A/N: Hi everyone! Annalise here, returning to the world of fanfiction as an author for the first time in 4 years. Yup, you read that right, FOUR years. I used to be very prolific and then one day I just lost my muse and I couldn't write anymore, and it was so awful, I had to sit back and be content as a reader. But OLICITY has just brought my spark back! It was so glorious feeling that compelling urge again! :D
Now this little oneshot was spawned off the Arrow Season 2x23 deleted kiss (can be found on YouTube) which was shot in the mansion scene where Oliver & Felicity carry out their little charade to fool Slade into thinking he had taken the wrong woman. This original kiss as I'm sure many of you Olicity fans will know was ultimately deleted, so technically it never happened in the show's universe. All went well, Slade was defeated and S3 came along and we had that bittersweet break-up kiss between our favourite vigilante and his tech girl. But what if the scene had not been deleted? What if it had been included in the 2x23?
This oneshot really explores the impact it would have had on Felicity had it actually happened and it really justifies why having it deleted was the best thing the show's producers could have done for Olicity. It's an angsty one, but enjoy nonetheless!
Click. Click. Click. Click. The heels of her black leather booties clicked on the polished wood of the mansion's porch as she approached the doorway. Felicity watched the dark green leather of Oliver's back ahead of her as he unlocked the front door to his home, well, his ex-home. Ex-home? Was that even a word? Not-home, ah now that sounds better, not so scandalous. Although technically, scandalous people have lived in there, who've done scandalous things with other scandalous people… Felicity shook her head, now was not the time for internal babbling and certainly not external babbling.
She and Oliver had a plan to follow to make Slade outthink them and she sure as hell was not going to allow her foot-in-mouth syndrome to ruin everything, at the cost of Laurel's life. Stick to the script, Felicity, stick to the script. Slade has kidnapped Laurel. Walk into the mansion, pretend you love Oliver and pretend Oliver loves you. Simple. Felicity scoffed quietly under her breath at the sentiment. That particular script wasn't actually new, not to her at least. She didn't have to pretend to love Oliver and she'd fantasised enough times about him returning her feelings that this entire script was beginning to look like an old black and white film reel in her head.
Oliver turned his head to look at her over his shoulder at her scoff. He fixed blue eyes on her, the intensity of them almost forcing her to look away as she met his gaze. Determination, anxiety and something else she couldn't quite place swirled in those sapphire depths. She saw him swallow, then a barely perceptible nod of his head followed and she knew that was her cue.
Felicity steeled herself as she followed Oliver into the foyer of the mansion. He held the door open for her before shutting it with a heavy thud. Dark, foreboding and vacant as it was, the Queen Mansion still exuded a sense of grandeur as if it was somehow impervious to the malice that had infiltrated it and was now residing within its walls.
Lights, camera, action!
"Oliver, what are we doing here? The whole city's falling apart." Felicity breathed, the line leaving her with an unintentional tremor of impatient concern.
"I know." Oliver replied, taking her elbow and leading her to the back of the foyer. "You need to stay here."
Felicity spun to face him, "What? Why?" She knew her lines all too well. She'd shied away from the performing arts at school, class plays or class speeches always afflicting her with a myriad of ailments like sweaty palms, a lump in her throat and verbal diarrhoea. Not that she'd ever managed to rid herself of the former. Babbling was a first class act for her. "You can't just ask me to-"
Oliver cut her off with impeccable timing, just as they had rehearsed, "I'm not asking. I will come and get you when this is all over." He turned and began striding purposefully away from her.
"No!" Felicity exclaimed.
"Felicity…"
"Not unless you tell me why!"
She shouldn't have worried that she'd come across stiff or wooden. The sight of his retreating form sent a flood of panic through her as it all sunk in. This was real. This was happening. Slade was watching them through cameras installed in the mansion and she was going to be left here as a lure, as bait, while Oliver left to save Laurel.
But I'm being a piece of useful bait; secret, deadly-trap bait armed with a syringe full of Mirakuru antidote. The thought that surfaced to reassure her did nothing to comfort the thumping of her heart which was getting louder in her ears with each passing second. Felicity took a few hurried steps forward to catch his arm.
"Because I need you to be safe." Oliver pressed firmly, turning to face her again.
"But I don't want to be safe. I want to be with you and the others, unsafe." Felicity watched Oliver as he sighed and his gaze hit the floor. She took in his face in that fleeting moment, the dark stubble along his jaw, the planes of his cheekbones and those wide, deep set eyes which had plagued her countless dreams as well as daydreams. He looked tired. Weary and beaten down beyond a man of his age. This was the man she'd fallen in love with. The man who spent his nights trying to right the wrongs of those who had passed before him; the man who endeavoured to make Starling City a safer place for all; the man who put everything and everyone above himself.
"I can't let that happen."
"Oliver, you're not making any sense."
Her hand found the cool leather of his arm as she locked her gaze with his. She saw reluctance? Oliver's jaw clenched as the quiet seconds ticked by, almost as if he was fighting some internal battle, the turmoil warring in his eyes. Felicity wanted to reach out and caress his cheek and tell him again that it was going to be ok, that he was not alone and that she believed in him. That she loved him no matter how broken he thought he was.
"Slade took Laurel because he wants to kill the woman I love." He began.
"I know so-"
"So he took the wrong woman."
There it was, the punchline of their little charade, but somehow it didn't feel like the punchline. A soft 'oh' escaped Felicity's lips as Oliver's gaze burned into hers and he stepped toward her, leaving little room between them. A haze surrounded Felicity as she lost herself in his eyes. She felt her cheeks heat at the proximity between them. Had they ever been so close to each other in such an intimate position?
Somewhere in the foggy back of her mind the thought echoed that perhaps he had forgotten his next line, though even she couldn't remember what it was meant to be.
It felt so real. So captivated was Felicity as she unabashedly stared into Oliver's eyes. She saw concern, desperation, fear, purpose and something else she once again could not quite place in amongst everything else. But that something else made her feel content and safe, and made her stomach tingle with a pleasant warmth that was beginning to grow.
"I love you." It escaped his lips, so soft it was almost a whisper. That was not part of the script.
Felicity watched as his eyes slid shut and he closed the distance between them. Time seemed to come to a halt. Her own eyelids slid languidly shut as the gentle warmth of Oliver's lips melded over hers. Suddenly the charade was gone, the niggling reminder of cameras and Mirakuru voyeurs vanished. A prickling heat she recognised as hope bloomed in her chest as she pushed up ever so slightly onto her toes, leaning into him as her fingers gripped the leather of his jacket sleeve.
She felt light like she was floating somewhere, and for once her mind was blank, gloriously void of any babbling thoughts. All she knew was that prickling heat in her chest and the contentment of Oliver's presence. Vaguely she registered Oliver's arm shifting down her side. His hand slipped into the pocket of her coat, then retreated slightly, leaving something in its wake.
Felicity's fingers trailed down his forearm, to his wrist and then to the gift he'd left. The syringe.
They separated with a soft pop of their lips. Felicity's fingers closed around the cylinder of the syringe and suddenly that floating feeling was fast retreating, becoming weighted and heavy in her chest. Her gaze lingered on his lips as her heart hammered and the fog from her mind began to clear, bringing with it cold reality.
"Do you understand?"
With a small nod of her head Felicity murmured a quiet 'yes' in response even while her heart was screaming that it didn't. Oliver turned on heel then, striding out of the mansion without a backward glance. Her heart sank, plunging violently, her breath rushing out of her.
Felicity stood rooted to the spot, her emotions warring with her thoughts. It was all part of the act. He needed a way to hand you the syringe without it looking conspicuous to Slade. Her ankles wobbled slightly and she backed herself against the far wall of the foyer, her breath quickening as she desperately fought to contain the tumult within her.
She subconsciously brought her hand to her lips; but he said he loved me. She pinched her eyes shut, throwing herself back to just moments before when he'd looked at her with such sincerity. Then he'd kissed her and it had felt so genuine, so full of truth and yet now she could not reconcile her reality with what had just happened.
Her conscience echoed her mantra from earlier in the evening: Stick to the script, Felicity, stick to the script. Slade has kidnapped Laurel because he wants to kill the woman Oliver loves. Pretend you love Oliver and pretend Oliver loves you. Looking back on her own performance, she failed to see any pretence. The woman Oliver loves, that's Laurel. You? You're the decoy.
There was a lump quickly forming in her throat and she frantically tried to swallow it. Her legs were suddenly aching and she sank down against the wall behind her, drawing her knees into herself. Tears pricked her eyes and she tried to blink them away. Maybe if Oliver had pursued a degree in Drama he might not have dropped out of college so many times. He could have fooled her, did fool her.
Felicity felt stupid. She felt ashamed and a little bit used. He was never yours to lose.
Felicity felt a sob try to wrack its way through her frame but she suppressed it. She would not break down now. Not when Laurel needed her, not when Starling City needed her and, God help her, not when Oliver needed her. She pushed her heartache away, tucked it away in that little untouchable corner of her mind and heart. She would heal like times before, from all those unreturned glances, from Sara. Slade and his army of steroidal Mirakuru monsters needed to be defeated and she was not going to let her feelings displace her sense of importance tonight.
The sound of male voices and trucks pulling into the driveway of the mansion sent a zing of fear through Felicity. They were here for her now. She braced herself, taking a deep breath. This was her moment, her pivotal part in defeating Slade. Adrenalin coursed through her veins, banishing any remainder of her grief from before. She was going to help write a new chapter for Starling City tonight.
As for her chapter with Oliver, that would have to remain dutifully, but beautifully unfinished.
THE END
A/N: Tadah! I really tried to portray the sadness Felicity would have felt had the kiss actually taken place. Watching the deleted scene now, I feel it would have been so much more cutting for Felicity than what actually transpired. I'm a big admirer of the strength that she displays throughout the ups and downs of the series though and I tried to portray that here too.
Please leave a review with what you thought and how this made you feel as I'm very interested to hear what people think of the deleted kiss.
Thanks for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it despite the angst.
P.S The song that helped inspire this oneshot and is also the title of this fanfic is Beautifully Unfinished by Ella Henderson.
Annalise