Still obsessed with the Snow Patrol's "What If The Storm Ends" . . . used the lyrics in my last installment. Last night's episode went down pretty much exactly as I expected. Still not over it. This little bit is for LadyChaos/Child of Dawn, who wanted the fire escape trope. Set sometime after 3.02, but before 3.05. Quick and dirty, all mistakes are my own
Dead ends. Oliver felt like everywhere he turned, there were dead ends. He was at a dead end with Thea. She was home in Starling, where she belonged, but she was unyielding in her decision not to forgive him. He hated that Malcolm Merlyn had erased the innocence in her. He hated even more that he had opened up the wound for that to happen, by his own admissions. He had managed to bring her home, physically, but she was forever changed by loss and betrayal. He couldn't repair his relationship with his sister, just as he couldn't seem to make headway on finding Sara's killer. He thought for certain it was Merlyn, when he had discovered he was alive. But that, like Komodo had been a dead end. The trail was running cold. Diggle had taken a position at ARGUS, no longer in the field, just as he had wanted. Roy was spending considerable time trying to fix his relationship with Thea, with similar results to Oliver's. Laurel looked like hell and was spending her nights at a boxing gym deep in the Glades, unwilling to accept or entertain Oliver's concern. And Felicity . . .
Felicity was currently curled up on her couch, swamped in a blanket, nose buried in a book as she sipped from a green mug. They hadn't spoken much lately. First he had been in Corto Maltese, and then she had headed to Central City to help "Team Flash," as she had dubbed them. Then Nyssa had arrived and the had attempted to take down Meryln for Sara's death. Except Merlyn, for all of his faults, hadn't been the doer either. With Felicity's new position at Queen Consolidated, he only saw her when he was headed in or out of the foundry dressed in green. As much as he knew he shouldn't, he missed her. He missed how they had been before that disastrous first date-tension loaded touches and too long caresses. He miss how she had looked at him, before he pulled the plug before they even got off the ground . . . before they had buried Sara. So much had happened in so little time. Which was why he was standing on her fire escape on a Thursday night instead of fighting crime. She would have been in the foundry if she had known he was in the field, but he was supposed to be having dinner with Thea. Of course, Thea had cancelled, but she didn't know that.
He watched her as she set down the cup and took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes with both hands. She looked tired, worn . . . she looked like he felt. His hands fisted as he felt the urge to reach for the railing and put himself next to her window. It was a cool night in Starling, and she had it open just a crack. He realized that this was the future he had in store for himself, on this present course. Years of watching her from outside her window as she went on with her life. And she would go on with her life. When he had said those words to her in the hospital hallway all those weeks ago, he hadn't really understood the implications of his own actions. She had waited, patiently, for six months for him to come around to the feelings that had escaped him on that night with Slade. He couldn't expect her to wait for him for anymore.
"Quit dangling maybes. Say its never going to work out between us. Say you never loved me."
But he did love her, and the idea of her not knowing that, not understanding that had been unbearable. It was even worse now, with so much hanging between them unsaid. When he was alone in the early hours of the morning, with so little to distract him, Sara haunted him, whispering all the things he didn't want to remember. "We're not our masks, and we need people in our lives who don't wear them. . .you need someone that can harness that light that's still inside you."
Inside, Felicity shifted, pulling her feet out from under her and putting them on the floor, elbows on her knees as she tented her hands and hunched in on herself. He knew that stance; knew it meant that she was hurting. She stared across her living room, and he realized she was looking at that ridiculous Robin Hood poster she insisted on keeping over her fireplace. She reached for her phone on the table, turning it over in her hands. He was in the window before he realized he had made the conscious decision to do so. She jumped up, spinning as he slid in. "Oliver!" She cried surprised. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He just shook his head, unable to answer. What could he say? Everything was wrong. Nothing felt right.
Felicity slid by him, reaching around to pull the blinds over her window, the turned off the lights. "The last thing I need is for the neighbors to see a guy dressed in green in my apartment," she muttered. Once she had effectively blocked out the world, she turned to face him expectantly.
He reached up and pulled down the hood, took off the mask. But he couldn't find the words. She crossed one hand over her midsection, scrubbing her other hand under her glasses to rub her eyes again. "Oliver . . ."
"I was wrong," he said finally, locking his gaze on hers. He took a step forward. "I don't know that I can be both Oliver Queen and the Arrow, but I do know I can't be me without you. I don't want to be."
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "Until the next time everything explodes around us again," she said softly. "Until someone," she took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed on. "someone else dies, and you decide you don't get to be you again, Oliver. I can't live like that. I won't."
He stood there, dressed in his suit, his armor against the outside world, and wondered if he already had lost her. If he'd come to the realization too late that she was completely irreplaceable in his life. He had no idea what to say. Because in the past seven months, he had absolutely been willing to turn himself over to Slade, without thinking about how that affected her or Dig. He had come back bloody more times than he could count, and he didn't know if something was coming that would scare the hell out of him again and make him completely irrational.
"Felicity," he said softly, taking a careful step toward her. "I don't know what's coming. I don't know anything anymore. But I know I love you."
"But not enough to be with me," she said, and christ, she was crying.
He was across the room and pulling her into his arms before he could stop himself. Every carefully constructed wall between them was gone the moment he touched her. "It's not over," he whispered. And then he was kissing her. And this time, she kissed him back. When they came up, gasping for air, he framed her face with his hands, gently brushing his nose with hers. "It could never be over."
Whatever came, they would face it together.
"I wanna see you as you are now
Every single day that I am living
Painted in flames, a peeling thunder
Be the lightning in me that strikes relentless"
~Snow Patrol, What If the Storm Ends