I was the most elegant
loneliness, the most exquisite
creature among all of the
unloved.
Caitlyn Siehl, Quite Death
Before she left him, Malcolm gave Felicity 'permission' see him. Permission…
Felicity didn't know where to find Oliver though, so despite the fact that she couldn't possibly give the tiniest fuck about Merlyn's permission, she did need some kind of help with direction so in the end, whether she liked it or not, she had to fold to Malcolm's 'escort': a woman about Felicity's own height, with an expressionless face and wide, velvety dark eyes. Felicity wasn't going anywhere without taking Thea with her though, or the younger Queen would throw a fit. But when Felicity got back to her room, Thea was still asleep. Digg hadn't left her side.
He tried to though, when Felicity explained where she was going.
"Digg…"
"I'm coming with you, Felicity. It's as simple as that."
She sighed. "He won't hurt me."
Digg's face was a study in unimpressed, but beneath that there was very real anger.
"He stood by while his sister was drugged and you were knocked unconscious," he stepped a bit closer, his eyes became kinder, his voice softer. "Whoever that was, it's not the man you married anymore, Felicity."
She looked away.
She had never been able to stand people looking at her like she was something wounded. Ironic that he would look at her that way now, when he never had before.
"That's not why he won't hurt me. Merlyn needs me alive, so that's how he'll keep me." She grimaced. "He was nice enough to point that out before I left."
John took a moment to think about that. When he spoke again, he sounded almost severe.
"What did he tell you?"
Felicity nodded. "He told me why we're here."
"We already knew that."
"Not really, though." Guilt stung hard, then. "He wanted… me here, one way or another. So here we are."
"Are you telling me that Malcolm Merlyn is the reason…" Digg's eyes widened. "Why would he go through all that trouble? That doesn't make a lick of sense!"
Felicity took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She felt the sting of tears, but held it back.
"It does when you know who Malcolm is. He loves framing people into doing things they hate doing. He gets off on it."
"And what does he want from you?"
When Felicity didn't answer immediately, Digg gently took her by the shoulders, so that she could look him in the eyes again. She did.
"You haven't promised him anything, have you Felicity?"
She didn't answer that either. His fingers tightened, his worry so obvious it transcended words and just for a moment, as he understood the situation. Then he let go.
He looked almost as scared as he was angry.
"I thought you knew better than to make deals with the Devil." He said as he stated pacing.
"He wasn't exactly asking Digg. And I want something in return. This is the only way to get it."
"For god's sake, Felicity! You don't even know if there is anything in Oliver left to save anymore."
Felicity raised her chin minutely. It was enough to remind Diggle that she was one of the most stubborn people he had ever met.
"Does that matter John?" She asked, the softness of her voice so unlike the hard look in her eyes. "If it were Lyla - or Andy… would that make any kind of difference?"
It was hit below the belt to bring his brother into this, and they both knew it, but Felicity's eyes on him were unflinching. John stopped pacing, and released a long breath. His shoulders slumped in defeat.
"No, I guess it wouldn't."
x
The wooden doors in front of which Malcolm's sentinel directed her to looked utterly unremarkable. Felicity had memorized the route she'd taken from Thea's room to get in front of them. She had counted every step and turn and no that she was here she knew she could find this door again without anyone leading her to it.
Much good may it do her.
Felicity stood in front of that door longer than it would be thought rational But her thoughts wouldn't start making sense no matter how long she stood there, so she just raised her fist and knocked.
There was such silence on the other side and for so long, that Felicity started to think this had been for nothing. She hadn't even figured out if she was relieved of disappointed – when, without the smallest sound to prepare her for it, the door was pulled open… and there he was.
She almost took a step backwards. Still couldn't quite believe it.
He looked taller, from this close. Like he inexplicably took more room than he should. Larger than life.
(Bigger than death too, apparently.)
Had she forgotten him? Forgotten the lines of his face and that was the reason why he seemed like such a different man.
Or was it simpler? Was it that he'd just changed?
His eyes glanced over her as if she were a stranger; spoke in Arabic to the woman behind her instead. (He sounded different too. His voice rougher, like he hadn't used it in so long…) His words flew directly over Felicity's head. The woman's response made his lips pres together even harder, a muscle jumping right there at the corner of his jaw the way it used to when he was annoyed.
Her heart was beating at the tips of her fingers. For a moment she thought of leaving, but she knew she wouldn't.
She couldn't.
Felicity barely felt her 'escort' leave. She had eyes only for his eyes, and when they moved from somewhere above her left shoulder to her own, she almost took a step back from the weight of that stare. From how unreal it felt, still. It was so strange to have him look at her like she was just anyone at his door. She didn't feel like he was just anyone.
But then again she wasn't feeling much of anything, really. She felt like she was made of water and would just left right into the floor and through the cracks of the stones that paved it. More than anything she wanted to reach out and see if her fingers would just go through him or not.
He spoke to her in that foreign language too. It sounded lovely, but Felicity had no idea what he'd just said.
"I don't speak Arabic." She didn't recognize her own voice, hardly felt her lips moving.
He said nothing in return, just stood there without blinking and without expression. But he didn't close the door on her face either.
Felicity squared her shoulders.
"May I come in?"
It was impossible to know what he was thinking. His face was a blank slate and the light from the torches on the wall had a way of obscuring the dips of someone's face, sharpening the angles and deepening the shadows. He stood so straight though, so tense.
Oliver only used to be this tense when he was extremely uncomfortable, or threatened.
Felicity took stock of herself, all 5.5 feet and 117 pounds of herself, and measured it against him. What kind of threat could she be to him?
In the end he didn't say anything. Just took a small step backwards to let her through the door and once she was inside his room, he closed the heavy wooden thing behind her without a sound.
His room looked wide, but maybe it felt that way because there was so little in it, or because the light from the few lit candles left more than one corner swathed in darkness. A bed – unmade, the sheets on top of it such a mess that Felicity's heart jumped and she had to closed her eyes and take a steadying breath. A desk, two chairs, some candles and a rug. To call it spartan would have been an overstatement.
He walked away from her, grabbed one of the wooden chairs and pulled it out. He stood there, then, tall and pale even by candlelight and alive, as if he was waiting for her to take a seat. Felicity didn't know what to do. She had no idea. Her mind had been carpet-bombed, it stood silent.
Or buzzing as a beehive, every thought too far for her to reach and make sense of. Too far.
Like him.
So real, though. Senseless; deathless. But real.
It seemed that she stood by the door forever, not knowing how to swim through this moment without drowning. And drowning felt very real in that moment – the water was already at her chin. Felicity had to tilt her head back for every precious breath. She stared at him openly and he looked back, expression blank as a clean sheet of paper. But then …she saw him shuffle on his feet, caught sight of the way he rubbed his fingers and his thumbs together, before curling his hands into tight fists.
Felicity shook her head and looked up, blinking fast. This was not the time for tears.
She cleared her throat, licked her dry lips. It didn't help.
"Oliver?"
He didn't react to his own name now anymore than he had reacted when Thea had yelled it. She was barely… he kept staring at her and it was like looking at a ghost.
She didn't know much about the League. They were good at hiding and they were good at killing – that was the extent of her information. But Felicity looked at Oliver's broad shoulders, the faint outline of a scar curling behind his ear; took in the dark circles under his eyes like bruises, his bloodless lips… She had combed the fringes of ARGUS long enough know what terror looked like when it was done onto another person. And what it took to build people capable of those things the League did.
That made her afraid. Afraid for him.
And angry enough to really want to raze this mountain to the ground after all, once she was done.
And yet, for all her violence, she felt as frail as a dry leaf: on touch and she'd crumble. His name was, again, the first word to make it out of her mouth. Another link in the chain that was the litany in her head.
"Oliver… It's Felicity, remember?" in the silence that followed her words, Felicity took a step forward. "Oliver…"
Not a blink from him. Nothing. It was impossible that the only she knew would act this way. She didn't want to give Malcolm any credence, but his 'some pieces of him might have… faded' was starting to look like more and more probable.
"How did you end up here? Do you remember that? What about Thea, do you remember her? Tommy, Moira. Your father?" He stood there and she didn't know what to say anymore. "That's a no, huh?"
What happened to you…
He wouldn't answer that either.
Her vision got blurry and then cleared again. She felt the sting of her tears when the salt of them bet the scraps on her left cheek. That whole side of her face throbbed but she felt so detached from it. She felt removed from her own self.
Maybe that was why the words after that came easier.
Let's play pretend…
"My name is Felicity Smoak. We…" what? What would follow that? "We we friends, once. The girl you saw earlier is Thea Queen. …Your sister."
No reaction at all. Nothing.
Fine. Fine, she could deal with this. She could there were no memories between them. About them.
Memories. Another name for ghosts and their awful hunger[1].
"It doesn't matter." She said then, dismissive (lies always left a bitter taste in her mouth). Which part didn't matter was unclear even to her. "I… we all thought you were dead, but you're not. And now we're here."
Though what was starting to freak he rout was the unblinking was he looked at her and how his face was so unfamiliar, even though it was his. But it was easier to talk to him that way.
"What happened before this moment doesn't matter. Neither you nor I can change it. God, I wish I could…" her voice shook, but Felicity pressed her teeth together and took a deep breath to calm down. "The thing is, a long time ago I promised that that I'd look out for you, so that's what I'm here to do."
She might as well be talking to herself. But it was easier to be frustrated – to actually find a thread of emotion that made sense and hold on to it. "I'm here to do a job. As payment for that job, Merlyn will set you free from… from this place."
He raised his chin, eyes trained on her like a hawk – incapable of blinking. "Ra's al Ghul."
Felicity shook, a breath coming out of her unsteadily as if she'd been punched.
"What?"
"Ra's al Ghul is his name."
She balled her hands into fists. They were shaking. She was shaking. Anger. Straight from the gut, scything its way out. At him, herself, Merlyn and whoever the fuck came before him. She'd been accumulating anger and shoving it under the rug for the sake of survival since this whole things started. No more.
And anger helped. Felicity always solidified and focused when she was scared, when she was angry. When she was pushed. Her bones felt a little less like liquid now, with anger there to thread them into solidity.
"You're correcting my terminology? Really?"
The light was so dim in there. The candlelight barely touched half his café, the other half was deep in the shadows. She couldn't tell if he was frowning or if she as just imagining it.
"You cannot call Ra's by any other name."
"I don't give a fuck what his name is."
"You should." It sounded like a warning. "There are punishments in place for that kind of insolence."
Air evacuated her lungs to the point where she thought for a moment they would implode. But then she breathed again.
"'Insolence'." Felicity had never thought that would be a world Oliver would use. It sounded too much like something Malcolm might say. The thought made her teeth grind together. "Are you the one who's gonna act those punishments out?"
His lip twitched and he rolled his right shoulder.
What was it? Irritation? Discomfort? …A meaningless tick getting lost into translation once it passed through the lens of her wishful thinking.
"It is not my duty to enforce League procedure."
It chilled her how… untouched he seemed by the whole idea of it, when she felt shiver after shiver shaking her bones loose.
"Yeah? What is your duty."
"That is for the ears of Ra's al Ghul only."
"Fuck Ra's al Ghul." There wasn't even any heat behind it. His eyes narrowed one her as if he meant to pin her in place with them.
"Careful." He warned, low and threatening.
Fear was Felicity's reaction though. It stroked the coals of her seething anger. (her hope. Hope was a glutinous animal – every reaction from him fed it)
"Fuck being careful too."
Felicity took one step towards him and for the first time he reacted to her: he took a step back. She pursed her lips against the whimper that threatened to get out.
"Why should I anyway?" she knew that hope could gnaw with sharp teeth. It was why she had buried it. But it's bite now was vicious enough to forget fear and walk closer. "Why should I care? Why do you care?"
"Don't come any closer."
Felicity froze. It wasn't because he told her to – it was the spark of panic in his voice.
"Why not?" she couldn't breathe past the leash around her throat. A whisper was all she could manage. "Oliver…"
He shook his head minutely. His eyes gleamed in the semidarkness. "Oliver Queen is dead."
Fuck you!
The thought was so explosive in her head that she could barely contain it without screaming.
"Oliver Queen is standing right in front of me, you asshole."
"My name…"
"Do you know who I am?" A challenge now. She was talking too fast, trying to keep up with her thoughts shattering apart into new patterns.
"If you know who Oliver Queen is well enough to know he's dead then you must know who I am, right?" Felicity took another step towards him. If she reached out, she could touch him. She didn't try though. "Right?"
"Wrong."
"You're lying." She hissed through gritted teeth.
"You talk too much." He seemed almost surprised at it.
It could almost have been a laugh, that sound that escaped her, but it was too thick with tears for the name to fit.
"Yeah, we established that years ago." There was a lot she wanted to say, but only one thing mattered. "…I'm going to get you out of here, Oliver. I promise."
"That is not my name."
"I don't care." and she didn't. "I'll get you out. You! Whatever name you go by, these days."
"There is no out. There is no escape, and nothing holding me here but my own duty."
"Your duty is to me!" Felicity didn't mean to shout. She really didn't. she didn't mean to get all in his face either, hadn't thought she would have. She just… found herself standing there, seeing at him. "Your duty is to yourself."
"I have no self anymore, Felicity Smoak. It is a shadow and a thought that you're holding on to. You won't find what you want in me."
Felicity stepped back, dropped her face in her hands – than winced when she pressed against the tender and bruising side of her face.
She didn't understand what he was trying to do at all. In the end though, it was like she'd said to Digg before: it didn't matter.
"Nevertheless, I'm still going to get you out." She repeated, out loud this time. That was what mattered. "That was the deal I made. Your freedom was the price. What you do with it is your choice. Stay here. Or leave. Whatever you want."
He gave her a look that was almost exasperation. Almost familiar…
"You don't understand."
"So tell me. I'm smart, I'll get it." That was all she needed – that imperceptible softening of his voice that went straight to her heart without mercy, so familiar that she forgot and reached out.
Oliver flinched away, eyes wide as if she'd hurt him. Felicity stepped back almost as fast, just as startled.
"I'm sorry." The words were out before she'd even thought about it.
The look on his face…
She saw him mouth the word 'sorry' between pale lips, like he hadn't heard it in so long it no longer had any meaning to him. But when he looked at her again, his face was as void as the first moment he saw her.
"You are here because Ra's al Ghul wants you to be. I am here, because I was ordered to be. There is nothing beyond this." For the first time he stepped toward her and not the other way around, and Felicity froze. She thought she saw such sadness in his eyes (eyes she knew so well and never thought she'd see again) but she didn't feel like she could trust her eyes with him.
When he spoke again his voice was low, she had to staring to hear.
"Before he was Ra's, he was a Trickster. Magician. The recompense is not worth your toil, because that recompense does not exist."
Not worth it? What was he saying? Was this a riddle? Felicity frowned hard, thought it over.
"I think I'd rather judge that for myself, thank you." She finally said between gritted teeth. Still, dread was making a pit out of her stomach. "Ordered?"
"Yes."
"To do what."
"Speak with you."
She shook her head. Unbelievable. "Why?"
"I am your incentive."
He sounded so fucking detached… the sob that wanted to rise out of her soul choke in her throat. It was survival – every time she'd been in such pain that she'd thought she'd die of it, she'd survived by being stubborn.
"Doesn't you telling me that defeat the purpose?" Felicity tried for even, but couldn't quite keep the anger out of her voice.
"Ra's thinks not."
Felicity groaned her frustration out and started pacing. She wanted to roll into herself and cover all her soft places, but there was no covering from this. All she could do was own it, not.
"Well, good for him. I don't care." And she threw her hands out for good measure. "I don't give a shit!"
Oliver followed her progression with his eyes and a frown. "You are not very sensible."
"Never have been." She didn't even hesitate. Those kinds of answers used to make him smile, once. "Maybe you really don't remember me after all."
It wasn't because of a missing smile that that thought went past her lips. It was a sudden and insurmountable desolation she felt, that opened up the floor beneath her, shoving all her exhaustion on top of her at once. She was so tired of bleeding by her fingers, trying to hold on.
"I remember you mattered, once, to a man that is no more."
Felicity turned to him so fast she almost got whiplash "I don't believe you." She whispered it, as if it was a secret.
"And that is what you don't understand: you are far removed from the world you know. What you believe doesn't matter, here. What you want doesn't matter."
"What about what you want?" Felicity knew that she was on the verge of desperation, but she'd felt like she was walking blind into a labyrinth from the very first moment she saw him. She'd lost the thread – desperation now was appropriate. "Does that matter?"
Oliver seemed to straighten even further. "I am a member of the League. There is no wanting for those of my kind."
Felicity shook her head, set her jaw stubbornly, ready to fight him over this all night, but it didn't deter him.
"For your good, and the good of those you love, I advise you do as Ra's commands. And then leave in peace, if you wish to keep peace."
"First of all, it wasn't a command: we made a bargain." Though that was her own ego talking. "And secondly, methinks you're confusing peace with quiet there[2], and frankly, I've never been good at either."
And she was just wasting her time here anyway. Felicity turned and went for the door. "Thea is going to want to see you when she wakes up. Try not to tell her that her brother is dead, she's been through enough. And she might also just punch you in the face."
"Be careful, Felicity Smoak."
She scoffed. "Well, you always said you were 74% of my impulse control, so if you wanna nitpick, I haven't been careful in more than 5 years. One might even say that careless life-choices brought me here, so one could argue based on probability alone that that is not likely to change. How do I open this thing?"
She'd been staring at the complicated locks trying to figure out how to open them – failing. He walked to her and started opening them. Felicity didn't move. It was the closest he had voluntarily come to her. When she looked up, his face was close enough that she could see every groove carved there by god knew what kind of pain, and fresh tears stung her eyes.
She was so tired of crying.
Felicity didn't notice the open door. she noticed that Oliver looked up and kept staring at her face, maybe waiting for her to cross the threshold and get out. Noticed his eyes on hers, and then roaming, her hair, her cheeks, the scratches on her neck and the swollen side of her face, the cracked lip. His eyes seemed like dark glass from so close.
So close…
He didn't seem a stranger then. He seemed Oliver.
No it didn't matter what he said, what his warnings meant or even if they had been warnings and not her overreaching hope warping simple words. It didn't even matter if what he side was true and it wasn't worth it. He was alive and he was in trouble. Frankly, Felicity should have been more unsettled that that was enough to make her start planning fires to light on an unsuspecting world - but it did not.
She would never leave him in this alone. Not for hell or high water… or even under threat of becoming both. It should have stayed her hand, but it did not. She'd do whatever she had to do. That had always been her way.
[1] Eugene Gloria, from "Apple," My Favorite Warlord
[2][2] Avengers, Age of Ultron