Written for the arrow summer movie au challenge, action week.
Basically I adore movies in general + this film in particular + a particular scene at the house + the loop-living theme. So I indulged myself in further developing that scene and that 'verse with Olicity as the core characters.
Knowledge of the plot story is needed to understand the logic applied, but some is explained.
Hope you guys like it!
live, die, repeat
This is not happening.
Not again.
Being a Major was supposed to be easier than this. At least that's what his mother had promised upon signing him up a couple of years ago.
Words of assurance and encouragement along the lines of 'you need to make your father proud'; 'don't worry, Oliver; no battle fronts for you'; and the ever-entitled 'our last name will keep you away from any real danger' left her lips what feels like forever ago.
If only she could see him now.
Five years into war had shaped him up somehow, from a former playboy and no-care giver into a public spokesperson, putting his years of family training and shallow-talking to good use.
But nothing could've prepared him for this.
At first being labelled a deserter had seemed like a cruel joke, a bad dream he could not escape or break out of; his family was far and away, but at least safe. Desperation ruled his every move, fear pushing him around as he fumbled with his new reality. And then he had somehow killed himself into a loop, reliving the same horrible day.
A part of himself expected to die during that first day. A part of him wanted to, and still hates being cursed with this strange twist of fate. Discovering his family and the rest of London would succumb to the Mimics as well were he to run away and stop fighting has kept him moving in this path.
And then there is her.
Felicity.
With her sheer determination and unparalleled strength to fight for it all. A soldier through and through, who has faced the same double-edged sword that is living a single day over and over again; failing over and over again.
She doesn't anymore, but still selflessly braves actual death as if she did.
His eyes drift once more to her, to where she's frantically searching the abandoned farm house for a way out back into the war-zone. And –not for the first or last time– he thinks how much of a better choice she was for this looped-life 'gift' that he ever could be, no matter how hard she's worked to train him.
Her lips are moving, sternly throwing questions and directions over her shoulder; yet he barely pays attention because heknows.
He knows too much; every step they've done, where it has gone wrong, how they've made it so far. Just as he's learnt about her: how she reacts to the dangers faced, how hard and strong she is as a result to her own battles lived, lives lost and tough decisions made.
She's efficient and driven like no other, and is the one lifeline he's got to his sanity. His looping nature may be what keeps him living, but she's the one helping him move forward.
His lips curve upwards just at the thought, at how much she's grown to mean to him, how much she's helped him grow into the man he never imagined he could be, how much he lov–
"Oliver, are you listening? Where are the keys to the helicopter?"
He pauses his train of thought for a moment, seeing puzzlement cloud her features at his demeanour before she flinches, her right shoulder dropping slightly due to pain and exhaustion.
"Let me take a look at that."
"Oliver–"
"Felicity. We have time. Let me patch your wound up. I'll find the keys later."
"… five minutes."
He nods at her stubbornness, then watches her take a defeated breath and slouch in her chair, letting her guard down for a moment.
He can't help the way his eyes drift over her features, cursing and thanking once again his power to relive this day.
An ever-elusive quiet settles around them; one that unlike every single one they've shared –at least that she remembers of–, is not a sign of trouble. Danger's not at their door, soon they'll be knocking at theirs, hopefully ending this war once and for all.
It feels like centuries since Felicity feels like she's moved forward.
Even if she doesn't remember each looped day Oliver's fought through recently, the memory of replays is still fresh in her mind, and every battle feels like stepping into mud, slowing and drowning everyone.
Oliver comes back into the room, a gentle smile once again pulling at his lips. She matches it with one of her own without thought.
Despite the fowl situations they've been in and the ones he retells her, she can't help feeling a little lighter at the fact she's got a partner again in all this. After losing Dig and her final chance of bringing him back again, she decided indulging in human connection wasn't for her, it hurt too much. Since then it's all been about dedicating her life to finishing what they've started.
It'd been an uphill battle, Barry and herself had been losing hope, working the science of it all alone. And then Oliver happened.
Naive and green Oliver Queen; no real soldier, but then again, neither was she when Dig started training her. She used to work much more alongside Barry in the logistic and science department, jumping into battle once it became primal, fighting through her fears and powering through.
It all seems so simple in hindsight, compared to the hell and confusion that entailed once she died for the first time.
"Felicity?"
Oliver's soft voice snaps her back to reality, the concern pulling at his features reminding her there are still shadows to worry about in the present.
He proves her he knows her better than she can recall as he just silently nods and tilts his head towards her wounded shoulder asking for permission. A nod back in consent is her simple answer, preserving the calm that's surrounded them ever since they found shelter in this house.
Oliver settles behind her, carefully cutting her shirtsleeve off and beginning to work over her wound. She takes her time exploring the place with her eyes then. Dusty and worn down, yet feeling pleasant and home-like; at least the home she long lost. There's a comforting warmth in their closeness, in the quiet enveloping them, in the sweet smell tainting the air.
"Is that coffee?," she voices, at last connecting the heavenly scent with long missed memories.
"It is," he replies with a hint of smugness, pleased at the sheer excitement in her tone.
"How did you find coffee? Never mind, I don't care; it's been forever since I've had some and it's my favourite. I wouldn't care if you had to use loop-ness to get it."
He chuckles under his breath.
In the midst of the battle all this around her is a needed breather, a calm before a bigger storm, as soon they're striking the brain of it all –the Omega– once and for all. They'll need to make a move soon, she knows, but it sure feels nice to indulge in an unusual moment of quiet, Oliver's warm hands tending her wound with utmost tenderness, putting her at ease yet concurrently setting her skin afire.
It feels awfully nice and familiar, even though it shouldn't; not for her at least. But she's past fighting it today, just succumbing to the feeling that he's trustworthy, that alternate-version-her put him in her path, that he holds the key to winning the war and he's making his very best to do so.
"You're thinking too loudly," he finally whispers, a hint of amusement in his tone easily curving her mouth upwards again.
"Somebody has to," she snaps back without missing a beat, effortless banter coming to life between them as it's been all day.
The familiar sting of disinfectant makes her hiss in pain, but is soon forgotten once Oliver begins running the pad of his thumb in soothing motions around the wounded area. His hands are tough, calloused skin a testament of his hard work on today, the deepness in his voice once he speaks again a trail of the previous lived ones.
Yet it all feels so good.
"How bad is the pain?"
"Manageable," she whispers.
His thumb movement halts at once, alarming her of how comfortable that felt. It then trails upwards until he applies the lightest touch over her wound. Her breathing shifts again, and this time not in a pleasant manner.
"You should stay here," he finally breathes with conviction and a shade of concern.
"Like hell I will. I'm coming with you."
"You don't have to. I can–"
"Oliver. I'm a soldier, I signed up on this. If you're going, I'm going."
"Felicity…," he trails off, trusting the way he says her name to convey all the words he's left unsaid in their shared quietness.
It does.
Yet if he thinks she's going to stand down, let him fight this alone, and unguarded, he's got another thing coming.
He sighs and secures a gauze on her shoulder then finally rounds to be facing her once again, taking that heavenly heat of his skin with him. He soon makes up for it by bringing them both steaming cups of coffee.
"You're wounded. We should at least for the night," he tries again with a gentler tone, apparently knowing orders don't work that well with her; especially pig-headed ones that consist on side-lining her for health reasons.
"We shouldn't, and I can manage. I can teach you how to fly the thing if you want to take the lead; it's not that hard."
"I already know how. But is there anything you don't know how to do?"
She has heard that sentiment so many times, but hardly ever with that warm tone and conveying awe. Once more he coerces a treacherous smile without hardly trying.
"Nope. Living in a loop gives you the time to learn what's necessary; you're a testament to that."
"Because you've been there to teach me," he replies with an uptick of his lips, yet there's a sadness clouding the deep blue of his eyes.
Is it because she doesn't remember any of it? Oh how she wishes she could.
"Well, it wasn't all me. You need will to move forward too."
Her attempt to add levity to the loaded moment falls short as their eyes meet once more. Blue on blue speak of many more miles travelled together that she can talk about, but can somehow feel in the way he looks at her, in the calm overtaking her at his presence, in the utmost trust she has on this sole human being.
The distance thought that there's no use in pondering over this comes forth. Either they're going to make it to the Omega and most probably die to defeat it, or Oliver will die again at their failure, erasing –for probably the hundredth time– what she feels for him.
So she looks away, focusing on the warm cup beneath her fingers, the blackness of the coffee reflecting her battered face.
"Wait," he breaks though again, working on another tainted smile as he fetches some sugar packets.
She tears the two handed open and pours them in and is about to ask for a third one when he cuts her short.
"Oh right, you take three. And one cream, but I couldn't find any."
She freezes instantly. He shouldn't know that.
It takes him half a second to realise his mistake, lips parting and closing as words fail him again. A newfound yet very different silence envelops them as their eyes do the talking.
Once she breaks it, Felicity's voice is soft and hesitant, fearing what he may reveal since there's nothing he's supposed to keep from her about his looped time. There's no way to move forward if one is in the dark.
"How many times have we lived thought this?"
His silence and shadowed stare provides the answer.
"Why?," she grits between her teeth, trying her hardest to be understanding, remembering her own faltering steps when dealing with re-writing history.
"You can't go, Felicity," he side-tracks instead.
Anger jolts her back to life, erasing the warmth of their shared moment and numbness of his uncovered lie. She stomps towards the door yelling for the keys once more. They're losing time, and there's no time, not for her here, not for him either if he's not moving ahead.
She turns around once more, unholstering her gun and pointing it straight at his forehead, ready to re-set it all again.
"Don't!," he yells taking hold of the barrel, his fearful eyes begging as her finger grows heavy on the trigger. "You die every time. This is how far you get."
The desperation and helplessness in his words halt her actions. The strange sadness that's been etched in his features from the moment they arrived finally makes sense, but doesn't ease the weight it had on her chest, only worsens it. She loosens her hold on the gun, lowering it until it's just him and her and a new wave of silence and loaded calm between them.
"No matter what we do, what I try to change, something happens every time. I–I can't save you, Felicity."
The way his voice waivers tears at her heart, breath hitching in her throat at the emotions outpouring from his stillness. "There's a Mimic waiting outside in the field that attacks us the moment we ignite the helicopter. There's more waiting ahead–"
"You–You can fight them; you're well trained," the words come out strained, her mind still catching up to the fact she dies. She'll die. Today, in any version of today. "Why does it matter what happens to me?"
It shouldn't matter; not to her if he manages to make it through, she tries to reason. She's long ago made her peace with dying for the cause, even though grasping onto hope is her default.
It shouldn't matter; not to him. Still the pause he regards her with at her second question, paired with the way he's looking at her gives her that answer.
"Even if I could, If I did kill the Omega, time would stop resetting. You… you would remain dead." His voice cracks as the blue in his eyes pours into hers, saying everything she cannot believe she feels too.
She barely remembers this day with him. How can this happen?
No. She can't have this, they can't have this. It's selfish and this war is far greater than any of them two.
"Felicity," he croaks as he sees the determination in her gaze. "I can't let you die. It's already hard enough seeing you die before me, again and again."
What he describes is all too real. She went through the exact same thing with Dig. It took everything in her to let him go, see him be taken down for all of their sakes. He'd urged her to do so, he'd been so proud. That thought made it slightly better, but nothing, not even awful time, has erased it all from her memory.
Still she has to be strong.
"Oliver…"
"There's no way around it, Felicity. Please, just stay behind. Stay safe."
The pleading in his voice is almost too much. He looks positively broken, once upturned lips dropping, not masking the anguish he's been living with. The blue in his eyes burns her own, and it takes everything for hushed words to leave her mouth. His gaze drops to her parted lips, asking, dreading, pleading, wishing, just as hard as she is that there could be a way for them, still–
"Oliver, I can't. You have to let me go, you have–"
"Felicity"
He's closing the space between them in a heartbeat, those same lips that have compelled more smiles from her today that she ever recalls flashing for a single person falling over her own.
It's just the firm pressure of his mouth on hers, as his hands cradle her face keeping them tethered. Yet it's everything.
Her eyes fall shut as she allows them a moment, one both very much need, that she's done fighting against. Hell, if this is of her last moments on earth, the last moment she'll ever have in mind, kissing Oliver is the way she wants to spend it.
Unleashing the final thread holding her back, she falls onto his chest, a hand covering his own on her face, anchoring upwards to deepen the kiss.
He sighs with relief, opening his mouth to hers and bringing them closer. A palm leaves her face as she angles it for him, trailing back instead to card through her hair to her signature ponytail. The other soon drifts down her spine when she mewls into his mouth with complete abandon, hungrily clawing at his back, moulding into his chest.
It stops at her waist, their movements slowing down until he's back to nipping her lips, then brushing his mouth to hers, their heavy breaths mingling as she floats back to normal; or as normal as Oliver makes her feel.
"And how many times have we lived this?"
The question leaves her with a breathy chuckle, even though a part of her feels quite cheated at the thought. Because she's lead a very intense life, but this is a whole new level of experiencing.
A wave of relief washes over her once he simply whispers a loaded 'none' against her lips.
"I've never… I didn't know if you–"
"I do," she rushes before he keeps hesitating. Maybe it's the nearness of her upcoming death, or the unparalleled warmth she feels enveloped in his arms; in the best version of quiet she's lived to this day, she doesn't regret any of it one bit.
"Good," he half-moans as their eyes meet once more, just before he dives back in for another kiss.
"Oliver," she manages to pant once his lips drift down her throat after leaving her breathless. A low hum against her skin conveys his attention. "Tonight. Just this moment. Then–"
He leans back, drinking in the seriousness in her words, what she's offering and asking for all in one. She feel the understanding even through his silence and nods to signal the unsaid.
They'll figure it out, even if they may not. She wants it all, even if he's the only one that may keep it in memory for them both.
This time she leans into his touch, capturing his lower lip and biting down on it urging him to respond. Decision made, his touch falls on her again, tracing the lines of her body with utmost care and reverence. Soon her torn shirt meets the floor as they make their way towards a forgotten mattress on the other room.
His first thought upon recovering his breath is that he really hopes she wouldn't have to forget this.
It's a silly thought in comparison to everything he's had to think over the last… months is it? But it makes him chuckle which in turn charms some melodious laugher out of Felicity as well, so it's not that bad.
He looks at her as she nuzzles into his side, her head now cradled onto his shoulder, a firm hand feeling the thundering heart on his chest. Smiles soon get tainted back with sadness as their silence turns sour, both haunted by the path ahead again.
Her finger begins trailing an invisible map over his heated skin, her voice softly sharing her offer.
"We try tonight. If I… die again, you start over and go on without me."
"Felici–"
"Please, Oliver. You have to find a way to beat this; for everyone else."
He sighs in defeat once she leans back to stare down at him, a thumb coming up to trace her features as she smiles once more for him, for them, for all that's left unsaid but understood.
Thanks for reading!
I hope it was a pleasant read :) If so pretty please let me know somehow. Just a moment further of your time would make my day :)
xo, Lucy