It's been like… two, three months? At least I didn't give up though, which, with my history, should be an accomplishment in its own. But whatever, it's here, it's short, it's semi-fluff. I'm thinking only one more chapter, epilog perhaps?
Felicity had stayed up long after Oliver had fallen asleep next to her. But this time her mind wasn't consumed in horrible thoughts.
Home.
That's what she was to him. She was Oliver Queen's home.
Her mind could not fathom this thought. This big, strong man, who, for the most part, acted as though nothing could touch him, was scared of losing her.
She stared up at the black ceiling trying to process this information until she drifted off to sleep, a dreamless sleep that she was grateful for. None of her demons had made their normal appearances. But Oliver's did.
He thrashed around in the twisted sheets, a cold sweat broken out across his skin. Inaudible words falling from his lips that sounded more like pleads. Felicity sat horror-stuck, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to help him. Seeing Oliver like this, his face contorted with pain and terror, stimulated something horrible inside her.
"Oliver," Felicity begged, "Oliver, please wake up. It's not real, it's not real. Wake up." She grabbed one of his arm and pinned it on the bed with difficulty. "Oliver, Oliver, wake up. Wake up," her voice cracked and became a demand that quivered. He grunted, and soon his thrashing turned to stirring, and her begs turned to whispers.
Oliver sat up, Felicity released his arm and watched his face, he breathed hard and shallow breaths, avoiding her eyes at all costs, it seemed, then swung his legs over the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees.
Felicity recoiled slightly at the coldness in his action. "Oliver," she whispered.
But the only sound she got in response was his labored breathing.
She tucked her feet under herself and stared at his heaving back in the poor lighting, it was probable seven, it wasn't dark in her room, but it wasn't light either.
"Go back to bed, Felicity, I'm fine," Oliver's voice was thick, with sleep or emotion, or both, she was unsure.
"You don't sound fine, Oliver!"
He let out a shallow breath and stood, his back still to her.
Felicity hopped off the bed and walked over to him. He looked tired and distraught, "Oliv-"
Before his name could even fully fall from her lips he spoke, his voice pained and quiet, "Felicity."
And they looked at each other, neither wanting to back down from it. In that time something unsaid became clear, Felicity realized his nightmare was about her, and that seeing her really did make him fine. He smiled sadly at her, one she returned, then kissed her forehead.
"I have to go to work, I'll call Digg so you won't be alone," he said quietly. She frowned, "You're not going to work, Felicity. And me calling John is more for my sanity than yours. I need to know you're safe."
Felicity smiled, reluctantly.
As soon as Digg got to Felicity's apartment Oliver left, but not before kissing her lightly on the lips, which, Felicity admitted was still the most awkward thing in the world. Just crossing that line from friends to friends-who-kiss was weird to her. Even more so when said friend happened to be Oliver Queen / the Arrow.
"You look happy," Diggle said with a smile when the door closed with a quiet click. Felicity could tell he meant happier, not, as Roy would say, 'Felicity happy'.
A moment passed when Felicity only smiled feebly and sipped her coffee.
"John," Felicity asked quietly, "when you think of home… where do you think of?"
Digg sat across Felicity with a sad smile. "Felicity," John started, "I don't think home is a place so much as it's a feeling."
"What do you mean by that, exactly?" But she had a pretty good idea what he meant, she just wanted to make sure it wasn't all wishful thinking on her part.
Again Digg smiled, "When I was in Afghanistan, home was where my innocence was, it was where my family was, my loved ones. Where I wasn't paid for killing people, I thought of the house I grew up in with Andy. Home was a place. But today…"
"But today?" Felicity pressed.
"Home is Lyla. And wherever she is," John smiled broadly. "That sounded cheesy. But it's true, she's my home. She makes me happy and feel…" he smiled again, "whole again."
Felicity didn't know what to say other than John Diggle was a big softy on the inside. She laughed and shook her head, "You two need to hurry up and get married."
Diggle laughed too, "I'm working on it."
Again, Felicity drank her coffee to kill the quiet gap.
"What about you and Oliver?"
"What about us?" She was fairly certain Diggle was not, in any way, shape or form, asking when she and Oliver planed on getting married.
"What'd he say last night that made you ask me that question?"
Felicity looked down at her cup of coffee rather than at Diggle, "Nothing. Well, not nothing, just, you know Oliver. It's hard to read in-between the lines sometimes."
Diggle was quiet, just watching her, waiting for an answer till one cracked from its hiding place inside her head. Which, worked.
"He just… he just said… he didn't know home could be a person too."
"I didn't either," Diggle says finally, "I didn't know till me and Lyla were really serious that what I felt when she left wasn't only loneliness and fear, but also a slice of myself." He shook his head, "That was also a incredibly cheesy thing to say, but I don't know how else to say it."
"No, I understand what you mean, John," Felicity said finally lifting her light eyes to meet his dark ones.
That knowing smirk only John Diggle can produced fell to his lips. "Because you feel like that every time Oliver puts that hood on, don't you?"
Her throat dried and contracted, she didn't think she would be able to mutter a single syllable, she nodded in response.
Oliver was her home, too.
