Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Thanks to everyone for their encouraging reviews! I'm typically a slow writer, but the reviews are so encouraging and thoughtful, I find myself hard pressed to leave my computer ;)
Thanks again!
Donna Lynn: Thank you so, so much for your reviews and kind words! I do struggle to balance out the chapters, and I will defintely try to add more words to each one before wrapping them up. Thanks for the suggestion. And yes, Diggle and Oliver will be back soon. ;)
Chapter Seven
It had been two days since Slade's attack on Felicity, and she'd yet to leave her apartment. She had to come to terms with what had happened and how she would face Oliver, and everyone else for that matter. Slade's note had wormed itself inside of her like a disease and she couldn't get it out of her head.
He'll find out.
The thought of Oliver finding out haunted her. Would he realize something was different about her when she saw him again? Would she be different around him?
Her head was a mess and she didn't know how to deal with any of this. Every time she looked into a mirror she saw the weak woman that Slade had made her out to be.
She called Oliver a few hours after she had left the hospital, insisting that she was too sick to come into Queen Consolidated or the foundry that day. He had been frustrated and insistent that she at least come to the foundry that night, but when he heard the tremble in her voice, he let it go. Felicity felt guilty for not showing up, especially right now while Diggle still hadn't returned from his mission. But she was ill and that wasn't a lie.
She was sick with herself and what had happened to her in that warehouse; she was disgusted at having to keep this from Oliver, knowing that it would only make matters worse if he found out; but most importantly, she was so revolted by Slade Wilson that she didn't know how she could help Oliver track him down without purging at the sound of his name.
Felicity spent the most of her first day back in bed trying to sleep. She'd taken over the recommended dose of melatonin to aid her slumber, but she was still restless. Slade had taken over her daily thoughts as well as the ones in her subconscious; she couldn't escape him.
When she finally decided to get out of bed on the second day, she was still unprepared to face anyone. She sent Oliver a text, telling him that she had the flu and didn't want to risk giving it to him or anyone else while Slade was still at large. He relented easily, admitting that the long hours he'd subjected her to was the cause of her illness.
"Great, more guilt," she said aloud as she threw her phone across the bed and rubbed at her temples.
Felicity actually tried to be productive on her final day at home. Most of the mishap's she had encountered in her life had, unsurprisingly, happened in the last year and half that she had been associated with Team Arrow. From the earthquake in the Glade's to being kidnapped by The Count, these were the most traumatizing experiences that Felicity had endured in her 25 years of life. In those instances, she'd always had Diggle and Oliver to help her through the aftermath. They comforted her and made assurances of safety that she didn't realize she had relied on until this moment. Now she had to depend on herself and her computer to help make things right.
She decided research was her best option for healing. She recognized that she had to learn how to interact with people without them knowing that something was off with her. Felicity could barely look at herself; how was she going to react when Oliver met her eyes for the first time. She shuddered at the thought.
Bringing up her search browser, Felicity began her hunt.
She started by searching 'How to interact with people after sexual assault'. As the engine explored, Felicity closed her eyes and tried to disconnect from the research. "It's just research. Think of it like a project you're doing for someone else," she said as she opened her eyes to look at the results.
The first result was of an academic journal detailing victim's reactions to sexual assault. She was taking in the information better than expected, until the third paragraph down mentioned the word rape. She slammed the lid to her laptop shut quickly, refusing to acknowledge the word in her head.
She needed a shower.
After she felt that she had adequately washed the vile word out of system and off of her skin, Felicity took in her reflection in the full length mirror. Aside from the fading bruises on her wrists and thighs, she looked the same as she always had: blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. But when she tried to meet her eyes in the mirror, to confront herself, she couldn't do it. What kind of person couldn't even look themselves in the eye?
Wrapping her towel around herself tighter, she leveled her stare at her reflection and spoke, "Hey guys, what's up?"
She winced at the false sincerity and tried again, "What have you guys been up to?"
Over and over she practiced conversations with herself in the mirror, preparing herself for tomorrow.
She would be ready.
Felicity walked into the foundry late the next day. She had decided multiple times that she wasn't ready before steeling herself and taking the plunge. She was thankful that it was Saturday and that she didn't have to make an appearance at QC.
She gripped her purse tight as she walked down the stairs, uncertain of what to say to her friends when she saw them. But, as her left heel hit the ground floor, she noticed that no one was there. Well, someone was there. The computers and the lights were on, but no one was in the interior part of the room at this particular moment. Felicity sighed in relief as she made her way towards her desk. Taking off her jacket, she tugged at the hem of her sweater dress and took a seat. This was going to be fine; she would be fine.
Leaning back in the chair, she inhaled the scent of leather and basement musk, a strange, yet comforting smell that seemed to calm her down immediately. In spite of everything that had happened, Felicity couldn't keep the smile off of her face as she settled into her niche. She was safe here.
As she swiveled towards her desk, she began running a diagnostics check on the system. But before she could get the program up on her second monitor, her attention was focused on the small bobble head sitting beside her mouse pad. The plastic beagles' head bobbed up and down as she leaned her elbow on the desk. Cupping the small toy between her hands Felicity cradled it to her chest, and began weeping silently.
"Felicity?" Oliver's curious tone broke her reverie and his footsteps picked up their pace. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" His hand landed on her shoulder before she could turn to meet his eyes. She involuntarily tensed at the feeling of his touch on her body, and he immediately removed his hand. She knew she had to turn around now.
Plastering a smile on her face she sat the dog down and turned towards him. "I'm fine, promise. I just..." she hesitated looking up at his face. Her gaze landed on his eyes and she found herself unable to speak.
Could he tell? Was it obvious? Fear, shame, and disgust all flared through her as she broke the contact. Was she that transparent? Her head shook in denial as her blood hammered in her ears; she didn't hear Oliver speak until he turned her chair around and looked at her.
"What's going on? Are you still feeling sick?" He inquired thoughtfully, crouching down to her level. She met his stare once more and saw the worried curiosity swirling in his blue eyes. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Better to overreact now rather than later, she thought as she focused her gaze on his eyebrow. It was safer than looking him directly in the eyes again.
She shook her head, mustering up her false smile again. "Everything is fine; I'm fine," liar, her mind spat. "I just really missed my bobble head."
She could see his features soften in her periphery as he patted her arm lightly and stood up. This time she didn't tense.
A/N: It's difficult to comprehend how someone would react to a trauma, especially one like sexual abuse. I sincerely hope I have done our girl justice here. It's hard to imagine Felicity doubting herself and feeling depressed because her character is so alive and exuberant.
Also, remember the bobble head reference from Chapter 4? :)
I will try hard to get a few more chapters in before the work week starts on Tuesday (Yay! Memorial Day break!). After that I may be a little slow on updates! But do not fear! As long as I still have interest, I will never quit this story. :)
