Title: I saved you every time (I was a fool for love)
Series: Broken Hearts and Betrayal (Part 3 of ?)
Category: Arrow
Genre: Angst/Romance
Ship: Felicity/Oliver
Rating: High Teen/PG-13
Warning(s): Sexual Content, Coarse Language
Word Count: 9,414
Summary: "Tell me what to do. Tell me what I have to do to fix this."
Previous: When they ask me if I regret it (I'll lie and say I do), I really fucked it up this time (didn't I, my dear?)
I saved you every time (I was a fool for love)
-1/1-
Do you remember I searched you out?
How I climbed your city's walls.
Do you remember me as devout?
How I prayed for your calls.
I stood still, is what I did
Love like ours is never fixed
Felicity's feet hurt. The shoes that felt like self-respect just a short while ago were reminding her that they'd been pinching her toes for the last three hours. Not for the first time, she wished she'd just donned her panda flats; it wasn't like they wouldn't have been hidden under the length of the gown. But ever since she'd become Oliver's EA, and more so since she became his girlfriend, she had to look the part of elegant professional. Which meant her poor abused feet hadn't seen the insides of her panda flats in too long.
Suddenly very angry with her attractive, and expensive, high heels, she kicked them off at the door and found herself four inches shorter. She only reached his shoulder at this height; she used to like how easy it was to rest her head against his chest. With her shoes, they were eye-level… She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look him in the eyes again.
Shaking her head, she moved further into her apartment. The niggling weight of urgency filled her stomach. She needed to leave. If she stayed, one of two things would happen. Either he would arrive at her apartment or he wouldn't. If he didn't, he was with her. And she wasn't sure she could take that. Sitting in her apartment, waiting for the door to open, waiting for him to explain or lie... She didn't want to do that to herself. She'd already come to the decision that she was walking away, so she needed to start immediately.
Unsure how long she'd be away, all she really knew was that she wanted to be prepared. Digging out her pink duffel bag, she filled it with clothes, doubling up on socks and underwear before she raided her bathroom for basic necessities. Her tech was next; she left her phone, he would be able to track it if he chose to, but her tablet she took with her. In fact, she used it to hack into the records of a nice hotel and make it look like she'd booked a room with them a few weeks prior, fully paid. She used one of her fake identities from when she'd been preparing to aid Oliver on undercover missions and made sure it wasn't one he would remember her bringing up or recognize from various pop culture references she made.
With her bags packed and a place to go set, she knew it was time to leave. On the drive home, where she'd broken a number of speeding limits, she had considered calling in an emergency lock smith. Then she would just leave his stuff outside the door and she wouldn't have to see him. But she knew Oliver, and if he did come back then she wouldn't put it past him to scale the side of her building to get in a window or just kick the door in. He would want to explain himself, and she wasn't ready for that. She wasn't ready for him to tell her that he and Laurel had found each other again. That he was sorry he led her on, but they both knew eventually he'd have to go back to the only woman who had ever meant so much to him. She wasn't ready for him to beg her forgiveness as he broke her heart.
So she moved around her apartment in a daze, collecting things of his to put in a box she dug out of her closet, previously holding a collection of comic books that she put elsewhere on the shelf for safe keeping. Any other time she might've been distracted by vintage Spider-Man and her first edition Superman, but it was a testament to where her head was that she barely looked at them. It look everything in her not to linger, to rub the fabric of his ties between her fingers and remember tying them for him in the mornings or loosening them after a long day or using them to pull him closer for a kiss. Forcing herself to disconnect, she put it all away and refused to get lost in what she'd had. She put the box on the table so it would be the first thing he saw, so he would take the hint and leave, and then she pulled her bag up and over her shoulder, donned those panda flats she'd long missed, and left.
Numb; that was all she felt on the drive to the hotel. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that when she released it her fingers ached. Instead of going inside right away, she stopped in the parking lot and just waited. Seconds passed as her eyes scanned the area around her. It was a vaguely familiar part of the city. Not one she spent a lot of time in since it was mostly for vising tourists. It fit thought, since the world she was used to suddenly felt like it was off-kilter, like she didn't belong in it like she once had.
Before she knew it, she was crying, shaking like a leaf caught in a heavy wind, and it only made her laugh. That fit, didn't it? She was the weak, fragile one on the team while Oliver had always been the strong force of nature. That was why she stayed downstairs in the lair, like a gremlin that couldn't be seen, while he went out and saved the world. That was why she was relegated to office lackey while he was the glorified CEO. No wonder he wanted Laurel. Perfect, gorgeous Laurel, working for the district attorney and fitting in perfectly at all those glamorous events that were the wealthy's lifeblood.
Felicity was background noise, never the main event, and she'd been fooling herself this whole time. She belonged in IT, with computers that never failed her, code that she always knew she could break, and the comforting light of a screen that would never dim. Resting her forehead on her hands still gripping the steering wheel, she whispered bits of code to herself to focus, to bring herself down from the emotional tailspin she found herself in.
Taking a deep breath, she wiped at her face, all the while knowing she still looked a mess. Her make-up was probably smudged, but she couldn't find it in her to care. She pushed her door open and climbed out, only realizing she was still wearing her silk gown when she found it difficult to stretch her leg out the door. She rucked it up, not caring how undignified it was, and stood, slamming the door with more effort than necessary before she dug her bag out of the backseat. Crossing the parking lot, she hurried inside as the chilly night air bit at her skin, making her cheeks burn from where her crying jag had left them damp. She dug in her bag for the fake ID as she tiredly walked to the front desk.
"Natalie Foster, checking in," she said to the woman at the desk, handing over her ID.
The woman scrolled through the reservations briefly and then offered a bright smile. "Yes, there you are, Miss. Foster. We're just having house cleaning do a quick walkthrough right now, but otherwise your room is ready." She produced a key card then and swiped it to make sure the appropriate room was attached to it before she handed it over. "Thank you for staying with us. If you have any questions or concerns, please just call down to the front desk and we'll do everything we can to help."
Considering she didn't think they could turn back time to six months ago when she stupidly agreed to a date with Oliver, she merely nodded, offering a faint smile before she walked away.
She took the elevator to the eighth floor, leaning her head back against the wall and watching the numbers slowly rise, blinking in an out of existence before they were replaced. When the doors opened, she stepped off, readjusting the strap of her bag as it cut into her bare shoulder. She checked the numbers and arrows on the wall stating which direction she should go to find he room before turning left. Housekeeping was just leaving as she made her way silently down the carpeted hall; the woman was humming under her breath to a song playing on her iPod and offered a friendly smile as she walked past Felicity, towing her cleaning cart.
Stopping in front of the room recently vacated, Felicity stuck the key card in and waited for the light to turn green.
A feminine giggle down the way reached her and her head turned. There was a couple pressed against a wall just short of their bedroom, completely entangled with one another. Hands on the woman's hips, the man's head buried in her neck as he kissed down the slope. With a tinkling laugh, she pulled him close, smiling widely as her head fell back against the wall to give him better access.
Felicity's gut twisted violently, forcing her to turn away. She looked down at the door handle where the neon green light greeted her and shoved the door open. Hurrying inside, she let the heavy door close on the sounds outside of it, effectively blocking out the happiness she didn't want to see. A bitter part of her wanted to yell out the door that it wouldn't all be amazing sex and stolen moments. Eventually one of them would do or say something and the other would be hurt, possibly irrevocably, so don't get too distracted by his bright blue eyes and charming grin. Oh no, take precautions and prepare for a downward spiral!
But she didn't. Mostly because she was pretty sure they'd just think she was crazy, and she didn't need her mental faculties questioned on top of everything else.
Her room was simple, a queen sized bed with new linens, big pillows, a bedside table and lamp, and a dresser with a flat screen television. She hadn't been looking for luxury when she booked a room last minute, just something to tide her over. It was nothing like the rooms she'd shared with Oliver, where the thread count of the sheets was enough to make some drool. There were no Jacuzzi tubs or liquor cabinets that would put a serious dent in one's wallet. The view was nothing special, just another hotel and the busy street below. When Oliver needed to stay somewhere, he didn't scrimp on the extras. In fact, some of the hotel rooms he'd rented were nicer than her apartment.
Placing her bag on the bed, she started digging out her pajamas, a hair brush and elastic, and her toothbrush and toothpaste. Exhausted, she went about her nightly routine, trading a shower for simply washing her face. She brushed the once perfectly manicured curls from her hair and tied it up in the ponytail she so rarely sported these days. She removed her contacts for the comfort of her glasses and brushed her teeth before leaving her things on the counter and walking back into her room. The dress she'd been wearing was crumpled on the floor. She picked it up to hold in front of her, examining every inch of the stunning silk fabric that had made her feel so beautiful just a few hours ago…
Felicity tugged on her earlobe as she stuck a diamond earring through it and fastened the back, all the while walking from the bathroom into Oliver's bedroom. He was sitting on his bed still, fiddling with his cufflinks, not the least bit worried about wrinkling his suit pants. His jacket was laid out nearby, waiting for him to slip it on. He looked handsome, perfectly coiffed and yet just as scruffy as she liked him. He'd already tried to convince her somebody else could host tonight's event, twice, but she wasn't having it. His public image relied on nights like this, and it helped encourage staff loyalty when he made a show of talking to each department and remembering names. Names she often had to whisper to him just before he talked to each person, holding out a hand to shake theirs. So try as he might to change her mind, she knew this was necessary and she wouldn't be deterred.
He raised his head to see her then, however, and she thought he might just have a better argument to get her to stay home. He climbed off the bed with silent ease and adopted a predatory grin as he walked toward her, his gait confident. She shivered, goose bumps fanning over her skin with acute awareness.
He slid sinuously up behind her, his hands finding her hips; she could feel his fingertips biting into her sides through the impossibly thin fabric of her dress. She felt a soft kiss against her bare shoulder before he dragged his mouth up to her neck, his whiskers rasping against her. He nuzzled her hair out of the way as he lightly nipped her neck and mouthed a warm, wet, open-kiss in the same spot.
"Oliver…" she murmured, trying to sound warning, but really only managing breathy.
Her head fell back, resting comfortably on his shoulder. One of his hands slid around, splayed over her stomach, and tugged her back so was nestled against his hips.
"You look beautiful," he said, his voice pitched low.
She bit her lip and tried to give her head a shake. "You're not distracting me. We have to be there in forty-five minutes."
"Mm-hmm…" He kissed down her neck slowly, tugging at her skin caught between his teeth. "Only takes twenty to get there… That leaves me with twenty-five." His hand slid from her hip and down her leg, reaching for the slit in her dress to disappear inside and graze back up the inside of her thigh, reaching for the juncture covered in black lace.
She groaned, a very large part of her wanting to give in. But they had appearances to keep up and she knew Oliver. Twenty-five minutes was rarely enough time. He liked to be thorough, which meant all the time she spent on looking presentable would go down the drain, and then he'd convince her they might as well just stay home all night. Which she honestly wouldn't regret… until the morning, when she realized how badly it would look that the boss of the company hadn't come to his own event.
So with all the control she had, she stopped his hand's ascent and took a step forward, turning to face him.
He sighed, his lips pressed into something just short of a pout, though he'd never admit that was what it was. "Fine. But after…" He stepped closer, his eyes hooded, and looked her up and down. "I'm taking that dress off…"
She stared up at him, nodding slowly.
But as he passed by her to get his coat, he bent to her ear and added, "With my teeth."
Her knees felt weak and she glared up at him as he smirked down at her, his hand finding the small of her back as he directed her to the door. She paused to step into her shoes and then walked out with him, pressing into his side after he'd readjusted his jacket. His hand found her hip again, holding her close, and she smiled at the easy way they fit together. Four hours, she told herself. Just four hours and then she'd have him all to herself.
She blinked rapidly, her eyes burning, and took the dress to the closet, finding a hanger to put it on. After she left, she was sure the staff would find it. They wouldn't be able to track down Natalie Foster, so they'd have to get rid of it, or some lucky housekeeper would keep it for herself. She didn't care. As long as she never had to see it again, she didn't care what happened to it. She closed the closet door and walked over to the bed, climbing in under the heavy blanket and sinking into the thick pillows.
The only light filling the room was from the lamp on the table beside her, but she wasn't quite ready to sleep. She wasn't even sure she could, not with the way her mind was still racing, playing it all over again for her to pick apart each piece. The night had started so well. Oliver had been his charming self, convincing everyone around him that he was the right man to work for, that he cared about Queen Consolidated and the people who worked there. And he did. She didn't doubt that. But everyone who shook his hand had no idea who he really was, and what an odd thing that was.
He spent two hours hobnobbing, but she could see the façade starting to crack. So when he came over to tell her was going upstairs, his hand finding her hip, she wasn't surprised, squeezing his arm encouragingly. She understood how overwhelming it could get for him, even after all this time. For the next hour, she kept up his image for him, casually mentioning to various staff members how excited Oliver was about their projects, how he'd just told her about the breakthroughs they'd made. And when people asked where he was, she calmly mentioned swearing she saw him with some other person a short while ago. But by the hour mark, she knew the ruse wouldn't last much longer, so she'd left to get him.
She could still remember the way Laurel's hands were gripping the lapels of his jacket, with so much desperation, keeping him close like she feared he'd get away, though it was obvious he wasn't even trying to. She remembered the way Laurel's lips moved over his, slanting, searching, her chin rubbing against the stubble that had just scratched over Felicity's shoulder hours earlier. Her heart clenched tightly, tears filling her eyes once more. He'd been hers. For six months, he'd been nothing but hers. And she'd loved it. She'd loved every second with him. She loved the way he touched her, how he could be so gentle and so careful with her, like he feared she was too fragile under the weight of his hands. It made her feel loved. It made her feel different to the way he treated everyone else. It made her think he would do anything not to hurt her.
But it was a lie.
Oliver could be rough. He didn't always say or do the right thing, he sometimes forgot what basic manners were, and he was possibly the most impatient man she knew. And when he was really worked up on adrenaline, after a fight or if he was agitated from work and the salmon ladder wasn't helping any, then he found a different way to release that pent up frustration. The first time he fucked her in the foundry, he tore her skirt, ripped it from the slit to her hip. She had bruises from the way his fingers gripped her hips and her thighs as he sunk into her. He kissed them the next morning, laving each one with his tongue and rubbing his thumbs around them as if to soothe her skin. But she'd loved it. She loved that he lost control sometimes, because he kept such a tight grip on himself. She loved being someone he knew he could trust himself with.
He never hurt her, not really. She had worse bruises from training with Digg. And on the few occasions she'd been out in the field during their relationship, he'd been so worried about her. As soon as each one was over, that mask of indifference, of cold fury that the Arrow had long worn, dropped completely. He'd always been concerned about her safety before, but as soon as they were together that concern tripled. Oliver was naturally protective of everyone he cared about, and some part of her reveled in being so high on that list.
But now she felt like she'd been pushed to the bottom rung of the ladder, if she was even on it at all.
Her heart hurt, in a way it rarely had before. Once, when her grandmother died, it had ached something similar to this. That abject loss, the hollowness where someone she loved used to be, the knowledge that things would never be the same. But there was something else, something distinctly Oliver about the way her heart hurt now. Maybe it was the fact that when her grandmother died, she knew it was just how life went; people lived, they grew old, they died. But with Oliver… Even though some part of her had feared he loved Laurel more than her, that same part was sure he would never purposely hurt her. He could have at least broken up with her first. Made his pitiful excuses that maybe they were better off as friends, that work and their extra-curricular hero duties put too much strain on them. And then he could've chased after Laurel, desperate for her attention as he blatantly ignored all the reasons he'd given Felicity for why they couldn't be together. Yes, it still would've hurt, but at least then she could've prepared for it.
She pulled her glasses off when they fogged up, teardrops staining the glass. She put them on the bedside table and grabbed up the remote. She needed noise, something to distract her. Her hand bumped the phone though, and she was briefly reminded that she hadn't told anyone where she was going.
She could call Digg, let him know she was okay and just needed some time. He would understand. But she could already hear his resigned sigh, rife with 'I told you so,' and she wasn't ready for that either. All of her friends, her mother, hell, even Oliver's sister, had told that she was playing with fire. But Felicity had told them all, assured every one of them, that she knew who Oliver was, she knew what she was doing. And, over time, she thought she convinced most of them. Oliver had met Susan and Kylie, her college best friends, and they'd each, eventually, given their approval of him and how he treated her. Her mother had been hesitant, but even she had been charmed. Not Digg though. Digg, who knew him the same as she did, was sure that this would only lead to heartbreak.
That made him the one person she knew she couldn't call yet.
So she left the phone where it was and she turned on the television, seeking out anything that would catch her attention. She couldn't make out much on the screen, but anything would do. She channel surfed for a while before eventually settling on the comedy channel in hopes that it might improve her mood. Unfortunately, time ticked by and she barely heard anything any of the comedians said. She heard the crowd laugh and felt like it was mocking her. All those happy, carefree people, and here she was, feeling broken and lost.
Sighing, she gave up, shuffling down the bed to try and sleep. But as she turned onto her side, she felt a sharp pain and remembered that she was still wearing her earrings. She leaned up as she plucked them out, rubbing her earlobes afterwards. They laid in her palm for a long second as she stared down at them, sparkling in the light of the lamp. They'd been a gift just a few weeks ago; their six month anniversary. She should've put them in his box; instead, she put them on the bedside table by her glasses. Maybe she'd conveniently leave them behind for the staff to find, or maybe she would sell them and buy some nice new tech to make herself feel better.
With the TV still blaring, she reached up and turned off the lamp, pressing her face down into the pillow and willing herself to get some sleep. Tomorrow she would plan, she would work out what exactly she wanted to do. Because things were going to change. They were going to be nothing like they were, and she wanted to be in control of that. She didn't want it to just happen to her. She wanted to be the one driving the direction her life was going to take from here on out.
Felicity's dreams were nothing but fragmented scenes. She saw Oliver and Laurel kissing, but Oliver saw her this time. He told her he was sorry, but he was meant to be with Laurel. They smiled at her like they thought she would understand. She saw them getting married, having children, and she was there, in the background, a silent observer that couldn't untie herself from them. She was the assistant that helped him plan his weddings and his anniversaries. The wilting flower that was trampled on as he continued his life without her but demanded her help all the while.
When she woke up, she was crying, her skin dotted in a layer of cold sweat. She threw her blanket off and pushed up to sit on the edge of the bed. Her skin felt too tight and her dream was still on the edges of her mind. Logically, she knew it was her fear that she would stay and have to watch it all play out. She didn't have an answer for where she was going, so her mind was playing out the worst case scenario. That didn't make it any better, however. Because it was possible, wasn't it? Maybe this time they would really stick, Oliver and Laurel. They would get married and have kids and she would be forgotten, added to a list of people who were just collateral damage in the end.
Climbing off the bed, she made her way to the bathroom, needing a shower. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand and she washed away the sweat and the stagnant perfume, the hairspray still clinging to her hair, and the memory of his hands on her hips and his mouth on her neck. She scrubbed at her shoulder and her neck until they were raw. Her skin was a bring pink when she left the shower and donned the fluffy white robe the hotel left for her. She crossed her room, her feet damp on the carpet, and opened a window to let in the cool night air. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she combed her fingers through her hair as she watched infomercials play over the TV screen.
It was three in the morning, she was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and she didn't even have the comforts of home to help. Was he there? Did he come home, confused about where she was? Did he try calling her only to realize her phone was still in the apartment? Would he have explained or pretended it never happened?
Or maybe he didn't come home. Maybe he went to Laurel's house to reconcile. Maybe now she would proudly wear the imprints of his fingers on her hips tomorrow. Bile bit at her throat and she had to swallow it back, closing her eyes tightly. She laid back down in the bed and pulled the blanket over her, hugging it tightly.
The last time she'd been in a hotel, she and Oliver were staying at the Park Hyatt in Dubai.
The panoramic view of Dubai Creek at night was stunning. Felicity sat on the private balcony of their suite, dressed in a soft robe, her feet up on the railing as her newly painted toes dried. Oliver was on a call and she could hear him adopting his billionaire voice; he only used it for "serious CEO business." This was supposed to be a vacation, but she was well aware that dual identities meant time away was short-lived. They'd had three amazing days of barely leaving the bed and to-die-for room service that had made it all worth it.
As soon as the phone rang, however, she felt the sinking knowledge that life was calling again and there was no chance they couldn't pick up. If he needed her 'assisting' skills, she knew she'd have to abandon the view and do what she could, but for now she left him to figure it out on his own. Since he was speaking Mandarin, she had a fair idea of which business associate needed his attention and was fairly confident he wouldn't need her.
Which meant she could enjoy this very nice bottle of red wine while she waited.
She was just pouring glass number two when he joined her. Rather than take the chair opposite to her, he picked her right up out of hers and sat down with her in his lap. While she should be used to that kind of behavior by now, it still caused a little hiccup of surprise to leave her. His feet joined hers on the railing and she felt him tap her foot as she rested against his chest.
"Nice colour."
Her mouth hitched up on one side. "You always say that when it's green."
She could feel his smile against her temple. "It's a good colour on you."
She snorted. "You too."
The vibration of his chuckling felt good against her back and she tipped her head a little more to see him, raising a hand up to affectionately scrub her fingers through the whiskers around his chin.
"How'd the call go?"
"Good." He found her other hand and rubbed his thumb around each of her knuckles absently. "You know, Zhi just took over for his dad. He's struggling a little, trying hard to live up to the image… I can relate."
"Well, hopefully he does as well as you do."
"Yeah," he said, a bitter note in his voice. "Somehow, I think he'll do better."
"Oliver…" She turned her body and directed his chin down so he would look at her. "Your dad would be proud of you."
His lips pursed in a frown.
"He would… You save people, you work hard at making Queen Consolidated the kind of place people are proud to work at, and you hold your family together through all of it…" She shook her head. "You had an impossible idea and you made it work… You're remarkable."
He swallowed tightly, squeezing her hand, and bent to kiss her. She exhaled shakily as their lips moved together, his teeth lightly tugging. He was slow and gentle, taking his time with her lips until he kissed his way under her chin and down her neck. His hands slid up her body and under the folds of her robe crossing over her chest, parting it further. She arched her back as his teeth scraped down her neck and his palms cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing circles around her nipples. It was a good thing they were on the topmost floor of the hotel, with no neighbors to see them and nothing but the wide open ocean to play witness.
"If anyone's remarkable…" He tugged on her ear with his teeth. "It's you."
His hand swam down her body, callused palm scraping against her skin, until he sunk it between her thighs and cupped her.
A shaky gasp left her and she parted her legs, her toes curling. The brief hope that her nails were dry and wouldn't smudge flashed through her mind, but it was forgotten as quickly as it came. She zeroed back in on Oliver, looking up at him as his mouth found hers again, his dark, intense eyes meeting hers with the kind of adoration that always made her stomach swoop. It was moments like this when he didn't have to say it; it was so clearly written in every inch of his face.
He loved her.
She reached up to bury a hand in his hair at the nape of his neck, gripping tightly. When she got her wits back, she'd show him just how much she loved him too. But for right now, she was just going to enjoy his physical declaration.
Her sleep came and went that night before she finally gave up around seven. After showering and dressing, she gathered her purse and pulled out one of her notepads and her tablet. She needed to make a plan for how she was going to proceed.
Working as Oliver's assistant was out of the question. She couldn't handle that kind of day-to-day proximity, possibly setting up lunches with Laurel or watching her come and go from his office. She refused to put herself through that. But the matter of her other job was another question altogether. Did she really want to give up what she did, how she helped, because of their break up? She loved working at the foundry. She loved knowing that she was making a difference. And walking away from that physically hurt to think about.
She'd spent three and a half years being a vital part of Team Arrow. The whole system set-up in the foundry was hers. Those computers were her babies and she'd personally remodeled the entire lair to fit their, and her, needs. She might not don the hood, but she damn well played a part in the heroism. And to walk away from that… she wasn't sure she could.
She would just have to set up an alternative; a schedule so they wouldn't bump into each other as much. She would still be the eyes and ears, just… not so much the heart. She and Digg could meet up to practice defense elsewhere; there was definitely a gym membership in her future, whether she wanted there to be or not. And she could make sure any updates that had to be done to the system coincided with times that Oliver wouldn't be around. She would make it work, because she wasn't giving up something that meant so much to her.
Still, there were downsides. She wouldn't always be able to avoid him and she could already imagine the anxiety that would come with seeing him each night. For all she knew, Oliver wouldn't be as quick to agree to her scheduling. He might not even want her on the team. She felt a sharp stab at her heart and a flame of anger sparked. He wouldn't take that from her. She was the one who convinced Digg to drag Oliver's butt back from the island when he disappeared three years ago. She was the one who held out hope and remodeled the Arrow cave. She was the one who kept the spirit alive until he could find it in him to don the hood again. So no, she would not walk away and he couldn't make her.
Feeling like her plan wasn't solid until she wrote it all out and finalized the details of scheduling and who would go where and do what, she started typing it all out on her tablet. She then called the IT Department to set up a good time to talk to Jeff, the director, and when she was finished, she found her stomach grumbling. Since the hotel didn't have room service, she knew she was going to have to go outside.
Gathering up her courage, she found her flats and her purse. She was slow to leave her room, relieved to find the hall outside was empty, and quickly made her way downstairs, thankful that the hotel had an attached restaurant so she didn't have to step outside and face the rest of the world. But eating did little more than settle her stomach. Usually someone who enjoyed food, she found it bland now, just trying to eat her fill and get out of the crowded space. She paid her bill in cash and made her way back upstairs, deciding to watch TV to distract herself again. Before she knew it, she was watching sappy romance movies and rolling her eyes at every sweet thing the male lead did or said. And then Legally Blonde came on and made her feel just a little bit better. Elle Woods for the win.
Felicity stayed until Sunday morning, checking out at 11 and gathering everything but the silk dress in the closet. She folded everything and put it away in her duffel bag, just trying to waste time before she had to leave. A desperate part of her wanted to stay and block out the world a while longer, but she had work tomorrow and a plan to put into action. Besides, if Oliver had gone looking for her, then it wouldn't take him much longer to track her down, especially not come Monday, when Digg returned to the fold. And she didn't want to make Digg worry; he didn't deserve that.
The long way home seemed necessary, so she drove through the Glades, which had come a long way in three years. There was still crime, still structural damage, but it was better than it was. Arrow spent a lot of his time patrolling there, trying to keep it safe, to make up for what he felt was his mistake in not saving them all in time. She wasn't terrified she'd be carjacked at every red light she hit, so that was high praise.
She slowed down by Verdant, but didn't stop. Oliver's car wasn't parked out front and neither was Digg's. She wasn't sure what that meant, if anything. Finally, she made her way to her apartment, parking in the back lot before she went inside and climbed the stairs to her floor. She considered backtracking to the front hall to check her mail box, but she knew it was just an excuse to drag her feet, afraid of what she'd find when she finally went home. If she walked in that door and the box was still there, then he didn't even think of her, he just went off on his merry way with Laurel. And if it wasn't, then he had been there, and it was really over.
Her keys bit into her palm as she walked down the hall, lingering by her door uncertainly until she finally slid the key in and turned it. She took a deep breath and let it out shakily as she pushed her door open. The first thing she saw was the box, still sitting on her table just as she left it. Her heart panged in her chest. He forgot her. Just like that.
But then there was movement to her right; a large, dark mass. Instinctively, she thought about what she had on her she could use as a weapon and tucked her keys between her fingers, waiting for a clear shot at the attacker's eyes. Only it wasn't a burglar or a poor excuse for an assassin. It was Oliver.
He stood abruptly, staring at her searchingly. His hair was wild, as if he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly. The stubble she often scrubbed her fingers through had grown out more than usual and he seemed to still be wearing his suit from the party on Friday. His tie was pulled loose and his jacket was on the floor; she thought he might've balled it up to use as a pillow.
The seconds seemed to drag on before she finally tore her eyes away from him and stepped inside her apartment, walking past him to put her duffel bag in her room. She hadn't planned for him being there. There'd only been two options to her thinking; he wasn't there because he was with Laurel, or he wasn't there because he knew it was over. She should've taken into account the variable of Oliver being as stubborn as he was.
Sighing, she walked out of her bedroom to find him still lingering by the door. She rubbed her hands together, tugging at her fingers uncomfortably. "You're not supposed to be here," she finally said, staring at the floor.
"Felicity…" He advanced forward, his arm extended toward her. "I can explain."
She licked her lips, nodding slowly. "I know."
His mouth opened and closed, not sure how to respond to that, and his brow furrowed.
"But I don't want an explanation."
Slowly, his arm fell to his side, hand flexing a few times before it balled up into a fist. "It didn't mean anything. It was a mistake."
"Oliver, stop."
"No, I—I know what it looked like, and I know what you must be thinking, but that's not… I—I don't want to be with Laurel... Please. I just, I messed things up, I know that. She was upset, she broke up with Michael, she was talking about how she- she was still holding on to the past and she just wanted to let go. She said she needed closure. She needed to know she wasn't still hoping for something to happen between us. And— And I don't know. I… She kissed me. I let her. I… I don't know what I was thinking. I felt bad. It was my fault, so much of everything that's happened with Laurel has been my fault. I felt like I owed it to her. So I didn't stop her. It was one time; it's never happened before, and it never will again. She knows that… I know that."
A minute passed in silence, with Felicity still staring at the floor. But finally, when she was sure that her voice wouldn't wobble, she said, "I need my key. Just to the building. I already talked to a lock smith; they'll be by this afternoon, so you can get rid of it, I don't care. But the building key has to go back to the landlord. He's a good guy, Matt, letting me have a spare one for someone who wasn't even on the lease, so it's only right I give it back. I don't want him to get into trouble. He has three kids, all girls, and he works really hard to take care of the building. And he trusted me, when he gave me that key. He trusted my judgement. I mean, it's not like he knew I'd be giving it to the vigilante slash hero of Starling City; he just assumed I knew what I was doing when I told him I needed a key for someone who spent 90 percent of their time with me. Obviously he didn't know that I was a poor judge of character."
He didn't answer and slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.
He looked stricken as he struggled with what she was saying, his brow furrowed tightly. There was a time she would've walked over and smoothed it out with her fingers, but she didn't. She merely waited, keeping her distance, unwilling to reach out to him.
"It was a mistake," he said, his voice quieter, sounding unsure now.
"It was," she agreed. "All of it."
His head reared back a little, like she'd struck him. "Felicity…"
"The key, Oliver."
"I didn't feel anything," he tried, pushing forward a few steps. "I don't love her!"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does. It does matter. I… You matter. We matter."
She closed her eyes as they burned and bit hard on her lip when it began to tremble.
"Tell me what to do. Tell me what I have to do to fix this," he pleaded.
She shook her head, tipping her head back, wishing her tears would just drain back inside. But they escaped and slid down her cheeks, cutting a warm path down her face that she swiped at quickly before crossing her arms over her chest. "You can't."
"I can. I know I can. Just tell me what to do or what to say or… anything. I know I screwed this up. I know I should've stopped her."
"What if she didn't stop?" She stared up at him. "What if she wanted more than a kiss to prove it to herself? What if when she kissed you, she realized she did still love you? What then?"
"I… It wouldn't matter. I don't want her. She knows that. It—It just happened, and it shouldn't have."
"When she was standing there, pouring her heart out… why didn't you tell her you couldn't?" She shook her head, tears silently falling. "Why didn't you tell her, 'Hey Laurel, I'm really sorry you're having this emotional break up, but as much as I'd like to help you, I have a girlfriend… I have someone who trusts me, and who would be really hurt if this went any further than an uplifting 'there are plenty more fish in the sea' conversation.' Why didn't you do that, Oliver?"
He swallowed tightly. "I wasn't thinking."
"Of course you weren't," she laughed bitterly. "Because when Laurel is involved, thinking is never your strong suit. It's all just pure emotion. Suddenly basic reasoning skills go out the window."
He winced.
"I tried… I tried to come to grips with the fact that she was always going to be important you. There's history there, some of it even shaped you for the better, but I'm not going to be the understudy here. I don't step up just because she exits stage left… I'm not the consolation prize because the love of your life isn't sure she's ready to be with you."
"You're not." He shook his head quickly. "Felicity, you're not the back up. You're not someone I'm biding my time with. I'm sorry I made you think that. I- I'm sorry that I didn't show you enough. But I can do better… I can make this better."
He looked so earnest, so hopeful, that a part of her wanted to agree, wanted to give in. But then she thought about how it felt to walk into that room… The office she'd spent much of the last three years in. He let her kiss him just feet away from where he always stood, Felicity hugging his back, bringing him back to reality.
"You know how when you're a kid, you grow up with all of the big dreams for yourself…? Girls, they grow up on Disney movies, right? They grow up watching the underdog get the prince, and they convince themselves that one day they're going to find that. So the ugly duckling, tech geek lets everything roll off her back in high school, she puts her best foot forward and she graduates early. She gets into MIT and she blows everyone else out of the water. She gets a job at an amazing company and she starts climbing the ladder, proving herself over and over again. She's content. Her life is good. It doesn't have the best social life, but she's doing something she loves.
"And then she meets this… amazing man. Sure, he has some serious mental and physical scars from five years stuck on an island literally called purgatory, but he is still such a good person. He has all these big hopes for saving his city and righting his family's wrongs and proving himself. He goes out every night and puts his own life on the line to save other people. And she helps him. She stops living in her little cocooned life, sheds the rose-tinted glasses, and joins him on his crusade. Even if it means putting herself in danger or catching the attention of the local police. Because she believes in him and what he stands for. She believes in everything he is and everything he does.
"So for three years, she works her butt off helping him. She falls in love with him practically from day one, but she knows the likelihood of him ever loving her back is ridiculous. So she plays Girl Friday with pride and doesn't let it get to her. Only she gets a chance, a real chance with him, and suddenly cartoon birds might as well be dressing her in the morning, because she feels like Cinderella had nothing on her...
"Only the carriage turns back into a pumpkin and she's left sitting in a tattered dress in the street and the prince doesn't come looking to see if the shoe fits because she is not Cinderella. She was just- just an anomaly in the code. A brief mistake that can be easily fixed…
"You are not a prince, Oliver. Even on your best day, you are still a damaged, lonely man, desperately dragging your baggage like it's a life preserver, and that was fine. I didn't need the polish and the castle. I was happy knowing that at the end of the day we had each other. We had that one person who knew every part of us and didn't want anything more. But you do, and you always will. Because that shoe will never fit me; it will always be waiting for another foot."
He shook his head. "That's not… That's not true."
"I spent three and a half years standing by you… Three years watching you torture yourself over Laurel, all the while being half in love with you. I kept your secret, I bled for you, I took a job demotion and changed my entire life to support you. And for six months, I had you. I convinced everyone who told me you were going to hurt me that you wouldn't. Six months telling my friends and family that I trusted you, that you would never do anything to hurt me…" Her voice cracked and she squeezed her hands into fists, trying to find her control. "And I'm done."
His shoulders sagged, mouth falling open on a silent argument.
"I'm tired of wondering how I compare on your scale, of wondering if I'll ever be as good as precious, gorgeous Laurel… I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to worry about whether you can control yourself around her. I don't want to wonder if you're still in love with her. Or if you'd be happier if you had her. I don't want to do it."
She reached up, burying her face in her shaking hands for a moment, and then she swiped her cheeks quickly and raised her chin. "I talked to Jeff… He said I can take up my old mantle in the IT Department. It's going to take some moving around, but they can't afford to turn me down, not if it means I might work for a competitor… And I already put out an ad for a new assistant for you. I'll personally go through the applications and make sure you have the best person for the job. As for everything Arrow related, I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure out a schedule so we don't see each other as much, at least for the first while, until everything's settled down." She shrugged her shoulders high then. "So everything's in order. Consider this my immediate resignation… All I need is the building key. Anything I left at your house, you can get rid of. I don't want it."
He stared at her, his face drawn. She knew he wanted to change her mind, he just wasn't sure how.
"The key," she said.
Swallowing thickly, he dug into his pocket for the keys he kept and took his time going through each of them, looking for the one she'd put a dot of nail polish on to make it stand out. One by one, they each fell to bottom of the ring, swinging together. And then he stopped, rubbing his thumb over the edge of one. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he slowly removed it. He held onto it a long moment before finally walking a few steps toward her.
She held her hand out, waiting for the weight of it. He placed it down gently, his fingers spreading out, touching her palm.
"Felicity…"
She drew her hand away, curling her fingers around the key, and hugged her arms around herself. "Please go."
His eyes met hers and she saw the tears that he tried to blink back unsuccessfully. He nodded jerkily and took a step back. He licked his lips, glanced away, and finally reached for the box on the table. He hesitated, and then dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. "I'm sorry," he breathed, before he walked away, closing the door behind him.
She held herself together for all of a minute, and then she sunk down to her knees, buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She stayed there, crying until she was spent, until her lungs ached and her eyes were puffy, until her breathing was interrupted by frequent hiccups and her tears had slowed to nothing. And then she pushed up off the floor and found her phone. She hit two on her speed dial and waited for the familiar voice to pick up.
"Diggle," he answered.
She didn't say anything right away, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.
"Hello?"
She shook her head, mopping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Hello?" he asked again, exasperated. "Who is this?"
She briefly regretted changing her phone number to unlisted, otherwise he would already know it was her and not be so suspicious.
"Digg," she finally whispered.
There was a pause and then an urgent, worried, "Felicity? What is it? Where are you?"
"You were right…" Her breath hitched. "About Oliver. You were right… I sh- I should have listened. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
He sighed, long and heavy. "What happened?"
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "Is Carly home?"
"Yeah. You want me to put her on?"
"No, uh… Tell her she's on ice cream duty, I'll bring the wine."
"Okay… Are you sure you're okay to drive?"
She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "I'll be there in twenty, okay?"
"All right. Drive safe."
"I will."
After she hung up, she dropped her phone on the receiver and pushed herself back to her feet. Her apartment seemed so empty now, so lacking. She stopped at the bathroom to clean up a bit before changing into her comfy jeans and an old MIT sweatshirt before tying her hair up in a ponytail. She put the key Oliver had given back to her on her ring so she wouldn't lose it and then she tucked her feet back into her panda flats and started for the door.
Twenty-five minutes later, Felicity and a bottle of wine arrived at Carly and Digg's apartment. She was buzzed inside and took the elevator up to their floor, all the while feeling frumpy and tired. She hadn't bothered with make-up and the skin around her eyes felt puffy and sensitive. Knocking on the door, she waited uncomfortably for them to answer, hugging the bottle of wine to her chest.
It was Carly who opened the door, giving her a soft, sympathetic smile.
Felicity quickly felt the tears return and stepped forward, falling into Carly's open arms, her face buried in her friend's shoulder. Carly hugged her tight, rubbing her back, and brought her into the apartment, closing it behind them.
"Shh, it's okay… Whatever he did, he's an idiot…"
She hiccupped on a laugh, but her good humor was short-lived. "I'm so stupid," she breathed, shaking her head.
"Felicity, no…"
Standing upright, she wiped at her face, nodding. "It was Laurel…" She swallowed thickly. "It's always Laurel."
Carly took her hand, squeezing it, and led her toward the living room. "Tell me everything."
She took a seat on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her, and inhaled deeply, wondering where to even start.
Meanwhile, John, having overheard them, took his jacket from off the hook in the hallway and started toward the door. He looked back once at the tiny ball of misery sitting on his couch, looking deflated and hurt. Silently, he left; he didn't need to hear the whole story, he had a pretty good idea of where it was headed. Felicity was heartbroken and it had to do with Oliver and Laurel. Which meant he and Oliver needed to have a conversation, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly where to find him.
[End.]
Sequel posted: 'Things cannot be reversed (we learn from the times we are cursed)'
Author's Note: I just want to add a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed the two previous parts of this story, and especially to everyone on the Olicity tag on Tumblr for being so supportive and encouraging. I've loved writing this story and exploring the reactions and actions of both Felicity and Oliver.
I still have more to write, so I hope you guys are still enjoying this and how it's playing out. I know a few wanted an immediate happily ever after when he explained, but I don't think it's that simple. I want it to be realistic and I don't see Felicity being able to forgive and forget yet. Oliver needs to prove his loyalties now that he's broken them.
Title and lyrics are from Tegan and Sara's 'I Was a Fool,' which is an awesome song that I definitely recommend listening to. A preview reviewer also mentioned Bonnie Raitt's 'I Can't Make You Love Me,' which I also considered using for the title and definitely suggest listening to for extra angst.
Thank you for reading! Please, do leave a review. I write more and quicker when I get feedback.
- Lee | Fina