Called Into Question

by aehawthorne

When he kills the Count to protect her- thereby breaking the no killing vow he made in the wake of Tommy Merlyn's death- Felicity finds her entire relationship with Oliver called into question. She is left to wonder if they really are, as she had so long assumed, just friends

"Oliver?" Felicity asked, walking toward him. He stopped and turned to face her.

"I uh...I just wanted to say thank you," she continued. "And I'm sorry." She was unable to keep a quaver out of her voice when she said those last words.

"For what?" Oliver asked, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. He took a step toward her, and she resisted the urge to back away.

"I got myself into trouble again, and you killed him," Felicity said, acutely aware of just how close Oliver was to her. "You killed again and I am sorry that I was the one that put you in a position where you had to make that kind of choice."

"Felicity," Oliver said. His voice was quiet, more vibration than sound. He curled his hand around hers. The calluses on his hand were rough against her skin, but his touch was so gentle- careful,even- that she nearly broke down crying. "He had you and he was going to hurt you. There was no choice to make." Felicity was used to hearing that hardness in Oliver's voice, that steel of conviction, but never directed at her. Never for her. She forced herself to smile, just barely, if only to stop Oliver from worrying about her. Oliver returned her smile, then turned and left without another word. At that moment, no more needed to be spoken. He switched off the lights on his way out, leaving the Foundry in darkness, lit only by the lights in the display cases.

Felicity knew she should be getting home, but she couldn't seem to make herself move. She stood frozen in the spot where Oliver had left her, her thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles, trying to make sense of what had just happened and what it might mean.

"There was no choice to make," Oliver had told her. Meaning he didn't regret it. Meaning he would do it again if need be. Felicity didn't want that. She didn't want to be the reason why he lost his soul again. But it may have already been too late. If it started with the Count, where did it end? Were people going to end up with arrows in their chest every time she got herself into trouble?

Oliver, don't, she thought, echoing what she had said to him, less than an hour before. Not for me. Still, the deepest, darkest part of her mind kept whispering that it had to have meant something, that he'd broken his vow for her.

"Oh, get ahold of yourself," she snapped, her voice echoing in the empty room. "You're just friends."

But were they, really? Friends might kill for each other- she had learned that lesson a hundred times over- but friends didn't touch each other the way Oliver had touched her, when the Count had let go of her and she'd fallen to the floor- gently, carefully, as if he were afraid that she might shatter like glass. Friends didn't look at each other the way he had looked at her, just now. Like she was important to him. Like she was the only thing that mattered in the complicated mess of his life. Like his world would end if he lost her. Try as she might, Felicity couldn't reconcile that look in Oliver's eyes with the man who was so achingly, desperately in love with Laurel Lance that he would fall back into his old patterns with her in a heartbeat, even if it meant both his destruction and Laurel's.

Felicity reached out behind her and braced herself against the table at her back. God, she hated this. She'd thought some things in life were a given- the sky was blue, water was wet, she and Oliver were just friends. Now one of those supposed constants had been called into question, and she wanted to do something, not just sit here in the Foundry and wrestle with her racing thoughts. She wanted to stand firm, plant her feet, and demand answers- either from the universe or from Oliver, she wasn't sure which, though the likelihood she would get a response from either was about exactly zero.

Minutes passed like hours until finally Felicity managed to muster up the energy to make herself move. A vigilante's work- and the work of the people who associated with him- was never done, and she knew she was in for a long day tomorrow, and a long night after that. The problem she was facing was one she would just have to struggle with in private. For now.