A/N: Major spoilers for 4x08. Well…I guess this is my way of trying to understand and rationalize Oliver's thought process the way his actions have been written. That's tough because there's about eleventy million plot holes and they're all located in Contrivance City, but I do understand. I don't agree with what he chose to do, but I understand why he felt like he had to. That being said, what I don't agree with is letting this boil fester for months on end so I decided that bad boy needed to be popped right quick.
Enjoy! And dear lord would I even love to know what you think! :)
They'd cleaned up the worst of the mess in the living room before coming to the mutual decision the rest could be done in the morning. Felicity had happily let her broom fall to the floor with a thud, letting Oliver grab their bags as they trudged sleepily up the stairs.
He'd grown quieter as the night had worn on until she'd caught him staring out the broken window lost in his own head, not so much as quirking a lip at the joke she'd made.
That worry that had been nudging the back of her mind for the past few days raised it's head again, but when he looked back at her he'd smiled like nothing was wrong.
He headed straight for the shower, tossing his jacket across the foot of the bed making her sigh fondly as she picked it up after him. Oliver was always leaving things on the bed; his clothes, spare arrows, even wet towels, though she'd mostly trained that particularly annoying trait out of him.
The sound of him entering the shower made her pick up her pace, wanting to join him before they were both too tired to do more than snuggle.
She couldn't help putting the collar of the jacket up to her nose as she opened the wardrobe, Oliver's familiar scent doing more to calm her than anything. She hadn't been sure they were going to all come back this time and the anxiety she'd lived with was still hanging over her.
Just as she grabbed a hanger a crinkling sound caught her attention. Without thought she put her hand into the pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, plain printing paper made into quarters, the edges overlapping and bent.
It was the unmistakeable letters written in crayon that made her open it, confusion erasing everything within her. A child's drawing, of that she had no doubt. Two figures, one taller, one shorter, both with short spiky hair and large grins. One labeled William, the other labeled Oliver.
Her head swiveled to look towards the open bathroom door then back at the paper while a dozen thoughts ran through her head. Who was William? How did Oliver know him?
A prickle of something she didn't want to think about ran up her spine as Oliver's voice called out to her, "Are you coming in here or should I shut it off?"
Hurriedly she refolded the drawing and put it back where she'd found it, dropping the jacket twice before she successfully hung it up. "I'll be right there." she replied.
The next hour was a blur. She'd taken so long gathering her things Oliver had finished his shower, wandering back into their bedroom with a towel around his waist, eyes half lidded, the exhaustion she knew he felt evident on his face.
"Hey, what happened to you?" he asked softly, catching her hand in his.
"Oh, just...moving slow. Tired. Pulling two all nighters to beat an immortal will really take it out of you."
Oliver quirked a brow as if he didn't quite believe her but he didn't press, "Alright, well hurry up. I don't know how much longer I can stay awake." he said with a wink, pressing his lips to hers.
Not surprisingly he was sound asleep when she returned, wet towel draped over the end of the bed, but since it was on his side she let it go, climbing in beside him. Some of her worry eased away when he rolled automatically and pulled her towards him. No matter how tired he was he always seemed to know when she was next to him.
Felicity lay in the dark listening to his even breaths, the sounds of the city outside the window, and wondered if it was all in her head. Oliver had told her it was over. He's said there was nothing they needed to talk about.
She fell asleep with the growing hope that everything was going to be okay.
Two hours later it was Oliver's distressed mutterings that woke her. He rarely had nightmares any more.
She pushed herself up in bed, hand hovering over his chest as his head tossed from one side to the other.
"...No...sorry...William…"
The name made her freeze. It was the same one in the drawing. A cold fist gripped her gut as all the signs pointed to the one explanation she didn't want to acknowledge.
She shook his shoulder hard, moving back as his eyes sprang open, needing a moment to remember where he was.
"Hey, sorry, did I wake you?" he asked roughly, scraping one hand over his face as he tried to slow his breathing.
"Who's William?"
If it hadn't been so serious it would have been amusing how fast his neck snapped around. But she could only sit there, eyes darting from Oliver to the wardrobe where his jacket hung, and back again, this time hoping he'd tell her the truth.
His mouth opened but nothing came out.
"Who's William? You were...in your sleep...you said his name and I...I found the picture Oliver, in your jacket, and I'm really trying not to think the worst right now because you told me there was nothing to talk about but I think that maybe that's not entirely true." her eyes held his, the words rushing out as quick as the anger she could feel building, "So I'll ask you again, who's William?"
Time seemed to stop, or maybe it stretched, she wasn't sure, she just knew if he didn't answer her something bad was going to happen.
"Felicity…"
In a second she was on her feet, stalking to the wardrobe to pull out the damning evidence. The paper ripped on a corner as she undid it with hands that shook so bad she could barely feel them.
"Don't lie to me, Oliver. We're supposed to be past that! So tell me, who is William!"
She held the drawing in front of her like a shield as he cautiously stood taking two small steps toward her.
"I…"
Anger she'd never felt toward him before filled her. "Don't lie to me!
"He's my son!"
The words rang through the room then sucked in like a vacuum until there was total silence.
Oliver seemed to collapse with them, sinking to the side of the bed with his head in his hands.
"He's my son. And she said if I wanted to see him I couldn't tell anyone. Not even you."
Her heart beat triple time in her chest, the rush of blood in her head making everything white out for a second.
"You weren't going to tell me?" she managed to choke out, the hand holding the drawing falling to her side in defeat.
"I couldn't. She...she's kept him from me all this time and...it was the only way." he sounded broken, wrecked, the thickness of his voice betraying everything. "God, Felicity, you have to know I wanted to."
He looked up then, eyes red and watery, face flushed and she could see the anguish. He wasn't hiding anything.
Mind whirling she let his words repeat until they began to make sense.
When she took one hesitant step forward a spring of hope appeared in his eyes, and then nothing could keep her from his side.
"Oliver...what happened, please, tell me."
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I...I didn't know and then-" everything rushed together as he stared at her like he expected her to vanish in front of him at any second.
Lowering herself to his level she looked up at him, one hand covering his as a great shuddering exhale shook his entire frame. "Start from the beginning."
He told her everything. Cheating on Laurel ten years earlier. The miscarriage. Seeing Samantha at Jitters with a child the right age. The DNA test. Moira's offer. And then finally Samantha's ultimatum.
He could see him son, be a part of his life, but no one else could know.
When he was finished they both sat in silence as she filtered through every conceivable emotion before finally settling on anger. But not at Oliver.
"You should have told me."
His head jerked up, confusion drawing his brows so close he was practically squinting at her. "I told you...I wanted to. I told her about you. I told her I wanted to tell you, but-"
She laid two fingers over his lips, silencing him. "How would she know, Oliver? If she's not even letting you tell William who you really are how would she know if you told me."
His jaw dropped in shock, "She…"
"How would she know?" she asked again, shifting closer, "We keep secrets for a living. I'm pretty sure we could have kept this too."
But before he could respond she kept going, "What she's doing isn't right. William has a right to know who his father is, especially since it's you. She may think he okay but he's not. He's wondering where his father is, why he's not around. Take it from a kid who grew up like that, it can mess with your head." she gave him a half a smile, hand coming up to cup his jaw, "I wish you would have told me. But I understand why you didn't."
"You do?" he croaked.
"If you thought this was your only chance to get to know your son...yes, I can understand. What I'm angry about is that you thought you had to do this by yourself. I wasn't kidding with that whole team talk earlier. You should know by now, there's always another way."
A strangled sort of noise erupted from his throat as he reached out blindly to catch her, pulling her onto his lap, crushed to his chest. "I'm sorry." he murmured into her hair, "I can't lose you, but…"
"I know," she soothed, "It's your son."
He shook again, and held her tighter.
They sat like that until his breathing evened out, then she carefully pushed back until she could sit beside him.
"You're not upset that I have a child?" he finally asked.
A scoffing laugh left her lips, "Upset you have a kid that was born when I was still learning how to drive? No."
He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her back with him as he settled against the headboard. She brought the drawing in front of them, smiling sadly at the picture. "I'm upset that you didn't tell me. I'm upset that she put you in this position where you felt like you had no other option. I'm...I'm upset that we have to keep this a secret so that you can still see him. I'm upset that Thea doesn't get to know she's an aunt. I'm upset that you don't get to be a real father to him because I think you'd be pretty great. And I'm upset that I don't get to meet him." she said sadly, before pointing out the red and yellow lightning bolts colored all over the paper, "Because it looks like he likes the Flash, and that makes him pretty cool in my eyes."
Oliver didn't say anything immediately, just tugged her in closer to him as they both stared at the drawing.
"So…" she said with a nudge of her shoulder, "tell me about William."