Felicity smiled to herself.
One of many smiles since she had woken up that morning. In someone else's bed. A sweet note and an entire pot of coffee had been left for her and she felt more taken care of than she had in months. It actually made her chest hurt. Not feeling like an afterthought. Knowing the man that left would come back. Knowing he meant the things he couldn't seem to help himself from saying to her. Knowing he couldn't break her heart.
Simple certainties.
Things that didn't exist outside of Ray Palmer's apartment, so she'd avoid the rest of the world a little longer.
She curled one leg under her on the sofa, her other knee pulled up close to her chest. Pushing up the sleeves of a pilfered shirt, she picked up her steaming hot cup of coffee with one hand as the other started scrolling through news headlines on the tablet balanced on the arm rest next to her.
Felicity didn't make it far before there was a knock on the door. The mug nearly jumped out her hand, scolding liquid landed on her knee but luckily not the rug. She swiped it up with her thumb and promptly licked it off, never one to waste perfectly good coffee. And for a brief moment she was at a loss. This wasn't exactly her apartment. Was she supposed to answer the door?
There was another knock. And she realized it was probably Ray. He was a bit of an absentminded genius. He could invent a super suit but still used a regular old key to lock his front door. Felicity had bounced across the room and flung the door open without considering an alternative.
She was greeted by a brick wall of reality.
John Diggle stood staring at her, bulging arms folded across his chest, as he took in her appearance. Her hair fell free and wild around her shoulders where a man's blue button down barely stayed put. It swamped her small frame and still showed too much, haphazardly buttoned, nearly all of one leg exposed. He didn't know what he had expected to find. He felt like he hadn't found Felicity Smoak at all.
"What are you doing?" He was almost shaking his head as he launched the accusation at her.
It was a look she had never been on the receiving end of. She surprised herself when her first feeling was indignation. "Excuse me?"
"We need to talk." Now his voice was almost flat but insistent.
She knew this wasn't going to be a conversation she wanted to have. "Ray's asleep," she lied.
"He left half an hour ago."
She didn't get long to feel bad about the lie, she was piqued again. "Are you watching me?"
"Didn't leave me much choice. You've been kind of hard to pin down."
Digg's choice of words had her flinching, suddenly pulling her arms in protectively, feeling unbearably caught. She was basically standing in the hall in her underwear and she had just tried to lie to John Diggle. His face reflected both unexpected events. She stood aside and he took the invitation. But when she closed the door all she could do was stare at her feet. John and Oliver had been back from Nanda Parbat for at least two days. Merlyn was back too. She'd purposely made herself scarce not wanting to face any of it, all of it, again. Beginning to think the number of times she could just stand by was limited. When would they run out?
"Felicity."
Her head snapped up. His expression looked a little more like John her friend, but he still held his body like John the soldier. Sorrow dripped from his voice as he spoke. "We're losing him."
"I already lost him," the words come out heavy, punctuated. Like so many things, she'd never said that out loud.
"You walked away as much as he did." It didn't take much to bring the edge back in John's voice.
Felicity stalked toward him. "Are you mad at me?"
"I'm disappointed, Felicity." He stared down at her and she could see it. She felt all the smaller for it. "When is the last time you had a conversation with him? I thought even if you two couldn't figure this thing out between you, that you would still be his friend."
"Friend?" she wanted to laugh. "I barely recognize him anymore, John." Her throat started to feel tight. Her hands curled into fists at her side. She wanted so badly to keep all this locked away, somewhere so deep she couldn't feel it. It had worked for a little while. But now she could feel it, coursing through her veins, leaking out of some crack deep inside her vaulted heart, making her whole body tense.
Digg saw it too. His posture finally relaxed. He took a friendly step toward her. A gesture meant to calm her but she wasn't sure she wanted that. To be placated again. Maybe she wanted someone to be angry with her.
"He's still Oliver." Diggle thought he was reasoning with her but he unknowingly kept choosing phrases that twisted the knife she'd placed herself.
"I noticed."
His eyes narrowed at her. When had she become like Oliver? She never used to keep so much to herself.
"He said," she started and almost stuttered to a pause, closing her eyes at the memory and to steady herself before continuing. She opened them again with resolve. "He said he couldn't be Oliver Queen. Not now."
"When?"
"Night Sara was born," Felicity bit her bottom lip, unsure when that had even become a habit. "But he keeps leaving . . . the hood, behind. It was Oliver Queen fighting for Thea. Oliver Queen fighting for Malcolm Merlyn. With Malcolm Merlyn. He won't even fight with me anymore." And she missed that. Forget a conversation. She might be happy if he just yelled at her.
Diggle's hand was on her wrist suddenly, commanding her attention which she wholly gave. "He's going to leave again, Felicity. And then Oliver Queen will never come back."
She read between the lines. "Unless we give him a reason to stay? Thea needs him. The city needs him. This team does. Go where, John?"
He smiled a little. There were some things she never understood. "Not we. You, Felicity." He pointed at her for emphasis. "Thea can hold her own. And Oliver just learned the hard way that this team can go on without him. That we can protect this city. You're the only reason."
"Go where, John?" she persisted as something started to flutter uncomfortably in her stomach.
"He got beat. He died on the side of a mountain. He can't shake it and that scares him. He doesn't want to die again Felicity. But he's drowning."
She didn't want to admit that she did see it. But she was so determined to be mad at Oliver. She couldn't sink into his suffering like she always had. Like she should, even if she was only his friend. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. "Why me?"
Digg wrapped his giant arms around her unexpectedly. His head tipped and brought his lips just to the top of her ear. "He loves you." Quiet but sure. "Oliver loves you. He will love you for the rest of his life. Whether he stays or goes. Whether you sleep with some supposedly better version of him. Or someone else. He'll love you. He'll bear it like a cross wherever he goes. For the rest of his days. Always alone. Because if there is a world, universe or plane of existence with you in it, there is no one else. Trust me."
He kissed her on the cheek and released her. She was left to hug herself to make up for the lost warmth.
She grasped at paltry excuses. "I'm with Ray." Weak. Passionless.
Digg had started toward the door but turned. "You're not in love with him."
"I could be. Someday." As soon as she said it, she knew she didn't even wish it could be true.
"Please, Felicity . . . don't lie to me again."
Because that's all any rebuttal at this point would be, if she even had one at all. A gaping lie. She followed Digg to the door. He was half way out when he paused again. His eyes full of desperation and conflict. "Oliver is drowning. And Ra's a Ghul just offered him a lifeboat."
Felicity's breath caught in her chest and she actually felt the colour drain from her face as her eyes went deer-like. She needed to recover, ask John the questions that flooded her brain, but he was already down the hall. He'd probably told her more than he should.
She closed the door. Without Digg there she could smell the remnants of aftershave on the shirt still swimming around her. It wasn't familiar or comforting. It wasn't Oliver. And she couldn't stand it. With her face growing hot, she tugged the shirt violently over her shoulders, throwing it out of sight. But then the empty apartment swirled in front of her. It was all wrong. Her back slammed against the door. Her head throbbed. Breathing got harder. Burning tears fell as she sank down to the floor with her knees hugged impossibly tight to her chest.