A/N: A big thank you to almondblossomme of Tumblr for the beta! Betas are GOLDEN. Srsly. Hugs.
CHAPTER 4
FELICITY
"Hey, Felicity, when is Raisa getting here?"
Felicity looks up from her computer, her eyes already on William but her mind still processing the email she was reading.
"Umm," Oh right, Raisa! "Raisa called earlier, Will. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. She had an emergency with her daughter, the one who is having a baby, remember? So I guess it's just the two of us tonight."
"Oh." Disappointment laces the single syllable, but he doesn't elaborate further, sheepishly fidgeting on his spot, which finally gets her full attention, Mr. Wang's email momentarily forgotten.
"Why? Did you need something from her? Whatever it is, I'm sure I can help too!" She offers helpfully, then adds on an afterthought, slightly pouting. "Unless it's cooking. I really can't help you with that, so if it's cooking, I am afraid you are on your own, buddy."
He offers her a shy smile but doesn't bite on her attempt at humor. Whatever it is, she knows it must be bothering him. So offering a reassuring smile, she makes the effort to pointedly push the laptop away and in a warm and inviting gesture silently pats the spot next to her on the couch.
William gives her another shy smile, his feet finally ungluing from the spot as he drags his sneakers across the room before heavily plopping down next to her.
He doesn't talk, doesn't turn to her, his eyes trained on the coffee table instead as he silently broods. The familiarity of the gesture catches Felicity off guard and she has to bite her cheek not to laugh out loud at how the boy's a spitting image of his father right now.
Okay. So serious talk. She can do that.
William is a hard nut to crack sometimes, his nature more of a silent introvert. Felicity prods a little, literally, poking his side with a finger and leaning sideways, bumping her shoulder against his slender frame.
"What is it William?" She asks softly. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
His shoulders rise in a protective gesture, ears almost disappearing as he awkwardly mumbles. "I just thought- I need- I need to take a shower. And with my arm broken—"
Oh. Right. Damn.
Because Raisa has been late very conveniently taken care of helping out William in this particular department and the both of them – Felicity as well as William – had been more than happy with the arrangement because new step-moms helping teenage boys undress and shower is more than a little awkward.
Ugh!
Felicity tries to play it cool, although her pulse has certainly picked up; wondering if she were better equipped for these kinds of things if she actually read any of the books on parenting she had purchased and never read so far. Not that she didn't plan on it. Just…life. It has a tendency to get in the way of doing important things lately. Now she really wishes she had prioritized this particular issue. Something tells her though that this specific topic wouldn't be covered in any book either way.
Clearing her throat, she turns to face him, plastering a reassuring smile on her face and forcing a level of enthusiasm into her voice she isn't feeling at all. "You know, I can help you too."
"Sure…" he says slowly, nodding his head noncommittally, pretending he is thinking about it even if he is really not. Because she knows that expression, has seen it on Oliver's face countless times in the past – the one where his mouth says yes but everything else screams Hell, no. And that riles her just a little, because seriously, this is ridiculous.
"I mean, I know you prefer Raisa for these kinds of things, but she is not here and I'd really rather not have you wander around the loft smelling like something a cat dragged in for a whole week." His eyes go huge at the mention of Raisa's absence possibly taking up to a week and yeah, that did not get across that well, but she can't backpedal now. "So I guess we will have to find a way to make this work without her."
He fidgets on the spot, unconvinced and embarrassed, and she understands him, she really does, even if it's a little ridiculous and under any other circumstances would maybe be even a little funny.
She doesn't particularly look forward to it either, to be honest, because if somebody told her she would had to help her almost-teenager of a step-son in the shower one day, and that before she even turned thirty, she would send them straight to the nuthouse, but hey, there are a family. And it's just a shower, right?
Well, as it turns out, it's not. Despite William wearing a pair of swimwear for the most revealing part, it's all kinds of awkward and embarrassing, to the both of them, and half an hour later, as they finally manage to find a rhythm through the squinting and not-peeking and William blushing and stumbling through the whole ordeal, Felicity herself can't get away quick enough herself.
This is definitely a task for a mother, and she's not his mom. She didn't give birth to him, she didn't bathe him as a baby, didn't dress him till he could do it himself, making the process a natural part of their relationship and it's definitely anything but a natural process for the two of them. She is not even Raisa, who has come to represent an older, grand-motherly figure, a person who has known even Oliver – William's father – his whole life. She is just Felicity, the super-young and extremely awkward wife of William's dad, a woman he has known for barely a year.
And it stings a little, thinking about it like that, but Felicity, unfortunately, doesn't have the luxury to dwell on that, because if she's feeling like shit, William is looking a hundred times worse. And although there's nothing she'd rather do than run away and never speak of this again, this is their reality now, and it will continue to be their reality for the next week so they need to find a rhythm and a common ground to make this thing work. And make it less awkward in the process, because oh boy, this was all kinds of mortifying and she can't imagine a repeat performance in the near future.
William is standing in his room now, a towel wrapped tightly around his hips, his cast still tightly fixed to his chest, looking a little lost as to what to do now. Together they somehow managed to keep his cast dry, so at least in that department, Felicity can congratulate herself on a mission well accomplished. And that's what this has been really about, hasn't it?
Felicity makes a quick decision. She crosses the room, opens William's underwear drawer and resolutely picks out a cute pair of boys' briefs with little baseballs and bats printed on them.
In fact, she'd the one who's bought them for him. She's picked out a lot of his clothes, actually, even though he probably doesn't realize it. Well, phew, okay. So she might not be his mom, but maybe it's time to show him she plans on acting the part in every way that counts, embarrassment notwithstanding.
"William," she calls in a calm voice, drawing his attention before beckoning him closer and pointing for him to sit on the side of his bed. He makes his way towards her but spotting the undergarment in her hands, he freezes, looking petrified. Which, in turn, makes her huff, because this is utterly ridiculous.
"Will, seriously? After everything we've been through together? Get your butt over here, mister!" she orders. There's playfulness in her tone but also a level of command William doesn't dare to disobey.
She crouches down in front of him, wincing slightly as her back spasms and she drops to her knee a little more heavily than expected, an involuntarily, pained grunt leaving her lips.
"Felicity?" William calls in alarm, his good arm shooting up to grip her shoulder in an attempt to steady her when she wobbles on her knees.
"I am fine. Really. It's nothing," she quickly forces out through gritted teeth, forcing her legs to lock in place. She quickly glances at William, throwing him an assuring smile, ignoring the pins and needles shooting through her right leg while using his distraction with her state to put his feet through the holes in his underwear.
"You don't have to do that," William mumbles, but she's had enough of this. This shouldn't even be an issue.
She takes a long, deep breath, plopping backwards on her ass as she looks up at him.
"William, did your dad ever tell you how I got injured two years ago?"
It's a rhetorical question, of course, but it gets his full attention. "I was shot and left paralyzed from the waist down and it was your dad who had taken care of me back then."
William's mouth falls open in shock at her blunt words. And yeah, there is no way he would have known – or remembered – fleetingly glancing a woman in a wheelchair when he was reunited with his mom after his abduction by Darhk. She wasn't anybody to him back then. But she is now, and she needs to make him understand.
"We were chasing a bad man back then. In fact, you know him. Damian Darkh?" She poses it as a question, but she knows he remembers, and all he gives in return is a tiny nod.
"Anyway, Darhk had it out for your dad and everybody he cared about, a little like…" she huffs, "every big bad villain we've encountered ever since. Very unoriginal," she complains, rolling her eyes at him, then realizes she let herself get sidetracked. She continues, all the while using the momentary distraction to slowly make her progress in helping William dress.
"We were- In fact, we just got engaged, your dad and me. It was during his electoral campaign, and we were driving home in a limo from a campaign gig."
She doesn't want to dwell on the details too much. It might be in the past now, but the memory still makes her heart pound and stomach painfully knot.
"Anyway, we were ambushed, the car was rammed from the side. Then all hell broke loose as gunmen started to fire ammo at the car. By the time they were finished, the car looked more like a block of mangled swiss cheese. The driver didn't make it." she adds quietly, remembering the other casualty of that day often overlooked by the media.
"How did you get away?" William asks with baited breath and Felicity just smiles, pulling the T-shirt carefully over William's head. "Your dad," she simply says, because it's all the explanation she really needs to give.
"But you got hurt."
"Yeah."
Not a fond memory. She smooths the fabric over his chest, adjusting it over the cast so it doesn't pull. "I got shot. Two bullets. One nicked my spine. The doctors did everything they could, but in the end, the spine injury was irreversible. At least, that's what was believed at that time."
"Felicity," William utters in horror, and once again, she is swept away by the amount of compassion she sees in the boy's eyes. For her. Her past suffering.
"It was bad for a while." She admits with a wince, not wanting to sugarcoat it for him. She knows he can take it. He reaches up with his good hand them, wrapping it around her forearm in comfort.
"I am sorry."
"It's okay. Curtis – the genius he is – eventually invented a biostimulant for me. It's an electronic chip of sorts that's been implanted into my spine that helps me walk again."
She makes a little curtsy for him, just to elevate the mood a little. "That's what we are currently trying to do with Helix. Replicate and develop a series of medical bio-stimulants for mass production which could make other people walk or use their paralyzed limbs again. But for a couple of months there, I was paralyzed. I needed a wheelchair to get anywhere, I couldn't walk," she says in a quiet voice. "And I never felt more dependant and vulnerable in my entire life."
William's eyes fall down to the ground, but that's not the message she is trying to pass on here.
"But you know what's the most prominent thing I remember from that time, William?" she urges, one hand on his shoulder while the other reaches up to cup his cheek and direct his face to look at her. "I remember your dad. And how he did everything in his power to make it easier for me. He would change my dressing when I finally came home from the hospital, he would hand out my pills so I wouldn't get into pain, would carry me down the stairs in the morning and bring me up at night. In fact, we were living in this very loft back then, so you've seen how high and steep those steps are but it never stopped him running up and down with me in his arms showing off the easy with which he could do it." She gives him a small smile before she continues solemnly once again.
"He made adjustments to the loft so it would be easier for me to navigate it in the wheelchair on my own too, so I could be more independent. He would cook me dinner, fetch me coffee, my tablet, or a blanket when I was cold. He would help bathe me and dress me. Even helped me on the toilet sometimes. For a while, it felt demeaning. I felt like a child. And I was utterly miserable." Her hand brushes his cheek, a soft smile stretching across her face.
"And you know what? You dad never even thought twice about any of it. He did it all, naturally, happily, always. There was nothing too embarrassing or too off-limits for him. Yeah, some things were a little awkward at first, but we were engaged, and we were in love, and we were a family, of sorts. And that's what families do. They take care of each other, no matter what." Her hand roamed over his wet hair as she regarded him, willing him to understand. "We were a family, even if we weren't married back then. And now there is you too."
"But I am not your son."
She was surprised how much that hurt to hear.
"You are not my blood, no." She admits, gulping down the lump in her throat.
"And I am not your mom. I will never try be your mom, never try to take her place. But you are my family now, and a son to me in every way that counts. I love you. You are the flesh and blood of the man I chose to love and marry and make my own family. Your dad, he isn't my flesh and blood either, but he's my family nonetheless. He is the family I chose."
"You didn't choose me, though," he points out in a small voice and she can't help it, her face stretches into a big smile.
"And yet I love you. And I choose you now. Does that make sense?" And wow, this conversation got out of hand so quickly.
He slowly nods, mulling over her words. "So you say that as a family, there is nothing we won't do for each other? That we always take care of each other."
Her answering smile is radiant as she pats his shoulder in appreciation. "You are a very smart boy, William. You know, it took your dad years to catch on."
That makes him bark out a laugh and she lets her hands fall away from him, taking a couple of steps away to put a little distance between them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by lingering too long. Yet her heart is light as she regards him, knowing they are going to be okay.
"Felicity, can I ask you something else?" William asks, his face growing contemplative again.
"Of course."
He vaguely points to her midsection. "Your spine, the injury. Is that why you are limping now?"
The question catches her off guard, knocking the wind out of her. Damnit, the boy is too smart for his own good. It's not even a question. He knows.
For his sake, she has tried to play her discomfort as a direct result of the car crash, something to heal over time, even though deep down, she knew there was more to it. Knew it had nothing to do with the bruising sustained in the crash and everything to do with something being wrong with her implant.
But having William ask so outwardly, she can't lie to his face even if it was the easier road to go. Not after what they've already been through and most definitely not after the conversation they'd just had. She doesn't want him to worry too much though.
"I don't know. It's possible," she hedges.
He scrunches up his face. "What does that mean?"
She sighs. "It means that I suspect something has gone wrong with the chip during the crash, but I don't know for sure."
"Well…can't you find out? Have it checked out and fixed, or something?"
She plops down onto the bed now, suddenly wary with the direction the conversation has turned. "That's the tricky part. It's a one of a kind invention."
"Well, Mr. Holt invented it. Can't he take a look at it?"
He can. But that's exactly the problem. There is only so much he can do from the outside. And the alternative- its not an option. Not right now anyway.
"He will," she says vaguely.
"When?" and when she doesn't reply, his voice turns slightly frustrated.
"Felicity, does he even know?" and now it's William rising his eyebrow knowingly, putting her down on the spot and jeez, is she really getting reprimanded by a twelve-year old?
And its unfair, how stupid and silly she feels – how petulant – under William's knowing look. She shakes her head sheepishly.
"Fe-li-ci-ty!" William says in frustration and God, why is the universe torturing her with a spitting image of her husband right now?
"I just haven't gotten around to it yet, okay?" she tries to defend herself, but it sounds lame even to her own ears. "I will. Tomorrow. I promise." She adds, and that seems to appease him a little. He nods.
"Okay. Because we are a family. And when you care about me, that means I care about you too." He says gravely, pulling up to his full high, and her heart surges with her love for this boy.
"I love you, buddy." The words just leave her mouth, slip up without any conscious thought, and before there is a chance for her words to cause any more awkwardness, she rises off the bed and pulls him into a firm, tight hug. Because this boy is an angel and despite not meaning to say those words out loud, she means them.
XXX
"Felicity, you won't believe the call I just got! Global Metacorx has asked Helix to come make a short-notice presentation on our new line of bio-stimulants! Somebody apparently vacated a spot on their investment panel this weekend and they are asking us to jump in!"
It takes a while to register what Curtis e is saying, because this line of code she's been working on the past couple of hours is just not cooperating, but when it finally does-
"Oh my God, Curtis!" she exclaims, turning to him from her spot, eyes going huge. "That's absolutely incredible! This could be the break-through we've been waiting for!"
"Right!?" he squeals – there is just no other word for the sound he makes – his grin nearly splitting his face. "If we got their funding, Helix could go from our living-room operating project to a multi-million company in the span of just mere months!" he gushes enthusiastically and yeah, that prospect sounds pretty sweet to Felicity's ears too, because having to feed a teenage boy isn't exactly cheap and it would be a nice thing to know she wouldn't have to worry anymore about how to pay rent for this unreasonably huge loft she loves but can barely afford at the moment.
"Curtis, that's awesome!" she squeals herself and throws her arms around him, letting his big body dwarf hers, because this is the single good news she's got in the past couple of weeks and God, she really, really needs good news right now.
"When and how?" she fires, clapping her hands together, in her head already composing a mental list of things to do. She starts to pace, letting her thoughts roam free. "I mean, obviously, we know when and how. It's this weekend, right? I mean, I know it's on short notice and in Central City, but we can still kick ass if we just pull a couple of long nights this week." she does some quick thinking, "Hmm, Raisa is out of the question, but I could certainly ask John or even Dinah to watch over William. I mean, it's gonna be just one night, right? We go Saturday and return Sunday, or-" she turns to Curtis, finally stopping her ramble, because the look Curtis is giving her doesn't correspondent will her enthusiasm and certainly not his own from just a couple of moments ago.
In fact, he looks uneasy and more than a little uncomfortable.
"Actually, I was thinking I might go alone," he hedges. "Just this time."
Felicity's mouth forms a little "O", her brows furrowing and he quickly continues. "You know, obviously, you now have William to take care of, and there is enough on your plate here as it is. It's just a simple presentation one person can easily pull off and it's in Central City and to travel there for just -" he flounders through his words and Felicity wonders who he is trying to convince here more, her or himself.
"Right," she says, despite that it doesn't make sense at all, because they both know that this is not a simple presentation but the biggest thing that has happened to their company ever since they created it.
They both fall silent, but it's not a comfortable type of silence they are used to while working, not by a far stretch. Felicity is studying him now, her head slightly cocked as the wheels inside her skull furiously spin, trying to come up with a possible explanation. His frame suddenly feels too big for the space they are standing in and he's uncomfortably shuffling under her scrutiny, his silence telling her very loudly what he obviously can't bring himself to express with words and understanding dawns on her at the miserable, slightly pained look he gives her.
"Right," she utters, and this time, it does make perfect sense.
"Because we wouldn't want Helix to be presented to potential investors by the wife of none other than Oliver Queen, the notorious vigilante and terrorist currently serving life in prison," she says coldly, not feeling an ounce bad when her sharp words make Curtis flinch, looking like he wished earth could swallow him whole. Because his silence is all the confirmation she needs.
"Felicity- I just, I-" he starts, and she stays silent, lets him stew in the mess of his own making, because she is so damn tired already of having to justify her husband, her life, all the time to people around her. She had thought that at least between them, her and Curtis, it could be different. She thought that if anyone would understand, it would be Curtis.
"Of course, Helix is still our project, our company, Felicity. You and me," he tries, jingling his hands nervously.
Her eyebrows raise at that, because he is kind of being a lot contradictive right now. And a dick on top of that too.
"I just thought that having you – personally – appear in front of the board at this stage of discussions—with Oliver's arrest still so fresh on people's minds—that it might be better if we just kept it a little more quiet at the moment, you know?"
She does know. She does know more than she would like. It's her life that's been on the front pages, her face that's been the media's central piece in this whole clusterfuck. It was her who had to absorb all the glances and rumors and stupid gossip that's been spreading through this town like a disease in the last couple of weeks. Her and Oliver and William and no one else, because they've got protection, immunity and anonymity, curtesy provided by her stupid, self-sacrificing idiot of a husband.
So yes, she is very painfully aware, thank you very much.
She just never thought the rumors would hit quite so close to home. Would matter to the people closest to her. Matter to her work. But apparently, there is no escape. And truth to be told, if she is completely, brutally honest with herself, Curtis is probably right.
Which makes it that much more bitter to swallow.
He looks at her with unease, his body a little retracted, arms in a defensive position, as if he expects her to lash out and hit him, and yes, she realizes, the Felicity from a couple of months ago would probably do exactly that, would yell and argue and maybe deliver a good-measured punch or two.
But right now, Felicity can't find it in herself to care. Well, no. She cares. That's why it stings so much. But the idea of mustering the energy to actually do something about it is gone. This is her life now. Just another thing to accept she'll never get back. Her anonymity and innocence, because she's been tainted, branded a traitor and a criminal by proxy.
There are just too many fronts to battle on right now, so she has to pick her fights very carefully.
Last week when a kid at William's school called him a fucktard with a murderer of a father? That's what she used her energy on, marching into the school and demanding to talk to the principal, making it perfectly clear that such behavior shouldn't be tolerated, at any school for that matter.
This? Not worth it.
"Okay, Curtis," she concedes , slightly annoyed when she sees his guard hasn't gone down, his body still ready for a blow she had no intention to strike.
Her left leg is killing her today, on fire with phantom pins and needles. She actually wanted to talk to Curtis about her stimulant problem today, but after the conversation they've just had…well, probably not such a good idea now.
She plops back onto to couch, suddenly spend as if she's run a marathon. Not that she would know, she never particularly liked running.
"It's okay, Curtis," she repeats tiredly, trying to sound reassuringly. She is not looking at him thought, keeping her eyes shut as her back hits the couch.
"Make the official confirmation, send out our application. Then go to Central City and kick some ass," she offers, pulling her glasses off her face and pinching the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache spreading.
"You are not angry?" he asks, wincing, and she answers with a humorless laugh. Because really?
Anger doesn't even start to cover it; the rage and injustice she is waking with every morning and falling asleep to every night is not something easily put into words. But Curtis? John? Or the rest of their friends? She can't be angry with them. Can't muster the energy.
Not when they've been the only solid presences that's been keeping her above water in the past couple of months. It's not saying much. But she can't afford to alienate the only people left who care about her.
"No, Curtis, not angry." She utters. "Not with you," she adds on an afterthought. "We need this. Helix needs this."
He gives her a tentative smile, his eyes flooding with regret and understanding, silent apology hidden somewhere there too and God, it's even worse like this, the pity he is showing her. Before she can turn away, however, Curtis is enveloping her in bear hug, not letting her escape and she knows he's seen too much.
She feels the weight of the world on her shoulders, is at the end of her rope, and they've merely begun. She doesn't know how she is supposed to do this. But she has no choice.
She lets a single hot tear roll down her cheek, because the embrace is doing something to her, offering warmth and comfort she's denied herself for so long, stirring something in places that's been cold and abandoned. And though it's not Oliver's arms providing the support, she still draws strength from it. Because this is all she has left.
OLIVER
He asked her not to come. Despite dying to see her, to see with his own two eyes that she was okay, he asked her to stay home instead and get some rest.
It's been just a week and she needed to heal, not spend a total of seven hours in a car to sit across him in an uncomfortable metal chair for two hours. He tried to reason with her over the phone the whole week, but she wouldn't listen to his reasoning, his quiet pleading for her to see reason falling on deaf ears.
Of course she doesn't listen, his stubborn, infuriating, amazing wife.
Exactly at 2:30 am, his ass is hauled from gen-pop and pushed towards visitations and the summons doesn't even surprise him, because he's always somehow known she wouldn't listen anyway. He should be sorry. Sorry that she is pushing herself so hard, sorry that she has to visit a maximum security prison that's three and a half hour drive away just to see her husband in person, sorry that he couldn't convince her a short visit was not worth the cost of her driving here.
But he is not, God help him, he is not sorry, his heart doing a little summersault in his chest just at the mere thought of seeing her. It's been two weeks.
The feeling of happy anticipation is brutally quenched once he finally walks through the door and gets to lay his eyes on her just as she is walking through the Visitors entrance herself, her face a myriad of colors ranging from purple through green to yellow. There are a couple of cuts already healing, the deepest one on her cheek, taped together with butterfly band aids.
Seeing her like this is like a punch to his gut.
Even when she holds her head high, she still walks with a limp, and it takes everything in him not to run across the room towards her with an offer of his shoulder to lean on while she walks.
Even the guard, Holmes, sees her apparent struggle and pulls out the chair for her, which earns him a quiet 'Thank you' from Felicity and a nod of appreciation from Oliver.
"Hi," she utters after a moment of silence, squirming under his scrutinizing look.
He can't tear his eyes off her, the horror of her injuries stealing his breath away. He was not prepared for this, Oliver realizes. He thought he was, but the scope of the accident, up so close for him to see—it's too much. Never in their six years working together and fighting crime as vigilantes had he ever seen her battered quite like this.
He thought- Well, he doesn't know what he's though. But he didn't expect this.
It pulls at his heartstrings, makes his nostrils flare with impotent rage, because if there is one person in the world who doesn't deserve this, it's his wife.
When he doesn't pick up on her greeting, she takes in upon herself to talk, her eyes shying away from him, no doubt feeling uncomfortable under his piercing look. And yet he can't bring himself to look away.
"So, Curtis drove me. He appointed himself to be my personal chauffeur. Again," she gives a tiny, hollow chuckle, and suddenly his eyes burn.
She spent four hours in a car, banged up and hurting a mere week after being run from the road by a car, just to see him. Him. The man who put her in this position in the first place. He has no words for that.
He has aged ten years in the last couple of days, worrying about the two most important people in his life, and now that she is here, he can't find his fucking words to say as much as a simple 'Hi'.
"You know, a hello would be appreciated at this point," she quips, looking uneasy, and he forcefully shakes himself out of his stupor. Without thinking, he reaches out his hands, grasps hers across the table, tightly squeezing her fingers.
"God, Felicity," he laments in a hoarse voice, but before he can say anything more-
"No touching," Holmes warns, making Felicity flinch and try to pull away, but Oliver will have none of it today. He levels the CO with a murderous look, for once completely careless in his actions, his patience non-existent.
"I am trying to offer comfort to my wife after she's gone through a trauma. Don't you have a heart?!" he snaps.
He does regret his outburst the moment the words leave his mouth though, because this could be it. He has no power here, the CO's do, and Holmes could end their visit on the spot and then her whole ordeal to come in the first place would be for nothing.
He holds his breath but all it takes is Holmes taking one look at Felicity's devastated face and the man takes a step back, leaving them in peace.
A breath Oliver doesn't know he was holding leaves his mouth and his eyes return to Felicity once again. "You had me so so scared, sweetheart," he confesses, intertwining their fingers. Her eyes fall shut and she takes a forceful gulp. For a moment, Oliver desperately hopes she won't start crying, because if she does, he will too.
"I know," she finally whispers in a hoarse tone. "It looks really, really bad. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my entire life. Which with our history, is definitely saying something."
She chuckles forcefully, but it's without real mirth, her eyes again shying away.
She is trying to be funny for him. It breaks his heart.
"Don't," he says simply, pushing his luck – and the obvious lenience of the CO, who is currently pointedly looking the other way – and pulling her hands to his mouth to press tiny kisses against her knuckles. He just can't not. "Talk to me," he presses.
It's the tipping point, and despite that only a single tear slips from the corner of her eye, Oliver knows she is breaking inside. "The whole time, all I thought about was how I couldn't lose William too. How that would break me. Break us. How you would never forgive-"
She falls silent when he forcefully shakes her head at her, willing her to stop, to say no more.
He asked her to talk but he was not prepared for the words, and they break him. His own eyes fill and he doesn't care, doesn't care who sees or hears, because his wife is here, hurting, and there is not a fucking thing he can do to take away her pain.
"It was an accident, Felicity. There is nothing you could have done. I could never- I would never-" he's lost for words. "I- I love you."
He's never meant them more, those three words, but they never sounded emptier as right now. He's desperately holding onto her hands, willing everything he's feeling into that single touch, trying to anchor her while she silently weeps, forcing his focus to stay on her eyes and not the mottled bruises covering her face and neck before disappearing underneath her sweater.
He so desperately wants to kiss her.
"I am sorry," the words slip out of his mouth as his control slips, his own tears falling. "I am sorry I made this stupid decision, I am sorry I can't be there for you. I am sorry you are alone and that you had the bad judgement to choose me as your husband."
He means every word. That's why he doesn't expect her reaction when she barks out a laugh, then another. Still smiling, she extracts one hand to wipe at the tears staining her cheeks.
"Jesus, Oliver. You should be writing children's books," she chides him, but there is surprising lightness in her words.
He does have the decency to look sheepish. Wow, he really does have the ability to make it about him every single time, doesn't he?
He takes a deep breath, willingly re-directing the spiral of his thought.
"How are you doing?" he asks instead, his fingers never leaving hers.
"No, that was stupid. Of course you're not doing great. How are you- how are you holding up?"
She rewards him with a tremulous smile for that.
They talk about the accident, about how William is holding up. At one point, she takes out a handkerchief, rolling in between her fingers nervously as she recounts how very scared she was at the thought of William being hurt, or worse.
"Don't you dare blame yourself, Felicity," Oliver tells her. "Never blame yourself. I left William in your care because I knew, with absolute certainty, that you would be everything he ever needed. More than I could ever be." She starts shaking her head at her, but he pushes through, unwilling to hear her denial, his words not up to discussion. "Right from the first day you came to tutor him, I knew that his life would be better with you in it. I still stand by that." He can see her bottom lip tremble, sees how much his words affect her. He wishes he could do more. Offer more. But he can't, so he better make good use of them.
"I always knew that if I had to pick just one of the two of us to parent William, I would choose you. I'd always choose you. I know it's not fair, to put this burden of responsibility on you. You never asked for it-" he feels terrible just thinking about it. If their roles were reversed-
"It's not a burden." She interrupts, a twinkle appearing in her eye. "William is the only thing that's keeping me going right now. The only thing I have of you. It doesn't hurt that he's kind and funny and really, really smart." She offers with a small smile and it works, God help him, it works. Oliver let's his head fall, his shoulders slumping in relief for the first time in the past week. It finally starts to sink it, that they made it. Are alive, and together, and safe. For now.
"God," he whispers, running a hand across his face. "I am so relieved you both are okay."
They are not. But they will be. And it has to be enough for now.
"Yeah."
They fall silent after that, looking at each other, having one of those wordless conversations they always mastered so effortlessly, until Felicity finally breaks the comfortable silence.
"You know, from all of the possibilities regarding ending up living the single parent slash -" she uses her fingers to make air quotations, "- step-mom on top of that, I ended up with the nicest kid in the world." Her face breaks into a fond smile when she thinks about William, and it makes his chest tighten with longing.
"You know," he echoes her words, "from all of the possibilities of ever doing the single-father of a ten-year old boy who's just lost his mom thing, I ended up with the best, most amazing woman to do this with. Thank you, Felicity. I can't- I don't know what I'd do. Where I'd ever be without you."
She stays silent at that, but her eyes are piercing on his, gazing directly into his soul, perfect understanding passing between them. He wishes, for the millionth time, he could do something about that look. Like cradling her face in his hands and kiss her senseless until both of their heartaches were gone.
He can't, and that makes it so much harder. Her hands tug at his until he lifts his eyes again to her.
"Hey," she whispers. "I love you."
She's punctuating every word with a squeeze to his hands, her voice like silk, softly gliding over the jagged edges of his soul. He merely nods, stupidly, humbled once again by her words.
Time is running short though and there is one more matter he needs to address, one thing that has put him on edge ever since she walked through the door. It's more of a hunch, but he can't not bring it up.
"Your limp."
He just lays it out there, a statement, and waits for her reaction, because he can't – he won't – have her lie on this for his own protection.
"What about it?" she throws back with a careless shrug, her tone way too casual, but the flicker of fear in her eyes betrays her. There's the slightest twitch to the corner of her lips before she masterfully schools her features again, but it's enough of a tell-tell sign to put him on edge. The fact that she is trying to hide it, dismiss it, is enough to tell him his hunch is right.
"It's not from an injury caused by the accident, is it?"
Again, not a question. He holds her gaze, daring her to deny it and lie to him outward. She is the first to break eye-contact, flustered, her hands twitching in his. She almost pulls away but he doesn't let her, holding onto them even firmer.
"Sweetheart, please. Talk to me." It's the second time he's had to plead with her today. He would do it again in a heartbeat, if she only told him the truth.
"Erhh.."she finally gives in, still not looking at him, eyes fixed on the table and their intertwined fingers. "It's the chip. Something during the crash must have done some damage. It's weird. Maybe it moved, maybe it cinched something in my spine. I don't know."
"You don't know?" He asks, his surprise causing his inquiry to end in a loud tone. He immediately catches himself once he sees her flinch. He doesn't want to add to her stress. But at the same time, he is appalled and terrified as he grapples for words.
"Felicity, how serious is this?"
"It's nothing. I mean, it's something. Just nothing all things considered," she rolls her eyes, trying to appease him, but it only sounds more alarming bells. Because this is huge. This is everything, and God, she needs to take care of herself, absolutely can't be so careless with her health. The mere thought makes him physically sick.
"Are you in pain? No, scratch that, how much pain are you in?"
Her silence speaks loud enough and he groans. "Honey, please! What's going on with you?"
"I don't know, okay?!" she snaps back loudly, annoyed and miserable and all in between. "It started after the crash. My legs, they just- they don't seem to cooperate the way they are supposed to. Sometimes one leg feels more weak; other times my knee gives way. I've got hot and cold flashes in them from time to time, pins and needles running through the muscles at various intervals, but I can't pinpoint what's exactly wrong. It's a myriad of symptoms that come and go as they please."
"And it didn't occur to you to have it checked out?"
He doesn't want to be angry with her, he really doesn't, but the utter lack of selfcare and sheer reason on her part is scaring the shit out of him.
"What do you want me to say, Oliver?" she spits bitterly. "It's not an exact science. The stimulant is one of its kind, not even on the market yet, so it's not like I can waltz into the nearest hospital and demand the doctors to check it out."
It's a lame excuse, and for some reason, it makes him unreasonably angry with her.
"That's not what I am saying, Felicity, and you know it. Regular doctors can't help you, but it's not like your stimulant was a gift from God magically appearing on your doorstep one day. So I'd expect Curtis- you know, Curtis, the man who actually invented the thing in the first place to- by now at least- have an idea what could be wrong and how to fix it. What does he have to say about it?" he inquires. He can't believe Curtis wouldn't do something about this by now.
"Well, I actually haven't gotten to telling him yet with everything going on," she tells him, her eyes looking everywhere but at him and she pulls her hands back, hides them in her lap.
"Fe-li-ci-ty," he growls, almost a warning. He knows he shouldn't be rising his voice at her, but he is so mad, infuriated beyond reason. "How can you be so reckless about your own health? Are you waiting for the chip to shift further down your spine, or stop working altogether? What if it happens when you are down the street, getting a cup of coffee? What if you are driving William to school? What if you collapse in the shower, suddenly paralyzed?" The mere thought makes him sick with worry.
"Are you done?" she asks coolly, her eyes finally meeting his, but the warmth from before is gone. And no, he's not, but he nods anyway. Her eyes hold his, a silent challenge, and he's momentarily ashamed for losing it on her like that, especially when he urged her to be truthful with him.
"It hasn't been exactly easy on me, Oliver. Not just the past week, but the past couple of months. So I'd appreciate some support here. I can't just let everything drop on the spot and single-mindedly search for a solution to a possibly very complex problem. Not when I've got an injured boy at home who needs my help and support more than ever before. William needs stability right now. What he doesn't need is that added stress and worry about me on top of what's already on his plate. I won't allow it. For now, the stimulant works. Not ideally, not a hundred percent reliably, but I manage. I am handling it, but all in its own time. And I would appreciate your support rather than a scolding."
Their locked gaze holds for a moment longer, Oliver being the first to break their silent stand-off.
"It kills me to know this is happening to you. Again. That you are in pain," he chokes out miserably, all of his previous anger gone, leaving only fear and worry in its stead.
His stomach is in knots. Her implant is the single thing standing between him and his guilt over what happened to her at the hands of Damian Darhk. The idea that it could stop working at any time leaving her incapacitated and vulnerable is unthinkable. The guilt for what has happened to her, how she's forever affected by knowing him, by loving him, is enough to swallow him whole even after all of this time.
"I know," she utters, her hands gripping his once across on the cool metal table. "But right now, I can't afford to think along those lines. It feels selfish. It's only so much what can be done from the outside. The problem is, even if the stimulant really got damaged in some way, there is only one way to repair it."
She looks pointedly at him and it takes him a second to take in her words, to grasp their full meaning.
"I can't just leave everything and take a hospital leave. I can't get into the cycle of what could turn out to be a line of multiple trial-and-error operations. Without the chip, I would be wheelchair-bound again for God knows how long. It's just not feasible right now."
Not when her and William are alone, is what she doesn't say. With him behind bars, there isn't a person to take care of her, not the way she would need. To take care of William. Who still has his arm in a cast. And whom he's left with only one parent to take care of. It's not even about physical help and support either, Oliver knows that much. It's been hard enough the last time, and they were in a good place back there, could take care of each other on a much more even footing.
"Please Oliver, you have to understand. I just can't expose William to that kind of insecurity and vulnerability right now. He's already lost his mother, now he's lost you. There is no way in hell I am as much as planting the mere seed of doubt that he might lose me too."
He feels weak in the knees, light-headed with the impact of her words.
"He wouldn't be losing you," he argues in a broken whisper. "You would be healing, Felicity. William- he would understand. And he wouldn't be alone. You wouldn't be alone either. We've got friends, family, acquaintances. I am sure John, Curtis, Dinah- even Rene would be more than willing to stay with you for a couple of weeks and help out."
"And then what, Oliver?" She asks tiredly, like she's had been through this argument a number of times already. Knowing her, she might have done exactly that in her own head.
"Once the implant is repaired – if it is repaired, but for the sake of the argument, let's say it will be or Curtis makes me a new one and it will be planted back into my spine –what then? You know how it was last time. There are no guarantees that it will start working right away. It might take weeks for it to catch on again, and there is not even the guarantee of that."
And now he is really hearing her. What she is trying to say, what she's so desperately afraid of.
"God, Felicity."
He can't even go down that hypothetical road. Last time was bad enough. And he was there to shoulder whatever she needed him to. This time, he is not there, not even a remote chance for him to be there, and she won't burden William with such a responsibility, his son who's too good a person for his own good.
He covers his face with his hands, utterly lost for a solution to the situation. But it calls for one, it absolutely needs one. His wife needs him. She is hurting and scared and alone and he won't stand for it. Leaving things like this is not an option.
"Please, sweetheart, just- talk to Curtis. Please. Let him run a diagnostic, at least. Let's see what we are dealing with first here. Maybe it's just a glitch, but we need to know the extent of the damage."
"What if this is it?" Her voice trembles when she asks him, the fear that's now so obvious bare and naked shining in her eyes.
"No." He refuses to believe that. "You know you've had problems with the stimulant before. The EMP in the bunker blew it, but you were walking in a matter of hours afterwards."
"Yes, but that wasn't mechanical, Oliver. Or physical. What if- what if something physical got damaged further and the stimulant won't cut it anymore?"
And he can hear it now, in her voice. God, she is so scared, his heart breaks for her. He doesn't want to know how many nights she has spent lying and wondering, worrying scared and alone. He brings her hands to his lips again, presses kisses against her skin all over, his eyes holding hers firmly, willing her to believe things will turn out right.
"Then Curtis will do his magic and adapt or adjust his marvelous piece of technology," he says at last, his voice holding nothing but absolute certainty. "But we are not there yet. Let's find out how deep the damage goes before we jump to any conclusions, okay?"
She gives a tiny nod, momentarily lost in thoughts, but a look of resolve finally settles over her features and Oliver lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Times up," Holmes's voice interrupts from above them, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I am sorry, but you need to go, ma'am."
Heavily, Felicity pushes to her feet, wobbling on her spot a little before she catches her footing. It merely serves to worry Oliver more.
"Just be careful, please," he pleads with her.
She levels him with a smile. "Only if you are."
His heart squeezes. "Deal."
XXX
Lying on the cot in his cell later that night, Oliver knows this arrangement isn't panning out.
He thought getting himself arrested would solve things. But they are nowhere near finding Diaz than they were months ago. His son is hurt, his wife injured and scared and his family needs him more than ever before. His sacrifice hasn't resolved anything and he sees now how utterly pointless it was. He thought it would alleviate his guilt, would bring a feeling of justice towards the people he had wronged, people he has hurt in his crusade. But it's his family, the people who are closest to him that are paying the price and that's just not acceptable.
Maybe he could atone for his sins by helping save people's lives as the Green Arrow. Maybe sitting around prison, utterly useless to anybody, was not the right way to go around his guilt. Maybe he would only pay for his sins by spending his life helping others. He would be ready to do just that. It would certainly make more sense, have more meaning than sitting here and twiddling his thumbs doing nothing and helping no one.
And he could be there for his family in the process. The way they deserved. Fulfilling the vows he and Felicity have pointedly not exchanged but ones that Oliver still honors.
He thinks back to Felicity, what he bore witness to when she left. The guard was already ushering him out his end of the prison, but he still got a glimpse of her back suddenly spasming in pain as she walked out the door, causing her to grip the doorframe.
The sight almost made him physically ill.
His mind is set. Somehow, he has to find his way out of here. She doesn't deserve to live in pain and uncertainty because he – in a bout of boisterous self-sacrifice – tipped her hand. She doesn't deserve this empty limbo of a life. She deserves to be loved and cherished, other than just from afar, from behind prison walls.
She is willingly taking in pain and uncertainty because she thinks she doesn't have any other choice.
That's not okay for Oliver, in any world or reality.
He calls Dig later that night, because his family needs him, his wife needs him, not tomorrow, not today, she needed him yesterday and he was not there, but that stops today.
"Dig? I need a favor. I need you to get me Samanda Watson on the phone."
END
A/N: So this is the last chapter of my S06-S07 HIATUS fic. I admit, I planned for it to have much more chapters and cover much more topics, but as it is, I am a shitty slow writer, so there you go. :)
I still hope you enjoyed the story (let me know) and thank you for reading. Oh, and YAY for the next season to start in a couple of days!
