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There was nothing but sand.
There wasn’t a river or a lake, an ocean or a puddle. All the ships sensors picked up was sand flats, sand dunes, and rock. For a planet orbiting so close to binary suns, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.
What didn’t surprise him was the people. He’d been all over the galaxy, seen more of it with his own eyes in the last few years than most people saw in a lifetime, and there was nary a planet, moon, or backwater system that didn’t have someone trying to make a home somewhere. Tatooine was no exception.
He flew the ship closer, compensating for the busted engine as best he could. When the readout on the senor panel started to squiggle and short, he gave the console a knock with his fist and it came up again, for the moment. It told him the temperature on the surface was on the near side of ‘hot’, outlined the ridges of rock that jutted up from the ground, and, of most interest, detailed the planet’s sparse settlements and outposts that meant maybe, just maybe, he could get his ship fixed.
For once, luck seemed to be on his side and he found what he was looking for before he finished his first orbit.
He entered the atmosphere and half expected the ship to shake apart on decent, but she held together for a smoother landing than he might have imagined. But now that he was parked in the landing bay of Tatooine’s most convenient repair facility, he knew his ship wasn’t getting airborne again without some help. He just hoped that, in his desperation, he hadn’t made a mistake in heading here.
He shut the ship down, flicking switches in the small cockpit, the movements as automatic as breathing. The landing had dusted the windows with sand but he could still make out the landing bay through the grime. He saw stacks of scrap and sand coloured walls but no signs of life, though he was sure the droids would be rolling their way towards his ship soon enough.
On the relative safety of the ground he took a moment, just one, to sigh heavily and run his hands over his face, stubble scratching his palms. This was...not what he had planned, and needed to work out what came next. But first, he needed his ship fixed.
He rose from his seat, started to reach for the green hood behind him, but then changed his mind. On this barren planet tucked away in the outer rim, odds were slim that anyone would recognize him as Oliver Queen. He left the cockpit without it.
He climbed the ladder down into the hold and rummaged for an empty pack. He’d need supplies before he left here, and the settlements were large enough he could likely buy or barter for what he needed. Then he opened the weapons locker and holstered a blaster at his hip and ankle. Last, he turned his attention to the closed door to the sleeping bunk. After a beat of uncertainty and second guessing, he approached.
“I, um, I’m going to go get some supplies,” he said to the door, not sure if he should open it. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get a reply.
“Stay with the ship,” he added. “I’ll be back soon.”
He opened the gangway, light and dust swirling around him as he disembarked. As predicted, a trio of repair droids had appeared in the landing bay, knee-high things with helmet-shaped heads tottering around on spindly metal legs. He gritted his teeth. Before the metal minions could reach the ship, Oliver reached for the blaster at his hip and fired onto the ground in front of them, scrambling the droids off their path.
A clang sounded to his right and he spun on instinct, blaster still drawn.
“Whoa there,” said a figure standing in the doorway, hands up in a non-threatening gesture, even though one of them held a plasma torch. “Do we have a problem here?”
The person was smaller than he was, wearing dusty grey coveralls cinched at the waist and a welding helmet that muffled their voice and hid all distinguishing features.
“No droids,” he said in way of an answer, holstering his blaster.
“What?”
He rolled his eyes and spoke louder. “No droids,” he repeated. “I don’t want droids working on my ship.”
It was hard to tell through the welding helmet, but Oliver was pretty sure he heard an exasperated sigh.
“No, I heard what you said,” the welder replied, then reached up to pull the helmet off. Oliver was more than a little surprised to see a long, blond ponytail shake out.
“I guess what I mean,” she said, taking the welding helmet and plasma torch and tossing them to the side, “is why?”
She was human, and a handful of years younger than him, if he had to guess. His brain couldn’t also help but note that she was pretty. Even now, arms crossed and impatient for his answer, she radiated colour and life against the dingy tan backdrop in a way that Oliver found impossible to ignore.
“I don’t like droids.”
She smirked at him, a half-smile lifting the corner of her impossibly pink lips.
“I gathered that,” she said, pulling a scanner out of her belt and she walked towards the ship. Oliver stayed where he was, but he pivoted on his heel to keep her in is sights.
“You’ve got a fuel leak,” she said walking up the starboard side. “And this engine is… not great.” She paused to look at a hole where some of the casing had been lost. “Going to have to rotate that...” she punched a few buttons on the scanner. “And there’s a lot of carbon scoring.”
She turned to face him. “If I didn’t know any better,” she said in a tone that definitely suggested she knew better, “I’d say you’d been in a fire fight.”
It was his turn to cross his arms. While she wasn’t wrong, he still wasn’t about to volunteer any information to a stranger in a repair bay, even one that looked like her.
“Can you fix it?” he asked.
“Of course I can,” she answered. “But without the droids it’s going to take some time. And if I’m doing all the work myself it’s going to cost you extra.”
He pulled a bag of coins from his pack and tossed it gently in her direction. She caught it with ease, and he could see the surprise in her eyes as she felt its weight.
“I trust that will cover it Miss…” he trailed off, fishing for her name.
“Smoak,” she supplied. “Felicity Smoak.”
“Miss Smoak,” he echoed to complete his sentence as he watched her open the bag and shuffle the credits between her fingers.
“Um, yeah,” she said, trying and not quite succeeding to keep her cool at his obvious over payment. But as far as Oliver was concerned, buying discretion always cost extra. “This should be, uh, fine.”
“Good,” he said, considering that part of the matter settled. He readjusted the pack on his shoulder. “I’ve got to head into town for supplies. I’ll be back before dark.”
He turned from her then, and walked with brisk steps towards the gateway to the outside.
“Bring water!” he heard from behind him. Her voice was so earnest, that it startled him into stopping. He turned to face her again.
“It’s a desert planet,” she said a little awkwardly. “Two suns,” she lifted a finger to twirl it towards the sky, as if directing him where to find them. “It’s not a long way into Mos Eisley, but you’ll need water.”
He regarded her for a moment, this woman who shone against the dinge of the repair bay and reminded him to take water on his trip into town as if she actually cared what happened to him, and a smile, genuine and wholly unexpected began to creep onto his face. He rolled his lips together to tamp it back down again. He nodded once to show he’d heard her, then turned again to walk out into the sand.
***
It was hot under the welding helmet. The strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail clung to her face and neck, and she could feel the beads of sweat as they trickled down her brow. Beneath the ship, an old Razor Crest made in the days before the Empire, sparks rained from the plasma torch she was using to replace a run of fuel line that had been damaged (by the blast of a laser cannon, if she wasn’t mistaken) beyond repair. Normally, this was a task she’d get the droids to do. Welding in the mid-afternoon on a planet with binary suns was not a task that any human would enjoy. But Mister Tall, Gruff, and Handsome had insisted on no droids and, given the amount of credits he’d tossed her way, Felicity was in no position to argue.
Plus maybe she didn’t mind so much, getting her hands dirty with this ship, if it meant what she thought it did.
New fuel line secured, Felicity wasted no time before removing her helmet and running the arm of her coveralls over her sweat-slicked forehead. The sand that had settled onto her sleeve rubbed against her skin with an all-too-familiar sensation and she sighed. On Tatooine, sand got everywhere.
Sweaty and now gritty, she moved on to the diagnostic she was running on the starboard engine. She already knew it needed at least two new coils but suspected the motivator was on the outs as well, and she’d set the diagnostic unit up to work while she welded. She started to scan through the readout, thankful for the patch of shade afforded by the shadow of the ship, when a voice came out of nowhere.
“Who are you?”
Her startled jump jostled the diagnostic unit and an undignified “Eeep!” escaped her mouth. Hand on her pounding chest, she spun around, ready to run if she needed to, when her gaze landed on a boy who was peeking his head out at the top of the gangway.
“Oh,” she said with a gasping breath. “You scared the frack out of me.”
He looked young, 7, maybe 8, with brown hair and gentle eyes. He made no move to step further out of the ship.
“I’m Felicity,” she answered him, taking a tentative step forward. “Have you been in there this whole time?”
“Where’s Oliver?” the boy asked.
“Oliver?” she echoed. “Is that his name? Tall guy, bit of a beard, kinda grumpy?”
She said the last part with a half-smile and was pleasantly surprised to see the corner of the boy’s mouth tick up too, if only for a second.
“He went to get supplies,” she told him. “He said he’d be back soon.”
The boy’s eyes slid down to the ground and even though she couldn’t see the rest of this body, Felicity was pretty sure he was fidgeting. He didn’t retreat back into the ship, but he didn’t come out either. It was like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to do.
A clang sounded from Felicity’s left and caught both of their attentions. They both turned to see a long, metal pole awkwardly making its way into the repair bay. It was being carried by two of her droids, as the third trailed along behind contributing nothing at all. With one less than coordinated move, the pole knocked right into the landing strut of the Razor Crest.
“Hey, guys, careful with that,” Felicity said, addressing the droids. “2, get in there and help them.”
The third droid scuttled ahead to take up his position on the pipe.
“Take it around the back,” she said as they moved through the space avoiding any new collisions with the ship. When she turned her attention back to the boy, she noticed he’d stepped one foot out onto the gangway.
“Are those pit droids?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered, giving him a smile. “Tatoo 1, Tatoo 2, and Bob.”
At his puzzled look, she chuckled.
“I named them after the suns,” she said pointing upward. “But there are only two suns and three droids, so,” she shrugged, “Bob.”
The boy smiled. It was slight, but unmistakable.
“I programmed them myself you know,” she continued. “They used to be used for –“
“Repairing pod racers,” the boy supplied. “I know.”
“You like droids?” she asked him.
He nodded.
“Me too,” she said.
“I was trying to reprogram a droid back home,” the boy said, stepping both feet out of the ship, coming to stand at the top of the gangway.
“Oh, well in that case,” she said, taking a chance, “maybe you’d like to come help me with this diagnostic I’m running on your ship?” She tiled her head towards the unit a few steps away.
The boy hesitated for a second, unsure, before he nodded and made his way down the ramp.
“Great,” Felicity said with enthusiasm, moving to stand beside the blinking machine. “You can be my assistant, um…”
“William,” he said.
“William,” she repeated with a smile.
For the rest of the afternoon, Felicity found herself with a human assistant, instead of her mechanical ones. She found herself enjoying the change of pace. William was a smart kid; he was eager to learn and happy to help. But there was a shadow hanging over him, a sadness that stooped his shoulders and wiped the small smiles off of his face. She couldn’t help but wonder what put it there.
“You’re pretty good at this,” she told him as they bolted a piece of casing onto the hull. She’d been guiding him on how to use the torque gun, but he’d put the last two bolts in without any help from her. “Are you Oliver’s mechanic?”
She’d kept her tone teasing and light, but she really did want to know why this sweet boy with a heavy heart had been hiding on that ship. From the way his eyes slid to the ground and the shadow gathered around him, she knew she’d hit on something.
“He’s my dad,” he answered. “My mom…” he took a shaky breath, “my mom died, and he came to get me.”
The pain in his voice was raw, and Felicity’s heart broke for him. She knew how that felt; knew that, sometimes, it never really went away. Before she could think better of it, she reached out and settled a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she said with sincerity. When he looked up at her again, she gave his shoulder a squeeze before pulling her hand away and reaching for the torque gun.
“I think that about does it for now,” she said, packing up the tool and moving the conversation back to more comfortable territory. “Once the new engine coil is ready, we’ll just need to install it, make some final tweaks, and you’ll be space worthy again.”
She took a few steps away from the ship to stretch her arms up high and work the kinks out of her back. Looking out over the wall of the landing bay, she noticed the sky beginning to get the orange hue of sunset. It would be dark in an hour or so, and there was no sign of Oliver. Her gaze slid back to William.
“Are you hungry?” she asked him. He looked a bit surprised at first, but then nodded.
“Me too,” she told him. “Want to join me for dinner? I’ve got some Bantha stew we can share.”
He nodded again, and she swept an arm around behind him to guide him forward. They walked around the ship and towards the squat, sand coloured building that served as both her workshop and her home. As they neared the doorway, Felicity took one last long look out over the changing sky and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry for the man who had left hours ago and hadn’t yet found his way back.
When she turned again she found William watching her, his eyes beginning to echo her concern. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then walked them both over the threshold.
**
It was dark. Tatooine had three moons but, somehow, none of them were gracing the sky over Mos Eisley tonight. If it weren’t for the homing beacon guiding him to his ship, Oliver would have been hard pressed to tell you where he was even going.
He trudged through the sand, bone tired and aching. He rolled his left shoulder in the socket, hoping to work out some of the kinks. It didn’t help. When he could finally make out the hanger where his ship was docked in the dark desert night, he sighed in relief. He had been gone way too long and William… well, he didn’t really know what William would think. His son had barely spoken to him. But it still pained him to think that William might be scared or worried. He’d been through so much already.
The repair bay was quiet when he walked through the gateway. His ship was parked where he left it, dim lights glinting off the hull and the gangway still open. He walked up the ramp and called up the lights, blinking as his dark-adjusted pupils protested the sudden change. He went right for the bunk room where he’d left William hours before. The door was open, and the bunk was empty.
Panic seized at Oliver’s chest.
“William?” he called out. When he got no response, he called louder. “William!”
Oliver tore through the small ship in record time. When he didn’t find his son, he made his way down the gangway again.
“William!” he called. “William!”
A sound to his left caught his attention, and he spun, drawing his blaster reflexively. It was Felicity.
“Whoa, hey calm down,” she said, eyes wide and hands up in a gesture of surrender. “He’s in here,” she said, pointing to the doorway behind her. “He’s asleep.”
Oliver closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Relief swamped him.
“What the hell happened to you?” she asked.
Oliver opened his eyes to see Felicity looking at him with concern and was reminded that he probably looked like something the cat dragged in. His clothing was singed, his skin was smeared with soot, and there was sand, everywhere.
“There was an…incident,” he answered cryptically. “What’s William doing with you?” he asked in return, the stress of the situation giving his tone a bite. “I left him on the ship.”
“Ten hours ago!” Felicity returned incredulously.
Oliver sighed and deflated. She didn’t deserve his anger, he knew that.
“I thought I’d be back sooner,” he said in way of an apology.
She gave him a small smile. “I know.”
Oliver took a moment to holster the blaster that was still clutched in his hand. Some part of his brain registered that this was the second time he had pointed it at Felicity and he frowned. She stood a few feet away from him, coveralls traded for snug pants and a white tank top that stood out in the dim light.
“Would you like to come in and see him?” she asked and he nodded. He’d feel better, he knew, once he saw for sure that William was safe.
He followed her in through the doorway, passing by the control room with its big window overlooking the landing bay, and through a workshop filled with parts and pieces of machinery that Oliver didn’t recognize, to the back room were Felicity obviously lived. There was a simple kitchen, two well-worn armchairs, and a bed pushed into the back corner surrounded by a gauzy curtain. On the bed, curled up and sound asleep, was William.
“Are you hungry?” Felicity asked moving around in the kitchen behind him. He turned to see her set what looked like a loaf of bread on the small kitchen table.
“You must be hungry,” she continued. “I mean, whatever incident you found yourself a part of, I doubt it included dinner.”
“Oh, no,” he answered automatically, even though he hadn’t eaten since the ration bar he’d had when he’d walked into town that afternoon. “I couldn’t impose.”
She snorted a laugh. “Oliver, you gave me enough credits to feed half of Mos Eisley. I promise you, you’re not imposing. Please,” she gestured to one of the trio of wooden chairs around the table, “sit down.”
After a second of hesitation, he moved over to the table and quietly pulled out a chair. Felicity laid out cheese and bread, then set a tall glass of water down in front of him before moving to settle herself into the chair on his right. He reached for the glass first, taking a healthy gulp before setting it back down again. In a place like Tatooine, where water could be so scarce, it was a generous offering.
“Thank you,” he said, reaching for a hunk of bread as Felicity nibbled on a piece of cheese, “for looking after William today.”
“It was no trouble,” she answered, taking a drink of her own water. “He’s a good kid. He helped me with the repairs for your ship.”
“He did?” Oliver asked with genuine surprise.
“Yeah,” she answered, a little confused by his reaction. “Then we had dinner and played a few rounds of sabacc. When he could barely keep his eyes open anymore, I convinced him to lay down and rest, even though he wanted to wait for you.”
There was almost no part of what Felicity told him that wasn’t a revelation to him. Ever since William had come into his care, his son had been quiet, withdrawn, and carried such a bone-deep sadness that Oliver wondered how he could ever help him through it. But he’d responded to Felicity, it seemed, in a way that Oliver hadn’t been able to reach.
“His mother died, recently,” he found himself saying.
“I know,” she responded, “he told me. I’m sorry.”
The sincerity in her tone stuck him in the gut. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. William did, but he didn’t.
“We weren’t…” he paused, trying to explain but struggling to find the words for his deepest regret, that he had been a woefully absent father.
“William’s mother and I hadn’t seen each other in a very long time,” was what he settled on. “And now William is with me and it’s…been a hard adjustment. I don’t know…”
Oliver looked down at his hands. He was ripping the bread into tiny pieces, not knowing when he’d started it, not sure why he was telling this virtual stranger his deepest insecurity.
“I don’t know how to help him,” he said, voice just above a whisper. “I’ve missed so much of his life.”
“Well you’re here now,” she replied just as softly.
He forced his fingers to unclench and dared himself to look back up at her. When he did she smiled, and patted his arm.
“He likes droids and plays a pretty decent game of sabacc,” she said. “You can start there.”
For a moment, Oliver didn’t trust himself to talk. So he nodded, and her smile twitched up again and for a second, he felt something stir inside him that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It almost felt like…hope.
“Is the ship ready?” he asked, moving on to easier topics. He picked up his water glass to swallow the last few mouthfuls, not wanting to waste any.
“Not yet,” she answered shaking her head. “Two of your engine coils needed replacing and I only had one. I’m fabricating another but it won’t be done until morning.”
He nodded again, then said “I should let you get some sleep.”
He got up from his chair and Felicity followed suit. It surprised him a little, how small she was compared to him. Her presence was just so…big.
“Thank you for the food,” he said, willing her to know, somehow, that he was thanking her for so much more.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, looking up at him.
Then he walked over to the bed, picked up his sleeping son, and headed back out into the darkness.
**
“Now you just plug this assembly into this port…” Felicity said, moving her head back so her young assistant could see what she was doing. There was a satisfying snap when the newly fabricated coil settled snuggly into place. “And you have a new engine coil.”
She took a look back at William who’d been watching her work and gave him a smile.
“Don’t you have to tighten the lateral bolts?” he asked.
“We absolutely do,” she said, impressed at his recall. “Someone sure was paying attention when we swapped that coil out yesterday.”
The corners of his mouth ticked up in what Felicity was pretty sure was a proud smile. It made her happy. She grabbed the torque wrench out of her belt and held it out to him.
“Why don’t you take care of that?” she told him, and his face lit up. With the biggest smile she’d seen on him yet, he took the wrench from her outstretched hand and moved closer to the ship to start on the task.
It was still fairly early on Tatooine, but the day was already beginning to heat up. The two suns shone in the sky with no clouds in sight to block their light, just like almost every day on this dusty planet in the middle of nowhere. It had taken a little while, but Felicity had come to see the beauty in this place.
She watched William work from a distance, arms crossed over her chest. She’d double check his work once he was finished, but she was confident this was something he could handle. Like she’d told Oliver, he was a smart kid. A little lost, maybe, but she was hopeful he’d find his way again, with time.
A shuffle to her left caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see Oliver take the last few steps to settle in beside her.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, his gaze on William.
“Yes,” she answered. “He’s got a knack for this you know.”
“Ok,” he said simply, and Felicity knew, somehow, that that was his way of saying that he trusted her. The revelation emboldened her, and she decided to take a chance, to see if she was right.
“I promise you, she’ll be in tip-top shape,” she said, turning to face him. “For the ship of the famous Green Arrow, I didn’t pull any punches.”
For a minute, she was met by silence. It was obvious that she’d surprised him. But she could see it in his eyes, those blue, blue eyes, the moment when he decided to tell her the truth.
“I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” he said.
“It’s the ship I recognize,” she told him. “Not many left from pre-Empire days. Fewer still that still run. This ship is a thing of beauty. A symbol of…”, she trailed off, something telling her that Oliver wasn’t ready to hear something quite so hopeful. So she just shrugged, cheeks a little flushed, and said instead, “I’m glad you brought it here.”
“Me too,” he replied, and the timber of his voice caused an unexpected flutter in her stomach.
“It’s a good thing that you do,” she said. “Fighting for those who were hurt by the Empire, trying to give back what they lost.”
It was his turn to shrug.
“There are…things that need to be put right,” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, feeling her mouth quirk up a bit, “there are.”
“I think I’m finished,” William voiced from his spot near the ship, and both Oliver and Felicity turned to give him their attention.
“Alright,” Felicity said, taking a breath before she started to walk towards him. “Let’s see how you did.”
His work was perfect and all that was left to do was for Oliver to power up the engine and run the pre-flight diagnostic. When William learned that it was time to go, his face fell, and Felicity felt her heart clench.
“Hey,” she told him, kneeling down so they were face to face, “you can come back and be my assistant anytime.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” she assured him, and his face brightened some. She moved to stand again, and Oliver rested a hand on William’s shoulder.
“Go get settled in buddy,” Oliver told him gently. With only a little reluctance, William turned and made his way up the gangway and onto the ship.
“Thank you,” Oliver said to her, sincerity colouring his words.
“I’m happy I could help,” she replied, just as honestly. “Take care of yourself Oliver.”
“You too Felicity.”
He boarded the ship and, as the gangway started to close, Felicity moved to the edge of the landing bay and leaned against the sand coloured wall. She heard the hum of the engines as they started to come to life and could make out Oliver’s shape through the window of the cockpit as he settled himself into the pilot’s seat. After a few minutes, the hum turned into a roar as the ship readied for takeoff. Felicity watched as the ship that millions of people across the galaxy had come to associate with justice and hope lifted off the ground gracefully and flew up into the endless horizon. She didn’t leave her post until the ship was well and truly out of sight.