Felicity finally chalks up the courage to ask the question that has been weighing on her for a long time.
"Oliver, I want to learn how to fight like you. Well, maybe not exactly like you, because your training was probably, like, beyond painful and scarring to both the body and the psyche, but I want you to really train me, not just teach me defensive moves. If I'd been stronger, I never would have gotten into that mess with the Count, or been taken hostage, and as comforting as it is to know that you'll be there to save me… what if you're not? Being able to take care of myself would make me feel a lot better."
Oliver's first reaction is to say "no". And he firmly does just that. But Felicity insists.
"What we do isn't safe—I agree with you. You trust in women's strength—you've fought plenty of strong women. So it's just me that you don't want to be supportive to. I know I don't look like much, but I could learn, if I have a good teacher."
It's true, he's being a hypocrite. He remains sullen.
"What if I somehow end up with my life threatened, and you're otherwise occupied… and if you'd just taught me one little offensive move, I wouldn't have ended up dead or injured. Wouldn't you feel like an ass at my funeral?"
"Felicity," He exclaims, exasperated. "First of all, why would you say something like that? And second… you're right. I'll teach you. But don't get a false sense of security—just knowing a few moves does not make you immortal."
"You should really follow your own advice more often." Felicity shoots back.
FSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFSFS.
Oliver is nothing, if not a thorough teacher. He isn't particularly patient, but more devoted to making sure that they go through every move, every stance, every block. He builds up her form from the bottom up, with a firm foundation. And while part of her is grateful that he's taking such effort, the other part is frustrated by the pace and lack of progress. She had yet to go through a fight sequence in seriousness yet. By the end of the fifth Sunday that he's trained her, after dozens of hours of training, she voices her impatience. And, surprisingly, Oliver obliges her.
"Let's go to the mat, then." He says.
She blinks. "What?"
"Let's go to the mat. You're tired of practicing on air, and I think that you're ready to move on."
"And I'll be hitting… not air?"
He smiles. "No. You'll be hitting me."
Definitely not air, then. More like rock hard muscle. She thinks to herself. She blusters a little when they stand across from each other, because Oliver takes an intimidating stance that is clearly some sort of martial art.
"Why do you look so nervous?" Oliver chuckles.
She raises her eyebrows. "Maybe because you could probably snap me in two with your pinkie?"
Oliver lips quirk. "No, I think I would at least need three fingers." He wiggles the fingers of his left hand.
"Funny."
"You'll be fine. Just go through the first sequence I taught you, slowly. Then up to speed. I won't do anything besides guide you as realistically as possible."
She takes a deep breath, and does as he says.
Getting any bodily contact with Oliver distracts her at first, but soon she focuses on her own movement. Things go on like this for several more weeks. And all is well, until Oliver once again decides to be an ass and "protect her".
To summarize, they intervene in a fight between drug lords in the Glades. There's gunshot, and danger, and the conversation goes something like this:
"Stay here."
"No, I want to go with you—"
"No, Felicity. "
Oliver gets in over his head because he thinks that he can take on the world. She hears his grunts of pain and the fight going sour from the speaker in her ear. She yells for Oliver to tell her what's going on, but there's nothing but chaos inside the building's basement. In the end, Felicity is able to save the day because she knows Oliver, and his lack of faith in people. She'd hacked the building's electrical systems days ago, as soon as she'd heard about the mission, and was able to turn off the lights manually, as well as setting off the sprinkler system. This is enough to catch the men off-guard, long enough for Oliver to slip away. He goes back to Felicity, and they run back to the car together. Diggle, who'd been sniping members with a paralyzing darts, follows after.
The entire way back to their hideout, Felicity is seething. Oliver pretends that he has full breathing function and no broken ribs, but doesn't say a word to her. They don't mention the night until the next Sunday, while Oliver trains her.
"I thought we were past this thing, Oliver—you trying to be the hero and keep me on the side-lines. I swear to god, if I hear "stay here, Felicity" one more time…" She says while removing her glasses—she's started training without them sometimes, in case they're knocked away or something. It forces her to rely on other senses, and feel movements rather than see them.
"You're right, Felicity, I don't trust you not to get yourself killed."
She hisses like a cat, "You're the one who sought me out in the first place for your little operation—"
"For your computer skills, not your krav maga abilities."
"I'm perfectly capable of—"
"Fine." Oliver huffs. "Hit me."
She sounds incredulous. "What? I'm not going to hit you right now. We're in the middle of an argument, and you can't solve everything with violence—"
"You're the one who asked to be able to protect yourself. You said that you never wanted to be a victim again. Well you know what, Felicity? I'm not sure that you're up for it. That's why I won't take you out into the field. If you can't land a hit on me, then you're no where close to being ready to take on someone who actually wants to kill you."
Felicity looks stunned. "Oliver…"
"I think that you're weak. You're giving up. Even though you say that you want to learn to fight, you're not fully committed. It isn't enough to want to fight, just because you think it's cool. This is why you shouldn't be a part of this." Oliver continued harshly. He steps onto the sparring mat, and Felicity follows.
"I'm not! I'm not giving up!" Felicity cries. She already feels tears coming to her eyes, because Oliver's tone is so similar to when he'd blown up at her about being too distracted by Barry Allen. She feels so judged, like he was looking down on her. Younger, cripplingly insecure Felicity had received the same judgment from her parents, from boys, and from pretty girls all her life. She was never enough. Not strong enough, not socially adept, not smart enough to amount to anything greater than an IT girl.
"I like what we do. Helping people and making a real difference. And you have no right to take that away from me!" Felicity sniffs, and she rubs at her eyes. She's angry that she's emotional like this, but it's been a long day.
"Whatever memory is making you so upset… channel it. Use that anger, Felicity. Prove them wrong." Oliver said, holding his palms up towards her for her to strike.
He continues, "Prove me wrong!"
And suddenly, Felicity feels an acute despair, and she let's out an enormous wail.
"Those jerks!" She says, and sucker punches Oliver so hard in the face that he takes a step back. She did no lasting damage, of course, but she still stared at her hand in triumph, somewhat stunned that she'd managed to land a hit. A sucker punch had not been part of any combination that Oliver had been teaching her.
Oliver grins, and says, "That's my girl."
Felicity is so ecstatic at her success that she doesn't acknowledge the possessive comment.
"Try it again. Remember, you might lack basic strength now, but your intent is what gave you the advantage."
Oliver still takes it easy on her for a while, but she executes a flawless move that sweeps Oliver off his feet, and then she presses an elbow against his throat. She expects him to remove her, but he stays in that position, with an unreadable expression on his face.
She shifts so that she's no longer sprawled across him, her forearm on his chest, and the rest of her poised above him.
"You know, I was lying before. I've never thought that you couldn't handle… anything." He says. "I'm sorry. I'm selfish, Felicity. I want to keep the people I love safe, even if that means pushing them away."
Felicity laughs, and completely shifts off of him. She flops back on the mat. "You really suck at communication."
Oliver hums in agreement. They lie next to each other for a while.
She says earnestly, "You can't do that anymore, because I love you too, Oliver—In a totally platonic friendship-partnership kind of way, of course- and you can't go running off and leaving me in the dark. I want to keep you safe as much as you do me."
He is distracted momentarily by her using "Oliver" and "love" in the same sentence, but then he says,
"You're right."
"And obviously, my expertise is needed. I did save your life with a cell-phone."
He replies drolly, "My hero."
