A/N - Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! What a lovely welcome to the site! I truly appreciate you guys reading and commenting and favoriting the story! For those of you who wanted some explanation to the events that happened in the last chapter with the Bratva, hopefully this chapter will provide that! As always, please let me know what you think! I love to hear your comments and thoughts! Thanks again! :)
By the time they reached their suite, Felicity could think of nothing else besides getting out of the clothes she wore and into the shower. The feeling of those men's hands on her body seemed burned into her skin and she desperately needed to try and wash those sensations away.
She'd discarded her purse and sweater by the time she was halfway across the living room area, heading to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Her hands scrabbled in the satiny fabric of her dress, trying to reach the zipper that seemed just out her reach. The trembling didn't help and a strangled sob was working it's way up from her chest when warm, steady hands closed around hers and stilled them.
Pulling her hands away from the zipper, Oliver gently undid the clasp at the top and slowly slid it down.
The cool air hit her overheated flesh and goosebumps rose on her skin. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the thin material and she was surprised to find that his touch seemed to make her forget the rougher hands of the Bratva men.
Respecting her privacy, he held the bottom part of her dress shut until she could reach behind and grasp it herself, turning with a deep breath.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and she saw the deep concern in his eyes.
"Go...take a shower, change," he whispered and she was taken aback at the softness in his voice.
His hand reached towards her as if to cup her face but dropped to her shoulder instead, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she couldn't stop the tear that slipped down her cheek.
Guilt flashed through his blue eyes as he tracked the tear down her face. She bit her bottom lip and nodded before turning and quickly walking to her room, not stopping until she was in the huge bathroom.
The dress fell to her feet in a puddle on the floor. She picked it up and stared at it. She'd loved it the first time she'd spotted it in a little boutique she sometimes passed on her way to her favorite coffee shop right around the corner from her apartment. But now all she saw when she looked at the blue material was the feeling of being grabbed and dragged from the car, hands traveling unwanted all over her and the cold metal of a gun barrel held at her head. A shiver ran through her from her hair to her toes and she walked over and dropped the garment into the silver-plated trash can, biting back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
The jacuzzi looked too inviting to pass up, and she quickly read the directions before turning it on and filling it.
She scrubbed the make-up from her face as she waited, the washcloth fluffier than most of her robes at home. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she saw the blossom of bruises beginning to form on her upper arms.
Gulping air into her lungs, she turned abruptly from her tear-streaked reflection and tried to fight off the tide of emotions rising within her.
Skimming out of her underwear, she climbed the granite stairs and slipped into the jacuzzi. The moment her muscles were finally surrounded by the heated water and the steady pulse of jets, they began to relax and ease. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the water wash away the memories of the night.
The next thing she knew, a voice was gently calling her name. It was warm and soothing and she turned her face towards the sound and hummed in response.
"Hey," the voice breathed, right next to her head, and she realized it was Oliver.
Her eyes flew open and she almost jerked up, but a warm hand on her bare shoulder steadied her and kept her under the cover of the jets and water. His eyes were firmly planted on her face, but she could see the slight twitch of his jaw.
"Oliver," she gasped, "What are you doing?"
"You've been in here for 45 minutes," he tried to explain, pupils wide as his spoke. "I was worried…"
Lifting her hands out of the water, she noticed her fingers had started to wrinkle and she shook her head.
"I didn't realize…"
Her voice was off and she took a deep breath and blew it out. Her emotions were ragged and fraying at the edges; her control slipping at being in such an intimate setting with Oliver staring at her with such concern. His hand began to pull away from her shoulder and she thought he was going to removed it completely but instead, he brushed a few stray hairs away from her face, his thumb ghosting over the very place the gun had been held to her temple.
As if his touch could somehow erase that memory, she leaned into his hand, turning her head towards him as her eyes drifted shut.
She heard him release a short breath. Then his thumb moved again and she realized he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was touching her. With circular motions, he gently eased away those memories replacing them with feelings of heat and comfort - the calloused pad of his finger sending tendrils of warmth and healing throughout her body.
Almost out of habit, Felicity reached up and grasped on to his wrist, never opening her eyes - scared of what he might see if she did. Her fingers curled around his skin, thumb finding his pulse point and noticing the slightly elevated rate. She felt him still for a moment before his hand dropped from her forehead and gentle fingers skimmed up her forearm. Surprised, her eyes flew open and she saw the unhidden concern and guilt splashed over his face. His brows knitted together in pain as he traced his fingers over her arm.
Looking down, she saw what had him so upset. Bruises, in the form of handprints, dotted her arms and she let out a slight gasp. She'd almost forgotten about the men's hard grip as he dragged her from the car.
Oliver's fingers ran up and down the mottled area and she felt the effect his touch was having upon her deep in her belly. Her eyes lifted to his face once more and she noted that the darkness in his eyes had only grown.
Lifting her other hand from the water, she trapped his fingers within her own. His gaze locked on hers, blue eyes heavy with yet another burden he was adding to his heart.
"Don't start with that," she told him sternly, her voice steadier than even she expected. "This wasn't your fault. You didn't do this."
"I didn't stop it either," he said softly, the words heavy in the air between them.
"it was my choice," she replied, "And I would do it again. Because we're a team and we work together."
He opened his mouth to protest, but Felicity shook her head. "You did stop them. You kept them from whatever they were going to do and that's what matters. I'm okay."
Her voice broke on those last two words and she watched as Oliver's head fell forward bring it dangerously close to her own.
"I'm okay and I'm safe because of you."
He inhaled deeply at that and his fingers tightened around hers.
She waited until he had his emotions in check and raised his head and then she gave him a soft smile.
He searched her face, eyes roving everywhere at once before placing his other hand on her shoulder.
"I ordered us something to eat. You should get out and dried off. It'll be here soon."
As if on cue, they heard a loud knock followed by a doorbell. Felicity frowned, not realizing doorbells even existed in hotels - but she guessed for a suite this size and grandeur, a doorbell was needed.
With one more glance in her direction, Oliver let his fingers slip from beneath hers as he rose and headed towards the door to his room.
As he was leaving, Felicity saw him frown when he walked by the trash can. With a quick tug, he held up her dress and glanced back at her. The same dress she'd loved so much but now only held memories she wanted to forget.
"I don't want it anymore," she whispered brokenly and Oliver blew out a short breath as if kicked in the gut and then nodded before letting it drop back into the trash, hurrying through her door as the knocking grew more persistent.
Once he was gone, she climbed out of the jacuzzi and toweled herself off before wrapping the plush material around her body.
Padding into her room, she opened her bag and pulled out a pair of leggings and the shirt she usually slept in.
Her body much more relaxed, she returned to the bathroom to fix her hair and brush her teeth. Without the warmth of the jacuzzi water, she shivered in the large, empty bathroom. As she rinsed her mouth, her eyes caught sight of Oliver's black pullover that he'd left in there from earlier today. She only hesitated for a moment, before grabbing it and slipping it on over her t-shirt, Oliver's scent engulfing her.
The sleeves hung past her hands and she twisted her fingers in the soft fabric as she walked back into the main rooms.
She heard Oliver at the door talking to someone before he suddenly reappeared alone.
His eyes cut over her sharply, and she reached up and readjusted her glasses before opening her mouth to explain.
The words died in her throat as she saw the look of what she could only describe as possessiveness flash in his blue eyes. The heat curled within her sharply as he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.
"Food's on the table," he finally said, his voice low, washing over her with a warmth she wasn't expecting.
The food looked amazing, but Felicity hardly felt hungry. She picked at what was on her plate until Oliver reached across and laid a hand at her wrist.
Felicity sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected contact before looking up at him.
"You need to eat," he said worriedly.
His fingers rubbed against the sensitive skin of her wrist where she'd pulled back the sleeve of his pullover.
When she nodded, he released her hand and returned to eating his own food.
"I set up a search based on the information I got tonight," his voice eventually cut through the silence. "I'll know more tomorrow after they've talked to their contacts. But Deadshot is definitely in town. They just don't know where yet."
Felicity felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. Diggle. She'd completely forgotten about everything. After they'd returned to the hotel, she was so preoccupied by getting out of those clothes and cleaning any remnants from the night off her body, she'd lost sight of their actual reason for going to the Bratva in the first place.
"Oh!" Felicity gasped, her chair scraping across the wooden floor as she stood. "I completely forgot. How could I forget? What is wrong with me? Diggle. We've lost so much time! I should have been running those searches and looking for him. What if something horrible has happened to him and I was sitting in the bathtub and now I'm eating this amazing dinner and Digg, he's just out there…"
In the middle of her rant, she'd rounded the table and started for her bag where she figured her tablet should be - she vaguely remembered Oliver grabbing it off the floor of the car and sticking it in there before they came up to the suite.
Oliver was in front of her before she could get past him - his body blocking her from her destination. Her hands landed solidly on his chest, ready to push him out of her way until she tried and got absolutely nowhere.
Warm fingers closed over hers where they rested on his chest and he squeezed them to get her attention.
Her eyes flew to his and waited for him to move so she could start working, but he didn't. Instead, he just looked at her with a mixture of concern and calmness.
"Felicity." His voice was loud and she realized it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "Trust me. There's nothing we can do yet. All I did was start a facial recognition search for Deadshot like you did for Diggle. The rest of the information should come tomorrow. Diggle will be fine. We'll find him."
Pressing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath and let his words wash over her before finally nodding.
"Okay," she whispered, and then she felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her around and leading her back to her chair.
"Now, finish eating," he commanded gently.
The rest of dinner was spent in comfortable silence, and Felicity excused herself to the bathroom when they were done.
When she returned, she found Oliver on one of the expansive couches, staring out of the large window, the city lights glittering in the night.
His brows were drawn together in contemplation. She knew that face. It was his over-thinking things and dwelling-on-the-past-face.
With quiet steps, she came around the back of the couch and sank down on the cushions next to him, leaving enough room in between them so they weren't touching. Their earlier charged moments in the bathroom were still fresh in her mind and Felicity knew they were walking a very thin line. She wasn't sure either of them was ready to cross it just yet. Or if he even wanted to cross it.
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before breaking the silence and pulling him from his thoughts, asking him a question she'd been wondering since they'd left the factory that night.
"What happened tonight?"
She hated how small her voice sounded, but she was unsure of how to broach this subject and finally decided the only way to do it was head on.
Oliver blinked, turning his head to look at her before letting out a long sigh. He tipped his head back and leaned it against the couch, his hands tightening against the sweatpants he'd changed into at some point in the evening.
She didn't have to explain any more. She knew he understood what she was asking.
"When they brought you in," he began and she saw his adam's apple bob up and down at the memory. She felt a shiver run through her as well.
"When they brought you in, they were talking about finding a prize...something they could have - as if you were a piece of furniture," Oliver explained, his voice tight and Felicity felt her stomach drop at the thought. "Within the Bratva, actions speak louder than words. I knew I had to make them believe you were already spoken for - that you were…imine."
He almost growled the last word and Felicity's stomach swooped, a mixture of the confirmation of what they had wanted from her and Oliver's deep voice as he said that word.
"Just saying you were with me wouldn't be enough. They wanted proof - action. It's why I had to...do what I did."
Oliver's head finally lifted from the back of the couch and he turned dark blue eyes on her. A small gasp left her lips and she nodded in understanding, trying to tell him without words that she didn't fault him for what he'd done. She was actually quite thankful.
"Thank you," she finally whispered, and Oliver shook his head.
But before he could launch into another guilt-fest, she reached out her hand and placed it over his chest where she knew the Bratva tattoo was inked into his skin. Light fingers traced the shape she'd long ago memorized - along with the rest of the tattoos and scars that littered his torso.
Oliver sucked in a deep breath at her touch, eventually reaching a hand up and clasping hers, halting her movement.
Feeling those sudden sparks shoot through her, she quickly pulled her hand away, knowing if she kept it there, under his touch, she might do something stupid.
Her hands shook as she raised them to brush the unkempt strands out of her face, tangling her fingers in her blonde locks and pulling them back off her neck, wishing she had a ponytail holder.
She let out a sharp gasp his when her fingers got stuck and pulled a little too hard in one spot.
A sudden flash of a large meaty hand reaching for her as she tried to scramble away from him, knotting in her hair and yanking her viciously backwards caused her eyes to fly open, tears stinging them as she tried to pull oxygen into her lungs.
Oliver closed the space between them in milliseconds, his hands finding hers as he silently pleaded with her to talk to him.
Her throat got clogged up as that stark fear she'd felt when she'd been dragged from the car and held by strange, rough hands assaulted her mind.
"Oliver?" she cried softly, eyes blinking open and searching wildly for his.
When she found them, they were staring at her with such worry and care that she felt her close rein on her emotions bend and then break.
Tears began to slip down her cheeks as a sob tore from her throat.
"I thought...I thought they were going to take me and I'd never see you again...I thought they were going to…" she couldn't finish the sentence, and then Oliver's hands tugged her forward and she collapsed against him.
Her arms wound around his torso and she clung to him tightly. He hushed her as he drew her completely against him, one hand rubbing circles at the base of her neck while the other banded about her waist.
"And then I saw you and I just felt safe even though someone else's hands were on me and there was a gun, I just...just seeing you…" the muffled words spilled out of her mouth, needing to be said.
She heard the rush of air that left his lungs and suddenly she was being lifted as he pulled her on to his lap and leaned them back. Her tears soaked through Oliver's grey t-shirt as she expelled all of her fear and terror from that night.
Oliver held her, hands running in circles over her back and up into her hair. He found that tender spot on her head, and his fingers lightly caressed it as her sobs slowly ebbed.
The gentle repetitive motion of Oliver's hands, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear and the events of the day and night began to catch up to her. Her eyelids grew heavy and she began to feel the pull of sleep.
Trying to mumble something to Oliver, he just hushed her once more and tightened his hold on her, and she let herself drift off to sleep, content and safe in the warmth of his arms.
She slept fitfully, in that place between asleep and awake. At one point, she remembered being lifted, strong arms and warmth surrounding her as she was carried. Instead of letting herself wake completely, she just turned into the solidness next to her head and let the feeling of safety lull her back into a deeper sleep.
There were a few times that the bad dreams pulled at the edges of her mind, shadows of men and hands grabbing at her that made her cry out, whimpering in her sleep until a hand reached out and twined with hers, warm fingers rubbing soft patterns over her skin. Other times that same hand would ghost across her forehead and down over her hair and she'd turn into the touch, breathing out a deep sigh before her mind went blissfully blank, the nightmares chased away.
When she woke, eyes fluttering open, sunlight filtered through the curtains. Felicity blinked a few times, until she remembered where she was and everything from the night before came rushing back to her.
As her eyes focused, she found Oliver laying on his side next to her. There was a pressure on her fingers and she glanced down to find their hands interlocked. Her eyes widened as she became aware that she was most definitely not in her room. The layout was different, everything mirrored.
Oliver lay on top of the duvet, still dressed in his sweats and gray t-shirt from the night before. Felicity found herself tucked among the plush sheets, only the hand that lay between them out from under the covers.
His face was only inches from hers and she could see the individual stubble along his jawline. Her fingers itched with the sudden desire to reach out and feel it, scrape her nails through it, and see how he would react. The image caused heat to spread through her belly and she sucked in a deep breath to try and calm her rapid heartbeat.
Her mind drifted to why exactly she was even in his room in the first place. She remembered falling asleep on the couch, and she flushed when she recalled how she'd been firmly curled in his lap when she had.
To her surprise, it wasn't awkward to wake beside him. In fact, she found transfixed by his face as he slept. There was a peace that was missing during his waking hours. And while she knew he often faced his own demons and nightmares in his sleep, moments like these provided a respite from the constant guilt and pain he carried on his shoulders. He'd been through so much - most of which she knew nothing about - she only knew what he let her see and know. But she wouldn't pressure him for more. All she could do was be there - by his side - for when he was ready to talk, and hope that he would get to that point before the fire inside him burned out of control.
Without realizing it, her fingers had started tracing figure eights along his knuckles, flowing back and forth over the roughened skin. His breathing was still deep and even and she was surprised he hadn't woken when she had. There was a swell of something in her chest at the idea he trusted her enough to sleep with her beside him.
A very deep part of her wanted to scoot closer to him, feel his body pressed against hers. She'd realized that it was his touch that had calmed where during the night when the nightmares threatened to overtake her. She'd turned towards him at some point, and if it hadn't been for the blankets, she wondered if she would have sought his warmth, his whole person, for that comfort. If he'd been able to chase away the ghosts by just his touch, then she wondered how she would sleep with his arms wrapped completely around her - her body pressed into the curve of his.
Blinking, she took a steadying breath and tried to rid herself of those dangerous thoughts. Thinking about them only made her heart want them more and she couldn't afford to want those things, not when she was sure Oliver did not feel the same way.
Self-preservation had her closing her eyes and slipping her hand from his grip.
She watched as Oliver shifted in his sleep and wondered if he could feel the loss of her touch as his hand spanned the space left between them as if searching her out.
The thought struck her hard and strong - that maybe he craved her touch as much as she wanted his...
The loud knocking at the door drew her attention abruptly away from Oliver, and she groaned softly.
When it didn't stop, she slowly dragged herself from the warmth of the bed and padded out of the bedroom, Oliver stirring slightly as she left.
It didn't cross her mind that she probably shouldn't be answering the door to Oliver Queen's suite until she found herself standing in front of a very annoyed and frowning Isabel Rochev.
Isabel's eyes cut over her quickly and Felicity saw one perfectly manicured eyebrow rise to her hairline.
Felicity's eyes widened as she realized what she must look like, freshly woken dressed in leggings and Oliver's pullover.
"Late night?" Isabel bit out just as she breezed past Felicity into the suite without being invited.
Pressing her lips together, Felicity felt her ire rising.
Just then, a very sleepy Oliver walked out of the bedroom, scrubbing a hand over his mussed hair.
"Felicity? Everything okay...you weren't in bed when..." His voice trailed off as he noticed Isabel was looking at him with an air of unimpressed annoyance.
To Felicity's shock, Oliver looked taken aback and when it took a moment longer than usual to get his normal business mask in place, she spoke up, everything coming to a head.
"Can we help you?" She asked with a false cheerfulness that she knew Isabel could see right through.
Isabel cleared her throat and tilted her head to study Felicity which only added to her annoyance.
The woman wasn't even supposed to be here. They'd come here for one reason and one reason only. To find Digg. And her presence was making things harder than they already were.
As she held the other woman's gaze, Felicity knew there was nothing she could say or do to convince Isabel that she and Oliver weren't sleeping together, especially not after finding them like this so early in the morning. With a resigned sigh, she took a deep breath and decided she'd stop trying to convince her and instead focus on getting rid of her so she and Oliver could do what they'd originally come to Moscow to do - bring Digg home.
"I was stopping by to make sure the lunch with the board is still scheduled for noon, and to relay to you that Stellmoor has asked me to check in with our offices here in Moscow, so I will be gone the rest of the day." Her tone was clipped as she glanced disapprovingly between the two of them. "But I see you two have been busy so I'll just let you get back to...that."
Felicity saw Oliver's jaw tense and she took a step forward so she was toe to toe with Isabel, but before she could speak the other woman added. "Really, Mr. Queen, I thought you were trying to improve your image. But you're still just a boy pretending to be a CEO."
A fierce need to protect Oliver rose within her but she knew that no matter what she said, it wouldn't do any good.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Oliver cross the floor and come closer, not close enough to draw more assumptions, but enough to be in her line of vision so that she knew he was there.
With a tired sigh, Felicity just shook her head, challenging Isabel with unspoken words and showing that she wasn't going to cower in the corner. She remained unmoving, silently showing her place and where he loyalties lay.
"I'll make sure to email you if anything changes," Felicity replied with more professionalism than Isabel was showing.
She gave them one last lingering glance and then moved to the door, her heels clacking against the hard wood floors.
Once the door was shut behind her, Felicity sagged in relief as she felt Oliver step closer.
"Felicity..." She knew that voice.
"It doesn't matter, Oliver," she told him softly. "No matter what either of us said, it wasn't going to make any difference. She's going to believe what she wants to believe. But she's wrong about you. She doesn't even know you, or me - not that she'd know me because I'm just an IT girl turned Executive Assistant - but she's making assumptions and that makes me mad, but maybe its for the best and I don't even know why I'm still talking, I'm going to stop..."
She drew in a long breath as she looked up into Oliver's blue eyes and saw that hint of lightness they held whenever she went on one of her rambles.
"First of all, you're not just an 'IT girl turned Executive Assistant'," his tone was serious and held far greater meaning that either of them were ready to acknowledge, "and, secondly, she can think whatever she wants - her underestimation of me might come in handy."
Felicity nodded in agreement, the thought having crossed her mind as well.
Suddenly, all alone again, the events of last night and this morning came rushing back to her. She shifted nervously on her feet, her hands playing with the edges of his pullover that she still wore.
When she yawned, it seemed to break the silence in the room, and he spoke.
"How did you sleep?" He posed it as a question, but when her gaze flew to his, she could see he knew the answer without her having to say anything.
She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face, "Okay," she finally replied, and then motioned towards the door. "I'm sorry if I woke you, and for, you know, falling asleep on you last night, although that doesn't really explain why I ended up in your bed - not that I'm complaining - and I really didn't mean to say that outloud..."
Oliver took three steps forward, closing the distance between them, his sudden proximity halting her words mid-sentence.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "And I could tell you weren't sleeping well. I just wanted to keep an eye on you. I know what it's like to have nightmares pull you under. Sometimes I wish I had someone there to reach out and push back the dark."
His admission surprised her, and she felt her heart clench in her chest. Allowing people in was not easy for Oliver - she knew the magnitude of it all. He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck apprehensively as if worried his explanation wouldn't be enough for her.
Her stomach flipped at his words and the concern that was evident in his tone. Felicity didn't think, she just reacted, stepping forward and closing the small gap left between them as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned for her forehead against his chest.
"Thank you," she whispered over his heart, and she felt the muscles twitch beneath her touch.
His arms wrapped solidly around her, and she let herself enjoy the feeling for a moment longer before stepping back and out of his grasp.
The look of surprise mixed with something she almost thought resembled longing flashed in his eyes before she ducked to the side and hurried over toward the kitchen area.
She was about to ask about breakfast when the doorbell rang again. Her eyes flew to his in question - dreading another visit from Isabel so soon.
He threw her a smile as he headed towards the door. "I ordered breakfast last night," he explained and she heaved a sigh of relief while her stomach rumbled in happiness.