Chapter Nine

Oliver was acting... off.

Then again, Felicity was actually looking forward to getting sweaty with him.

She shook her head, making sure not to dislodge the double French braids she was working on.

Getting physical, she mentally corrected.

Pausing, tilting her head to the side, and meeting her own not amused reflection, Felicity tried one last time to not make her first training session with Oliver sound like a bad come on.

She was looking forward to exercising, while wearing clothes, with Oliver.

Satisfied, she gave her mirrored twin a decisive, single nod and returned to her hairy task at hand.

Usually, anything that would even risk perspiration was on Felicity's 'do not attempt' list. Logically, her mind understood all the health advantages working out provided, but that didn't mean she stopped at yellow lights either. Yellow meant speed up (and brake preservation), and exercising usually meant dancing in her chair while typing. Felicity was uncoordinated, she wasn't one of those women who could be one breath shy of dying and still somehow manage to not look like a member of the fruit family, and sometimes sweating even made her itch. It was unpleasant, and it was boring, so she just didn't do it.

But, for the first time in her life, Felicity Smoak was not only not dreading exercising, but she had been anticipating her first training session since the moment Oliver had promised to work with her the night before. That anticipation had even helped her make it through an entire day of being outside the protective, private walls of their hotel room. Sure, Verdant wasn't exactly the town square during daylight hours (even before The Undertaking), but she had interacted with the outside world, she had talked to Digg about... what had happened for the first time, and she had endured hours of Thea 'Tevye' Queen.

It was progress.

But she still felt powerless, she still felt useless, and Felicity still felt trapped. Her hope was that training would help her with all of those things. Plus, reading up on building codes and discussing colors palettes with Oliver's sister didn't quite stack up to working a full-time IT position at Queen Consolidated and then moonlighting as a vigilante's technologically inclined sidekick, and the inactivity of her, albeit chosen, new routine wasn't exactly aiding the situation. In fact, it was more like contributing to it. But training would be a break in that staid routine. More importantly, it would be Felicity fighting back... or at least starting to learn how to fight back. She was still herself. With time had come some perspective, and she knew that Tommy hadn't taken that away from her. But, in order to heal, Felicity felt like she needed to change. She wasn't doing so because of Tommy, however; she was doing it for herself.

For her future.

Braids finished, clothes changed, Felicity looked at herself one last time in the mirror. And then she smiled. Exiting the bathroom, she moved into the main area of the basement. Still cluttered with debris, the place was a mess, but the generator produced electricity, which provided plenty of light, made it seem like less of a disaster than it had been the previous times she had been there after the earthquake. While the mats were covered in dust, and while Oliver's weapons cache was strewn all about the room, it wasn't like her newfound determination to defend and even attack was suddenly going to make her break into some intense training montage, cue the music. Plus, she was still recuperating from the trauma of Tommy's attack, so her body was sore and stiff. So, for now (for a while), a small, make-shift, debris free space would suffice.

"I swear, if you call me 'girlie' even once, Frankie, it'll be your legs getting cut off, and I'll be holding the saw."

While Oliver had been making the noise one would expect from moving around and inspecting a basement full of sharp, clangy things, all sounds ceased with her words. Though she couldn't see him, Felicity smirked, because she could just imagine the puzzled expression on his clueless face. For a guy that had been so good at doing nothing that he got himself kicked out of four colleges, Oliver was hopeless when it came to pop culture references even when they derived from his pre-island days. That didn't mean, however, that Felicity still didn't enjoy befuddling him with her excellent knowledge of movies, television, books, and, in general, trivia.

Oh, who was she kidding? She just had excellent knowledge. Of everything.

"So, what's it going to be? Boxing lessons? A introduction to sword play? Oh! I'd love to be able to karate chop..."

"Felicity."

She jumped at the sound of her name being voiced from the shadows, her right hand automatically lifting to clench around her stuttering and then galloping heart. From the way that Oliver said her name – soft, and slow, and like he was trying to lead her into noticing him rather than just making her, she knew that he wasn't trying to startle her, but she had been distracted – lost in her own thoughts and comfortable in the safety the Foundry's basement provided. She also knew that, whether unintentional or not, Oliver would beat himself up over frightening her... even if just a little bit, but she couldn't help her reaction. Her scare-o-meter had always been sensitive, but it was even more so now.

"Sorry," he apologized as she turned to face him.

Felicity tried to offer Oliver a smile in return, but, as soon as her gaze fixed upon him, she realized her mistake. His eyes weren't anywhere near her face in order to see the consolatory grin, because he was unblinkingly focused upon her body – upon her shorts and tank top clad body, upon her body that was still black and blue, still green and purple, still cut and swollen from Tommy's attack. From Tommy raping her.

"Oh god," she moaned, blanching and immediately trying to make herself as small as possible. Felicity rolled her shoulders inwards, she hunched over, she folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry. I... I didn't think. I mean, you already know... what happened, so I just... figured you'd be prepared. Or wouldn't care. Of course you'd care," she rushed to correct herself. Because she was looking at her own feet, Felicity couldn't see if Oliver had started to protest, but she didn't want him to doubt her faith in him or his ability to be a good friend. "I just mean that the bruises wouldn't bother you... now. I'll change," she offered, slowly backing away. But then Felicity recalled that she had nothing to change into... unless she was going to wear her regular clothes to train in. "Actually, you know what? This was a stupid idea. I never should have asked you to train me. I'm not cut out to be a girl who can defend herself, let alone a fighter, so I'll just stock up on mace and pepper spray. Maybe buy a taser. And we'll just forget..."

"Hey, hey," Oliver gently interrupted her. When his hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling her arms down so that he could wrap his fingers around her own and hold their clasped digits between them, she would have jumped if it had been anyone but Oliver with her in the room. "We're not just going to forget about me training you, because it's not just a good idea; it's a great idea. And you, Felicity Smoak, can do anything you set your mind to, I have no doubt about that."

Biting the inside of her bottom lip (because it was her only option if she didn't want to cause herself pain or reopen a partially healed over scab), Felicity slowly lifted her tear filled gaze to lock with Oliver's. Once she was looking at him, he continued, "I just... I guess I didn't expect..." Blowing out a hard breath, he regrouped, licked his lips, swallowed roughly. "I know what happened to you, and I know that you were hurt, but to see the extent of your injuries – not just your wrists, and your neck, and your face but almost everything – for the first time, it caught me off guard."

She could understand that. "It happens to me, too. Sometimes, after a good night when I don't dream, I wake up in the morning and go into the bathroom to take a shower. I take off my clothes still half asleep and not thinking about... everything. But then I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and it'll all just come crashing back down on top of me."

"Can you tell me what happened?" When Felicity flinched, Oliver instantly started talking once again. "Not about what he... what Tommy did to you," he clarified. "But can you tell me what you did, how you tried to fight back? I think it'll help me figure out where we need to start with your training."

"Yeah," she nodded, taking a quick yet deep breath. "I think I can do that." However, she needed distance in order to do so. Shaking her hands which were still encased in Oliver's, Felicity silently requested that he let go of her, which he did. Before beginning to talk, she paced several steps away from him and started wringing her fingers together. "At first, I just tried to get away. I tried to escape, or find a way to get help. I tried to talk him... down, I guess. Or at least break through... this fog he seemed to be inside of. Obviously," she noted wryly, darkly, "it didn't work."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Felicity – with running away. That was smart."

Despite not looking at him, she could hear the sincerity in Oliver's expression bleeding through his words. Turning to face him, she challenged, "you never run, though."

"Because my fights aren't usually unfair." His volume dropped, and Oliver confessed, "and I have run before, Felicity; I ran from The Dark Archer – physically, after he beat me; mentally, because I was afraid he would beat me again; and, emotionally, when I thought I had the chance to finally beat him."

"That was the night you went to Laurel," she surmised. The night Felicity was raped. "I don't blame you for that, Oliver."

But that didn't mean that he didn't still blame himself. The fact that he looked away from her, his jaw tightening, told Felicity as much. When Oliver spoke again, he moved the subject back to her. "What else did you do to fight back?"

Frustrated with Oliver's guilt, with his insistence upon talking about the rape, and with her own inability to not open up to him – yes, she had Thea now, and Felicity had even managed to talk a little to Digg that afternoon, but Oliver was her safe place, Felicity lifted her hands to run her fingers through her hair... only to encounter her braids; she dropped them to her face in an attempt to fiddle with her glasses, but she was still only wearing contacts. The weights she and Oliver carried were vastly different, but, because of his past, it felt like he was the only person who could understand what she was going through – how one experience, one trauma, could forever change a person but how you yearn to go back, how you're constantly looking at the past and what you could have done differently, how you try so hard to keep those changes to yourself so that the rest of the world doesn't notice that you're not you anymore.

With nothing else to distract her, Felicity finally settled on nibbling her thumb nail, the flaking polish a familiar tether to hold onto. The worst thing about Oliver pushing her to confide in him, however, was the fact that, despite knowing it would only add to his unreasonable and unwarranted guilt, she couldn't help herself. He was the person she really needed to talk to; he was the person she wanted to shelter the most. Need trumped desire. Hazarding a glance in his direction from underneath her lashes, she found him patiently waiting for her response, his stance surprisingly restrained and relaxed. It was seeing him so at ease – their roles completely reversed – that made Felicity wonder if that's how Oliver felt about her presence in his life: while he never wanted his actions as the vigilante to put her in danger, cause her pain, or bring her any harm, he needed her – as his IT girl, as his partner, as his conscience.

It was this thought that finally made her open up once again. "I mainly just... reacted. He was so much bigger and stronger... I was faster, but... my apartment's small. I could only run so far. And then, when I couldn't run anymore, he was there. It felt like he was everywhere. And I was so tired, and everything hurt. I was screaming, and out of breath, and... scrambling. Whatever I could reach, whatever part of me he wasn't holding down, I'd try to hit him with, or push him off, or... cut him. I tried to cut him. There was glass – so much glass." Noticing that her breathing was elevated, Felicity took a moment to close her eyes, to regain control over her body, and to calm down. Once she felt like she could go on without the memories drowning her and taking her under, she looked Oliver directly in the eye. "I knew, though. Almost from the beginning, I knew. I didn't stop struggling, stop fighting, but I knew what was going to happen; I knew that I couldn't beat him, and, since I couldn't get away..."

"Endurance," Oliver stated. He was the first to break their stare, glancing away from her as he walked towards the stairs. "We'll work on your endurance first. Before we really begin to train, you'll need to be in better shape."

She followed after him, not liking the sounds of his idea. "And this will entail what exactly, because it doesn't sound like fun. Or oriental. Aren't all good fighting techniques oriental in origin?"

"We're going to run. A lot."

"Like on a treadmill," Felicity questioned. Even she could hear the disbelief, the disappointment, the distaste in her voice. "So, we're going back to the hotel?"

"No," Oliver corrected her, jogging up the stairs and not looking back over his shoulder... like he just expected her to follow him. Which she did, but that was beside the point. Pouting, Felicity listened with skepticism as he elaborated. "We're going to run the streets, the alleys around Verdant."

"Oliver, it's like a war zone out there... not that I've ever been to a war zone, but I have a thing for emotionally devastating movies, and what's more devastating than war?"

"That's exactly the point. Not only will we be working on your stamina, but we'll also be improving your reflexes. When you're running away from someone, it's not on a perfectly clear and clean belt."

"It should be," she grumbled beneath her breath. Louder so that Oliver could hear her, Felicity complained, "if I fall, and get stabbed by something rusty, and have to go to the hospital to get a tetanus shot, you're going to... Well, I don't know what exactly will happen to you, but it won't be pleasant."

Oliver opened the door and then turned around so that he was walking backwards, facing her. "So, then, don't fall." With a laugh, he turned back around and took off, already at a steady clip despite the fact that they were still inside.

"Don't fall, he says," Felicity mocked, taking off after him. "I don't fall, and I'm just a ninja, cat-like, unicorn riding hero, he says. It's easy to run up the sides of buildings, he says."

"That's called parkouring, Felicity. And I think we'll save that for your second session."

Despite all of her complaining, Felicity lifted her face towards the evening sky, took a deep breath, and smiled.

…

Oliver sighed, turned the page with his free hand, and then used it to rub his tired eyes. He yawned. He was tired, and all but one lamp for him to read by had been extinguished, yet he refused to close his eyes. He couldn't. Before he could go to sleep, he needed to know that she was safe.

The book helped. It was Felicity's. While he had used her new laptop earlier that evening to start researching his own family's company, Felicity had read. They both had appreciated the quiet company – silent in their own pursuits yet still present with each other, too. And the simplicity of their behavior was startlingly welcome. Ever since he had returned from the island, his life had been full throttle ahead. Whether in an effort to convince everyone that he was who he always had been or in an effort to convince himself that he wasn't, it suddenly felt like he hadn't sat down and taken a moment to himself in almost a year's time. While Oliver had never been an avid reader, he was seeing the appeal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he had watched Felicity fall deeper and deeper into the world of her novel until she finally succumbed to her body's exhaustion. After their training session – a long run followed by stretching, they had returned to the hotel to shower, eat dinner, and relax. Despite being sore from the exertion and the strain it put on her already tender muscles, Felicity had settled down with a book while he worked. After she fell asleep, though, Oliver had found himself curious about what had managed to consume her so thoroughly, what had managed to tame his whirlwind of a friend. So, after he slipped the book out of her hands, marking Felicity's page, he started reading it for himself. Now, a few hours later, he was further along than Felicity (which he'd have to hide from her, because she would just take that as a challenge) and still awake.

The sound of the suite's door being hesitantly opened made Oliver slip a finger between the pages of where he was at, marking his spot until he could locate a second bookmark. Eyes focused out into the relatively dark room, he watched as his sister slipped inside, her shoes dangling from the index and middle fingers of her left hand. It was obvious that Thea had no idea that he was sitting there – waiting for her, watching her. "It's a little late, don't you think, Speedy?"

She jumped, the heels fell from her fingers, and Thea clutched at her chest – all classic signs that he had startled her. Oliver took a smidgeon of pleasure from the knowledge. After all, Thea was only eighteen, but she still should have been respectful enough to let someone know she was going to be out so late, especially given their present living situation and the cause behind its necessity. "Jesus, Ollie. Don't do that." She closed the door behind her, only noticing a slumbering Felicity after it loudly clicked shut. "And what's it to you?"

He met her question with another of his own. "Where's Roy?"

"In his bed... right where I left him."

Now, it was his turn to glower. "Thea..."

"Relax. That was a joke. Kind of." Oliver remained still, expecting an actual answer. "He wanted to get an early start tomorrow morning, putting in job applications, so he decided to stay at his place."

"While I might not like it, the deal was that only if you were with Roy could you forgo a guard. Thea, it's too dangerous for you to be walking around the city – let alone in The Glades – on your own."

"It's not like I hitchhiked back here," she dismissed his concerns, collapsing into a chair across from him. "I took a cab. I survived."

"This time."

With forced civility, Thea said, "let's talk about something else... like maybe how you're not my parent, so you don't have to wait up for me... or make mom sleep on the couch next to you so that she'll have a stiff neck tomorrow."

Closing his eyes in exasperation, Oliver lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Just say what it is you want to say, Thea. It's late. I want to go to bed."

"Nobody's stopping you, although maybe they should."

"What?"

More serious than he suddenly liked, his little sister asked him, "do you know what you're doing, Ollie – I mean, really know, because you can't screw this up."

"Know what? Screw what up?" Shrugging his shoulders, he told her, "you have to give me a little more to work with here."

"Her," Thea pointedly responded, looking towards Felicity. Oliver found his gaze following. "You two are close – really close, and I'm not just talking about the fact that you're currently sharing a bed. I'm not a child. I realize that two adults can plantonically share a bed together, especially when they've been traumatized and just need a little comfort to make it through the night. But this thing between the two of you," she told him, gesturing back and forth between them, "it's serious. Big. Two weeks ago, I'm fleetingly meeting her for the first – and what I thought would be the last – time in Walter's hospital room, and now she's redoing your club, you're asking her for advice on what you should do with Queen Consolidated, and you're sitting here at night like some old married couple instead of being out on the town... peeing on things."

"That happened once," Oliver said exasperatedly. "Let it go. And Felicity and I are friends. Just because I didn't introduce her to you until recently doesn't mean that we haven't known each other for a while now."

"You're missing my point."

"Do you even have one," he challenged, laughing slightly. There was a decided lack of humor, however, in the gesture.

Instead of answering right away, Thea offered him another example. "You're reading her book, Ollie. She's asleep – curled up beside you on the couch, her feet tucked into your legs, and you're reading her book. And I know it's her book, because you don't read... especially not something called The Lives of Tao – whatever that is. The fact that she apparently reads enough to pack books while running away when she only has a few outfits with her – ones that she has to keep having sent out to be washed...? Well, frankly, I find that slightly disturbing... and I'm not just talking about the clothes part. What's even more so is that you don't see it."

He shook his head, fed up with his sister's ambiguous warnings. "You mentioned Felicity fixing up the club. Let's talk about that."

"Let's not."

He ignored her. "She told me that you showed an interest in it, an eye. If you'd like, I could look into arranging an internship for you through QC, but you'll work with Felicity at Verdant... at least until it's up and running and/or you leave for school."

"Oh, Ollie – poor, delusional, naïve Ollie. I'm not going to school. I'm done with school. And, if you think you can distract me with a little flattery..."

"What do you mean you're not going to college?" Forget distracting her. Oliver was now quite distracted himself. "Of course you're going to college."

"Why, so I can drop out four times like you?"

"Thea, I think we can both agree that I'm not the best role model here."

"Well, Dad's dead, and Mom's in prison, so it looks like you're the only option I have left. But don't worry," she mockingly reassured him. "I don't plan on making your same mistakes... hence, why I'm not even going to attempt the college scene."

"Then what are you planning on doing with your future?"

"Oh, I don't know," his baby sister stood, rolling her eyes and tossing her hands out impatiently. "Gee, don't I have a not so little thing called a trust fund? I thought I'd live off that until, say, my late twenties, and then I'll open up a vanity business and pretend to be busy so that I, too, can avoid all family commitments." She moved to walk away, but then she paused, looking back over her shoulder. "And what I was trying to tell you earlier was to be careful with Felicity. I know the last thing you want to do is hurt her, but you're both vulnerable right now – hurting, and lonely, and lost. If you're just friends? That's great. If you're more than friends? That's great, too. But, whatever you are, don't get your feelings confused, because Felicity doesn't deserve that, and I don't think either of you could handle it either."

"Thea, wait," he called after her retreating figure. She paused but didn't glance in his direction. He wanted to argue with her assumptions about his relationship with Felicity; he wanted to defend himself; he wanted to order her to go to college, to make more of herself than he did; and he wanted to give her a curfew and demand that she stop dating Roy. But he didn't do or say any of that. Instead, he simply asked, "in the future, when you're going to be home this late, would you just... let me know somehow? I know I can't make you take a guard with you, but I need to know that you're safe."

"That's just it, though, Ollie. This isn't home. I don't want to be here... or any of the other hotel suites you're going to move us to in the future. I want my own room, my own bed. I want my entire wardrobe in my walk-in-closet. I want Raisa. I know it'll never be the same – not after what Mom did, but I want to live in the place where I was raised. I want to go home."

She didn't wait for his response, and Oliver didn't have one to give to her, because, while Thea missed the mansion, while she wanted to go home, Oliver realized that he did not.