The Choices We Make
Felicity went to him first. She'd been sitting alone in her apartment, trying to wash the horrors of the day away with a glass of wine, but she couldn't get the vision of Laurel convulsing in that hospital bed out of her mind. Her body thrashed against the trauma team's helpless hands as they fought to save her. It was ironic that after everything Laurel went through she was defeated by her own body. The doctors told them afterwards that Laurel went into septic shock, causing her to go into sudden organ failure. Their explanations were stilted and clinical, Felicity's eyes on the empty bed behind them. Just an hour ago Laurel had been there. She'd been alive and telling them all how much she loved them. Now, she was nothing but an indentation in the mattress.
The glass of wine did nothing and finally, after eating nearly half of the food in her refrigerator, Felicity faced the reality of her situation. She needed Oliver. She needed him in a way that scared her to the bone, especially since she'd decided – oh, she had decided – that she was done needing him, but it didn't matter. One of their own died tonight, and that made their other problems seem fairly moot. Especially when she remembered the panic that flooded her chest when she first heard vague murmurs of one of the vigilantes being hurt at the prison. She needed him. He probably needed her, too.
So, she took herself out of her apartment and grabbed a cab. She knew she looked like she'd been crying for hours, and characteristically, to cover her nerves, she talked twice as much.
"A friend of mine died tonight," Felicity said.
"I'm very sorry," the driver said in a thick accent. "Was it sudden?"
Felicity paused. Was any death in their line of work really sudden? They threw themselves into danger. Every mission they walked toward death, was it really that surprising when it met them?
"It felt like it was," she murmured.
After a while, they pulled in front of Oliver's apartment, and she paid the cab driver the fare plus a hearty tip to make up for the endless chatter. Near the end of the cab ride she'd devolved into cracking not particularly funny jokes about the poor state of Star City's public transportation system like a coked up Jerry Seinfeld. On second thought, Felicity turned back into the cab and added another few dollars to the driver's tip. It seemed like good karma. She hoped that it worked. Walking up to Oliver's apartment, Felicity felt like she was pulled back in time. Riding up the elevator, she closed her eyes and imagined it was two weeks ago. Even two months. Laurel was still alive. She was still engaged. The elevator came to a stop and she opened her eyes. Her reflection gazed back at her from the reflective doors and split down the center as they opened.
Her feet took her to his door without much say from the rest of her. Her hand did the same as it formed a fist and knocked on the door. She could hear movement inside, the shuffle of some papers and the sound of a glass hitting a table. A few moments later the door opened, and he was there. Oliver. The first and last person she wanted to see.
"Felicity," he murmured. He said her name like it was the absolute answer to whatever problem he'd been trying to solve on the other side of that door.
"I didn't want to be alone tonight," she said.
He answered by stepping back, the path to his apartment open wide for her. She walked in, feeling herself settled when she heard the door close behind her. It felt like lifetime since she'd last been here, although she knew it had only been a few weeks.
"Can I get you anything?" Oliver asked.
"No, I'm fine," she said. "I mean, I'm not fine. Obviously. None of this is fine. It's the farthest thing from fine. But, I'm fine on the beverage front."
"Of course."
"I was sitting at home and I couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. I kept trying to distract myself, but it didn't work. It keeps playing over and over in my mind like the world's most depressing song that never ends."
Oliver walked forward and tentatively laid a hand on her arm. She stepped forward without hesitation and slid her arms around his waist. It felt so good to feel him against her again. She held on tighter, greedily taking in the comfort that she'd steadfastly denied herself.
"Why don't we sit down?" he murmured, lips brushing against her hair. She nodded clumsily against his chest, letting him lead her to the couch. They sat down and she leaned forward with her elbows resting heavily on her knees. He'd left a respectable space between them and it felt like a void.
"Have you talked to John since we left the hospital?" Felicity asked.
Oliver shook his head. "I don't think I'm the one he wants to talk to right now."
"He'll be good with Lyla," she said softly. "She's strong, even if he isn't right now."
"He blames himself."
"He wanted to trust his brother," Felicity returned. "Anyone can understand that."
"Having that sort of guilt on your shoulders…it's difficult to come back from."
"He will," Felicity said resolutely. "He has us to help with that."
Oliver smiled slightly, the effort melancholy, and murmured, "Am I really one to help anyone through their guilt?"
"I think you can be. You're a work in progress. Just like all of us."
They were quiet for a moment, Oliver deep in thought about something. She could tell by the crease between his eyebrows that he was stewing. Casually she asked, "What about Thea?"
"She wanted to be left alone. I think she needs time to process."
Felicity swallowed hard and asked, "And you?"
"I'm okay," he said. "I actually…never mind."
"No, what is it?"
He hesitated before saying, "I just keep thinking about what Laurel said to me right before…"
Right before she died. He couldn't say it. She didn't want to, either.
"I know," Felicity murmured. "What did she say?"
"She made me promise something," he said, spreading his fingers out wide across his knees. He seemed reluctant with this admission, and she didn't understand why. She supposed it wasn't hers to understand anymore.
"You don't have to tell me," she said softly.
"No, I want to," he said, turning his gaze toward hers. "I need to. Laurel pretty much insisted."
"She did?"
"Not directly, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "…I want to let people in. I want to be the person that you see. That Laurel saw. But, it's not easy. I had to do things – " he broke off, his jaw tight, " – I chose things that I'm not proud of. I did them because I felt I had no other choice. My hand was forced. But, that's not true. I chose to keep you in the dark about William. I chose to keep parts of myself hidden from you because it was easier. It meant that I didn't have to face them either. I could send William away with his mom, and never fear failing him like my father failed me for all those years. I could bury the pain and anger, and never admit the fact that they'd already consumed me. I was afraid and I chose to bury those fears rather than face them."
"I could have helped you," Felicity murmured. "I could have been there for you, if you'd only let me."
"I know you would have," he said. "Laurel made me promise that if anything happened to her, or to Digg or Thea, or you, to never forget what I was really fighting for. Laurel told me that after Sara died, it took her a long time to be able to see past her need for revenge. To recognize the larger picture of what Sara had been fighting for. What we all were. I think I lost sight of that recently. I lost sight of what matters."
"What does matter?"
Oliver reached forward and took her hand. "I never thought I could be happy after the island, and then I met you. In every part of my life since then, regardless of whether it's good or bad, you have been there. You have been my rock through it all, even when I didn't know it. I am fighting for you, Felicity. Everything that I do, I am fighting for you. Because you are my home now. The man I am today is because of you, because of your love and your trust. Laurel rose above her past. She broke free of the weight of her addiction and Sara's death, and she became one of the most…" he broke off, voice thick, "…she became something astounding. I'm ready to rise above my past. But I can't do it without you."
Felicity could practically feel her heartbeat in her temples. Oliver's grasp on her hand was almost painfully tight, and his eyes were searching hers, waiting for an answer, begging for one that she didn't know if she could give him. Could she really give herself into him again? Set herself up for more lies and walls that she could never fully scale? She wanted to believe his words, but they'd been there before. He had promised to let her in, and all that she was left with in the end was an empty ring finger and heartburn. Could she really put herself in that position again?
"Please say something," he murmured, voice strained.
"I want to believe you."
"What can I do?" he asked fervently.
"That's just it, I don't think there is anything you can do."
"Anything," he continued, scooting closer to her on the couch. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. Just give me something."
She wanted to give him the magic words that would unlock her heart again. If only it was that easy. But it wasn't. She rose shakily from the couch.
"I shouldn't have come here," she said. "This was a bad idea."
"Felicity, please don't go."
"It was selfish of me to come here like this," she said. "I-I'll see my self out."
She moved as quickly as her feet would take her. She needed to be away from him. Far away. This was an awful idea. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and the tickle at the back of her throat told her she was either about to cry or upchuck all that food she'd eaten earlier. She didn't know which one she'd prefer. She made it out the door and into the elevator without Oliver following. She jabbed the ground button with her thumb, and the elevator glided downward. She held her breath until the elevator stilled and the doors opened. She walked out shakily, every cell in her body screaming for her to turn back around.
She loved him. God, she loved him. It was actually stupid how much she loved him, but she couldn't stop. Even after what he did and how much it hurt her – how much it still hurt – she never stopped loving him. Never stopped loving the man he was with all of his flaws. Their love had never been the problem, it had been his rigidity, his inability to change, even if the face of everything else. Had Laurel's death really changed that? Was that deathbed promise strong enough to propel Oliver's journey away from his pain?
She didn't know, but she was willing to find out.
She turned back toward the elevator just as it opened, Oliver stepping out into the lobby. He stopped short at the sight of her standing before him. Hesitant to ask her reason for staying, she made the decision for both of them and launched herself toward him. His arms found her waist immediately and she kissed him hard. He crushed her against him, mouth moving against hers in a way that made her entire body thrum with energy. She pulled away after a moment and said, "This is the last time, okay? I mean it. No secrets. You have to let me in."
"I will."
She covered his cheek with her palm and murmured, "I want to know you. All of you."
"You might not like what you see."
She kissed him softly. "That's not possible."
They went back upstairs together. She stayed the night, and one month later moved back in. Two months later she met William. Six months later, her and Oliver were married in a small ceremony with their closest friends. He never lied to her again. There was no other choice to make.
A/N: I wrote this story having only seen the first two episodes of S4 and last night's (I know...I am the worst Arrow fan) so if some of the timeline is wrong in this, my apologies! I will catch up with this show eventually. Anyhoo, I loved this last episode. Hope you enjoyed this little follow-up scene! If you did, please leave a review and tell me! Or tell me you hated it. All is fair in love and reviews!