The signs are there as they get ready for bed. Ellie's eyes keep trying to slide shut as they brush their teeth, and her idea of a perky smile when she gets her pajamas on is a sleep-drugged grin that looks downright ridiculous because she can't keep her eyes open.
"Come on, sleepyhead," Felicity says with a smile, nudging the little girl towards the bed.
"I'm not a sleepyhead, Momma," Ellie argues.
"Oh no?" Felicity asks, picking her up before she can say anything else. "You're not tired at all?" Ellie shakes her head. Felicity stands her daughter on the bed, holding her hips to keep her from falling over, because she is most definitely tired. "So you're up for running a few marathons then?"
"Yep," Ellie replies.
"Maybe a quick swim across the Atlantic ocean?"
"Imma really good swimmer," the little girl says, the words slurring together, her head lolling forward, like it's too much for her to hold up anymore.
"Yes, you are," Felicity says with a chuckle, kissing her on the cheek. "But you need rest to keep being such a good swimmer, right?"
Ellie narrows her eyes, some part of her recognizing that Felicity's using some sort of logic on her. It's painfully adorable, with her ruddy cheeks and sleep-heavy lids. "I guess."
"Trust me, baby girl," Felicity says, sweeping her off her feet and laying her down. "If you get a full night of rest, you'll be more than ready to run all those marathons and swim all the oceans."
"But…"
A yawn cuts her off. The instant her head hits the pillow, Ellie's eyes shut of their own accord. She's nearly asleep, but she wouldn't be a Queen if she didn't go down without a token fight.
"Imma wait for Daddy," she announces. She ends up drawing out 'Daddy' when another yawn attacks, stretching her mouth so widely that her jaw makes a little popping noise, her tiny body shuddering with exhaustion.
Felicity might argue that point, but she doesn't need to. Ellie's eyes flutter shut against her will again. She forces them open, but it's obvious she's losing the battle. Ellie curls onto her side, the cape of her WordGirl pyjamas trailing behind her as she blinks sleepily up at her mother, her eyes drooping a little more each time.
Smoothing her curly hair off her forehead, Felicity leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "How about we wait for him together?" she suggests, scooting onto the bed.
Ellie smiles at that, nodding with a barely audible, "Okay, Momma."
Felicity settles in next to Ellie. She doesn't lie down, mostly because she's afraid she really would fall asleep - she's beyond drained - and she wants to be awake when Oliver gets back. But she does lean back against the headboard, stroking Ellie's back as the little girl wraps an arm around her thigh, sighing in total contentedness as she starts to drift away.
"'M glad Sad Eyes are done," Ellie mutters. "An' Aunt Thea's not mad at me."
The sheer guilelessness of her words, the painful amount of innocence in them, makes Felicity's heart clench.
Her daughter's been through so much. Too much. She wants nothing more than to erase the darker parts of her baby's experiences, to make it all joyful and positive. That's not the kind of life they'll ever be able to give her, though. It's always going to be like this, moments of perfection tinged by brutality and trauma, because this is the life they've chosen, her and Oliver. And she wouldn't change it for the world. Even though there's Ellie and the new life growing inside her, that's not going to stop them. It obviously doesn't in the future. If there's one thing she's learned over the last month, it's that this - this right here - makes them stronger.
Still, while Ellie's handled it better than she's had any right to expect from a three-year-old, Felicity would spare her that if she could.
But she can't.
So she does the only thing she can do - she offers reassurance and love, soft spoken words and a gentle hand.
"Everybody's okay, Ellie," Felicity promises. The toddler hums happily in response, her eyes finally staying shut. Felicity's fingers trip along the knots of her daughter's spine, between her cape and pyjama top, in long, even strokes. "We all love you and we're all safe, baby girl. Just rest your eyes for a bit."
It's not even a minute before Ellie's muscles go lax, her hold on her mother's leg loosening. A little half-snort half-snore slips past her parted lips as a thin trail of drool makes it way from her mouth to the pillow beneath her. She's out, solidly out, but Felicity makes no immediate move to leave her side.
She's content in this space, in this moment in time. Part of her is grateful that Oliver got called away. As much as she loves him and wants him at her side, she wants this, too. Little moments with her daughter that are just the two of them. They've so rarely had that and maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but she finds she's craving it now with an intensity that surprises her.
There'd been an odd kind of bond she'd felt with her daughter right from the start, right from the moment Ellie had reached for her and called her Momma. But the way that's grown over the past month, how it's intensified, she never could have guessed. Part of that is because she knows Ellie better. Part of it is probably because she loves Oliver even more, too. Seeing bits of this man she adores reflected in her little girl is amazing. But regardless of why, it is there. And as new as Ellie really is to their lives, it feels like she's always been a part of it now, like she undeniably belongs. When Felicity tries to think about where they might be without Ellie having shown up, she finds she can't. More than that, though, she finds she doesn't want to.
"You're safe," Felicity tells the little girl, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her daughter's temple. "I love you, Ellie-bug." The sleeping toddler gives her a contented sigh. She wriggles slightly, unconsciously seeking her mother's warmth. She doesn't wake though, settling in when she does find that warmth, and Felicity's glad. Ellie has to be emotionally exhausted. Felicity definitely is. And on top of that, she's physically drained, not that she's going to tell Oliver about that until they're both securely in bed, wrapped around Ellie.
The thought of Oliver has Felicity looking up with a furrowed brow. He's been gone for more than a few minutes. At least five, because while Ellie might have brushed her teeth in near-record time, she'd at least gotten the toothpaste on her teeth this time.
Who's at the door?
It's only when she glances at the clock that she hears the dim sound of voices in the hallway.
She immediately recognizes one of them as Oliver, but the other…
Laurel?
Felicity strains her ears and it takes her a second to confirm that it is indeed the other Lance sister.
What couldn't wait until morning?
The words are mostly muffled - Oliver's tone is clearly annoyed - but it's only when she hears the words 'Thea' and 'Blood' that she puts the pieces together. With a sighed, "Oh," Felicity sinks back against the headboard. Laurel's devotion to justice is single-minded and driven, which is a good thing… most of the time. But Thea's definitely not ready for any kind of recounting about what happened. She's sure Sara was the one to tell Laurel about what had happened that morning, but probably not all the details. Laurel may know about what they do and who Oliver is now, but she doesn't know all of it, nor does she need to.
Felicity has to wonder what Laurel said to convince Oliver to even bring her upstairs to see Thea, but she doesn't linger on that. Mostly because she doesn't have the mental capacity to. Oliver can deal with it. Or Roy will. Or Thea herself. But not her. Nope, she's reached her limit for the day.
Which becomes increasingly more evident as she relaxes further into the headboard, slouching down over Ellie, her eyes slipping shut…
"Nope," Felicity says, forcing herself to sit up, blinking herself awake. "I'm awake. We're staying awake." Checking to make sure she hasn't woken Ellie, Felicity eases off the bed, careful not to jostle her. She wants to stay up for Oliver, wants to get a few more kisses, talk a bit more, just be with him during what's becoming a rare occurrence of peace. Felicity stretches, whispering, "Your girls need you in here, Oliver, hurry up."
The voices fade slightly outside the door, so she busies herself with small everyday tasks. She grabs Ellie's dirty laundry and tosses it into the bin. She collects Ellie's ever-growing collection of toys - she swears they self-multiply, but it's probably her mother and Moira's faults - piling them in the corner. Mostly, she's killing time until Oliver comes back, but it also keeps her where she can pause, take a breath and soak in Ellie's presence.
She will never tire of watching her daughter sleep.
Laurel's voice is gone, but Roy and Oliver can both be heard now, their hushed words rising in volume a bit as they argue about something. It sounds like Laurel got her way and Roy is none too happy about it. She can't imagine Oliver's thrilled either, but if he's siding with Laurel it probably means it's at Thea's request and Felicity has to respect that. He wouldn't have made this decision a month ago, wouldn't have stepped back and allowed her to make her own choices when they directly contradict what he wants for her.
It's another reminder of how much he's changed these past few weeks. They all have.
And they're all better for it.
Felicity hums to herself as she pulls the blanket up over Ellie - is that the theme song to Rascal the Raccoon? God, she needs to watch some grown up television soon. She mimics the sort of cocoon the little girl's used to having with her parents, tucking it around her little body, saying under her breath, "You've gotta start watching shows with less catchy theme songs, young lady," when someone screams.
It's a shrill cry of pain and terror that slices through the air, startling her so bad she nearly screams herself.
For a split second, she just freezes, because it's so ill-fitting, so wrong. It doesn't make sense. The tachyon alarms aren't going off and all the people aiming to kill them are gone, save for Zoom. And it can't be him, because the energy it takes for him to even try to cross over is a giant red flag they can trace now.
Everyone's safe. It doesn't fit.
Felicity spins towards the door, a surge of fear and adrenaline making her arms feel like they're going to vibrate off. She doesn't even realize she's grabbed Ellie's leg until she looks down, her body twisted in a way to put herself between the danger and her child. But there isn't any danger, not in here.
What's happening?
She's torn between guarding Ellie and going to find out what's happening. There's more muffled voices, but the prevalent sound is the slap of feet hitting the ground as people come running.
It's only because of the fact that nobody's beating down the door that Felicity finds the middle ground between both worlds. She darts to the door, keeping one eye on Ellie as she opens it. Shouts and alarmed voices fill the air, echoed by desperate, wet gasps for air and someone crying. Heart lurching - because where's Oliver? - Felicity looks out, her eyes finding Thea's open door.
"Felicity!" Diggle snaps. She lets out a startled yelp, turning to see him running towards her, his gun drawn. "Get back in that room and lock the door," he orders before bolting past her.
"Digg, what's going on?" she asks, but he doesn't even break stride, tossing back a, "Lock the door!" again before disappearing into Thea's room.
Part of her wants to follow him, to see what's happening, to see what she can do to help… to check on Oliver. But the larger part of her is glued in place, because she refuses to leave Ellie. And then there's the reality that a lock probably isn't going to do much good anyway. Still, after another second of hesitation, she does as he commands. Felicity locks the door swiftly, wondering if it would be absurd to use a chair as a barricade, as she puts herself between it and Ellie's sleeping form. Her hands feel empty and useless and she looks around; there's nothing she can use as a weapon. Not that she'd be all that effective at wielding one, but she'd at least try.
Time slips by in halted seconds, taking too long, way too long. It leaves too much room for her to wonder what happened and who was hurt. The shouting continues, as do the pained cries. They're muffled and hard to hear at first, but then another agonized scream pierces Felicity's eardrums. It's a female, she registers absently. She hates that that's a source of comfort, but it is. Because it means Oliver's not hurt.
"Get Sara! Now!"
Oliver.
Felicity's eyes slip shut.
Hearing his voice is a whole new level of reassurance… but the sound of it rips into her. His voice is sharp and clear, with a sense of urgency that belies the severity of whatever's going on. She doesn't know who he's talking to, but the thundering footfalls that race down the hall send a chill down her spine. God, she's dying to know what's going on. It eats at her, making her fingers feel hot and itchy as she starts pacing restlessly. She's blind and useless sitting in here, just waiting. She wants to help. It's never occurred to her before quite how much being on the comms is a comfort during missions, but it is. It is, because in spite of however bad it gets, she can see it. It isn't left to her too-vivid imagination.
"No! No! Roy, hold her!" Oliver shouts, his voice hitting her like a physical blow. Felicity lurches toward the door, ready to open it, to help him, to alleviate the grief she hears, but she stops at the last second. It leaves her plastered to the thick wood, her ear pressed against it - she hears everything, and instead of alleviating the desperation she feels, it only makes it worse. "Don't let her go, don't let her go… Sara!"
Oh, but the pain in his voice is gut-wrenching.
Is it…?
Squeezing her eyes shut, a sinking suspicion slowly fills her mind. It paints a painful picture in her mind, one she desperately wants to deny.
Feet pound against the carpet in the opposite direction - two pairs - and Sara's wail a moment later confirms it. The sound is bone-chilling, almost otherworldly in its primal nature, and it sends a spiraling feeling of panic through Felicity. Because now she knows. Even if she hasn't been told yet… she knows. The panic quickly coalesces with horror, confusion and fear. All of it makes her lungs feel like they're made of wood as tears burn her eyes.
Oh God, what happened?
Something has her glancing back at the bed, looking at Ellie. The little girl sleeps on, not a care in the world, and for reasons Felicity can't possibly fathom, it has more tears surging forward. She bites the tip of her tongue to keep her sob at bay as she turns back to the door. Just moments ago she'd been thinking about how peaceful things were, how soft and easy and wonderful, and just like… just like that it was gone, lost in the sea of hurt and pain coming from the other side of the door.
"Ambulance." It's Caitlin. Her usually soft voice is raised with undeniable urgency. "Now, or I'm going to lose her right here on this floor."
"No," Sara chokes out. The raw emotion is almost too much, but underneath it all, her voice is decisive. "I'm faster. You're coming with me."
"Then we need to go. Immediately," Caitlin tells her. "Do you have a board? Something to keep her flat?"
The answer to that is drowned out by a heartrending sobbing noise, one that leaves a sickening feeling settling in Felicity's gut. Oh, this is bad. A wave of nausea rolls through her and she bows her head. This is so bad, and she can't begin to imagine the impact it will have going forward. Not only on them, but on…
"Ollie? Oh my god… What did I… Ollie, what did I do?" There's a manic quality to Thea's voice, and it redoubles the nausea sitting in the pit of her stomach. "I don't… I can't…" Her voice shakes with terror as she cries. As she begs. "Oh god, please… let me… Laurel, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Sara, please, just… just…"
"Let's go," Sara says. It's not the woman Felicity heard a mere few seconds ago. No, this is the woman who came to them from the League of Assassins. "Digg, get the other side."
"I'm sorry…"
"Put her under," Oliver orders, his voice cracking. "Caitlin, we need her out. We can't.-"
"Ollie, please…" Tears saturate Thea's voice. Felicity covers her mouth, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't… God, I can feel it, I can feel it inside me. Stop me, I want… I don't want to be like this… No, no! Don't come near me! I don't want to hurt anyone else… Please, please don't… don't… No!"
Her pleas quickly melt into near-rabid shouts right before someone grabs her. Felicity can hear the struggle, along with Oliver's own pleas of, "I'm so sorry, Thea, I thought… we thought you were okay…"
"Please…"
"Shh, shh, I've got you, Thea, I have you…"
"I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to. Please don't let me. Please, please…" Thea's begging ends on a sob, her words increasingly sluggish and weak, and then… nothing.
There's a moment where it's silent, nothing more than the shuffle of feet and a quiet, "Careful," from Sara. Felicity's pretty sure her own heart is beating loud enough for all of them to hear it. As silence prevails, leaving a ringing echo of whatever had happened in its wake, Felicity glances back at the bed. Ellie's slept through all of it, blissfully unaware of how her world has suddenly and radically shifted in her sleep. Her little voice talking about her Aunt Thea fills Felicity's ears and she takes a shaky breath, feeling another sob building.
It won't be the same. It can't be.
Not after this.
"Oh God," Felicity whispers, shoving her hand under her glasses, cupping her face. Her tears are like acid against her suddenly cold fingers as she stands by the door. What should she do? Should she wait? What about Oliver… Thea…
It's eerie, the way the house settles after a careful series of footfalls hurry past her door. She's so on edge, so ready to jump at any noise, that when someone tries to turn the knob before knocking on the door, she jolts with a sharp inhale.
"Felicity?"
It's Oliver. His voice is wet and raw, like the life's been pulled right out of him.
Felicity doesn't waste a second, fumbling with the knob to unlock it before she whips the door open.
The first thing that hits her is the thick, coppery smell of blood permeating the hallway.
And the second…
She'd known it was bad, knew that whatever had happened had ended with bloodshed, with someone needing to be rushed to the hospital, with Thea having to be put under, but nothing prepares her for the sight that greets her.
The bottom half of Oliver's shirt is soaked with blood, in oblong, irregular patterns, and his hands… they're stained with it. His fingers are still wet where they shake at his side. His face is crumpled with pain, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, his cheeks covered in tears. They mix with the small smear of blood on his cheek and forehead.
"It's Thea," he instantly says, his voice trembling as bad as his hands. It's almost like he needs to get it out before the thought overwhelms him. "She's not okay. She's… she's not okay. And Laurel, she's… God, I don't know if they can save her, because Thea…"
"Oliver," Felicity breathes before she throws her arms around him. She doesn't care about the blood. She doesn't feel it or smell it the instant she has him wrapped in her embrace, because he's all that matters. He's more important and he needs her as much as he ever has in this moment. "We'll help her," she promises, pressing her face into his neck. He reciprocates, but it does little to soothe him. His shaking only gets worse. "We'll help her, Oliver, okay, we'll…"
Her words fade, because she doesn't know what else to say.
"I didn't know," he says, his voice so small it breaks her heart. Felicity holds him even tighter, as tight as she can, wishing there was a way to absorb his pain into herself, so she could carry it for him. He's practically vibrating with it, and it only gets worse when a fresh wave of tears hit. "I didn't know this was going to happen, I didn't know…"
"Shh," Felicity whispers. "This isn't your fault."
"And Laurel, she… I couldn't… do anything, I thought Thea was fine."
"We all did, Oliver. We knew the cure would take time. We shouldn't have pushed her."
"No," he chokes out, his voice muffled against her skin. "It's more than that." He pulls back, and the abject pain on his face hurts her more than anything else in this moment. His face crumples and she runs her hands down his cheekbones, wanting to take it away. But he doesn't feel it as he stares at her. "It wasn't just mirakuru."
That stops her. "What?" she asks. "What do you mean?"
"They dosed her with Vertigo, too, and Caitlin thinks… she thinks…" He grits his teeth, inhaling through them, squeezing his eyes shut, like he can't remember, or can't string the words together. "She thinks that maybe they… interacted, or… fragmented her mind? So, she'll be fine one minute and the next…"
And the next she can be anyone or anything. A danger to them all.
"Oh my god," Felicity whispers. And then she's shaking her head. She grips his face tight as she says, "No, Oliver. I refuse to accept that. You have to refuse to accept that. We're going to help her. Treat her, cure her, something. She won't be like this forever. She can't."
If she'd been paying attention, she'd notice she sounds just as manic as Thea did a moment ago. But it doesn't take away from what she's saying, or the meaning behind it. She might be desperately trying to believe it herself, but it's still true. They can't give up.
Oliver nods, trying to absorb her words, willing them to be true, but the pained look on his face…
God, it hits her so deeply that it socks the wind out of her.
"But," he says, his voice uneven, "even if that's true, even if she gets better… she's always going to have to live with… with what she did."
He can't say it, he can't finish that thought. Felicity's not about to make him say it either.
But it does remind her that there's still so much she doesn't know.
"Is Laurel going to live?" she asks. It comes out as little more than a whisper and Oliver doesn't answer right away.
When he does, it's no louder than her question.
"I don't know," he replies, his voice distant and lost. "Felicity… I don't know. And this is… God, it's too much, but all I can think is thank god this didn't happen when she was holding Ellie." He makes a pained sound deep in his chest. "Because this is bad enough, but… but if she had…"
The wave of nausea that hits her at his words is stronger than before and has nothing at all to do with morning sickness. She can't even fathom it, but he's right. He's so right. After all of their battles, all of their victories, they could so easily have lost Ellie to Thea's madness. As horrific as this is - and oh… it is - they got lucky.
Oliver's next breath is rattled with tears and Felicity grabs his face, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"She's fine, Oliver," she says with a watery smile. "She's right there and she's fine."
"But she could have-"
"No," Felicity interrupts him, shaking her head fiercely. "No 'could haves.' She's okay. We need to be grateful for that and deal with the problems at hand instead of imaginary ones that never happened."
"You're right," he echoes dimly. "I know you are. I just… Felicity… I wasn't prepared for this. My sister can't be a killer. She can't be Laurel's killer." His face pinches at the thought, at the fact that he has to say it at all. "I don't know how to help her. I don't know how Sara will ever forgive either of us, how Roy will cope with everything, how my mom does. I just… I don't know what to do, I don't-"
She cuts him off with a kiss. She does it as much to steal the words from his lips as to take some of the burden from his shoulders.
It's hard and forceful, a kiss borne more of denial and strength than of desire or love… but maybe it is love, just of a different sort. Felicity wants to siphon off these worries, make them disappear, but she doesn't have a way of doing that so she kisses him as hard as she can, pulling his neck down to make the job easier. She kisses him until she feels him finally responding, as little as it is, until she feels her lungs start to burn, until there's nothing left but the most basic need for air.
When she finally pulls back, leaving him no less broken-looking and desperate, they're breathing hard, harsh lungfuls of air that burn more than they probably should.
Oliver stares at her numbly, and his need for help - for guidance - is painfully obvious.
"First," she says, stroking his cheeks, running her fingers over the blood on one, like that simple act will wash it away. "First, we wash your hands."
With a start, he looks down at his fingers - blood-stained again, but not with his blood this time. It's like he's just now noticing them. Oliver presses them together with an absent air that makes her uneasy. The red liquid is sticky, making a horrible wet noise where it's starting to dry on his skin.
He looks as nauseous as she felt a moment ago.
She doesn't hesitate in covering his hands, squeezing them in hers.
"One step at a time, Oliver," she tells him gently. He looks up at her. "First, we wash your hands. Then… we do whatever comes next."
He nods mechanically and lets her lead him to the bathroom. He's so passive, following blindly wherever she leads, putting himself entirely in her hands. Because it's a safe place - his safe place - and because he knows she'll take care of him.
Without a word, Felicity leans him against the counter for support before letting his hands go long enough to tug his shirt over his head. He moves with her, without provocation, staring at her face like she's the only anchor he has right now. And maybe she is. She drops the shirt in the trash. She knows later she'll want to dispose of it properly, but not yet. She's not willing to be away from him.
She scans the wide expanse of his chest.
The blood didn't seep through.
Felicity turns on the water, testing its warmth before drawing his hands underneath it. The water instantly run pink, flakes of blood coming off, swirling around the drain, stark against the white porcelain. She scrubs soap over both of their fingers, taking her time, being thorough. She gets everything she can find, from his fingers all the way up his forearms.
The bubbles turn red, then pink, then - eventually - run clear until it's just their joined hands beneath the water.
"She was begging me," he whispers. Felicity presses her face against his shoulder, like she can ward all of this off. "She said she didn't want to be like this…"
"I heard," she confirms.
He continues like she hasn't even spoken. "I think… I think maybe she meant she wanted to… she didn't want to…"
"No," Felicity says firmly. She knows exactly where he's going and she is more than aware she can't let him go down that road. She shuts off the water and grabs him, turning him around to face her. Their hands are still wet, but clean. She leaves trails of water across his chest as she cups his neck. "She wasn't even close to being in her right mind, Oliver. You know that. That's why everything happened in the first place. Thea didn't know what she was asking. She was only aware enough to know she didn't want to hurt anyone."
Felicity's pretty certain he doesn't entirely believe her, but she can see he wants to. Badly. He nods, looking at her with a kind of desperation that seeks something, anything, to keep him going.
The fact that he wants it has to be enough.
"She's unconscious right now?" Felicity asks.
Oliver nods. "Yeah. She's out for a while. Roy and Lyla are both watching her and she's… and Lyla…" Regret-laced pain flickers over his face. "She put Thea in restraints."
That hadn't even occurred to Felicity. But while the notion of it clearly hurts him, she's glad to hear it, and so grateful - for possibly the one-hundred-thousandth time - that Lyla is here with them.
"Good," Felicity says, nodding. "That's good. It means we can keep her out while we figure out how to help her. Because we will help her. She can come back from this, Oliver. She can. But she's going to need us." She slides her hands up to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her, to keep looking at her. "She's gonna need you."
It takes him a second, but he finally blows a steadying breath through his lips. Oliver nods, his eyes finally connecting with hers, really seeing her, like he's only just now registering her presence for the first time since she pulled him into their room.
"Felicity," he whispers, "if Laurel dies-"
"If Laurel dies, it still won't be Thea's fault," Felicity interrupts. "It will be Isabel's. And Blood's. And Slade's. But it won't be hers."
"She won't see it that way," Oliver replies a little abruptly, his certainty unwavering. She suspects it's probably because he's been in similar shoes, because he's always blamed himself.
"And that's why she'll need us," Felicity points out. "To remind her it's not her fault. To have faith in her. That's true whether…" She takes a steadying breath, because her next words are not easy. "Whether Laurel lives or not."
Oliver bites his lip, pursing them together as the reality of what they're talking about settles in. He's processing this in layers, she realizes, bits and pieces. He says something and he's so removed from it, but then a second later it really hits. "You're right," he says. He sighs as he searches her eyes for a moment before nodding. "I know you're right. I just… I never wanted this for her. Not her."
"I know," Felicity confirms. She slides one hand up into his hair, and his eyes flutter shut for a quick second before she slips it back down to cup his still-injured cheek. "I know. But we can't control everything. All we can do is move forward."
With an weary groan, Oliver steps closer, resting his forehead against hers. She can feel the bone-deep exhaustion seeping from his body.
It has been an exceedingly long day.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," he breathes out quietly against her.
"Luckily for you, you don't have to find out," she replies a bit cheekily. It does nothing to alleviate the weight of what's happened, but it does have him huffing slightly. She gives him a small smile, grabbing his hands. "Come on. We should get some sleep."
"No." Oliver shakes his head. "You go ahead," he says, stepping back. He doesn't let go of her hands. "I think I'm gonna sit with Thea for a bit."
"Oliver…" she chastises softly.
"Just for a bit," he emphasizes. "I know I need rest. And I… I need you and Ellie, too." He bows his head, his eyes watching his thumbs as they rub across the back of her hands. "I need to hold you both. Especially after today. But first…" He looks at her again. "I need to see Thea again. Make sure she's… I don't know, as okay as she can be I guess."
After a beat, she finally replies, "Okay."
"Okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," she agrees. "Oliver, if that's what you need, I'm not going to begrudge you that. She's your sister and this… It's big. I get that."
The look he offers her is one of pained appreciation. He steps back towards her, the move underlined with a quiet urgency that makes her stomach clench, and kisses her. It's soft and quiet, and he lingers against her lips with a blatant affection that has nothing at all to do with the circumstances and everything to do with them.
"Thank you," he whispers a hair's breadth away from her mouth before kissing her twice more. The simple act is so full of love, a love she feels in her bones. She loves this man, with everything in her, and while hell is breaking loose again, she's so, so grateful that he's here, that he turned to her, that he leaned on her.
Felicity nods against him. "I'll see you in a bit."
With one last kiss, he turns. He keeps their fingers tangled as long as he can. He grabs a fresh t-shirt from the closet - which reminds Felicity she needs to get rid of the one she just took off of him - and makes a direct beeline for the bed, for Ellie. Oliver moves to kneel down before changing his mind, wincing when it puts too much pressure on his knee. Instead, he leans over, kissing Ellie's forehead, whispering something to her. He strokes her hair gently as he stands, his thumb brushing over her little eyebrow.
Even from where she still stands in the bathroom Felicity can see he's starting to shake again.
He glances back at her once more before he goes.
Felicity doesn't remember falling asleep.
She does remember turning all the lights off in the bedroom before changing her mind - once the darkness had settled in around her, once she wasn't able to actually see Ellie even though she was right there, a sliver of panic had her sitting up and turning on the lamp on the nightstand. She remembers that, and she remembers curling around her daughter, making a cocoon all their own. The last thing she remembers is thinking she won't be able to sleep, not with the sight of blood all over Oliver in her mind's eye, with Laurel's broken cries of pain and Thea's sobs echoing in her ear. It's a testament to how exhausted she is, though, because when her eyes slip shut, they stay that way.
Until a soft rustle has her waking.
She comes out of sleep in lethargic waves. Something tells her there's nothing to worry about, nothing that should alarm her, and as a result it takes way too long for her to pull her eyes open.
The room is still softly lit from the lamp on the nightstand, but it's different. Changed.
She doesn't have to open her eyes to know Oliver's back.
"Hey," she whispers, blinking herself awake. Felicity sits up - she fell asleep with her glasses on; they're off-kilter, letting her see Oliver clearly with only one eye where he sits at the foot of the bed. She readjusts them, trying to fight a yawn, but losing the battle. When he doesn't respond right away, she untangles herself from a still-sleeping Ellie and tosses back the comforter. "Oliver?"
"I didn't mean to wake you," he whispers.
The sound of his voice has her waking up faster than anything else could right now.
"What happened?" she asks, scooting across the bed gingerly. She's still groggy, but her hands are steady when she reaches him. She rubs his arm, moving up his shoulder and over his back. His muscles are hard as rocks, tight and tense under her touch, like he's been sitting just like this for hours. "Oliver."
His response is to blow out a short heavy breath before he turns to her. His face is haggard and she has to wonder what time it is since it looks like he's been up for a week straight. His eyes are even more bloodshot, strain deepening the lines in his face. He looks like he's barely holding it together and Felicity's shoulders fall, her hand sliding up the back of his neck as she whispers his name.
Oliver moves for her at the same time she reaches for him and they wrap themselves around each other. Without warning, he pulls her closer, picking her up and twisting her until she's in his lap, her legs hanging off to the side of his. He takes a shuddery breath as he wraps her up in his arms, burying his face against her chest. It's more burrowing, like he's seeking out her warmth, wanting to lose himself in her.
Felicity holds him just as tight, nuzzling the top of his head.
"Laurel's still in surgery," he offers. His voice rumbles through her chest. He's quiet, detached.
"How long has she been in there?" Felicity asks, angling her head to look at the clock. It's barely past one in the morning. Oh, that's not good. "Has she been in there this entire time?"
"Yeah." Oliver takes another shaky breath. It seems to be the only kind he can take right now. "They're trying to repair her liver and the damage to her lungs and juxtahepatic veins. Her lungs just got nicked, but the liver and the veins… they were pierced when she… when Thea…"
"But she's still alive," Felicity interrupts, stroking his hair in a soothing motion. She runs her fingers through it, and it seems to work, although the tension living under his skin doesn't go anywhere. "She's fighting."
"Yeah."
He doesn't sound sure, at all, but there isn't anything she can say, anything that will make this better, so she switches tactics.
"And Thea?" she asks. "How is she?"
That is the wrong topic switch. He's holding strong for Laurel, bolstered by the news that she's still alive, that she's still fighting for her life, but Thea… that's the thing that breaks him. He falls against her, an amazing feat considering he's holding her right now, but he manages, curling in against her as he lets out a broken breath. It matches his tone as he replies.
"She… she woke up, after a few hours, which…" He gives her a sardonic laugh. "You should've seen Caitlin's face when she saw Thea waking up, because she gave her enough to keep her out for a full day, but she… she's burning it off, or it's not metabolizing correctly, because of the mirakuru and Vertigo. We don't know what mixture of the Vertigo she got, which is… making things difficult. And Caitlin, she checked her blood as much as she could here and the Vertigo, it's… She said it's cancelling the cure out."
Felicity's frozen. "It's… what?"
"It's cycling the cure out of her system," Oliver continues, his voice leveling off into something far more monotone, as if relaying the facts is the only way he'll be able to get all the information out. "Cancelling it out, like it's… overpowering it, or… she doesn't know. And she doesn't know how or why, but what little cure she does get only works for a short amount of time before it starts to wear off. So those lucid moments that she… when she was awake earlier before she… snapped…" He pauses, like he's back in the room, back when she'd attacked Laurel. "It's the only thing she'll get until she needs another dose. So they need to figure out what kind of Vertigo she was given, how it's mixing with the mirakuru, what it's doing combined... And when they do. Even if they do, no guarantee that they'll come up something to help her."
Oliver grits his teeth, and she can feel his jaw clenching against her breast.
"I heard Caitlin and Cisco talking and they don't know what to do," he says, a slowly growing aggravation coating the words. "Cisco thinks it might adapt, based on what they saw, so until they work out what she was given, she's going to have to stay sedated. The Vertigo isn't killing her because the mirakuru is keeping it at bay, but the Vertigo is tainting the mirakuru, making it incurable because they don't… they just don't know."
"But they're looking," Felicity interrupts, pulling back to look at him. "They're going to help her, Oliver."
"How can they help her when they don't know what to do, Felicity?" he argues. The words come out in a hushed tone, but the anger filling them is as loud as if he was shouting. "They don't know what she has in her system, because the mirakuru's changed it? Or it's… tainted it, I don't know. How they can help her if they don't… How can I help my baby sister if they can't? If the people qualified to help her can't, what the hell am I supposed to do? What can I do?"
"I don't know," she replies. Her lack of answer has him closing his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. Felicity shrugs for emphasis, because she really doesn't know. "I don't know, Oliver, I don't have answers just as much as they don't." When he doesn't look at her again, she grabs his chin, forcing him to. "But assuming they're never going to help her gets you nowhere. You can't give up because they didn't find anything in the first few hours. It takes time, Oliver, it's not magic."
"I know that," he says, and it almost comes out in a growl as he grips her tighter, his fingers digging into her. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't feel good, and when she shifts without thinking to get away from his grip, he instantly releases her. Neither of them noticed when he'd sat up taller, when he'd straightened his shoulders, his posture falling in line with his aggravation, but it's suddenly gone when he realizes how he's talking to her, how he's holding her. "God, Felicity, I'm sorry, I didn't…"
"I get it." Felicity doesn't let him look away. She cups his face, staring into his eyes. "It's okay. I know this is… frustrating." He snorts, and she knows it's because that word is not nearly strong enough. "But I'd rather you were in here venting at me than, well, not. Venting, I mean." She stares at him for a beat. "I'm so sorry, Oliver, I know this is… this… It sucks."
He laughs at that, an incredulous short burst of laughter that's almost loud enough to wake Ellie.
"For lack of a better term," she adds with a tug of her lips.
"It does," he breathes, leaning into her. "It really does." His head falls against her, his forehead resting against her neck. He holds her closer, taking a series of deep breaths before he falls still. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she replies, wrapping herself around him as much as she can.
Not for the first time she wishes she could take away all his pain. Or at least carry some of it. She is, she knows she is, just by virtue of being here for him, being someone he can lean on and talk to, but she wants to reach inside and soothe the ache she knows lives in his chest. She can feel it in the way he holds her, how he keeps having to force himself to breathe normally, how he vibrates with energy, a phantom energy he really does not have. She wants to shield him from any more of it, because he's been through enough.
And it's worse because she knows it's so far from over.
Whispering, "I love you," again, she starts peppering soft kisses against his temple. She moves down his cheek, whispering it over and over, like maybe the power of her love for him can do all of that for her. And maybe it does work, because he sighs, leaning into her further, turning his face towards her, seeking an absolution from the weight of his emotion trying to pull him under. She loves him, so very much, and she pushes that love into each kiss. They're soft and simple, cherishing, lingering, as she works her way over his brow, down his nose, to his other temple and back.
It's quiet and easy… until she reaches his lips.
The second hers hover over his, kissing him softly once or twice, she feels the energy between them suddenly shift.
His breath dances over her skin, his lips trembling against hers. He clutches her closer, his hands gripping her t-shirt in tight fists. Heat comes off him in waves, enveloping her, pulling her in, and she lets out a tremulous gasp. It'd be so easy - the bathroom is right there, or the closet. They could sneak in there for a few minutes, she knows they wouldn't take long. The sudden cascade of need building between them is so intense it takes her breath away. It fills her, crawling over her skin, leaving her so very warm. It's a product of their day - a product of the last few days, really - and they both know it, but it doesn't matter.
The need to lose themselves in each other, to seek solace just as much as to reaffirm that they're both still here, that they're okay and they will go on, nearly takes over. It's a natural reaction to the day's events, the desire to do something, to show that they're still standing, that they're going to still be here when the next tide rolls in…
But they can't, and they both know it. Not with Ellie right here, not with her unprotected in the room on her own. It may have been over a week ago, but what happened with Malcolm is still very fresh in their minds, and tachyon detector or not, things are too on edge for either of them to be comfortable leaving Ellie by herself, even for a few moments.
And none of that even touches on the consideration of Thea being right down the hall.
So no, they can't give in, not right now.
That doesn't diminish the near-violent want flowing between them like a living thing. It's in her touch when her hands slide up into his hair, when she takes a deep breath and her chest moves against his, when she squeezes her thighs together, feeling his body responding under hers. She feels it in the way his breath stutters, how his heart pounds just as loud and fast as hers, how he whispers her name, his lips moving against hers.
"I know," Felicity whispers, nodding. "I know."
"Felicity…"
Fe-li-ci-ty.
She shivers and he holds her tighter… but that's as far as it goes. That's as far as it can go.
When her lips brush against his again, this time with the slightest bit more pressure, he moans, and the sound is almost her undoing. With a deep breath, Felicity forces herself to pull back, just enough to put space between them. She knows one kiss will turn into more and it might very well take over, and they can't, not right now.
And Oliver knows it.
He doesn't let her go though. Instead he pulls her against him, eliminating the slight distance that had felt like a vast expanse, pressing his face into her chest again as he holds her as tight as he can. She returns it readily, whimpering against him - not because it's too much, but because it's not enough.
They hold each other for a while, leaning on each other, until the pull of sleep becomes too much. She's gotten more sleep than Oliver has and she's still exhausted, but it's nothing compared to Oliver when he starts slouching against her.
"C'mon," she says, sitting up. She pulls on him, making her intention clear as she slips off his lap. She doesn't need to say it for him to understand, not that it matters. He follows her blindly. She leads him to the spot she'd been occupying when she'd woken up - the spot that'd become his without them ever outright acknowledging it - and he lays down, instantly curling around Ellie.
Oliver lifts her up slightly, cuddling her against his chest as he buries his face in her hair. He takes a deep breath, a cleansing breath, just before Felicity turns off the light. The irrational fear of the dark she'd felt earlier is gone now that Oliver's here.
Ellie lets out a drawn-out snore as Felicity makes her way to her side, completely gone to the world.
She hears Oliver pulling the comforter back for her and she climbs in, snuggling into the cocoon with her family. Oliver reaches over, pulling her closer, practically smooshing Ellie between them. He rubs his hand down her arm. He grips her hip before sliding his hand down over her stomach. He holds it there, whispering, "C'mere," urging her closer. Now that Ellie's between them, a kiss is far less dangerous… and yet, when their lips touch, that earlier need is still there. She thinks it might be there for a while.
After a series of lingering kisses that have them both feeling the same yearning for more, but also recognizing that they can't have it yet, they settle in. They both wrap around Ellie, their hands managing to find each other, tangling together.
Sleep almost has her under when Oliver suddenly whispers, "Thea attacked me."
That wakes her right up.
"Thea… she attacked you, she…?" It's only because sleep is right there that she struggles to understand exactly what he's saying. Thea attacked me. Like she attacked Laurel. She chokes out a noise she's never made before, moving to touch him. She knows he isn't hurt, she'd just seen him, she'd just held him. Still… "Did she hurt you? Did she get you? Oliver-"
"I'm okay," Oliver replies, raising his voice so she hears him. "I'm okay, she didn't… she wasn't fast enough."
What if she had been?
Felicity's voice is rough with the reality of that 'what if' as she asks, "So when you said Thea woke up…"
"It's how we knew the cure was completely out of her system," he says. He's almost tranquil in the way he reports it and she wants to hit him for his sudden blasé attitude. She knows - she knows - it's because he's here with her and Ellie, but still. "She broke the restraints Lyla had on her and she just… It was like before."
Before.
With Slade.
The reminder is a chilling one and it has her ire fading away. It's then that she notices he's holding Ellie close, so close, cradling her in a way that would tell anyone who looks at him that he's not letting her go. She knows he's thinking about when she'd been in Thea's arms, when they'd thought everything had been okay… only to find out that everything they thought they knew was right was wrong.
"We'll get her back, Oliver," Felicity says, speaking clearly. "We're going to save her. Again."
He doesn't respond, but when he pulls her close for one last kiss, she thinks he believes her this time.