A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who read / favorited / reviewed this story! The feedback is always appreciated. Clearly I've gone off cannon now that we've seen the aftermath of "Heir to the Demon". Oh well, this one is probably going to go on for a while because, well, I love writing these two! Enjoy!
Not Another Mistake
He wasn't surprised to hear the sound of Felicity's heels on the concrete floor a few hours later. He had been using the salmon ladder for longer than he should've, pushing his body to the brink of exhaustion. He knew that that would be the only way he'd get any sleep. His mind had been racing ever since Sara'd left but it hadn't been her that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about.
He watched as Felicity crossed the room, glancing up at him briefly to let him know that she knew he was there before stowing her bag under the table and sinking heavily into her chair. She had changed out of the dress that she'd worn to the office, replacing it with a mint colored sweater and dark jeans that hugged her body. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd seen her dressed so casually. Her hair was down, laying in soft curls over her shoulders and he could see that her face had been cleaned of make-up.
He dropped from the bar, landing just a few feet to her right.
"It's late," he pointed out, wiping sweat from his face before pulling on a t-shirt, "Why aren't you at home?"
He half expected her to roll her eyes and parrot the question back at him. Instead, she just shrugged.
"Couldn't sleep."
He waited while she booted up her computers, watching as she clicked through several screens. When she had found whatever it was that she'd been looking for, he closed the distance between them and stood behind her chair. He lifted his hands to her shoulders, the need to touch her overwhelming him. He wasn't sure when he'd decided that he would act on it but he found himself applying pressure to the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades.
"You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?" he prompted.
He rubbed slow circles with his thumbs, the tension she carried in her shoulders evident under his hands. He kneaded a particularly hard knot and she let out a soft sigh. He wasn't sure if it was out of exasperation or brought on by the pressure of his fingers but either way, he couldn't help but appreciate the sound.
"I just – I can't stop thinking about what happened at your mom's rally. I'm sorry, Oliver. I wish that I hadn't told you, not like that anyway. There had to be a better way, a better time. I mean, I should've at least waited until after you'd made your speech but I saw her and she looked at me like she was just daring me to open my mouth and I knew that you needed to know. I knew that I had to tell you but she freaked me out and I was… I was so scared that she was right but –"
He squeezed her shoulders gently, cutting off her rambling.
"Felicity, what did my mother say to you?"
Her fingers fell from the keyboard in front of her to her lap where she began twisting them nervously. He knew that whatever had been said, it had really frightened her. He had thought that he couldn't possibly despise his mother more than he already did but he'd been wrong.
"She said that you'd hate me."
The words were so quiet that he could hardly hear them but the pain and uncertainty in her voice made him feel as if he'd been punched in the gut.
"Felicity…"
She turned her head slightly, looking up at him and he couldn't help but notice that her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. She had clearly been crying. He understood then why she'd been so hesitant to tell him, why she'd thought that she would lose him. His mother had found something that made Felicity vulnerable and she'd exploited it. The fact that it was their friendship that his mother had chosen to abuse left him with an anger that he could hardly control. And the knowledge that Felicity had, if even for a moment, believed that he could truly hate her made him realize that he had failed her. He had failed to show her just how much she meant to him, how important she was.
He turned her chair and reached for her hands, pulling her to her feet and into the circle of his arms. She stiffened against him. The only time that they had ever been this close, she had been the one to initiate the contact. She had hugged him the night that he'd gone after Gold, the night that she had begged him to come back alive. He had restrained himself then, hadn't given in to the need to hold on to her like he desperately wanted to. Like every other encounter that they had shared before that, he had kept her at arm's length because it was all he could do. He had tried so hard to keep himself from feeling anything more than a general sort of affection for her but as he held her much smaller, softer body to his, he knew that denying that he cared for her as more than just a friend was pointless.
"Felicity, I could never hate you," he insisted, "No matter what happens, no matter what you have to tell me, I will never hate you."
She shook in his arms, a small tremor racing through her just before she sagged against him. He tightened his hold, standing silent guard over her as the emotion rushed out of her. She buried her face in his chest, hiding her eyes while her tears fell.
He wasn't sure how long they stood that way but when Felicity pulled back, her eyes were damp with tears and her cheeks were flushed. She gave him a watery smile.
"I just don't like that she was able to get to me," she admitted, "I would like to think that you would never really hate me… and I'd like to think that I know her better than you. I mean, I know you, Oliver. But I – I don't know what I'd do with myself if I lost you."
He shook his head, "I told you, you're not going to lose me. My mother was just trying to scare you. She would've done anything, said anything, if she thought that it would keep you from telling me the truth. But I'm glad that you did. Felicity, don't you understand that I trust you implicitly?"
She cocked her head to one side, her skeptical look causing his lips to quirk up slightly.
"Okay so I know that it may not always seem that way but I do. I trust you."
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, brushing back the few pieces that tried to cling to her cheeks.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come here and cry on your shoulder, like, literally. You've got enough going on with your mom and with Sara almost dying and, you know, being released from the League. I guess she's going to be hanging around now, right? Is she going to be a part of the team? I mean, that'd be kind of cool I guess but do you really think that you can trust her?"
She flushed when she realized that she'd been rambling again.
He shrugged, "I don't know if Sara's going to stay. I – we haven't really talked about it. She's struggling, though, with her parents and Laurel. She needs all of the friends that she can get."
"Oh. Right. Friends. That makes sense."
She turned away from him, intent on distracting herself with whatever was on her computer monitors, but he grasped her elbow lightly and urged her to look at him.
"That's all that Sara and I can be, Felicity," he explained, "We will only ever be friends."
She nodded, keeping her eyes anywhere but on him. He understood why she was hesitant to believe him. He didn't exactly have the best track record with the women in his life but he wanted her to know that Sara being home didn't mean that they were back together.
"And don't apologize for needing someone to talk to. I've told you before, if you need someone to talk to about your day, I'm here."
Felicity took a deep breath and he could practically hear her counting backwards from three to calm down. Or to rein in whatever word vomit she had been about to let go. Either way, he stood in silence and waited for her to say something. When she looked up at him and opened her mouth before quickly closing it again, he realized that she was actually holding something back.
"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly, "Do you – do you want to go get something to eat?"
Her eyes widened in surprise, "Um, yeah, sure."
She dug around under the desk for her bag and turned back to him, pausing as he headed for the exit.
"Oliver?"
He stopped, looking back at her, "Yeah?"
"It's the middle of the night," she pointed out, "Where exactly are we going to go?"
He'd forgotten all about the late hour. All he wanted was to keep her talking, to spend as much time with her as he could, because suddenly she was the only person that he wanted to be around.
"I'd say that we could go back to my place and I'd cook for you but –"
She shook her head, "Not a chance in hell. I'm not going anywhere near your mother's house. Why don't you come to my place? I'll cook. Well, I'll try."
He smiled, gesturing for her to lead the way, and followed her toward the door.
