Chapter 10

She pulled her cardigan around her and sank into her couch, right next to where he put his bow. "What happened?" she asked, motioning him to sit at the armchair next to the couch. The vigilante of Starling City was in her living room, his hood still covering his face. She tried not to think much about it.

He was fidgeting, tapping his foot, looking at everywhere but her. The clock on the LCD displayer of her Blu-ray player suggested that it was 3 in the morning. Oliver Queen was in her living room, obviously upset over something that he wanted to talk to her about, but he wasn't talking. She knew that she had to pry words out of his mouth. She pushed her glasses and got on her feet. She took a step and stood before him, moved her head so that she was in his eye level. Keeping her eyes focused on his, without blinking, without breaking the eye contact she managed to form, she raised her hands and lowered his hood with slow movements.

He stood before her, motionless, his cover gone. In the darkness of the room, she still could make out the dark paint over his eyes that helped cover his identity only briefly but not his emotions. Even though he had always been the one disguising his emotions, slipping from one persona to another during the time she had known him, he was now open and silent before her. He looked upset, an emotion she never thought she would see him express and she wanted to know the reason behind it.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." she whispered and rushed to her kitchen. She grabbed her kitchen towel, wetted it, then grabbed a bottle of water from her refrigerator and went back to him. He was still in the same position, his shoulders slouched, his foot still tapping. She left the bottle of water on the coffee table and reached for him. "I'm going to clean your paint, okay?" she asked slowly, waiting for his permission. His eyes bore into hers and he nodded. Taking her cue, she dabbed the wet cloth over his face, cleaning the paint off. She then used the dry part of the cloth to dry his face. The same Oliver Queen she had grown to known was now before her, devoid of all his masks.

"Thank you." he finally said, his voice as low as a whisper.

She threw the cloth on the coffee table on their side. "Sure." she said. "What happened?" she repeated.

He sighed and sank into the armchair. "Tommy and Laurel know." he finally said, his eyes focused on the arm of the couch where she sat.

"Oh." was her initial reaction. From the way he was acting, she figured the reveal hadn't gone well. "I'm sorry, Oliver." she offered.

He gave her a half smile in appreciation. She knew what had happened before he brought himself to tell her. "Tommy was shot." He managed to say. Even though his reason to come to her was to talk, the words just weren't coming. He appreciated the fact that she wasn't pushing, but was just sitting with concern on her face, in her pajama shorts and bare feet. He sighed and leaned back on the armchair, rubbing his fingertips against the soft fabric. "These gunmen came to the charity ball we were at, starting shooting around. I disarmed them but Tommy was shot by a stray bullet. I tried helping him, but he refused." he said. "I thought I could help, gaining his trust. Guess I was wrong."

"So you took off your hood, didn't you?" she asked just to confirm what she already knew. She saw him nod his head in the darkness. "Oliver, they were shocked. Tommy was hurt. They weren't thinking straight."

He wanted to believe her. She was talking in her honest, friendly tone, not the professional one she would use during their sessions. He knew her to be the one person in his life now who would listen and understand him without any judgment or lies. He tried his best to believe her, but as he closed his eyes, a flash of both Tommy and Laurel's faces appeared and all he was left with was disbelief. They would never forgive him. They would never want to talk to him. He no longer had two best friends. He was a disappointment.

"Oliver, look at me." Her soft voice disrupted his train of thoughts. He turned his head and saw her leaning towards him, looking directly into his eyes. "I don't know everything about your life. I didn't know the person you were before the island. Sure, I read stuff about you, you had quite an exciting life in the spotlights. I mean, peeing on a cop? That was all over the news for weeks." she paused. "I read things about you, but I didn't know you. Here you are, five years later, after spending those years on an island where things happened to you that you refuse to tell me, or anyone." She reached out and placed her hand on his. "I saw the scars. I didn't mean to, I told Diggle I didn't want to see you abs… I mean, scars." She stopped herself again. "You were bleeding and we had to remove your jacket. I saw your scars. Those aren't self-imposed. You were tortured." she said matter-of-factly. "You were bruised and battered. Your medical file said that your body was twenty percent scar tissue so I knew what I was up against, but seeing them with my own eyes…" She took a deep breath. "Oliver, even without that knowledge, I would have known you had changed. Five years is a long time. People change. I am not the same person I was five years ago. Hell, you aren't the same guy I walked into my office late for his first session months ago." He felt her clasp his hand, her soft skin radiating warmth. "If your friends, your family don't see that, they are the ones at fault. They can't expect you to be the same person that stepped on that boat. They should know better."

Oliver didn't know then, but it was exactly what he needed to hear. He had spent five years on an island, doing things he didn't want anyone else to know about in order to survive, to live, to get back to his city to save it, to keep his promise to his father. He was no longer that naïve, self-centered boy who got on a boat to run away from his responsibilities, chasing the next thrill, who was then left alone, barely alive on a raft, not knowing whether he would make it through the night in the storm, scared for his life next to his dead father.

There was only one truth on Lian Yu: kill or be killed. He had committed numerous acts of the former. He was alive, back in his hometown with the terrors of the island behind, trying to keep his promises. He was alive, sitting in the dark with the hood he wore to honor the life of his mentor on his back, on a couch next to his former therapist who seemed to be the only one left to really understand him without really knowing him. She trusted him even though he had given her all the reasons not to. Trust didn't come easy for Oliver, not anymore, but as he sat there, with her hand covering his, he knew that he could trust Felicity Smoak with his life.

"You really believe that?" he asked, his voice faltering. "I know I changed, but I don't think it has been for the good. The Oliver Queen that went on that boat… he wouldn't even harm anyone physically. Now… you know what I do."

She sat straight, taking her hand away. "I do. And I told you, I understand why you do what you do."

"Yet others don't." he said and took a deep breath. "I have these dreams where I fight the Hood." he started, admitting something he didn't even want to admit to himself. "The Hood usually wins and I just lay there, drowning in my own blood, unable to do anything." He heard her gasp. "I feel like I am fighting a helpless fight. I try to keep my promise to my dad, but I end up failing and failing him."

Her eyes were cast downwards. "Your dad would be proud of you."

He had a hard time believing that. "You didn't know Robert Queen. I was a constant failure for him."

"I knew him." she said in a soft tone, almost as low as a whisper.

He looked at her, his eyebrows raising. "You knew my father?" he asked, his voice sounding accusingly without intention.

"I met him once. I mean, it was years ago, I probably wasn't on his mind 24/7. I don't think he had me in his last thoughts. He probably wouldn't have remembered me if he were still here. But he isn't here, he died. I mean, he drowned." she started and clasped a hand over her mouth. "Here I go again. I just say the worst things, don't I?"

"Felicity."

"Sorry." she quickly apologized for her previous words. "Your dad was a nice man. He, um, he gave me a scholarship." she admitted. "He chose me amongst hundreds of applicants. I received the scholarship anonymously but I was able to figure out where the money was coming from. So I sent a letter, thanking the benefactor. One day I received a phone call telling me that Robert Queen wanted to take me out for lunch. I didn't believe it of course. I hang up, thinking it was a silly prank. Then he showed up in a limo at my campus. He had all the paperwork ready to make me believe."

"I had no idea." Oliver said.

"Apparently he did this with a student every year. I mean, the scholarship, not taking unassuming girls to lunch in a limo." she explained. "That was a month before, you know." she said and he immediately knew what she was referring to. "After his… demise, Queen Consolidated kept paying for my scholarship. That's why I never charged you while you were my patient."

"You never charged me?"

"Why would I charge a patient whose family put me through medical school?" she asked, rhetorically. "I owe your family. I did offer my services to your family to deal with loss after I graduated but I was told it wasn't necessary. Then I got creative and called your family physician. I convinced him to make me your therapist when you got back. The guy owed me a favor. Long story, I got him out of a parking ticket. Huh, I guess it's not that long."

He listened to her intently, trying to make sense of the new information. She had blackmailed his family physician to become his therapist. "You… you tricked our family physician to become my therapist?"

"Is that judgment I'm hearing?" she asked, sounding unsure of herself unlike her general disposition.

"No. I'm just surprised." he admitted. He was genuinely baffled. "I just…" he paused. "You knew my dad."

"I met him only one afternoon." she said. "It was just lunch. It wasn't like we were best buddies or would have long, meaningful phone talks every night. He took me out for lunch and we talked. And oh yeah, he paid for my insanely pricey tuition. Well, your family did. So thanks, by association."

"You are welcome." he replied, a half grin appearing on his face despite himself. He looked at her and saw her smiling shyly. He then took in her appearance, for what felt like the first time since he stepped inside the townhouse. Her blonde hair he was used to seeing in a tight ponytail was down, messy curls running down her shoulders. She was wearing a light cardigan over what seemed to be a tank top, with pajama shorts, her legs bare for him to see. He looked away immediately when he realized what he was doing.

"You are displaying the exact opposite of the emotions I thought you'd be right now." She interrupted his thoughts. "I just confessed to you that I tricked myself into your life, and you are taking it all so well."

"Felicity." he sighed her name. "You offered to help me before you even knew me, and after knowing that there are things I won't share with you, after knowing who I am, you're still here. I don't think you did a bad thing. I'm not the person to judge a person for doing a bad thing, given what I do on a daily basis." he paused. "You are remarkable."

"Thank you for remarking on that." she answered shyly. "It was why I had to stop being your therapist. I don't mean being remarkable. I don't think I am remarkable." she hesitated. "I had to stop being your therapist because I wasn't doing a good job at it and I knew you needed someone better. I felt bad knowing that I got in the way of you getting better care just so that I could pay off some obligation I felt towards your family. Not that I think having you as my patient was an obligation. I quite enjoyed it. I enjoy this more, though. I mean, I don't know what exactly this is, but, you know, this thing out of the office, without the formality. It feels… easier."

He nodded in agreement. "You were sleeping, weren't you? I'm sorry."

"It's fine." she shrugged, wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself. "It's not like every night I have the city's vigilante visiting me. I don't mind it." She sank into the couch, curling her legs underneath herself. She couldn't help but let out a yawn.

"Thank you, Felicity." he said as he got into a similar position on the armchair. When he turned his head to look at the digital clock display, he was surprised to see that he had been in her house for more than an hour. He was in a much better state than he had been in when he first entered through the porch door, the thoughts about his friends were now a hazy memory.

They sat down in silence for a while. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy it. He realized that ever since he had boarded Queen's Gambit, he had scarce time to just sit down in silence and appreciate it. He had been running against time for years. Even if he somehow did find the time, he had always been alone. Now, he was in the living room of Felicity Smoak, feeling warm and at peace, sitting in silence, listening to her breathing slowing down. He then realized she had fallen asleep. He watched her with her cheek perched on her shoulder, her legs still under her, her eyes closed, her hair fallen over her face. With slow, careful movements, he stood and walked over her. He took her glasses off and placed them on the coffee table. He then couldn't help but tuck her hair behind her ears, enjoying the brief sensation of the soft hair against his fingertips.

He picked up his bow, gave her a final look and with a smile, turned around and disappeared into the darkness of the city outside.

Notes:

many thanks for still reading even though i am terrible with updating! comments are always very much appreciated.

i was supposed to update last weekend but then ended up writing a one-shot. go ahead and check that out, too.

i'm fulltimeprocrastinator on tumblr if anyone's interested.