A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for taking the time to read this! I'm starting a series of random one-shots based off of a variety of prompts. These are all going to be stand-alone chapters (unless a demand is made for a follow-up) and they'll be posted sporadically. I am not putting off Mark of the Angel or An Arrow Thru It for anyone reading those, I promise neither is being shelved. Spoilers for these include anything up to 4x16 ("Broken Hearts"). Lastly, if you want to supply a prompt, feel free. I can't promise I'll get to all of them or when, but I'm open to anything.
Love is Not Dead
Prompt: And then she did the simplest thing in the world. She leaned over and kissed him. And the world cracked open.
They've hardly spoken to one another in the last eight weeks. She'd left him that day in the foundry after a fake wedding and returning his mother's ring to him once again. And even though she has helped them from time to time with their missions, with the task to end Darhk's reign of terror and take down Malcolm Merlyn, they've barely said two words to each other on a personal level.
He's held back for so long. He's bottled up the pain that she left in her wake, the agony that he has felt since she'd given up on him. And it had been agonizing. It had been one of the most excruciating emotional experiences of his life. Because not only had the love of his life chosen to walk away from him, she had given up on him. She had stopped believing in him. In all of the time that Oliver has known Felicity, in all of the time that she has been a part of his crusade, she has been the one person that he's been able to rely on. The one person who has never stopped supporting him. She may not have always agreed with what he was doing, with his methods, but she has always been there.
He can't blame her for leaving. He doesn't blame her for being hurt, for being angry. She has every right. He lied to her. He kept something from her that – had they gotten married - would've affected both of them. He had convinced himself that doing as Samantha asked was the only way to keep his son in his life. He had been sure that he would have time to tell Felicity, that he would have an opportunity to tell her the truth. He had been certain that the time would come and they would work through it. But Darhk had interfered and Oliver had lost his opportunity to tell Felicity the truth on his own terms.
The night has been long. Their friends are gone, each of them returning home to the lives that they live outside of this one. Diggle has returned to Lyla. Curtis has gone home to Paul. Barry and Caitlyn and Cisco are on their way back to Central City. And Oliver… Oliver is sitting at the table in the foundry feeling as if he hasn't sleep in months. Felicity is beside him, close enough that if he wanted to he could reach out and wrap his hand around hers. He can smell the soft scent of her shampoo, the subtle hint of roses that clings to the golden locks of her hair, and his fingers itch to reach out and sift through the strands. But he doesn't reach for her. He doesn't touch her. He remains motionless out of fear, uncertainty. He doesn't know where they stand. He isn't sure how she feels, if she misses him, if she wants him. He doesn't know anything because they haven't exchanged more than a handful of words in the forty-eight hours that they've been searching for Malcolm. The search is over and Merlyn is dead. It is finally over. The man responsible for Laurel's death is dead and even though he knows that it doesn't change the fact that she's gone, he knows that she would've wanted them to seek justice for her. For her and for all of the other's that Merlyn had hurt, including her sister.
"Are you okay?"
Her question is voiced so quietly that he thinks he imagined it. At least until he lifts his eyes from where they have been focused on the smooth surface of the table in front of him to find her watching him with an intent interest.
He nods slowly.
"Yeah, I – I think so."
She continues to stare at him, her normally bright eyes muted by exhaustion and stress. He knows that she's waiting for him to say more but he isn't sure what it is she's expecting to hear.
"I'm proud of you."
He scoffs at that.
"For killing him?"
Felicity shakes her head, smiling sadly.
"Of course not. I – You know how I felt about Merlyn, Oliver. He deserved to die. That isn't something that's ever been easy for me to say but that man he… he's hurt so many people. He's taken so many lives, including Laurel's, so he deserved what he got."
She says the last bit with more vehemence in her voice than he's ever heard from her and it makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hates that the darkness from his world has managed to seep into her. It is something he has always feared. From the first moment he decided to let her into this part of his life, he had feared that the darkness would envelope her. He knows how strong she is, how bright and optimistic and pure, and before Darhk had nearly killed her, he had thought that those qualities protected her. He had looked at her as his beacon of hope for so long and even after suffering severe injuries, after losing her ability to walk, she hadn't succumbed to the darkness. At least not until Malcolm had taken yet another person from them. When she had encouraged him to kill Thea's father, he'd realized that his greatest fear was coming to light. He was losing her. Again.
"You let them help you. You askedfor help, Oliver."
He frowns as he looks back at her. She had accused him, that last night in the lair, of doing everything on his own. Of choosing to be alone rather than allowing them to help him, rather than letting her be his partner. His partner in everything.
He swallows hard, shaking his head slowly. Not because he disagrees with her. He doesn't, not at all. Because he did ask for help. He turned to his team, to his friends, because he'd been beaten by Merlyn enough in the past to know that and the fact that Merlyn had HIVE on his side had been another deterrent. He would only get himself killed if he'd tried to take him on alone. And he isn't ready to die. He has too much left in his life that he wants to do, that he wants to experience. Like marrying Felicity Smoak. He hasn't given up on that.
He turns his chair to face her and notices again how close they are. He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he bends forward. He keeps his eyes on her as he speaks.
"I know that you need me to include you. I heard what you said, Felicity. I get it. And you're right. Marriage is about inclusion. I don't deny that I should've told you about William. I kept something from you, something huge. Something that upset everything that I thought I knew about my life. When I was twenty-one, just before the Gambit went down, I cheated on Laurel. That affair resulted in Samantha getting pregnant. She told me and I told my mother. My mother, without my knowledge, confronted Samantha. She offered her a million dollars to take our baby and disappear. She told Samantha that she didn't want my future to be jeopardized by the mistake that we'd made. So Samantha lied to me. She told me that she'd lost the baby. And I thought that was it. I never saw her after that. It was only a few weeks later that my dad and I –"
He cuts himself off. They don't need to go down that route, of course, because she already knows what happens after that.
"I did some … some digging. On Samantha. I found out that she deposited a million dollars from one of your mother's hidden accounts into an account in Central City right after William was born. She hasn't touched the money since then. I figure she's saving it for him but it's obvious that your mother paid her off."
His frown deepens, his brows drawing together as he stares at her.
"She deposited the check?"
She nods, "Yes. About a month after William was born."
He feels a stab of betrayal low in his abdomen, as if someone has just stuck him in the ribs with a jagged blade.
"She showed me a check that my mother had written. It was for a million dollars. She told me she'd never done anything with it."
"Oh. Well, I – I'm sorry, Ol-"
"No, no, it's alright. I just… I believed her."
A small, warm hand closes over both of his where they're clasped between his knees and he can't help letting his eyes drift to her fingers. He's missed her touch. He's longed for it. And even this innocent gesture of compassion sends his heart racing.
"I didn't intend to keep it from you for as long as I did," he continues, "I wanted to tell you but I wasn't sure how. Felicity, you have to understand, I didn't know anything about this. I didn't know that William even existed and when Barry confirmed the DNA test for me, I – I was terrified. I had a son. I havea son. A little boy that I never had the opportunity to meet. I could barely process it myself. I just needed time. I needed to – to let the truth of that sink in before I told anyone."
She sighs, squeezing his hands.
"I would never have begrudged you that, Oliver. I get needing time. But you… you never told me. I had to find out from Damien Darhk. And then I found out that Thea knew and Malcolm. All of these people knew that your son existed except for me. I thought that you trusted me. I thought that we were a team. You should've been honest with me. Even if you'd just – even if you'd just told me that you'd found out about him and that you weren't ready to talk about it. That would've been easier for me to accept than being kept in the dark."
He turned his hands to clasp hers between them. He ran his thumb along her knuckles, staring at the delicate skin stretched across her bones.
"We are a team, Felicity. And I know that you don't think that I know what that means, that I don't take it seriously, but that isn't true. You know me better than anyone. You know that I've had to do a lot on my own. I was alone for a long time. There are times when I feel like I still am. When I think that it would be better if I was. And not because I don't appreciate you or the team. You have made my life better in so many ways. You've made me realize that I don't have to be alone. You know how I feel about you. I love you. And I'm trying to be the man that you need me to be. I want to be that person for you."
"Oliver, I'm not asking you to change for me. I mean, I am, I guess. But I –"
He shakes his head to cut her off.
"It's okay. I want to change this part of me. I know that I take on a lot on my own that I don't need to. I don't want to be alone, Felicity. And I know that I'm not. I know that I have you. And John and Thea and Sara. But I started this on my own. When I came home, I never expected anyone else to get involved. I thought that I could do this alone. Because I'd learned to rely only on myself. I haven't – I haven't told you everything about my time away from here. There's a lot that I can't talk about. And it has nothing to do with not trusting you. I did things that I am not proud of. You know what I was like when I first started this, when I was just crossing names off of a list in my father's book. I killed people. I tortured people. I lived in a world where I had to do unimaginable things in order to survive. You know that. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry I can't talk to you about those things but – but it scares me."
Felicity leans forward into his personal space. He feels the warmth of her body against his skin and feels his own flesh respond. His nerves tingle with awareness. She lifts her free hand to his face.
"What are you scared of, Oliver?"
His laughs softly, the sound lacking any humor.
"That you'll leave. That I'll lose everyone who matters to me. It's what I've always been afraid of. There's a reason that I push people away. I don't know how to do this without someone getting hurt. When I didn't tell you about William, it wasn't because I didn't trust you, Felicity. It was because I was worried that it would push you away. I thought that you'd be upset that I had a son. That yet another piece of my past was encroaching on this life that we were trying to make together. Yes, Samantha gave me an ultimatum. She told me that I couldn't tell you about William. But I would've told you anyway. I wanted to tell you. But Barry…"
It's her turn to frown as he lets the thought trail off. She's aware of what happened in Central City all those months ago when they faced Vandal Savage. She knows now that Barry has the ability to time travel.
"Oliver, I don't know what Barry did or said, but you should know me better than that. You should know that I would never leave you for something like that. Yes, you have a son. I'm perfectly aware of the mistakes you made in your past. I may not have known you then, but I know what kind of man you were. And I know that you aren't that man anymore. Why would I ever hold the fact that you have a son against you?"
He shakes his head, unsure of how to voice his insecurities in more detail. He has been more open with Felicity than he has with anyone else in his life. He has trusted her not to judge him, not to punish him for his past. He should have had faith in her, in the faith that she has always had in him, and been honest with her from the beginning.
He's left sitting there with her, silence settling around them, as her small hand remains on his jaw. He keeps a hold of the other, clasping it between both of his.
And then she does the simplest thing in the world. She leans over and kisses him. And the world cracks open.
It is a soft brush of her lips against hers, nothing deeper, but it conveys a million different emotions. And it is over so much sooner than he had hoped.
Felicity doesn't move far, leaning her forehead against his as her chair rolls just a little closer.
"I miss you," she confesses quietly.
"I miss you, too. I'm so sorry."
The hand on his face slides into his hair, her blunt fingernails scraping gently along his scalp, and he feels some of the tension in his shoulders drain away.
"Are we going to be okay?" he wonders aloud, voicing the question even though he's fearful of the answer.
He knows that there is so much left to work through. He understands that the breaks between them cannot be repaired in a matter of minutes. But he feels as if this is a beginning. As if he's been shrouded in darkness for eight weeks and suddenly he can feel the warmth of the sun on his skin.
He feels blinded by her response.
"Yeah, Oliver, I think we are."