I Miss You
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Arrow. It belongs to DC Comics and The CW.
Pairing: Oliver & Felicity (Olicity)
Rating: T
Summary: An anonymous reviewer requested who read "I'll Always Take Care of You" suggested that I rewrite the story from Oliver's point of view so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Author's Notes: Some dialogue snippets taken from 04x11: "Blood Debts" and 04x18: "Beacon of Hope."
The title comes from the Adele song of the same name because it gives me Olicity feels.
It was nearly midnight as Oliver Queen stood sentry on Felicity Smoak's fire escape and watched her return home from Palmer Tech. They weren't together anymore.
Because of lies he'd told.
Because of mistakes he'd made.
He missed her.
He spent as much time away from the apartment as possible. Because when he was alone in the apartment was when he felt her absence most profoundly.
Her absence was everywhere.
It hit him like a punch to the gut every time he stopped moving or in the rare moments in the bunker where he now slept.
He couldn't bear to sleep alone in the loft in the bed they once shared.
He missed the sound of her furiously typing away on the keyboard.
He missed the sound of her voice whenever she whispered his name.
He missed sleeping beside her and wrapping his arms around her body.
He missed what it felt like to touch her skin.
He missed the sight of her glasses, her tablet, and her phone on the nightstand on her side of the bed.
He even missed the sound of her wheelchair rolling across the hardwood floors as she propelled herself through the now empty apartment.
Thinking about her wheelchair brought him thoughts back to Darkhe. She was in the chair because of him.
Every time he closed his eyes, the words Felicity had said to him in the limo after Laurel's funeral playing on a constant loop.
"You know what you have to do right?" She whispered, her voice filled with the very same anger and pain that he was feeling. "You have to kill the son of a bitch."
Oliver took a deep breath as he watched Felicity move slowly yet gracefully through her apartment.
She looks so tired.
Is she hurt?
He thought to himself as he watched her set her purse and tablet on the end table by the door and wheeled into the bedroom.
These secret nightly visits to stand guard on her fire escape would have seemed like stalking to an outsider. But ever since Laurel's death all the moments that he didn't spend tracking Darkhe were spent watching Felicity. Keeping her safe was a distraction that kept him from being consumed by the pain and grief over everything and everyone he'd lost.
The happiness and contentment he'd felt in his relationship with Felicity.
Laurel.
William.
Felicity.
At the mere thought of her absence he felt the ache in his gut again and he shut his eyes for a moment pushing the pain away as he watched her take off her glasses and rummage through her dresser.
She held one of his shirts tightly to her chest and he felt the ache from deep within him again when she raised it to her nose.
He'd done the same thing countless times with a pillow that still smelled faintly of her perfume.
I miss you too.
He thought as he watched her grab a towel and disappear from view as she went into the bathroom.
The only sound he heard from about twenty minutes was that of the shower running.
He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding when she reappeared and he watched as she climbed wearily out of her wheelchair and into bed.
He smiled a little as he watched her snuggle under the covers.
She's resting.
She's safe.
I can go now.
Until tomorrow night.
He was about to jump off the fire escape and disappear into the night when he heard her scream his name.
"Oliver!"
He made quick work of the window and silently made his way inside the apartment crossing swiftly to the bedroom, where Felicity was clearly in the middle of a dream.
No, a nightmare.
He stood over her, and whispered in the shell of her ear, his lips brushing against her industrial piercing, as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.
"Felicity…"
"Oliver!" She called out his name again her voice growing even more terrified and desperate.
"Felicity, I'm here…I'm here," He repeated softly, "Open your eyes…Look at me…You're safe…Hey…You're safe."
Slowly she opened her eyes, reconciling her dream with reality.
There were pronounced shadows beneath her beautiful blue eyes.
When was the last time she had a good night's sleep?
"Oliver?" She whispered, drowsily, "What are you doing here?"
Oliver shrugged, "I was on your fire escape. I heard you scream."
"Why were you on my fire escape?" She asked wincing as she reached for her glasses.
He waited while she slipped them on and watched as her vision came into focus.
"I know you've been working a lot of late nights lately. And with everything that happened…I just…"
Laurel's death.
Darkhe.
The shooting.
"I just needed to know that you got home safe."
She smiled, reaching for his hand, "Thank you," She whispered, pulling him towards her, and for a few seconds it was like it used to be between them.
Before he'd lost the right to hold her hand.
Before he'd lost the right to kiss her.
Because they were together anymore.
Because he had lied to her about William.
He looked into her eyes, and replied, "I told you. You never…never have to thank me."
She nodded, and he saw her wince again. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asked softly taking hold of her hand, his thumb rubbing circles into her wrist forgetting for a few seconds that he wasn't allowed to do so.
"It's just my back. I thought the hot shower would help but I guess not…"
Anger flared within him again.
Her pain was a result of her injury.
And her injury was caused by Damian Darkhe.
He put one finger gently against her lips, cutting her off, and then he nodded, "Lie back."
"Oliver, you don't have to take care of me." She protested.
"I'll always take care of you, Felicity."
Always.
At this Felicity relented and gave herself over to the familiar touch of Oliver's rough, yet gentle hands against her skin, letting him take the pain away.
Touching her skin was like coming home, and he relished every second of it. He got up to leave when she fell asleep. But she stirred when he stopped touching her.
"Don't go," She whispered, drowsily. "You're exhausted. I can see it in your face. Sleep here. Don't go, please…"
It was the way her voice broke on the last word that gave him pause.
"You don't have to take care of me." He said, climbing in on the empty side of the bed.
"I'll always take care of you." She whispered repeating the same words he'd said to her earlier that night.
Oliver slept soundly for the first time in weeks.
He brushed a soft kiss against her temple, and slipped out the same way he'd come just before dawn.
Until tomorrow.
I miss you.
To an outsider, it might even seem like he was stalking her. But the truth was that since Laurel's death, he'd thrown himself into his pursuit of Damian Darkhe.