it’s very, very obvious that his little girl is a whole lot more serious about this guy than he’d assumed.

“I don’t,” he tells his wife. “But honey… I think we’re gonna need to find out.” s

50 notes · View notes