Author's Note: Hello, my lovlies! So, when I started this fic, it was with the intention of writing a holiday fic that honored Felicity's faith rather than ignoring it altogether. Unfortunately, the timing of The Climb sort of dictated that I acknowledge that whole fiasco. Anyway, that's the only excuse I have for why this got as angsty as it did.
There could be a second part (probably will be) and the rating could (probably will) go up, but I wanted to get this out.
Happy holidays, everyone!
Special thanks and much love to the amazing Rosietwiggs for all of her help on this one. Happy Hanukkah, babe! This one's for you.
It had been two weeks, two exceedingly long weeks, without him.
The world felt like it was too big and too small all at once, everything too close and yet still so very far away. Christmas lights twinkled all around the city, bright and cheery, and completely oblivious to the fact that Felicity's world had spectacularly imploded.
"I'm so sorry, Felicity."
Settling into a routine helped, made her feel less like she was coming apart and crumbling without him. She was stronger than that, she knew. She lived her life just fine before he became a part of her world, she could do the same after having known him. She could and knew she should, but there was a part of her that just couldn't let go.
Maybe it was the lack of knowledge that got her the most. Maybe it was not knowing what really happened on that mountain, only having the word of someone she would never, could never, trust. It could be the wondering, the helpless swirl of maybes that kept her stationary, hanging in limbo and waiting for undeniable proof that may never come.
Part of her refused to believe it without irrefutable proof. That piece- a pissed off, determined piece that burned bright and unforgiving - held hope. Hope that because there was no body, there was no reason to believe he was truly dead. It couldn't be healthy, she knew, to be so deep in denial, but that's precisely where she was; drowning in denial.
"If there's anything you need, anything I can do..."
In her worst moments, Felicity wondered.
She wondered if his heart still beat for her, wherever he was. Did her name still haunt his mind, did it still take up space on his tongue and taste sweet on his lips? Was her face still there, eyes shining with tears too thick to hold back and pleading with him to come back, to take out Ra's and come back to her?
They'd both known, been painfully aware of his chances of returning. The odds were stacked against them, higher than any mountain he'd ever have to climb. His lips pressed to her forehead had been their goodbye, the only goodbye they could bring themselves to allow. Saying the words was never an option, just the same as promises of a safe return were impossible to give.
Oliver left, went to do what he had to to protect Thea, and Felicity was left holding the broken fragments of both their hearts in her shaking palms, terrified to let go but even more frightened of what would happen if she didn't.
Hours, days, much too long; It all passed in silence, no word of his success or his demise. Not a sound from Thea, nor a whisper from Nyssa. There was nothing but silence. Nothing made its way back to them, not a word or a sign, nothing at all.
And then, out of the blue, word had come. From the lips of Ra's himself, four words had torn Felicity's world to shreds.
"Oliver Queen is dead." It had been a taunt, a dare. Ra's, his daughter at his side, delivered the news like a blow. "You may retrieve his body, should you wish to."
Nausea had rolled through Felicity so powerfully she would have collapsed to the floor if not for Diggle. To hear those words, wielded like a weapon against them, made the entire world spin around her. There was nothing left for Felicity to hold onto, nothing to hope for. Thea's angry sobs had echoed in the empty club, the only thing stopping her from charging forward Malcolm's arms around her waist, hauling her back.
With a single sentence, everything changed.
They went to retrieve Oliver's body; just Thea, Roy, John and herself. It didn't seem right for anyone else to be there, to bring him home. They made it all the way there, thankfully without any signs of frostbite, only to find nothing to bring home with them. There was no body, no blood in the snow, not a single trace that Oliver had ever been there.
After the initial shock, a fire sparked to life inside Felicity's chest. Giving up on him, letting her conviction waver, it was never a choice. When she told him she believed in him, she meant it with every molecule in her body. Oliver wasn't dead until Felicity saw his body, and there was nothing anyone could say to convince her otherwise.
Each moment dragged on, each day taking more than its fair share of hours. Felicity pushed through, lived her life as best she could with a gaping hole in her chest, in her world; A hole with jagged edges where Oliver was supposed to be, where he'd been ripped away.
Day and night, every chance she got, Felicity searched. She scoured every database, every resource she could think of, for a sign that Oliver was out there. She refused to give up until she had him back. Whether it was alive and whole, or simply laying his body to rest at home where it belonged, she refused to give in.
"You need to rest, Felicity. He wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."
John and Lyla made sure to surround her with family, bringing Sara by whenever they could. Felicity was easier to smile then, laying on the floor with Sara on her belly, gurgling happily and clapping her pudgy little hands. It was easier with them around, with the people who understood. They didn't offer her platitudes or reassurances, simply offered themselves up as a solid, unwavering presence for which she couldn't possibly have been more grateful.
If they looked on her with sad eyes when she told Sara all about her Uncle Oliver, Felicity chose to ignore it.
Roy kept her busy when she started listing, gave her things to focus on, tasks to give her energy to. He helped her search when she asked, didn't tell her she was wasting her time or banging her head against a wall. They trained, too, on the nights when Felicity had too much anxiety buzzing under her skin. She knew Oliver didn't want her sparring, hated the idea of her needing to learn to fight the way they did. In a deep, secret place in her heart, part of her hoped he'd come home just to put a stop to it.
Spending time with Thea was difficult. They both mourned the same man, in ways so very different, but somehow the same at their core. Like Felicity, Thea refused to believe Oliver was dead without definitive proof. They worked together, sometimes long into the night, searching for the lost piece of themselves. They bonded in that time, bridged a divide neither of them had even known was there. After learning of her father's role, her own role, in Oliver's disappearance, Thea put distance between them. Merlyn wasn't pleased, but Felicity guessed he hoped Thea would change her mind after she had time to calm down. Felicity wasn't so sure it would ever be that simple, not from the hard glint in Thea's eyes when she spat her father's name.
Ray tried to help, but short of his role as her boss and a sometimes-friend, Felicity had no real interest in the hollow words and empty sentiments he offered. She didn't blame him, knew that he had no idea what she was really dealing with. How could he? It wasn't as though anyone other than their team knew that Oliver was even gone, much less that there was every chance he might not be coming back.
Hanukkah came while Felicity was treading water. She found herself glad that she'd dug out her menorah long before the first night, wasn't sure she could have remembered to do it later. Her mother called the night before, was shocked to hear Felicity sound surprised that it was indeed almost time to light the candles. Donna worried over her, even threatened to jump a plane until Felicity laughed down the line and eased the knot of worry in her mother's chest.
Felicity didn't have any family in Starling City, but she always made sure to honor her heritage. Even if she was alone on occasions meant to be shared with family, with community, Felicity was dedicated to giving them the proper amount of time and attention. Judaism was a part of her, as much as the blood in her veins and the heart in her chest. Her mother raised her to honor her faith, and honor it she would.
So, each night of Hanukkah, Felicity lit the candles of her menorah, whispering the blessings into the silence of her empty apartment. She'd curl up on her sofa, wrapped up in her bubbe's heavy shawl with a glass of wine or a mug of cocoa while the flames flickered and danced, reflecting off the window pane.
Felicity didn't do much in those moments. Mostly, she used them to reflect on her blessings and wallow in her grief. It was the only time she allowed herself to let the pain in, let it engulf her and wind around her bones. When her spirit settled, felt more at ease and less like it was hanging by a thread, and the candles had burned themselves out, Felicity would send out silent prayers for the people she loved, asking for good health and happiness. When she got to Oliver, she could only pray for his safe return, that he would come back to her in one piece, with his soul intact.
Some nights, Felicity would let music spill into her home, let it carry into the hollow corners of her space and chase away the darkness creeping in around the edges. She'd sing along with the familiar tunes of her youth, ignoring the moisture in her eyes as she recalled the words. It made her feel safe, in a way, dredging up the memories of Hanukkah's spent with her mother and her bubbe. Security wrapped around her like a second skin as she thought back to days spent in the kitchen, learning to make latkes at bubbe's elbow while the story of Hanukkah was told with reverence.
Some nights, she spent alone; curled on the couch with the sweatshirt she swiped from the lair, the one that still smelled like Oliver.
Other nights, she had guests.
The first night, Felicity spent with Digg, Lyla, and Sara. It wasn't anything special or spectacular, but it was warm and comfortable. Felicity and Lyla sprawled on the floor with Sara, while Digg made dinner. It was low key and exactly what Felicity needed, being surrounded by people she loved.
Roy and Sin stopped by the third night, bringing with them a recipe printed from the internet and a bag of groceries, wide but shy smiles making Felicity's heart ache. They squished together in her tiny kitchen, listening to Felicity repeat the words her bubbe passed down while they fumbled their way through their recipe, deferring to Felicity when she offered corrections. Their latkes came out more or less like the ones Felicity grew up with, just with a few more burnt and uneven edges.
The three of them settled around the coffee table in the living room, plates full of latkes and bowls full of applesauce, and for just a little while, the world was filled with light.
Thea, not much for cooking, showed up on the fifth night with a bottle of wine in one hand, and a box of sufganiyot and loukoumades in the other.
"They're from the bakery on 5th." Thea smiled, waving the box enticingly beneath Felicity's nose. "Mr. Pensak said to tell you it's been too long since he's seen you in his shop."
The two of them hunkered down in Felicity's living room, talking quietly in the dim light while they sipped their wine. Thea gave Felicity insight into her and Oliver's childhood, laughing through the tears while she recalled memories. Felicity told Thea about the early days, how everything had come together and how she'd ended up working with Oliver in the first place. Though she was a little angry with Oliver for withholding yet another secret, Thea listened with rapt attention, smiling and laughing at some of the situations the team had gotten themselves into.
It was nice, having her surrogate family to spend Hanukkah with, but Felicity couldn't help but feel the cold spot where Oliver's warmth should have been. It wasn't easy, couldn't possibly have been given the circumstances, but it was better than it might have been if she'd had to be alone in her celebration, as well as her mourning.
The last night of Hanukkah, Christmas Eve, when darkness had well and truly fallen, Felicity felt a hollow sort of ache behind her ribs as her menorah burnt itself out. Her body hurt, exhaustion and grief making every movement, every shift, jarring and sore. Wrapped once more in her bubbe's shawl, Oliver's sweatshirt on and the hood up, Felicity turned the lights down and sat by scattered candlelight, let the dancing flames reflect off the moisture in her eyes, on her cheeks. She ignored her phone when it vibrated on the breakfast bar, ignored the stab of pain at the knowledge that Oliver's voice wouldn't be the one she heard if she answered.
Consumed by the weight of her emotions, she didn't notice when the shadows outside her window shifted.
Drawing the shawl more tightly around her, Felicity buried her nose in the fabric bunched up around her neck. Oliver's hoodie still held the faintest trace of him, while her grandmother's shawl had long ago lost any remnants of her. Still, Felicity closed her eyes and inhaled, imagining she could feel them both around her. A hiccuping sob escaped her, a sound that had been building for days. She missed them, so badly that her lungs hurt with it.
A soft scuffing sound made her freeze, body going rigid as she listened. She waited, holding her breath while her ears strained to pick up what they'd heard. Beyond the wind blowing outside, underneath the sound of sleet driving down and tapping at her windows, a board creaked.
Felicity scrambled to her feet, throwing the shawl onto the couch and scurrying for the end table. Yanking open the drawer, Felicity reached inside and snapped up the dual stun gun/taser that Digg insisted she keep and Roy taught her to use. She crossed the room on silent feet, inching toward the front door cautiously, weapon raised.
She just about jumped out of her skin when a heavy knock sounded, solid and weighted against the door. Pocketing the taser, but keeping it ready, Felicity flicked on the porch light and peered through the peephole.
Before her mind registered what her body was doing, she was ripping open the door, throwing it wide. Heart in her throat and racing, Felicity stared, mouth agape and soundless.
"Felicity."
Felicity swallowed, reaching out trembling fingers to touch, just to be sure. Her fingertips were met with scratchy stubble, a hard jaw. She took a shaking breath, eyes wide and searching as she looked up into painfully familiar blue eyes.
"Oliver?"