Chapter Twelve
When her dad got back to the table and asked where Bruce had gone she told him that he'd gotten a phone call and had to leave unexpectedly. Lucius was used to Bruce's sudden comings and goings so the vagaries didn't even faze him. They finished their brunch and she rode with him in the limo to the airport. She hugged him goodbye and promised to call him later in the week after she'd taken care of packing up her house, talking to her landlord, and returning her car to the leasing company. Bruce hadn't been there but she didn't expect him to be either. She knew full well that, despite the few well-placed blows she'd landed at brunch, he wouldn't leave town until she did.
The hotel limo drove her back to her car and she finally got around to buying those groceries she'd been promising herself. Ironic that I get around to filling my fridge as I'm about to move, she thought looking into the canvas tote ruefully.
Still it would be nice to not have to leave the house for a while. She could now gorge on ice cream as she packed up the broken remnants of her shattered life and career without having to wear her pajamas in public anymore.
She opened her door, tossing her purse into the chair by the small console table, only to freeze in her tracks. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly dropped her groceries before she realized that the large figure staring out of her living room window was Bruce. She heaved a sigh of relief and irritation as she plopped the bag on her kitchen counter and rounded on him. "Damn it, Bruce! You can't just break and enter any time you feel like it! And, by the way," she said to his turned back, "if you had scared me into dropping the eggs, then you were getting on your knees and cleaning them up. Frankly, at this point, I could give a rat's ass about your dry cleaning bill."
She hauled out her Ben and Jerry's (Cherry Garcia, Coffee Coffee Buzz Buzz Buzz, Late Night Snack, Phish Food, Mint Chocolate Cookie, and Karamel Sutra; a week was a long time and she did have a lot of packing to do) and stuck them in her fridge along with her other perishables before turning her attention back to her uninvited visitor. He hadn't moved from where he had been standing, never acknowledged her or spoken, and it was really beginning to creep her out. Starling City was once home to serial killer who turned women into plastic dolls (she should know; she was almost made a permanent guest at his teddy bear tea party) and Bruce was looking a little too statue-like for her comfort.
She walked over to where he was standing and touched his shoulder warily, "Bruce?"
He turned to her, the deep groves that framed his mouth standing out. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to her. His fingers lifted her sweater off her shoulders and it slid down her arms and onto the floor. She should have objected, backed away quickly, or at least protested the treatment of her very white, very expensive sweater being tossed on floors that hadn't been swept or vacuumed for longer than she cared to admit, but she was frozen to the spot.
His eyes were haunted and waves of pain flowed from them. He focused on the black and blue marks covering her shoulder then the other injuries marring the fragile skin of her wrist. It looked much worse than it was. Her pale complexion and sensitive skin made the bruises stand out even in the low light. He then unwrapped the bandage on her right forearm, his jaw clenching as the dark mottled skin and broken capillaries came into view. Slowly and with infinite tenderness, his hand, the same one that had gripped her shoulder the night before, traced each of the impressions that he had left behind finally stilling over the worst one on her collar bone that was tinged red on the very edges, probing the bone carefully.
He took a shuddering breath and his eyes moved to her now exposed forearm. He lifted her arm and stoked along the dark and angry imprint his lack of control had caused before testing her elbow and wrist gently then probing both her radius and ulna as he watched her face for any sign of pain. She flinched when he squeezed the edge of the bruise and he froze. Bruce's eyes left her face and focused back on her arm. He swallowed and licked his lips as he assessed the damage, seeing that it was bruised but not broken. His hand left her elbow and stroked down her other arm, careful not to brush against the scabbed and rough scrape from his gauntlet that ran almost to her wrist, as he took both her hands in his and squeezed lightly.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his face crumple and he tugged her close, burying his nose in her hair. "I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so, so sorry."
She had a million reasons, good reasons, to push him away and rail at him for everything he had put her through but, instead, she put her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers soothingly through his black hair as she laid her head on his chest. "It's okay, we're okay. I'm fine."
They stood there for a long time in the dimming light of late afternoon. He began to sway them back and forth slightly as though they were dancing to some silent melody playing in his mind. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled away just enough so that he could meet her eyes. "I swear to you, on everything I am, I will never touch you like that ever again. Never again." There was so much raw emotion in his face, a face that was usually so closed off and stoic, her eyes began to fill at the sight. His hand cupped her cheek as his thumb wiped away the gathering tears. "I'm so sorry; I swear to God I never meant to hurt you. I can't…" His face paled and he hung his head in shame as he shook his head. "Please. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me but, please…"
It was stupid, she was stupid. Later on she would call herself every kind of idiot for doing it but she couldn't help it. Seeing the agony written on his expression and feeling the need to make it right again she lifted herself on her toes and kissed him softly.
He tightened his arms around her and kissed her back.
From there, well, everything was a bit of a blur. Looking back later Felicity honestly couldn't even remember how they'd gotten to her bedroom. It was kind of like when you're driving to work and one minute you're in your driveway and the next thing you know you're sitting at your desk. She didn't know which one of them in the metaphor was the car and which one was the desk but it was definitely gearing up to be a ride to remember.
One minute she was fully clothed in front of her couch and the next thing she knew her glasses had disappeared and Bruce was kissing and sucking her neck as they were laying on her bed with her bra clutched in his fist. It wasn't even a nice bra; it was an old t-shirt bra with some little strings of elastic threads hanging off it and a couple of bent clasps in the back. It didn't even match her panties, the full brief kind that came up to her belly button. The part of her brain still somewhat aware of that sort of thing told her not to worry about it because those had mysteriously vanished as well along with the clothes he had been wearing because...
She gasped as he bit down on her nipple, her hands clutching at his bare shoulders. She could feel his hard shaft pressing against her as he continued to explore her with his mouth and fingers.
And then there were her pantyhose, she thought through her passion-filled fog. Not the sexy thigh high kind with the fancy lace garter belt; the ones from the plastic egg (the kind that you had to do the chicken dance just to haul up all the way). She was pretty sure that getting those off of her required the application of some kind of alien technology or Bat Disintegration Ray but her eyes had been closed so she couldn't really say.
Must be something they learn in the Billionaire Playboy's Club or in Vigilante Prep School, she thought muzzily as his fingers ran along her inner thigh until he was stroking her and -oh, that's nice. She cried out again and began to arch and squirm against him as he hummed against her throat in smug amusement.
His mouth trailed down to her breast once more where he alternated between licking, sucking, and lightly teasing her nipple with his teeth. She ran her fingers through his inky black hair, the clean scent of his spicy cologne making her head swim as his fingers and mouth made her pulse with want.
"Bruce," she moaned, "Oh God, I've missed this," she said then almost managed to fluster herself out of a good time when she realized she'd said it out loud. She sucked in a breath to launch into a ramble but then he lifted his head, pinning her with his hot gaze.
His lips captured hers in something that was less like a kiss and more like a brand of ownership. His mouth then left hers to find her earlobe and captured it between his teeth, sucking gently. His tongue began to stroke the sensitive flesh and she whimpered and squirmed against his fingers.
"Oh Baby," he whispered against her ear, "You and I both have a lot of time to make up for." He chuckled causing her to shiver with need.
Her fingers scraped his scalp as his mouth traveled down her throat again and then further on until he found her breast. He sucked one of her hard nipples into his mouth and captured it between his teeth as his tongue flicked back and forth causing a new flood of moisture between her thighs. "God, you are so wet," he said in a near growl. When two of his fingers entered her she sucked in a slightly pained breath and he stilled. "How long, Baby?"
"It's been a while," she said, her flesh flushing in something other than passion.
"How long is a while?" He asked, watching her carefully.
She knew what he was asking. She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed. "A little over four years."
She saw as the realization of what she was telling him registered. "Oh Baby," he breathed; his voice heavily laden with lust and amusement, "only you would give someone your virginity twice."
She frowned, "I don't really think it counts the second time," she said right before he slid up her body and captured her mouth in a deep kiss.
He sucked and nibbled her lips and she gasped against his mouth as his fingers made clever swirling motions that she swore meant he had to have three hands down there. She felt the pleasure in her build and build as his tongue curled around her earlobe just as his fingers curled inside of her and…She…Was…Gone.
She screamed so loud the neighbors probably called the cops. Then, even before the echoes had faded away, he was pressing inside with a moan that sounded almost inhuman. She gasped at the initial burn but then he began to stroke inside of her, filling what had been empty for far too long. She looked at his face, at the exquisite look of pleasure and passion in his expression, and closed her eyes as he captured her lips again, his hips surging forward just as his tongue tangled with her own.
He was pushing, pushing, pushing; his fingers dug into her hips lifting her into the thrusts of his body. Deep, hard, long, and then he hit rock bottom and lightning struck her spine.
She nearly screamed again. Her toes curled and she couldn't breathe and, fuck, it felt like pain and pleasure at the same time and she never wanted it to end. "Please, oh God! Don't stop! Never stop! Please!" She sobbed in a ramble out loud and in her head. He growled and suddenly she knew it was her favorite sound in the whole world.
His thrusts began to jerk against her roughly, his rhythm becoming more and more irregular. It felt as though he was getting bigger somehow and then she made a sound that she didn't even know a human being could make as her body shuddered and she fell over the edge. He thrust so hard inside her she slid up the bed a few inches and then he roared.
She shut her eyes tight as everything became about the moment. For one brief moment she was all sensation. Tremors ran down her body as she buried her face into his neck. He collapsed against her, breathing raggedly.
He rolled off her onto his back, his chest glistening and his dark hair damp with sweat. She curled up beside him and laid her head against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her back and traced lazy circles against her skin.
"Are you okay," he asked a little breathlessly.
"I don't know," she panted, pressing her hand against her breastbone. "I think I might be having a heart attack."
Bruce chuckled again and pulled her up his side so he could capture her mouth in a brief kiss. "Not bad for an old man then?" He asked her, his eyes sparkling with laughter. "After all, according to you I could be someone's grandfather."
"I think if you were any younger I'd be dead right now," Felicity said honestly.
He kissed her temple then rolled onto his side so he could trace soft kisses over her cheek and across her throat. He nuzzled her ear and seemed to breathe her in. Her fingers moved upwards to card through his dark hair as he lifted his head to look her in the eyes, "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"I know," she said quietly. "I told you, it's just a bruise, it looks worse than it is. I'm fine."
His finger stroked the tender skin of her shoulder, "Not just this; all of it." He looked up at her again, his eyes heavy with emotion, "I'm sorry."
Felicity closed her eyes, unable to speak as she felt the weight of his words. "Thank you," she said at last. Despite herself she heard her voice break as tears pricked her eyes.
"No," he said quietly, brushing them from her cheeks. "No crying." He made a soothing noise.
"No, it's-" she hiccupped and looked at him with a wobbly smile, "They're happy tears, Bruce. I've waited…a long time to hear you say that and now…"
"I'm sorry," he breathed against her forehead as he laid a tender kiss there. "I'm so, so sorry, Baby. I never wanted to hurt you. Never you."
"Don't be sorry, Bruce," she told him quietly as she stroked her fingers down his neck and across his cheeks. "Just don't do it again, okay?"
"Okay." He pulled away and smiled down at her, a soft smile that made her heart squeeze in her chest. Words she had no business speaking out loud nearly bubbled forth before he kissed her again, soft and sweet. "Close your eyes, Baby," he told her as he pulled her to him a little closer, stroking her hair tenderly. He rolled onto his back, his arm wrapped around her as his fingers stroked down her side to rest on her bare hip. For a moment, for just the briefest of seconds, it almost felt like love.
She laid her head on his chest, took a deep breath, and faded away.
A few hours must have passed because the world outside her bedroom window was dark and still. There was a soreness and an unfamiliar stickiness between her thighs and she could smell his cologne on her sheets. She moved her fingers across the bed, blindly searching for Bruce only to find empty space. A noise from across the room made her sit up, sheets clutched to her naked breasts, her hair a riotous mass of curls.
Bruce was standing at the end of her footboard pulling the deep charcoal V-neck sweater he'd been wearing over his head. She looked at him blearily and tried to push the rat's nest of blonde hair out of her face. She puffed a breath at the bits trying to worm their way up her nose then smiled softly, "Where are you going?"
He froze. For a second it tickled her that she had actually managed to get the drop on Batman in the dark but then something clicked and her brain came back online. "You're leaving?" She asked in confusion, "You're leaving and you weren't even going to wake me up first? Why?"
His features shifted and settled into that grim countenance that rarely boded well for anyone.
She knew that look.
She'd seen that look on his face before and under very similar circumstances.
"You're leaving?" She asked incredulously.
Very similar circumstances.
"Felicity…" He began.
"Again?!" She yelled, her temper flaring to volcanic levels. "You have got to be kidding me! You said-!"
"Felicity, it's just not-!"
She grabbed the first thing she could find which was, unfortunately, her cell, and threw it at his head as hard as she could. His reflexes, being what they were, allowed him to deflect it handily.
That was unfortunate as well because braining him with something hurled at great velocity would have felt pretty great. For her anyway. Suddenly she had a new goal in life: Bruce meet projectile. Projectile meet BatBrain.
"You bastard!" She growled, tumbling out of bed. Her feet tangled in the sheets and she took a nasty fall onto the floor. He bent as though to help her up but she began hitting at him with the fist that wasn't clutching the bedding concealing her nakedness.
"Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!" He backed out and she struggled to her feet to chase him into the kitchen. "Felicity, stop!" He ordered as he batted away the various objects she was grabbing at random and hurling in his direction.
"Four years!" She yelled, ignoring him. "I haven't been able to even think of allowing another man to touch me for four years because of you! It took me two years to get to the point where I could even consider going out on a date with someone after what you did to me, and that was a total disaster because you left me an emotional basket case! You come here, you apologize, you promise you won't hurt me again and then you do this? Seriously?!" She snatched her favorite cereal bowl from the dish rack and threw it at him. "What was the point of all this? What did I ever do to you?" She reached over and snatched a vase off the table and lobbed it in his direction. "First you take my self-esteem!" Coffee decanter. "Then you take my job!" Mug that says 'Tech Girls Do It Beta'. "Then you threaten me and force me from my home and my friends!" Mexican hand-painted platter. "You stalk me when I'm trying to have brunch with my father!" Toaster. "And then—AND THEN—" Blender. "You have sex with me!" Ceramic TARDIS cookie jar. "Again!" Aloe Vera plant in a terra cotta pot. "After four years!" Bread box. "After promising not to hurt me ever again!" Ceramic frog soap dish. "Only to turn around!" Calphalon butcher block cutting board. "Just so you can sneak out on me!" Handfuls of fridge magnets because, by then, her counters were pretty much clear. "Like a fucking coward!"
"Felicity," he said slowly, his hands stretched outward in a defensive posture just in case she started digging under the kitchen sink next, "my world is too dangerous—"
"Fuck you and your world you Bat-Eared Bastard!" She screamed so loud that her own ears began to ring. "Get out of my house and don't you dare show your face around here ever again!"
"Felicity—" She reached behind her to the small wine cabinet and just grabbed and threw whatever was there. The bottle of expensive wine exploded near his head, splashes of the deep crimson liquid splattering and staining his clothes.
"OUT!" She screamed and, taking one last look at her he slipped silently out the door.
After he left she collapsed on the floor in a heap of bedding. She sobbed, great, messy, soul churning sobs that made her lungs ache and her throat hurt. By the time dawn began to peek over the horizon she was in misery. Her ankle was sore and swollen from where she had fallen, her face was hot and blotchy from crying, her nose felt like someone had chewed it up and spit it back on her face, her lungs hurt, her throat hurt, her eyes felt like they were sunburned, and her last bottle of wine was now just a stain on the carpet. And then it got worse.
Apparently her volley of the toaster went wide and knocked her purse on the floor because her new birth control was lying beside it.
She'd bought them on Thursday but in all the excitement she'd forgotten to actually start them.
They hadn't used a condom.
"Fuck."
*\?/*\?/*\?/*
"What's the matter, honey? Flu's pretty bad this year, you need some cold medicine? Aisle 2," an older woman wearing a white lab coat with the name 'ROZ' embroidered on the pocket told her.
"No," Felicity said hoarsely then cleared her throat as she limped up to the counter. She knew she looked like hell but this just confirmed it. She sniffled, wiping her nose with a tissue that should have been tossed two blows ago. "Do you sell Plan B?"
"Sure thing, my darling," the woman reached behind her and placed the pastel box on the counter between them, "$49.99 plus tax."
"For one pill?" Felicity asked incredulously.
"Like I tell my girls, honey; buy the condoms first and you'll come out cheaper."
Felicity blew out a breath and reached for her wallet, "Yeah well, don't have to worry about that. I'm probably never having sex ever again."
"That's what they all say, bubeleh." She eyed her reproachfully as she ran her card and put the emergency contraception in a white paper sack. "Take my advice and buy the condoms. Trust me, there's worse things than catching babies."
"Thanks but I can guarantee I won't need them."
"Uh huh, whatever you say, honey. You just take care of yourself and I hope you get to feeling better soon."
"Thanks," she said morosely. "But I doubt that'll be happening either."
*\?/*\?/*\?/*
She woke up Monday morning to the sound of her new phone ringing. It was yet another reminder of what had happened.
That and the fact that smartphones made expensive projectile weapons.
"Hello," she croaked.
"Hello Ms. Smoak."
Felicity buried her face under her pillow, phone and all. "Isabel? Why are you calling me at—" she glanced at her phone—"8am?"
"Because it's Monday morning and I'm at work," she said wryly.
"Yeah, well, good for you," Felicity mumbled, "You must not have heard but I quit last week."
"I did hear which is why I called you on your cellphone and not at your desk."
"Okay," Felicity whimpered as she pulled her head out from under the pillow and flopped over onto her back.
"I'm calling to make sure you haven't forgotten that we were meeting for lunch later."
She rubbed her forehead and squinted at her ceiling in confusion. "Um, can you repeat that because it's really early for me and I haven't had any coffee in two days because my pot is…broken."
"Lunch. One o'clock at Leviathan; do you know how to get there or should I send a car?"
"Wait, you were serious about that?"
"Of course I was," she said in a slightly bemused tone. "You are coming, aren't you?"
"You want to have lunch with me?" Felicity asked, her mind still not grasping what was happening. "Just me or with other people and I happen to be in the room?"
"Just us."
"Uh…"Felicity pinched the bridge of her nose as shook her head, willing herself to focus. "You know what? I don't think I can make it. Kind of busy today; packing…cleaning out my refrigerator." Especially the freezer, she was down to one spoonful of Cherry Garcia and a pint of Karamel Sutra. It had been medicinal she told herself; she used the one packet of healing herbs she had gotten from Oliver and mixed them together. At least, that's what she told herself in order to justify the first three pints she'd devoured; the last few were purely recreational. She would have eaten the last pint she had left but the name just struck her as being a little too ironic at the time.
"Felicity, I know there have been moments between us where I was less than kind—" Felicity couldn't help her snort but Isabel ignored it and moved on, "but I assure you that I will be respectful and polite and that I truly would like to start over with you."
She took a deep breath, "I appreciate that, I do, and if this is about Wayne Enterprises or my dad I promise I would never do anything to hurt—"
"This isn't about that, Felicity. Really. It's about making amends. Please."
Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. "Yeah…oh-okay, sure. Sounds like," she swallowed, "fun."
"Excellent! I have a meeting right now but I'll see you at 1:00, ciao!"
She stared at her phone in disbelief.
"Someday I have really got to start listening to that voice in my head."