Chapter Text
“Would you like anything to drink, Miss?”
“No, thank you,” Felicity smiled at the flight attendant as she settled more comfortably in her seat. The plane hadn’t taken off yet, and she could hear that people were still boarding. The big advantage of travelling first class was that you didn’t have to wait any longer than necessary. And you barely had the time to sit down before they were already offering you a drink, apparently.
“I'll have a glass of red wine, please,” her neighbour asked the attendant. For the third time since she had boarded, Felicity glanced at him. He was probably around thirty, thirty-five, with short brown hair and green eyes. His suit was obviously tailored, and he had this elegant aura of someone used to wealth and comfort.
He must have sensed her staring, because he suddenly turned his head, smiling. “Leisure or business?”
A small blush crept up her cheeks at the idea of having been caught red-handed. “A little bit of both, actually.”
“That’s the best kind of trip if you ask me. What do you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I work for Palmer Technologies, it’s a company that-” she explained, biting her lips.
“Palmer Tech? Awesome! I have one of your watches!” he cut her off, a small grin stretching his lips as he showed off his left wrist.
“I know,” she smiled, waving the new prototype she was wearing herself. “That’s… I’ll admit it bluntly, I was admiring it. It was my first project. I still get a kick at seeing people wearing it.”
“Oh, wow. You’re one of the creators?”
She saw the surprise on his face and she had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes. How many times had she seen the same expression on a man’s face? They usually had no problem visualising someone under 25 creating revolutionary technology… but that someone was somehow always a man. Not a blonde girl with a ponytail and panda flats.
She grinned politely, nodding. “Yes.”
His eyes travelled down her body and she sighed, still keeping the polite smile on her face.
A douchebag. How lovely. I give him three seconds before he…
“I’m sorry, I have to admit I never pictured girls like you working on all those techy things,” he chuckled, taking a sip of the wine the flight attendant had just brought.
Bingo.
“You’re far from being the only one,” she tilted her head before grabbing her purse and ostentatiously looking for her earbuds.
He offered her a small smile, probably understanding the conversation was over and turned around, pulling up the small TV that was stored on the side of his seat.
I’ll give him that. He takes the hint much quicker than the usual man.
Picking her favorite playlist on spotify, she spread the small blanket on her lap, turning to face the window. As the plane took off, she cast one last look at New York. She would miss the city, would miss the peace she had found there.
But it was time to go home.
She had a promise to keep.
A chauffeur was waiting for her at the airport with a little sign saying “Miss Smoak - Palmer Tech.” It felt weird to get such a formal welcoming, but she knew she should get used to it. Being Vice-President of a company like PT brought a lot of perks, including travelling first class and having a personal chauffeur to drive her to her small, one-bedroom apartment. When she had left Starling for Manhattan, she had been unable to let go of the place. She had kept it, paid the rent, and Dig had made sure it was taken care of while she was away. A cleaning lady would come once a month, and Dig would go every now and then to check that everything was in order. It was probably a waste of money, paying the rent for a place she didn’t use, but it was her home. Her first real home. It was where all her memories of Oliver were. She hadn’t been ready to say goodbye.
When she opened the door, the smell of fresh cleaner welcomed her. It was already night time, and she took a deep breath before switching on the light. She smiled when she saw the flowers on the dining table, directly to her left. Pushing her suitcase inside, she closed the door behind her, letting her eyes wander across the room. She felt the familiar pang in her chest, the one she always felt whenever she saw something that reminded her of Oliver. Here, in her home, there wasn’t a single thing that didn’t remind her of him.
The kitchen was where they had cuddled, waiting for the bagels to be done. The dining table was where they had made love, with the pizza guy standing on the other side of the door. Her secretary, that he had built himself on her birthday. The couch… oh the couch had seen so much action. And so much cuddling and soft kissing when they were too tired to move. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear Oliver’s heart beating underneath her ear, his soft voice always slower and deeper whenever he was in post-coital bliss. Which had happened… a lot.
The coffee table.
She gulped, taking a step forward, her eyes searching for what she knew would still be there, now protected by a transparent square of plastic.
The puzzle he had never been able to finish.
Biting her lips, she felt the tears burning her eyes. She knew she should get rid of it. She knew it wasn’t healthy to still hang onto those stupid pieces of cardboard.
Except she couldn’t. She had tried, but the idea of letting go of that had been beyond her strength. Dig had found her one day, months after Oliver’s death, sobbing in her living room, trying to force herself to put the pieces back in their box and throw it away, as far away from her as possible. He had explained to her that she shouldn’t force herself to do anything. If it was that painful, it was because she wasn’t ready.
The next day, he had knocked on her door with a square of plexiglas. She had felt better then, the puzzle protected, still there, but somehow distanced from her.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to her secretary, crouching down until she could reach a small basket. She took out a small tablecloth, then smoothed it over her coffee table. It was time to move on.
One step at a time.