The Last Time
Felicity sat in her apartment, bleary eyed, with a glass of wine in hand as she watched her automated web search filter through news coverage; picking out potential mission material. As she watched the familiar flash of the progress bar, repeatedly dancing across her computer screen, she felt another tear slide down her cheek as she recalled that afternoon at Queen Consolidated.
'Because of the life I lead, I just think it's better to not, be with someone I could really care about.'
'I think you deserve better than her.'
Another flash, another tear, another sip of wine from a shaking hand. God she felt wounded, like that antelope she had watched on television the other night, lying in the grass waiting to die, all because it had gotten too close to a lion and couldn't get away. She knew what that felt like. Ever since she had found Oliver Queen in the back of her car bleeding over her seats, she had been moving closer and closer to the lion and against her better judgement, convinced herself that she could handle it, that she would be able to get away unscathed.
Oh how the universe loves to prove a girl wrong she thought, as she sat, knees to her chest leaning against the foot of her sofa, just as broken as that antelope on T.V. Part of her wished she had never said anything, never asked why, never given Oliver the opportunity to break her heart. The other part wished she had gotten angry – given him a what for – as her grandmother used to say, but she hadn't. So she sat, still helping him, looking for potential targets to make the city safer.
She heard the faint sound of knocking on her front door. She rose, fetching her purse, thinking it was the Chinese food she ordered over an hour ago. She opened the door about to ask how much for the food, when the words died in her throat. Standing on the other side of her front door was Oliver Queen. She could feel his eyes wander over her taking her in, the oversized t-shirt and leggings, her blonde hair falling in messy curls around her shoulders, her tear streaked face. His eyes flicked to the glass of wine on her kitchen table then back to her as he stepped over the threshold and into her apartment.
She stepped back, as he turned and closed the door behind him, not wanting to have him in her personal space.
'Felicity, I…' he started.
She inwardly grimaced; God she didn't have the energy for this, all she wanted to do right now is crawl into bed and never come out. Not listen to him try to fix whatever he believed he had broken.
She watched as he began to shift his weight from one foot to the other, as he tried again to speak.
'Felicity, I….. about what I said this afternoon' As she heard him try to bring up the conversation they had that afternoon, she felt something inside her snap, the anger which hadn't presented itself at the time of that conversation now rose up within her as she took a step towards him.
'Stop, just don't Oliver, just don't.'
'But, I…' She raised her hand to stop whatever he was about to say.
'I get it ok? I know you think you can't care about anyone, because of how you spend your nights, but that's not it, you were with McKenna and laurel and that crazy chick with the cross bow, who had a vendetta just like yours, so I know that saying you can't be with someone you care about is a lie Oliver.'
She didn't know whether it was her anger at him or the considerable amount of wine she had consumed that was letting her say this, but she didn't question it, taking another step forward until they were toe to toe.
'You forget that I know you Oliver Queen, the real you, I know how you spend your nights trying to make the city safer, I know you think you need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and you think that every bad thing that happens is your fault.'
'I've seen you battered and bloodied, happy and sad, scarred and broken. I see you..'
'I know I just' He stuttered.
'I'm not finished, so after all this time, I know the real reason. You're scared, you think that if you let anyone in, really in, not what you Digg and I have, that when they find out what happened to you on that island or what you did whilst there, that they will see you how you see yourself – as a monster, who is more broken on the inside then what his scarred body shows on the outside, someone who you, you Oliver believe doesn't deserve love.'
She is breathing hard after she finishes talking, waiting for his answer, waiting for him to leave her apartment, to fire her, kick her off team arrow, but he doesn't he just stands there, eyes dark and speechless.
He moves suddenly, stalking forward until she is wedged between him and the kitchen counter, his hands find purchase on her hips, like a drowning man clinging to life, capturing her lips with his own in a searing kiss. A kiss that burns as his stubble grazes her chin, consumes as she loses all conscious thought. Calloused hands gather at the small of her back pulling her up against him, ensnaring her within his embrace. He deepens the kiss tracing the outline of her bottom lip with his tongue.
Small hands run through his hair and grab at his neck urging him on. She wonders if this is a good idea if she should be allowing this, but her thought pattern scatters again as he begins kissing down her neck, lips brushing over her collar bone. She lets her head fall back to allow him greater access as he skims his nose along her skin taking in her scent and begins running his hand up and down her spine. It isn't until he murmurs incoherently against her skin, hears his voice that she freezes, is shot back into the reality of the moment. He feels her tense and nips at her neck. She is tempted- oh so tempted to melt into this contact, to forget what happened in Russia, with Laurel, but she couldn't. Wiggling herself out of his embrace she takes a step back. He reaches for her, but she sidesteps not allowing the contact.
'We can't do this Oliver, I can't do this. I'm not this person; I'm not the consolation prize, who revels in being chosen after the first choice doesn't work out. I'm not okay with being second on your list after laurel and I'm most definitely not okay with being second to Isabel Rochev.'
'Felicity it didn't mean anything.. I' He takes a step forward pleading her to see, to understand.
'I know Oliver, but that doesn't change that you still chose her and I respect myself to much to overlook that detail. I'm different to them, I know you better, so I won't accept half of you, I won't accept secrets and lies. So until I am at the top of your list, the only one you want to be with, then this is the last time something like this happens. ' As she finishes her lip quivers as she silently implores herself not to cry.
'What will….?' Oliver starts to ask quietly.
'We will be what we always have been Oliver, I will be the IT consultant of team arrow, who rambles too much and your executive assistant at QC, everything will be just the way it was, before Russia, before you went back to the island, before the quake, I'll see you tomorrow Oliver.'
She watched as he ran a hand over his face before slowly walking towards the front door, he stops about to say something, but she turned and walked back to the kitchen, hearing the door close and silence filling the room.
Felicity sat in her apartment, bleary eyed, with a glass of wine in hand, sliding down into her previous position at the foot of her sofa, watching the familiar flash of the progress bar dancing across her computer screen, she felt another tear slide down her cheek as she feels the wound she spent most of the night trying to close, split open wider than before as her heart breaks.