A/N: I wrote this because it popped into my head after listening to one of my favorite songs. Probably Wouldn't Be This Way by LeAnn Rimes. You don't have to check it out but it's pretty good.
"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."
The foundry was dark and empty as she descended the stairs. A bitter chill had set into her
bones from the walk she just took around the city. Her arms had wrapped tightly around her chest, clutching her magenta trench coat to try and get warm. The place she had started to call home almost two years ago never was the warmest place, but she was thankful it wasn't as cold as it was outside in the city.
The sun was shining brightly, a contrast to the dark storm that was raging inside of her. Wind whipping through the tall buildings, coasting off the water was the only thing that was keeping her somewhat aware of everything around her. In a way, she was glad it was so cold because feeling the chill was the only thing keeping her from being completely numb. She needed space to think and staying in the foundry with Diggle and Roy wasn't exactly enough room. A few minutes after Merlyn left, Felicity grabbed her coat and walked out, "To get some air", she told them when asked where she was going. How long she had been out there, she had no idea. All she knew was that she'd walked around the whole city, avoiding The Glades until she was headed back to the old steel factory. When she reached the breaker switch and turned on the power a breath of relief left her. Diggle and Roy were long gone, which was a good thing because she was not ready to talk. Unprecedented for her but after what she just heard, she couldn't really be blamed.
The black computer chair over by the bank of computers beckoned to her. She fell into the familiar comfort with a sigh, quickly kicking off her high heels that were making her feet ache. "As cute as you are, you're so not meant for walking around the city," she muttered under her breath as her feet came to rest on the cool concrete ground. Her eyes lifted, catching the light in the case that held the green leather suit she'd grown to love. The sight of it often made her feel safe, even if she was worried about him. A bitter laugh left her lips as she rose from the seat and took a step closer to it.
"All this time I thought you'd be the reason I'd lose him," she spat at the suit, anger bubbling under the surface of her skin. The anger was new, it wasn't something she'd felt yet over the news that Oliver was dead. Suddenly she understood why he always worked out so hard when he was upset. All she wanted to do was hit something. Instead she took another step closer, her left hand reaching out tentatively to touch the cool, stiff leather jacket. "I almost wish it was your fault," her voice cracked, the sound coming out in a soft whisper. Losing Oliver to the Arrow business was expected but losing him like this… was just a lot harder. Losing people was something she had unfortunately grown accustomed too but it didn't make it easier.
He had always been a fighter, he always came back. Of course the one time he actually promises he will, he doesn't. Something else entirely clicked in her thoughts as she remembered her last moment with him. With a sharp in take of air she let her hand travel to the coarse fabric of the hood, her eyes quickly welling up with the first tears she'd had since the news. "I can't believe you won't come back for me to tell you," the very blonde IT expert murmured. Closing her eyes against the tears as they started to spill down her cheeks she mouthed the words she should have said before he left. No sound came out. As she opened her eyes again she took in the empty suit as her heart cracked again. "I love you, too," she finally rasped out.
After that first night of speaking to the suit, it had become an every night thing. She would always be the last one to leave the foundry, using her computers as an excuse to be alone for a few minutes. It might be strange but she couldn't get onto the old Queen Mansion property to speak to his actual grave. Besides, it was an empty plot anyways. The suit in it's glass case felt more like a memorial to him than any grave stone ever could. So every night, like a ritual to sooth her aching heart, she'd tell him about her day just like he promised her she could. It never lasted more than twenty minutes, and she always ended with a whispered 'goodnight, I love you'.
People started to notice how closed off she got. Her days narrowed down to work, and then the foundry, and home. That had been her life before but it was different now. She wasn't as talkative, she was still angry, and she still couldn't figure out how to deal with it. Anger was something she had buried a long time ago. Or so she thought. Between her dad, her mom, Cooper… that lacrosse player her freshmen year at MIT, she had a lot to be angry about. After Cooper though she did something drastic, and changed her entire being. At first the overtly bubbly personality was a show, to prove she was okay, and to ignore the bubbling rage she had over losing everyone she held so important and a slight feeling of being a disappointment to her mother. Soon though, particularly after starting at Queen Consolidated she wasn't doing it as a show anymore. For once she had been content.
And then her name was spoken, a bullet riddled laptop laid down on her desk, and a blue eyed gaze she couldn't turn down. Even if the lie he tried to sell was utterly ridiculous. It was like a light had been shown into the darkness she'd been running from and it wasn't so scary anymore. Teaming up with Oliver and Diggle gave her life a purpose she hadn't realized was missing. The hacktavist time in her life had filled her with a sense of good but when that went bad she gave up on the idea all together. She still hacked things, it was a hobby, but nothing like what she used to do. She had missed it, and was actually pretty thankful for the opportunity to do real good again, even if at first she couldn't agree with the vigilantes methods.
With Oliver gone, her light was gone too. She stopped babbling, she noticed almost a week after the news. Her nail polish was chipped and her usually perfect ponytail was often not present, instead replaced with her natural curly mess resting on her shoulders. Her favorite magenta lipstick was really the only thing, aside from her glasses, that stayed the same. Even her trademark blonde hair was starting to grow out. She just hadn't had the time to make an appointment with her hairdresser. Social encounters were becoming exhausting, to be honest. And, if it cut into her time at the foundry, it was just not an option. The foundry was home, and the only place she felt close to him.
He wouldn't want this for her, she knew that, but she couldn't pretend like the brightest light in her life hadn't been snuffed out entirely too soon. Sometimes, when the foundry was empty and she was running comms, she could swear she'd see him standing there at the edge of her desk as if he was waiting for her to instruct him on where to go. Every time her heart rate would pick up, her breathing would turn into an anticipating pant, and when she turned to fully look, he would disappear. Her entire world would crash around her again, and on those nights, she'd take extra time to talk to him before going home.
Diggle was the one to figure out what she was doing. He was getting curious as to why she insisted on being the last one to leave. Why she always needed those few minutes alone. For her safety he would always wait in his car, watching to make sure got to her own without trouble. Exactly twenty minutes after everyone else left, she would leave. Never a minute less or longer. Until one night. He noticed she'd been even more off than had become usual for her. What happened, he wasn't sure but she didn't leave for a full forty-five minutes after the rest of them that night. The next night she was back to her usual time and he thought maybe she had some computer stuff to do and he was reading too much into it.
It happened three more times, fairly spread out before he decided to go back inside. It had been an hour, the longest she'd ever been. The door opened quietly, and the sound that filled his ears broke his heart. She was crying, soft sobs leaving her. And then she started talking. He froze at the top of the stairs, thinking at first that she wasn't alone, and then that she'd heard him. But neither of those were the case. "…And then I saw you again tonight and I realized that some part of me is just holding onto hope." She was talking to Oliver, and clearly needed a friend. He continued his way into the foundry, descending the stairs unintentionally quiet. When he reached the landing, he saw her standing in front of the case donning his gray hoodie that was usually left for after a night of being injured.
"Felicity…?" John asked, causing her to jump away from the leather suit. Her emerald painted nails reached up under her glasses, swiping away the moisture. "Are you okay?" The question came out despite him knowing the answer. Her eyes moved back to the suit, her arms clutching her sides as she tried to shrink into his hooded sweatshirt. A few beats passed before she shook her head in response, more tears spill down her cheeks. In a second he crossed the space between them and pulled the young woman he thought of as a little sister into his arms.
She cried for a little while longer before every breath she pulled in turned to a yawn. He released her from his hold when she pushed against his chest. "I'm fine," she mumbled as she turned to her computers, wiping her eyes as she did so. The gray hood was shed, put back into its usual spot before she picked up her purse. He knew better than to believe her, he also knew that the way she kept talking to him probably wasn't helping her move on.
"You should stop doing this," he told her softly, not wanting to break her again. The incredulous look he received told him she wasn't going to listen to him. "You don't know anything, John. You shouldn't have come down here," she barked angrily. Her loud voice was starting to come in and he crossed his arms over his chest, preparing for a fight. It was the stance he often took when Oliver was being stubborn, something that didn't go unnoticed to Felicity. It made her deflate. "I'm going home," was all she croaked before walking away, heading for the stairs with her purse and coat. Smartly, he didn't follow her.
The second one to try and talk sense into her was Laurel.
The young DA and new member of Team Arrow had come into the foundry early one night. She was greeted with the sight of Felicity in her spinning chair, staring at Oliver's suit. It was something she had done several times herself. After losing him once before, she had managed to push forward quicker than the last time. It was still hard, and it still hurt but she was more worried with honoring her sister. There was still a lot of anger in her from the losses she'd already been dealt, her grieving Oliver was something she had to deal with quickly so she could focus on the things still unknown with Sara's death.
The slight shaking of the younger blonde was the first give away. She wasn't anywhere near okay. Laurel joined her, standing next to her chair and admiring the emerald suit. Sometimes it was still shocking to her that it had been Oliver all this time. "He's hard to move on from," the new Canary said in understanding. Felicity casted her gaze onto her new… friend? Were they friends? She was just going to go with a yes. Laurel looked down to her, a knowing look in her eyes and the blonde genius had to blink back tears. "What is it that's making it so hard for you?" And that question was what crumbled her resolve.
Tears started cascading down her face as she turned to look at the suit once again. How was it she was still crying? Shouldn't she be fresh out of tears by now? A soft sigh left her lungs before she started to answer. "The last thing he said to me," she started, sniffling as she wiped at the tears in an attempt to stop them, "was that there were only two things he knew about himself." Getting these words out was a lot harder than she expected, making her fall silent for a while. Laurel waited in patient understanding, which was something Felicity was thankful for. "He said that Thea was why he does… did what he did. Because no matter what, he would protect her. He didn't want her to have to deal with the assassins coming to Starling and slaughtering a bunch of people. Not after the siege," her eyes turned back to Laurel, finding the same understanding that Sara always conveyed. She quietly mused that they were actually a lot alike, and she felt bad for lying to her but it had to be done. "And the second thing was that…" her voice cracked, effectively shutting her up for a moment. "The second thing was that he loved me."
Laurel's eyes began to cloud with her own tears, sympathy swelling up in her chest. It was clear to see how Felicity felt about Oliver, and she'd heard about their date, knew that they weren't together because Oliver was really good at pushing people away when all he wanted was to pull them close. Kneeling down next to Felicity so that they were eye level she laid her hand comfortingly on hers. "I never said it back," the not so bubbly blonde IT girl sobbed, hot tears falling like a dam had just been opened. In an attempt to sooth her friends ache she wrapped her in a hug, silent tears of her own falling as she thought about how it felt to lose Tommy. The best thing she had done was move on. It had taken time but she had managed.
"Can I give you some advice?" She asked, "From one girl who lost the love of her life to another?" Her green eyes met Felicity's blues as the blonde nodded. "I know it seems impossible right now but you need to work on moving on. When I lost Tommy I did something's I'm not proud of. If I had tried harder to move on I could have avoided it all. Just try to start getting out more because it'll help," Laurel forced a small smile, patting Felicity on the shoulder before rising to stand. When she got another nod in acknowledgment she changed the subject, finding out where the night would lead the team as Diggle and Roy arrived.
"They think I'm crazy," she said on the two month mark. Her heart still ached with each beat, and she still saw him standing there occasionally. Her tellings of her day still happened too. Felicity needed to tell him, needed to feel like he was still with her. Even after all this time without him, a part of her still felt like he wasn't actually gone. She knew that was probably because of her fractured psyche but she didn't care. He needed to be there in some way because she couldn't imagine a day without talking to him.
"Diggle says I shouldn't speak to you. Laurel says I should move on," she explained a bit as she settled into his hooded sweatshirt, "They're probably right." A huff of air left her lungs before she pulled the fleece fabric up to her nose. By now his sent was slowly fading, becoming replaced with her own but the small hint of his smell was what kept her in it. "You know, if I'd never met you, I probably wouldn't be this way." It surprised her she was starting like this, usually she told him about her day before getting into the heavier stuff. Her eyes were fogging with her first round of tears and so she removed her glasses, folding them up and putting them on her desk.
Her vision was blurry and unfocused without her glasses but when she cried it was just easier to remove them. Turning her gaze to his hood she pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. "Sometimes I hate that you ever walked into my office that day. Sometimes I just hate you for leaving, and in the same breath I hate myself for letting you go." An index finger with chipped green nail polish reached up to brush the tears away. "Most of the time, I just feel lucky to have loved and been loved so much," she concluded with this, deciding it didn't matter how her day had gone. All that matter was this moment, and the fact that he would never get to hear this. Instead of moving she just sat and stared for a long time, remembering every significant moment she ever shared with him.
Her heart couldn't take anymore, she rose from her seat, placing her glasses back onto her face and smoothing a hand over her freshly dyed hair. She had made an appointment earlier that day. The ponytail had made her feel just a little bit more normal. "I just miss you so much," she whispered before getting ready to remove the jacket and put it back where he always left it. Her fingers stilled at the zipper though as she heard his voice. "I miss you, too," it said, which was the first time she'd heard his voice since he told her he loved her. Sure she'd seen him standing around but she'd never heard his voice. She turned slowly, cautiously and her eyes landed on his form standing at the bottom of the steel stairs, hands in his tan cargo pants. Her heart stopped for a moment before sputtering back to life, beating in over time to make up for the momentary lapse. She stared at the man she'd been seeing glimpses of for months, only this time, she wasn't crazy.