Two days later, Felicity arrived home to find a box waiting on her doorstep. She smiled as she recognized the handwriting and carried it into her kitchen. She was excited as she peeled off the brown wrapper and opened the care package from her grandmother. Grandmama always knew when she needed a gift of encouragement or just a hug. In the box lay brownies. Not just any brownies, but "magical" ones, at least they had been to a sad little girl. When people around her had made her feel weird and ostracized for her gift, grandmama would whip up those delicious treats and Felicity would feel better and the world wasn't such a mean and harsh place anymore. Brownies were hugs and love.
Felicity had thought about calling her Grandmother the night she first met Oliver Queen, but she had never heard of anyone in her family ever encountering anyone who could infiltrate their psychic walls. Oliver was an anomaly.
Felicity called her Grandmother to say thank you and tell her about her week, but...again she felt compelled to keep Oliver and his effect on her, private. She couldn't explain it, but it was an odd protective feeling which made no sense. It's not like her Grandmother would force her to stop seeing him or ridicule Oliver for seeking treatment. It was just...he was a mystery Felicity wanted to solve. He was her mystery. He didn't scare her or make her feel uncomfortable. What he made her feel was the...exact opposite. She didn't want to overanalyze why, but if she were to guess, she'd say she was developing a soft spot for him.
After saying goodnight, Felicity settled down to read through Oliver's medical records. She knew he was skeptical of her Empathic abilities, but he was willing to try therapy again and with her. She had been surprised and pleased at his decision. His acceptance, on whatever level, of her gift and its use in therapy, said a lot about the person he was.
She sat in her living room with a glass of wine in hand as she opened her iPad and the electronic files compiled by his former doctors. Words like PTSD, bilateral injuries, ruptured eardrum, facial fractures, anxiety and chronic fatigue floated around her mind as she took in the extent of his trauma. After reading through his records twice, she sat back to sip at the last of her wine amazed at the man she knew today.
Oliver had never once talked to his doctors about what he had experienced. Never. He had lived two years holding the details within himself.
The extent of his physical injuries screamed abuse and terror. The horrors he must carry, made Felicity even more determined to help him.
For him to get up every day and project to the world that everything was okay, that he was okay, reflected an incredible level of internal fortitude. A degree of strength and control that was communicated through his ability to build walls. Walls that kept his pain hidden and everyone out. She now understood how he could cut their connection so completely and so succinctly. He was made of iron and steel, forged from fire. A fire not of his choosing, but one he would survive if she had anything to do with it.
The necessities that drove Oliver to build his walls was very much like her own. Felicity had needed to protect herself from the onslaught of emotions all around her. Oliver felt he had to protect himself too and maybe not just from those around him, but from himself. But his walls sealed in pain that needed to be released. Otherwise, he would destroy himself.
Oliver worked out, dressed and had some breakfast before he had to admit he could no longer hold off going to his appointment with Dr. Smoak. He had spent the entire weekend struggling with the compulsion to keep the status quo. That's how it went, back and forth all weekend. He was still dealing with his indecision that morning. He had two years of learning "tricks" to deal with his issues. He knew how to manage his pain. Emotional avoidance and physical exercise. Every day for two years, avoidance and exercise. It had become a way of life till he was forced to acknowledge he was hurting himself and the people who cared for him. When was the last time he took the initiative and hugged one of them or made them laugh with one of his lame old jokes? He knew he could never be the man he was three years ago, but he missed that person.
He had a support system in his family and friends that he would always be thankful for. He wanted to be able to show them how grateful he was, but he was just so afraid to go back into the darkness. Devoid of light and thick as quicksand, he had fought against it two years ago and it had won. Did he have the strength to win this time?
Maybe this time Dr. Smoak would make the difference. His lips curved into a small smile as he thought about their meeting. She had made him forget about everything that hurt. He better get going if he wanted to be on time.
"Okay, you can do this." He said to himself as he left his apartment.
They sat in silence for a good 15 minutes. Felicity allowed her gift to reach out as she usually did during sessions. She could see no aura nor feel any of what Oliver was internalizing. His walls were intact.
Oliver sat reflecting on the comfortable quiet in the room. He seldom sat still for any reason. To stop, was to give his demons time to be mischievous. Right now, in this small corner of his life, with this woman who made his heart beat a little faster with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and glasses on her nose, he felt...safe.
Could he control his demons? He needed to try. With her beside him, he could try and face down a memory today.
"Mr. Queen?"
"Yes, Dr. Smoak,"
"Please, call me Felicity. What would you like to talk about today?"
"Alright, Felicity." He said it like he was savoring each syllable, his voice breathy and deep. Hearing her name on his lips for the first time sent a shiver of awareness across Felicity's skin.
"My name is Oliver."
"Oliver. Would you like to start at the beginning?"
The beginning, when did it really start he mused. It certainly never ended... alright Oliver, you're here for a reason, be brave he told himself. Felicity will be with you. Fe-li-ci-ty. He liked her name.
He wouldn't be alone as he walked back into the madness. He focused entirely on her, the bright colors that she wore, the silky blonde of her hair and especially the vibrant blue of her eyes. Yes, the vibrant blue of her eyes.
"I'm not a fan of rain." He said as he breathed through the first wave of agony the subject produced.
"Rain?" Felicity asked softly as she begun to see the smallest pulse of turbulent purple appear around him. She froze, not wanting to distract him as he finally let go. Dark, thick pain seared through her as she sat as still as she could. She held onto her chair trying to stay grounded.
"Yes, rain…" He repeated as he looked at her, never breaking eye contact, holding onto their connection. Holding on as tightly as possible as he started to speak...
The feeling of rain hitting the ground, splattering across his face and soaking the front of his clothes, woke Oliver to the sound of people nearby. He tried to move only to find he was gagged and hogtied, sharp needles of pain radiated through his body as he tried to look around. He had to rest his cheek on the wet floor of what looked to be a makeshift cage as his neck grew tired after a few attempts to turn himself on his side.
Dad, Diggle and the others.…he didn't see them anywhere. He tried to take an accounting of his injuries. As far as he could tell he was badly bruised from the car overturning and the attack.
Black combat boots walked into view and stopped by his face. All Oliver could see was the bottom of camouflage pants tucked into the dirt encrusted boots. The owner crouched down to look Oliver in the eye. A weathered face of a hardened man, a rifle slung over his back, looked Oliver over. He looked his fill of Oliver's bloodied shirt, torn pants and bare feet, undisguised disgust showing. "You mean nothing to me, Queen. You're here to make me some money. A means to an end. It's too bad about your father. I wanted both of you, but he's dead."
No, no, Oliver must have misheard. His father couldn't be dead.
Nooooo, Oliver howled internally. His disbelief and pain seeping into full fledged screams.
"Noouhhhh," Oliver screamed through the dirty cloth tied around his mouth as he struggled against his bindings to get at the man. "Noouhhh."
"Shut the fuck up!" The man roared as he stood and pulled his rifle off his shoulder and pointed the barrel through the bars directly at Oliver's face. The tears streaming down Oliver's cheeks made the man go in and out of focus. "I told you to shut up!" He yelled before the rifle barrel hit Oliver on the head causing him to blackout.