Title: A Bottle of Red Wine
Fandom: Arrow
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
Words: 1030
Summary: Felicity finds a bottle of wine in her apartment in the aftermath of The Undertaking.
Based on a tweet by Marc Guggenheim about the bottle of wine that Oliver owes Felicity. ; Apparently I have vastly different idea what this means than other people do so I wrote a short little thing.
Felicity lay in bed, her eyes glazed over as she looked up to her bedroom ceiling. It was way past noon, but Felicity had no desire to move from her spot in bed. Her bed was warm, her bed was safe and she could hide here and forget that she couldn't help stop one of the worst things that had happened in Starling City as long as she could remember.
She refused to turn on the television or listen to the radio. She knew what they would all be reporting on. Starling City was in a state of emergency after the earthquake machine had leveled half of the glades. The Undertaking.
She closed her eyes, trying desperately to block out visions of debris falling around her in the foundry, tears streaming down her face. She tried to forget the sparks flying, the explosions in the distance and the disappointment in the pit of her stomach that she had failed. That they had failed.
She sighed as she opened her eyes to refocus on the ceiling again. She wished she had something to do. Something to occupy her mind besides the death and destruction currently on repeat.
But with the fall of the glades everything was closed. Her CEO was currently incarcerated awaiting trial for her part in the death of the people in the glades, so therefore no work today.
She didn't even have any hood work to do. Although never completely her crusade, Oliver and his list had consumed her life these past few months, and without it, she had no bad guys to run checks on or to trail.
With the undertaking, Oliver's crusade had come to an end. One that didn't have a happy ending. Rather, Oliver had returned to the Foundry supporting Diggle and injured himself to tell them that Tommy was dead. That Oliver had not been able to save him.
She remembers his face vividly in that moment. The hopelessness, helplessness and deep residing anger underneath it all. She noticed how his eyes were bloodshot and she could only assume that he had been crying over Tommy's body. How he must have had to pull himself away from him friend to protect his identity.
He had told them to go home. He needed a moment alone with his thoughts. He needed to prepare himself for the inevitable phone call.
She had left and collapsed into her bed as soon as she arrived home, waking only when the mid afternoon sun had began to skim across her bed.
She didn't know how long she had been staring at the ceiling, but the growling of her stomach finally convinces her to leave the sanctuary of her bed and venture into her kitchen.
Opening cupboards, she sighs seeing them empty, remembering how she hasn't gone grocery shopping in a few weeks. While working with a billionaire, takeout had been her life for a while.
She finally reaches up high to grab a box of cheerios she doesn't remember buying and looks into the fridge for her milk carton. Smelling it, she doesn't smell anything too funky and hopes that it won't make her sick.
She turns around, closing the refrigerator and placing the milk on the counter. It was then that she finally notices the large dark bottle of wine in the middle of her island.
If she hasn't been grocery shopping in a while, she definitely hasn't had time to go shopping for a new bottle of wine. She can't even remember the last time she had wine.
Moving closer to inspect the bottle, her breath hitches as she looks to the label and the small card lying beside the bottle. Holding her breath, she grabs for the cars, ripping off the outside envelope and opens it to look inside.
Her eyes immediately find the two words scrawled in familiar handwriting near the bottom of the card. She flips the card over, hoping to see more, but it is empty besides those two words.
She drops the card, racing back to her room, not even slowing down when her hip collides with the post of her bed.
She grabs her phone on her bedside table, fumbling with the keys as she tries to dial the memorized number. It takes her three tries, but she finally is able to put the numbers in order. She brings the phone up to her ear as she returns to the kitchen, listening to the ringing in her ear. Three short rings and the phone clicks.
You've reached Oliver Queen—
"No!" she says as she hangs up again and hits redial.
You've reached Oliver Queen—
"No, please tell me you didn't. Please, god no. Pick up. Please pick up."
You've reached Oliver Queen—
She hangs up the phone and dials a new number. She listens as the phone rings, taking deep breaths, trying to steady her breathing before he answers. Her preparation is in vain, because as soon as she hears his voice on the other end, her breathing picks up and she feels the tears start to fall.
Felicity?
"John."
What's wrong, are you okay?
She chokes out a sob, her voice trembling. "Where is he? He isn't answering his phone."
Oliver? He is probably busy. With his mother and Tommy, I'm not surprised he isn't answering his phone. He will call you back when he can.
"No. Something is wrong. I woke up to a very expensive bottle of wine on my kitchen counter with a card that just says 'I'm sorry' in his awful handwriting. Something is wrong."
Diggle promises to look into it, mostly to appease her, hanging up telling her he will call as soon as he knows anything. Felicity sets down her phone on the counter and reaches into her silverware drawer to grab her corkscrew.
It doesn't take long for Diggle to call her back. He told his family that he was going to Europe. He probably just needs some time. Tommy was his best friend.
"Okay."
Are you okay?
"Yea, I'm okay. I was just worried."
I'll call you later. Don't worry; I'm sure he will be back home soon after he blows off some steam.
Felicity nods her head, stopping when she remembers that Diggle can't see her. With the promise of calling her later, Diggle hangs up and Felicity moves to sit on the floor, the corkscrew in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other.
She popped the cork out of the bottle. She holds the bottle up, toasting to an invisible person. "I'm sorry too, Oliver," she says as she brings the bottle to her nose, smelling the rich smell of the wine before she brings it up to her lips and takes a long drink.