Chapter Text
Two gunshots rang out through the desolate garage, sending ringing echoes throughout the cavern. Silence followed before another scream from the writhing figure on the ground broke through the stunned silence. It was a cry of agony, but the team was relieved because it meant Oliver was still alive. Dinah and Curtis immediately ran towards the huge bloodied mass while Rene hung back, lowering his guns and looking between the metahuman he'd shot and Oliver on the ground— if, in fact, the figure was still Oliver.
“Green Arrow?” Curtis shouted, trying to dig through the thick cover of... something bony and slathered with blood. Oliver groaned in pain, and Curtis felt what he was touching tense and move around, sleek sticks of light gray, black, and red protruding every which way before settling close and parallel to each other. Curtis finally managed to find Oliver in the mess. His Arrow jacket was long gone but he might as well have been clothed for all the blood he was wearing.
“Oh no,” Dinah breathed, unfolding one black growth from over her leader.
“Wild Dog, help us move him!” Curtis ordered.
As the elevator doors to the lair opened (seeming too slow for everyone’s purposes) and the three new recruits announced themselves with strained and panicked voices and shouts, Oliver grunting or crying out whenever someone mistouched what they had determined to be wings with half-formed feathers. As they couldn't carry him with his new appendages, Oliver was forced to try and walk on his own, his only aid his teammates who were trying to be helpful in carrying some of the weight of the wings. It was hard for Oliver to move nearly at all with the pain of his back having split open and his bones contorted and reformed.
“Oh my god, Oliver!” Felicity rushed from her swivel chair down the steps and over to the group. Diggle had run over a split second beforehand. Oliver collapsed back onto the ground just as soon as the elevator doors had safely shut.
“Another moment and the transformation would likely have been complete,” Curtis panted.
“What happened?!” Felicity crouched down and took Oliver’s face in her hands despite the fact that they'd come away bloody. His eyes were barely open, but when he saw Felicity he smiled slightly, leaned into her touch, and passed out. “Oliver. Oliver!” Felicity yelled.
Diggle reached down and felt for Oliver's pulse. “He's alive.”
“What do we do?” Dinah asked.
“Get him on the table; wash him off. Rene, I need you to get towels. Dinah, get water, lots of it. Curtis, help me.”
“Will someone please explain to me what's going on?! What happened to him?!” Felicity demanded. She hadn't known what to make of everyone’s cams and no one had thought to explain what was happening as it happened through the comms.
“Felicity, I think he sprouted wings,” said Diggle, who had looked closer. “The metahuman got him.” At a glance, it would be very hard to tell that the massive black growths flopped on either side of Oliver were wings; they were matted, frazzled and bony, poking up in such a way that the entire form looked almost skeletal.
“Yeah, I shot the meta partway through, but...it looks like I was too late,” Rene said.
“Rene, if you were too late, Oliver would be a bird right now,” said Digg. “Towels.” Rene hurried off to fetch them. “Here, Curtis.”
The two men worked to heave Oliver onto the medical table that Felicity had just wheeled over. They placed him on his front so that his new wings draped over the sides, and all together they unfurled the wings so that they were spread across the floor. They stretched to an impressive size, but admittedly still looked like some slimy and bony carcass.
“This is really not how I expected my night to go,” said Felicity.
Dinah returned, tugging hard on a water hose she had just hooked up to a spout in the back. Rene came in carrying a large stack of folded white towels.
“Dinah,” Curtis said, and Dinah passed him the hose. While the others set to work unfolding and placing towels underneath everything to catch blood and water, Curtis gently rinsed off where the wings protruded from Oliver's back. While it was evident that this place was the source of the blood, the initial wound seemed to have healed itself over, and tiny black pinfeathers lead up to the larger ones on the wings. He and Diggle worked out from Oliver’s shoulder blades with the hose, washing off each feather.
Diggle noticed how the scars Oliver had on his back had appeared on top of the feathers, stopping the feathers from growing in those places. Rene, who had soon become the ‘water boy’ handed Digg a pitcher of water to use while Curtis had the hose, and he used it to wash off Oliver's head and neck. Oliver's hair, especially on the sides, seemed to have taken on feather-like qualities and had darkened.
Felicity and Dinah had worked almost to the tips of one wing, Dinah pouring water over the feathers while Felicity cleaned off each of them with her hands. Felicity was shocked at how natural it seemed. She'd cleaned Oliver’s wounds many times, and despite the anomaly that she was cleaning wings instead of gunshot holes, she knew it was Oliver, and was comfortable with it. Her only concern—well, maybe not her only concern—was the amount of blood that Oliver had lost. What was weird, though, was that Oliver didn't look pale and ghostly as he usually did when he lost a lot of blood (because she'd seen that quite a few times, unfortunately). He rather just looked depleted of energy.
“Hey, Felicity,” Diggle said, motioning her over.
“I got this,” Dinah said, demonstrating how she could pour and clean at the same time. Felicity nodded and went over to Diggle.
“What is it?” Felicity asked.
“Look at this.” Diggle opened Oliver’s eyelid to reveal an iris yellow in the middle and red on the edges, much like a bird’s. The iris had also expanded so it filled more, and most, of the eye. Felicity gasped and moved to see better.
“Whoa, what?!” Curtis ditched the hose he was holding and threw it to Rene, spraying him. Rene huffed and glared, unimpressed. Curtis jumped over a water bucket and slid in between Diggle and Felicity. “That's amazing! Open the other one—” Curtis didn't actually wait for Diggle to open it, deciding to reach forward and do it himself. He turned Oliver’s head the other way, but just as he reached for his other eye Oliver’s hand suddenly shot out from underneath his wing and grabbed Curtis’s wrist, eyes opening to reveal that both irises had indeed changed color. Oliver's wings flared with this movement, throwing Dinah to the floor and splattering Rene with blood and water.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Diggle said, putting a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “It's okay. Settle down, man.”
Oliver looked over at Dinah, who was sitting up and rubbing her head. He grimaced. “Sorry,” he muttered. He clambered off of the table halfway, still resting his arms and head on the cold metal. He flexed his wings, bringing them closer in to his back. He seemed surprised at this, almost as if he had no actual control over their movement. When took a moment to rest and perhaps collect himself, Rene turned the hose back on so it splashed on the tips of Oliver's less clean feathers, only for the wing to jerk away. Oliver turned his head up and glared.
“Sorry, hoss. Trying to help.” The wings were practically clean anyway.
Oliver pushed off from the table to sit on his hunches, pausing momentarily because of the head rush he received. “Give me...give me the thing. Hose,” he said drowsily. Rene cautiously stepped around the wing and handed Oliver the hose, which he used to clean off the undersides of the wings where they met his back.
“Good thing you can help us now. Frak, that was exhausting. You can also use those black mops of yours to help us clean up the floor later. Actually, don't help us using your wings because we just cleaned those off and using them to mop up the mess would be incredibly counter-intuitive,” Felicity said quickly. She shook her head and took a breath to continue her attempts to clarify herself, but Diggle held up a hand.
Oliver, who obviously had not been listening, was looking confusedly at his new growths. “...What…” he breathed. No one in the room seemed to know how to answer him.
Finally, Rene spoke up. “I tried to stop him.”
“Did a shit job…” Oliver grumbled after a moment, but was somewhat muffled. Felicity had to stop herself from reprimanding him from being so rude because she could understand how Oliver would be confused to say the least. She sent a look to Rene and he nodded knowingly.
“Oliver, I'm sure there's a solution for this,” Felicity said.
Oliver didn't respond. In fact, he was hardly aware of what was going around around him. The chatter around him reminded him of where he was and what...was happening, but the throbbing pain that spread throughout his back and neck kept him immersed completely in his own being. There was something that felt wrong, though, (provided there was nothing that felt wrong after having suddenly grown a pair of wings), like something wasn't quite in place. Focusing on the spot, or knot, Oliver was able to pinpoint it. He pushed away from the table and started to stand up. He stumbled as the new weight on his back pulled him backwards, so leaned heavily forward to counter it.
Seeing Oliver try to stand up and start to fall, Felicity, Diggle, and Dinah rushed forward but stopped nearby when Oliver seemed to steady himself, wings splaying slightly for balance. He then straightened his back and brought his shoulder blades together, sending a cracking, popping sound into the room that alarmed everyone. Oliver stifled a cry at the wave of pain the movement brought which felt much like having a shoulder or leg set, but the relief that eventually came outweighed whatever pain he felt.
“You okay?” Digg asked Oliver even though he couldn't imagine a way Oliver would be. Oliver continued to look dizzily around the room, focusing on nothing in particular. “Oliver. Hey,” Digg said, stepping in front of his brother to draw his attention. Oliver’s eyes locked onto his and Digg was startled once again by their piercing color. He looked wild, almost feral, but mostly confused. And tired. “Hey, how about you check out for the night. We...we got the meta, and the team’ll handle anything else that shows up.”
“I—” Oliver croaked. He didn't know quite what he was trying to say, but he knew he wasn't about to protest sleep. He felt heavy. Everywhere. Like his drooped and soaking wet wings would pull him straight into the puddle on the floor. “...Okay.”
“Let's get you to the back, then,” Digg said, not entirely sure how he'd get him there.
“I'll get you some sweats,” Felicity offered, hustling away. Oliver was still wearing his leather Green Arrow pants, which were now covered in water. Not good for sleeping in. Felicity wondered where his jacket had gone and figured she'd have to ask Curtis.
Diggle wasted no words moving to Oliver’s side and putting a hand on his lower back to help him walk, as it was all that was available what with the new wings. Mostly, he just left himself open for Oliver to support himself with. Oliver immediately put a hand on Digg’s elbow, and before the ex-soldier knew what was happening, a sopping wet wing was draped around his shoulders, covering him in water.
Oliver really wanted to get rid of all the water that had been absorbed into his wings, but wasn't sure if he had the energy to do so or even to figure out how. He allowed Digg to lead him to a bedroom, hardly minding where he was putting his feet. The wing that Digg wasn't supporting dragged limply across the floor, leaving a trail of water.
The other three team members made to help as well, which Oliver noticed. “No,” he said simply. Dinah, Curtis, and Rene exchanged looks but shrugged it off, saying nothing.
Diggle and Oliver faced a problem once they made it to the bedroom door. The two looked at each other, realizing at the same time that getting Oliver and his new appendages through the doorway would be difficult to achieve. Digg set Oliver up to lean against the wall while he went and propped the door open. Oliver still looked like he was asleep standing, and Digg internally debated whether he should move him himself or just tell him what to do.
Oliver seemed to have other ideas, however, and turned sideways, bracing himself against the doorframe. He reached around one of his wings and guided it through the doorway, watching, almost in the third person, as it twitched and the other wing moved slightly to balance. He sidestepped into the room and turned, allowing his wing to knock the door closed. It was oddly satisfying.
Digg had simply watched as Oliver maneuvered his changed body into the room, stepping out of the way when he should. Once Oliver closed the door, however, Digg immediately knocked on it. “Oliver?”
A moment of silence. “Thank you,” came Oliver's voice through the door, although Digg had been offering further assistance. ‘Go away,’ Digg quickly translated.
Felicity bounded over carrying a pair of gray sweatpants and saw the closed door. “Uh…”
Diggle pushed the door open.
“Um, here,” Felicity said, stepping under the doorway. Oliver was sitting on a small cot, one of many in the room, but was the one he always used when he needed to catch some sleep in the Lair. Obviously it was the one closest to the door, because that was just how Oliver was and likely would always be. It was a comforting reminder of how--however changed--Oliver was still the same man. The man she’d married.
Oliver’s wet and glistening wings were folded around him like a cocoon, or perhaps a blanket, as Oliver was supposed to be sleeping. She was unaware of how cold the water was on the brand-new skin underneath his feathers.
Felicity threw the sweatpants at his feet and almost laughed at the way his wings wiggled a bit showing that he noticed--even if all it was was that he had to move them to see.
“Thanks,” Oliver mumbled, changing into the pants tiredly as his wings swayed this way and that.
“Do you want me to stay?” Felicity asked.
“You have work to do.”
“Not much. I’ll come in later?”
“Felicity…” Oliver sighed. He kind of just wanted to sort himself out that night and have his mind catch up with the events that had transpired. And no doubt she wouldn't actually want to sleep close to his sopping wet, frankly disgusting form.
“If not, that’s okay. I understand.” Felicity waited for a verbal response, but received none. The slightest movement of Oliver’s chin told her that he acknowledged and appreciated what she said. She left the room thinking about if non-verbal communication between married couples could equate that of twins, but was stopped by Oliver’s quiet voice.
“I love you.”
Felicity turned around and smiled. “I love you too, Oliver. Feathers and all.”
After giving his favorite ship their ‘marital space’ and time, Digg knocked lightly on the already open door. “You need anything else? Dry towels, a...shirt?”
“Some space, maybe. Can you close that?”
Digg complied. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
The click of a lock gave Digg Oliver’s answer.