"Oliver? What...did you stay here last night?" That's where she found him, lying on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her heels clicked across the cold concrete as she crouched down beside him in the dark. She grasped his cold face in her hands. "Ollie..." She breathed, grasping his hands. She tugged fruitlessly. "Come on, you have to get up off the floor. Come ON, you infuriating human being." She groaned, pulling at his hands. His eyes flickered briefly towards her face, before they returned to the ceiling. She sighed and removed her shoes, going into the bathroom to change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She padded back over to him, dragging him by the armpits across the floor to a nearby wall, leaning her back against the cool, rough surface with his head in her lap, her fingers combing easily, gently through his short hair. She must have sat there for an hour, silently offering her support, not saying anything.
"I failed them." He croaked, after a long, long silence. A single tear crept down the side of his face and onto her lap. He blinked a couple of times, furrowed his brow, and his eyes flickered back to the ceiling. She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall.
"We all did." At that, his eyes shot to her face in surprise. "What? Were you expecting me to make you feel better about it? I didn't sleep last night either. You're not the only one who feels bad about it, okay, Oliver?" She looked away angrily, swiping roughly at the moisture at the corners of her eyes, looking skyward to stop the flow of tears she knew threatened just underneath the surface. She gasped as a cold hand found hers. This time he looked her full in the face.
"I'm sorry." There was no apology in his eyes, only sadness. The same sadness she felt inside.
"I wasn't looking for an apology." She said, turning her eyes away. She stared at the ground, willing the tears burning at the back of her throat to leave her. "The kid was only five." Her voice cracked as the words made their way past her lips before she could stop them. A cold thumb reached up to wipe away a warm tear she didn't know had trickled down her cheek.
"Felicity..." He breathed, grasping her face in his hands. He didn't need to say it. She saw it in his eyes. The apology, for pushing her to the brink of exhaustion. The sorrow, for losing the entire family. The devastation, that there was nothing he could do about it.
"No." She said, her voice strong and decisive. "This isn't on your shoulders. Gawd, Oliver, we all messed up. Why can't you let us take the blame for once?" She pleaded, her voice rising in pitch involuntarily.
"This wasn't supposed to be your fight." He uttered tiredly, rubbing his hands over his face. The stubble was starting to tell the tale of another sleepless night, and his eyes returned to their focus, the ceiling.
"I agreed, and here we are. I don't understand the point of bringing up the path of my involvement." She stated stubbornly, forcing him to look at her. He sighed, shaking his head. "Let me in, Oliver. Don't go through this alone. We all have a tough enough time with life already, let me in so we can share the load. So you don't have to walk around with the weight of the world on your shoulders. You only leap tall buildings when you're in the suit. When you're in sweatpants and a t-shirt, you're just another man. And I'm just another girl." Her voice was soft, full of warmth, compassion and safety. It stripped him down to his very core. A man, in pain.
"Okay."
"Okay?" She asked, surprised.
"Yeah. Okay." And he got off the floor.