Title: Strong Enough
Author: some1lostme
Rating: K+
Summary: Set after "No One Else". Felicity is still trying to heal from the torture that Slade's men inflicted on her and Oliver knows that she is strong enough.
Spoilers: 2x09 "Three Ghosts"
Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own Arrow or any of these characters. I'm just borrowing them and promise to return them unharmed.
Strong Enough
The first time that he'd seen her tattoo they had been in a room full of people. She'd turned her head to the right, looking away from him for the first time all day, and he'd caught a glimpse of the dark ink permanently etched into her delicate skin. His throat had tightened, a strange feeling coming over him. Without consciously thinking about it, he had brushed her ponytail over her shoulder and traced the tattoo with his thumb. Her back had straightened. Slowly, her head turned and their eyes met. Her pupils had been so large that they'd nearly swallowed her blue irises as she'd stared at him with something very close to fear in her expression. He had wanted to ask her what it meant. He had wanted to ask her what she'd done. But Isabel had chosen that moment to begin the meeting and he'd had to push his questions to the back of his mind.
One thing after another had come up that day and he hadn't had a moment alone with Felicity. They'd barely had time for lunch between meetings and then Diggle had called with an emergency and they'd both rushed off.
That had been two days ago. Now she is lying in his arms, her body curved into a tight ball even as she presses herself into his chest. The hand of the arm that is wedged beneath her small frame is tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her head. He can't help but trace the small tattoo just below her hairline. It is an arrow. It is roughly two inches in length and runs vertically along her spine. It is simple, black ink, nothing too intricate. And its implications are lost on him. She has marked herself with a symbol that is directly aligned to him. He knows that it is for him in some way but he can't be sure exactly what it means. He wants to ask her. He needs to know what she is trying to tell him, to tell everyone with this very small, otherwise futile artwork.
She whimpers softly, mutters his name, and buries her face further into the crook of his arm. The physical scars of what she'd endured have faded, her injuries are healed, but the damage inflicted to her emotionally is nowhere close to being better. The torture that she endured at the hands of Slade's men nearly three months ago still lingers with her. He sees the way she flinches when someone she isn't comfortable with gets too close to her. He's heard her cry out for him in her sleep. She has nightmares almost regularly, some worse than others, and when she wakes with tears in her eyes and clings to him, it brings out a fierce protectiveness that he doesn't feel for anyone else.
This is Felicity. She is his everything. It may have taken him more than a year to realize it, but he knows it now. He cannot survive without her. He is not Oliver Queen, CEO, nor is he Oliver Queen, the vigilante, without this woman. He is tied to her in more ways that he is comfortable admitting out loud. He will tell her though because she deserves to hear the words. He will not leave her wondering about his intentions, about his feelings for her, any longer. He knows better than anyone that you never truly know how much time you have left.
"Why an arrow?" he murmurs, the question still dominating his thoughts, "What does it mean?"
"It means what you think it means, Oliver," she whispers, her voice startling him.
"I didn't realize you were awake," he tells her.
He readjusts their positions so that she has to unfurl her legs and press the full length of her body against him. He pulls the blankets up around them, brushing stray hair from her face so that he can see her as they talk. He doesn't like when she hides from him.
"This is permanent."
She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment before looking at him with more clarity.
"Of course it's permanent. That's part of the reason that I got it. It means – It means that this is permanent," she explains, gesturing to the small space between them, "Maybe not us, our relationship, but this friendship is permanent. I know that you're not going anywhere and I'm not going anywhere, either. And even if something were to happen and we weren't friends anymore or… or you weren't here anymore, this experience that I've had with you will be with me forever."
He stares at her for longer than necessary because he isn't sure what to say. In the three months since they got her back, everything has changed. He worries about her more. He is more protective of her. But he also knows how strong she is. She doesn't let anyone else see the effect that this has had on her. Even Digg doesn't get to see how damaged she is. And she is damaged. After she was released from the hospital, she had asked him to install extra locks on her apartment door. She'd asked him to add additional locks to her windows as well and when he asked her if she felt safe, she'd told him that she didn't, that she wasn't sure if she ever would again. That was when he'd suggested she move, that she find somewhere else that made her feel more secure.
He and Diggle had moved her into a townhouse that was almost directly between Queen Consolidated and Verdant. She has been in her new place for close to six weeks but Oliver knows that she still isn't settled. She's still afraid.
"Sometimes I forget how incredibly strong you are," he says finally, "You're right. Who you and I are, who we are together, it is permanent. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, I'm not leaving you."
She smiles at him, lifting her hand to his jaw, her nails scratching through the stubble there.
"You say that now but this is just the beginning for us, Oliver. We still don't know each other that well. I – there are things that I haven't told you, things we haven't talked about yet, and you don't know that something I tell you about myself won't make you want to leave. I know you still have secrets from your time on the island, too, and that's okay. It's okay because I don't expect you to tell me everything all at once but at some point in time, if we decide that we want to be something more than… more than what we are now, you're going to have to talk to me."
He sighs and presses his lips to her forehead.
"Tell me something that I don't know about you," he prompts her.
She doesn't respond for a moment and he knows that she's contemplating what little bit of information is safe to share. He won't judge her. No matter what Felicity decides to tell him, he won't judge her. He loves her. He hasn't spoken those words aloud yet but it isn't because he hasn't considered it. There have been many times in the last few months when he has wanted to tell her that he loves her. He has wanted to say it at the oddest, simplest moments. They'd been sitting on the sofa in her new townhouse, eating take-out Chinese straight from the carton, and he'd stopped eating to watch her. When she'd realized that he was staring, she'd turned to him and laughed before wiping sauce from his lips. He'd caught her fingers in his and kissed each one of them. He'd almost said it then.
"That isn't my only tattoo."
Her words are so soft that he nearly misses them. He doesn't however and his curiosity is immediately piqued. He is already fascinated by this tiny new arrow that brands her so he cannot help but wonder what other small pieces of artwork she has hidden on her body. He doesn't sense her hesitation right away but when he does, he remembers why they haven't moved forward with the physical part of their relationship yet.
"You don't have to show me, Felicity," he assures her, "But I would like to know. What is it? Where is it?"
He feels a tremor run through her as she averts her eyes. They are lying practically nose to nose and his arms are holding her in place but he can almost see her struggle to get away. Her body was violated by Slade's men. They hadn't assaulted her sexually, the doctors had confirmed that, but they had abused her. They'd made her feel dirty and ashamed. She had yet to tell him exactly what had been said to her in the time that it took for him to get to her but he knows what types of tactics are used when someone is being tortured.
"Can you let me go for a minute?" she asks him and he realizes that he's been clutching her more tightly to him, not budging when she'd pushed against his chest.
He relaxes his arms and Felicity sits up, letting the blankets fall until they are bunched around her waist. She is wearing a tank top and flannel pajama pants. He is used to seeing her this way. He hasn't made love to her yet but he spends almost every night lying in bed beside her, whether it is her bed or his. While she hasn't let him see much of her body, he has seen her back. He had cleaned the wounds there and redressed them. She had let him see what had been done to her. But when she pulls the thin cotton top she sleeps in over her head and lets it fall to the bed beside her, his breath catches in his throat. He had always been careful in allowing her to keep her front covered. Whenever she'd needed his help, he'd always been gentle and understanding. He hadn't wanted to push her.
"Felicity…"
She angles her body toward him so that more of the left side of her ribcage is visible. When she lifts her arm over her head, the movement causes her breast to lift, her bra shifting, and he sees more blank ink on her otherwise flawless skin. Not that her tattoos are flaws, he doesn't see them that way. So far, he finds them fascinating because they are a part of her. They are a window to the rooms of her heart that have previously been closed to him.
This piece of artwork is also small. It is elegant, swirly script and when he reaches out to touch it, she doesn't move away. He watches the goose bumps break out across her flesh under his fingertips. She is the most gorgeous thing that he has ever seen.
"It's beautiful," he murmurs, "You're beautiful."
The words just breathe are engraved in the skin beneath his hands. He can tell that these words mean a great deal to her because her next breath comes out rattled.
"How long have you had this?"
She shrugs, "A while. I got it in college. I – I had a hard time being on my own for the first couple of years. People didn't… I wasn't really good at making friends so I spent a lot of time by myself. I got the tattoo after something happened to me, something I hadn't thought would ever happen. It's a reminder that I can get through anything. I'm strong enough to get through anything. Even if I'm doing it on my own."
He doesn't ask her what happened but he stores the information in the back of his mind. One day he will ask her to tell him that story because she's right, she is strong enough to get through anything.
"You're not alone anymore, Felicity. You're not alone now and if I have any say in it, you never will be again. I won't let anything hurt you."
She lets out a shaky laugh and lies back down beside him, not bothering to put her top back on. When she curls up in the circle of his arms again, he is momentarily distracted by the way her skin feels against his.
"You know that you can't protect me from everything, right?" she says lightly.
He brushes his lips across her forehead, "But I can try."
She sighs but doesn't argue with him. Her eyes close but before she can fall back to sleep, he swallows his own nerves and tells her what he's wanted to since the day she'd come home from the hospital.
"Felicity?"
She doesn't open her eyes but she hums and he knows that she heard him.
"I love you," he tells her, his hand reclaiming its position at the back of her head, holding her close, "I love you."
She smiles, still too tired to even open her eyes, and presses her warm lips to his chin.
"I know, Oliver," she murmurs, "I love you, too."