Author's Note: Have some more emotions, lovelies!
Felicity let herself into her apartment on autopilot, feet shuffling and eyes unseeing. She felt like a zombie as she let Roy guide her inside her own space, her eyes feeling puffy and tender with each blink.
"You don't have to stay." she managed to whisper, throat dry and aching as she absently shrugged out of her coat.
Roy chuffed a laugh, lacking any hint of humor. "Shut up, Felicity. Come on, sit down and relax for a minute."
Doing as she was told, Felicity dragged herself over to the couch and collapsed heavily down into its cushions. She stared blankly at the ceiling, squinting against the light when Roy flicked on the lamp beside her. There wasn't a lot of daylight coming in through the large picture window across from her, not when the sun had barely begun to slip over the horizon. The lamp's soft light chased away the edges of darkness, pushed it back and flooded it with light.
"You want something to drink? No way are you drinking any more coffee, but water or juice or something?" Roy asked gently, careful not to startle her as he leaned into her line of sight. "Or maybe, do you still have those Sleepy Time tea bags? Hang on."
Felicity felt the corner of her lips twitch when Roy disappeared, the sound of him banging around in her kitchen filling the silence, settling into the hollow space where her heart was supposed to be. She listened to him set water to boil on the stove before he stepped back into the living room a second later, sitting on the cushion beside her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he tried, expression open and patient when she rolled her head toward him.
Felicity tried to offer him a thankful smile, though she couldn't quite manage it with tears welling again. "Not really." she shook her head, those two words feeling like knives in her throat.
"Okay." Roy said decisively, reaching out to squeeze her thigh. "But, whenever you are ready to talk, I'll be here to listen."
"I know." She wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing back.
They sat side by side on her sofa to drink their tea, the television switched on to the morning news. Roy watched it a little, between sips of tea and casting worried glances at Felicity out of the corner of his eye. She was pressed in along his side, her head resting on his shoulder and hands wrapped firmly around her mug. She didn't hear a word the news anchor said, too busy staring into nothing, barely registering the way the window across from her slowly began to fill with early morning light.
Her body hurt in a soul-deep kind of way, her bones feeling brittle and her chest throbbing in time with the sluggish, painful thump of her heart. The look in Oliver's eyes haunted her, made her shudder with chills her tea couldn't chase away. He'd been so unfeeling when he told her he didn't love her anymore, like he was reading from the Yellow pages. There was no inflection, no emotion in his voice, in his eyes, and Felicity hated every second of it.
She wasn't angry with him, not when it wasn't his fault. He had no control over the fallout of dying and coming back to life, hadn't asked to lose his love for her. It was impossible to be pissed at him for something he so clearly hadn't wanted in the first place.
Oliver, her Oliver, never would have traded his love for her for his own life, that much she was sure of. Her Oliver may have struggled with his feelings but he never once expressed a desire to be rid of them. If anything, he seemed to want to explore them, the only thing stopping him his worry for her safety.
Still, knowing that it wasn't his fault, that it was just one of those cruel twists the universe liked to hand out every now and then, didn't make it any easier to deal with. She had Oliver back, just like she'd asked, but he didn't remember what it felt like to love her. She felt guilty being upset that his love for her was missing when he no longer was. It was selfish, being angry at the universe for taking something from her when it had seen fit to return Oliver, alive and seemingly healthy.
"Felicity."
Roy's voice made her jump, cutting through the sleep-like haze she'd slipped into. She turned wide eyes on him, blinking to clear her vision. "Hmm?"
His brows were drawn in concern but he patiently repeated, "I asked if you were ready to turn in. You're dozing off sitting up."
Felicity looked down at her hands, noticed for the first time that her mug was sitting on the floor by her feet instead of in her lap. "Yeah." she nodded slowly, frowning at her hands. There was heat in her eyes again, the lingering remnants of tears yet to be shed. "Yeah, sleep sounds good."
Roy stood, offering her a hand up. "I'll tuck you in." he grinned, making her exhale a rattling laugh.
"I know where my bed is, Roy." She wasn't really arguing, not when his hand was warm and reassuring in hers as he tugged her down the hall to her bedroom.
"I know." he shrugged. "I'm just not confident in your ability to make it there without falling over."
In her room, Felicity eyed her bed speculatively, wondering if she might have been better off staying on the couch.
"Would-" she cut herself off, shaking her head to clear the mess of thoughts she couldn't seem to make sense of.
"What?" Roy pressed, watching her toe at the floor.
She looked from the emptiness of her bed to meet Roy's eye. "Would you stay with me?" she asked, her voice small and painfully insecure. "I just... I don't really want to be alone."
Roy's eyes melted, two pools of gentle gray looking back at her. "Yeah, Blondie," he smiled, "I can stay."
Felicity gave Roy a pair of old sweats to sleep in, slipping into the bathroom to change into her own sleep shorts and a baggy t-shirt. When she came out, Roy was already under the covers, one side turned down in wait.
With a grateful quirk of her lips, Felicity climbed into the bed. She didn't hesitate to tuck herself into his side, leaching his warmth and comfort as she snuggled in against him.
"Thank you." she mumbled groggily, already halfway to sleep with his arm around her. She could feel his chest rise and fall with a sigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her spine, and it lulled her into a sleepy fog almost immediately.
"You don't have to thank me." Roy whispered back, not sure if she was even awake to hear him respond. "This is what friends are for. Now get some sleep, Felicity."
Standing outside her apartment was probably a terrible idea. Oliver knew he should be literally anywhere else in the city, anywhere that wasn't creeping outside the window of the woman whose heart he'd just destroyed – Even without his feelings for her, he knew better – but, something made him drop by on his way back to his and Thea's loft. Something tugged deep inside, made him pull his bike onto her street, park it at the corner and walk the rest of the way to her place.
He stood staring at her front door for a while, the itch between his shoulder blades growing more and more uncomfortable the longer he lingered. His mind kept conjuring images of Felicity, face pale and lips trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at him in bafflement. It was unpleasant, seeing someone he knew feel that kind of pain. Worse, he knew he was the cause of it, but couldn't figure out a way around it. Felicity deserved the truth, deserved to know that he was broken on a fundamental level.
Waking up in twelve feet of unnaturally glowing water hadn't been nearly as confusing as the adjustments that came afterward. At first he hadn't even noticed a difference. He'd felt strong and healthy, and that was a major improvement over being dead, so Oliver hadn't really thought to question it.
The confusion came later, flipping through the small stack of photos Merlyn had given him.
"Your team, a few others." Malcolm had explained, something expectant and deceptive slithering behind his eyes. "I thought you might need a visual to jump start your memories."
Oliver sifted through the pictures, feeling an odd sense of detachment from the faces looking back at him. He recognized each of them, had the memories that belonged to all of them, but there was something missing.
He smiled a bit looking at the snapshot of Digg and Lyla, baby Sara held between them. Roy's photo evoked a paternal pang somewhere in his chest, Thea's picture making that pang spark to life and burn bright, not stopping until it was a full fledged inferno. The photos of his mother, Tommy, and Sara all brought back memories of mourning, bone-deep grief that felt like it belonged to another lifetime, another person. Laurel's picture brought up a multitude of different feelings, the most recent of which felt like frustrated affection with just a hint of exasperation.
The last photo in the stack had been Felicity's.
At first, Oliver hadn't felt much of anything beyond the initial recognition and cold spark of something he didn't understand somewhere behind his heart. He knew the pouty curve of those lips, the sparkling blue of those eyes. He remembered knowing her, sharing space and responsibility with the beautiful woman smiling up at him. He remembered spending time with her, taking her out to dinner and carrying her battered body home in his arms. He recalled shooting the Count to save Felicity, along with the multitude of other times he'd come to her rescue.
Crystal clear were the memories of soft, intimate looks shared between them, one tense and emotional moment of lips meeting in a hospital hallway. He remembered loving her, wanting a future and a life with her.
He remembered all of it, every single memory she'd ever been a part of, but he couldn't feel it. Staring down at the photograph with a heavy dose of consternation, Oliver was frustrated by the hollow feeling in his chest. It felt like something massive and important was missing from him, something deeply ingrained that was suddenly and completely gone.
Oliver flicked through the photos again, trying to figure out what felt so off about his existence. He made two full cycles through the stack before it struck him. Everything he felt while looking at these people, everything he thought was there, was just a shadow. He didn't actually feel any of it, it was just a ghost of memories, an imprint left by the things he used to feel. The only one he felt anything current and unshakable for was Thea, and that was an entirely different kind of love than the kind one felt for someone who wasn't their sister.
Oh, he cared about the rest of them, felt the flicker and waver of protective, caring feelings for them. They stirred the bare bones of emotions he knew he had felt for them in the past, dusted up whatever lingering scraps were left behind, but he found it easy to ignore them, to brush them off completely and disengage.
He knew he should feel more bereft without the full spectrum of his emotions, that it should bother him more, but before he could even process that he felt more like the Oliver that was picked up on Lian Yu than the Oliver that spent the last three years in Starling City, Malcolm was looking at him like he was a gift from the Gods and telling him it was time to go home.
Now, Oliver was lingering outside Felicity's apartment and questioning why he felt drawn there. He didn't love her, couldn't even remember what it felt like to love someone the way he thought he probably used to love her, but some part of him needed to check that she was okay. She'd been strong and determined when she left the lair, chin jutting up defiantly, but Oliver could read the pain in every taunt line of her body.
He hadn't meant to hurt her, felt the first stirrings of something that might have been guilt when he grabbed her by the wrist and left the marks of his fingers in her flesh. He felt worse still having to be the one to drain the light out of her eyes by telling her he didn't love her anymore. It was only fair, he thought, to tell her he wasn't the man he used to be, wasn't the man she loved.
Without the delusion that they would ever be anything close to what they used to be, ever be more than that, Felicity could move on with her life and let go of the fractured, defective husk of what was left of him.
What he couldn't figure out was why anger flooded his system when he finally convinced himself to just look in on her quick, just to make sure she was alright, only to find her curled up in bed, fast asleep with Roy beside her.
It wasn't a practical response and he knew it, wanting to drag Roy out of Felicity's bed and punch the smirk off his face, but that's where Oliver was at. He didn't understand the possessive heat coursing through his bloodstream, the ember of what he thought might have once been jealousy that flickered to life in the aching cavern beneath his ribcage.
Why should he care who Felicity slept with? Other than the fact that just a few hours before she'd looked devastated by Oliver's lack of feelings for her, made him feel something that wasn't anger or rage or bloodthirst. She didn't owe him anything, not when he all but told her to forget about them or any chance at a future they might have had.
And yet, the place beneath Oliver's sternum that felt like someone had scooped out his emotions with the searing edges of a molten hot shovel throbbed at the sight of Felicity tucked under Roy's arm. It made his blood run hot, made irritated confusion bubble in his gut and push up under his skin.
Shaking his head and growling low in annoyance, Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled himself away from Felicity's bedroom window. He grumbled under his breath all the way back to his bike, berating himself for letting himself think he cared, could care about Felicity or her feelings.
He slammed his helmet on, kicked his bike to life and roared off down the street, the phantom of Felicity's shimmering eyes, her face crumbling like Oliver had reached into her chest and ripped her heart out with his bare hands, and the memory of how his heart used to beat for her and her alone haunting him all the way back to the loft.
Needing a couple of mental health days, Felicity decided to take a few nights off from actively being at the Foundry, operating her computers remotely so she didn't have to see Oliver right away. Roy stayed with her, only leaving to run patrols and train with Oliver, and to grab clothes from his place before going back to her apartment before sunrise.
The first morning after Felicity's absence, Roy came back exhausted. He barely managed to let himself through the front door and drop his duffelbag beside the entryway table before flopping bonelessly down on the couch beside Felicity. She wrinkled her nose looking at him, smelling the heavy scent of sweat and antiseptic clinging to his skin.
"Do I want to know?" she asked, nudging him with her knee as she set her tablet on the end table.
Roy grunted, turning his head with a wince so he could talk to her without his words being muffled by the couch. "Oliver kicked my ass in training."
"You're okay, right?" she questioned immediately, pushing herself up to hover over him. "He didn't hurt you too badly, did he?"
Roy huffed. "Split my knuckles with a staff, but I'm fine. He's just being more of an asshole than usual."
Felicity bit her lip, knowing that their confrontation probably had something to do with Oliver's behavior. She'd told Roy about it when they woke up together the afternoon following the incident, talking to the ceiling so she didn't have to see the sympathetic anger on his face. Roy had been indignant on her behalf, but she assured him she just wanted to forget it ever happened.
"You hungry?" she tried, attempting to distract Roy from his soreness. "I made brisket last night, and there's plenty of leftovers."
Roy cracked open one eye to peek at her hopefully. "Really?"
"Really." she grinned, swatting him playfully on the ass as she climbed off of him to head into the kitchen. "Sandwich?" she called back, laughing to herself when Roy just grunted.
Felicity was already in bed when Roy dragged himself out of the shower and under the covers, curling in behind her and pulling her into his chest. She was asleep before he even started snoring.
The next morning was worse. Roy limped into the bedroom, grimacing when Felicity looked up from the laptop sitting open in her lap.
"Oh my God, Roy, your face!" she exclaimed, scrambling out of bed to cup her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing gently at the purpling bruise around his right eye.
"I'm fine." he assured, wincing as her finger dragged over the scrape on his cheek. "We had a thing with some guys in the park. Not a big deal."
"Where were Digg and Oliver? Or Laurel?" she demanded, pushing him down on the edge of the bed before ducking into the bathroom in search of her first-aid kit.
"Laurel had a meeting and couldn't patrol tonight. Oliver was there, but he... I don't know, he was busy or something, I guess." Roy shrugged it off, shaking his head when Felicity reappeared, kit in her hands. "Digg already cleaned it up, Felicity, I'm fine."
Heaving a heavy sigh, Felicity set the kit down on the nightstand and stepped in-between Roy's parted legs, prodding gently at the bruise. "Nothing's broken?"
"No, it's just a bruise." he promised, using a hand at her hip to gently push her back so he could stand. "Let me shower quick, and we can watch Game of Thrones, okay? I wanna see Dany fuck everybody's shit up."
The third morning Roy returned to her apartment with more injuries than he left with was the moment Felicity decided enough was enough. These idiots obviously weren't capable of doing anything without hurting themselves if she wasn't around to supervise, so the hiding from her problems tactic was officially scrapped.
Roy was already at the Foundry by the time Felicity got off work, so she drove straight there from her office. She was halfway down the stairs into the lair when the sound of skin slapping the mats with enough force to shake the whole building down around them reached her ears.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" she yelled, skidding to a stop at the edge of the mats.
Roy was sprawled out on his back, chest heaving and shining with sweat, an angry red welt raised horizontally across his pecs. Oliver had the good graces to at least look like he'd been caught out, but not contrite enough to think he really thought he'd done anything wrong.
"We're sparring, Felicity." Oliver told her casually, one brow raised in challenge. "You've seen us do this a thousand times."
"Not like this!" she snapped, kicking off her heels to hurry across the mat in bare feet, dropping to her knees beside Roy. "Are you trying to crack his sternum?!"
"I'm- okay." Roy wheezed, eyes glassy with pain. "Just- give me- a second."
"No!" Felicity glared at the pair of them, her eyes eventually fixing hard on Oliver. "What is wrong with you? You know he's still learning! You could have seriously hurt him."
"He's a big boy." Oliver shrugged as though he couldn't care less, but Felicity knew him too well.
She knew his tells, knew how he tried to brush things off as inconsequential when they weren't. The tight set of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw told her there was way more at play there.
"Bull!" she bit out, putting an arm around Roy's ribs to help steady him when he swayed into an upright position. "You're pissed off about something and you're taking it out on Roy. That stops right now, Oliver."
"What's going on?" Digg asked cautiously, appearing at the bottom of the staircase, eyes wary as he took in the scene.
Felicity hefted a brow at Oliver, daring him to push her. Oliver looked for a moment like he would, like he wanted to spit out whatever bitter, angry sentence burned his tongue, but he didn't. Instead, he blew out a deep breath and held a hand down to Roy, an offering of peace.
"Are you done holing up in your apartment?" he asked Felicity, his eyes burning into hers as he pulled Roy to his feet. "I was beginning to think I needed to find a new techie."
"Oliver." John warned, his tone reprimanding.
"No, it's fine, John." Felicity laughed humorlessly, stepping right into Oliver's space, dropping her voice low. He quirked an amused brow down at her, but she saw right through him. He might as well have been made of glass. "Look, I don't know what's got you all," she waggled her fingers at his chest, then up to his face, her own expression pinched in angry mocking, "but you need to get it together. You're pissed? Be pissed! But don't take it out on Roy, or the rest of this team."
"Are you done?" Oliver gritted through his teeth.
Felicity could see his control slipping.
"No, actually," she pushed, face flushed with temper, skin practically glowing with it, "I'm not. You and I were friends before anything else, Oliver. You may not remember that, or care, but I do. So, as your friend, I am going to tell you this once, and once only – I don't care if your emotions are broken, okay? You will show me the respect I deserve, or you will lose me in every way you still have me. Understood?"
Oliver's jaw went so tight Felicity was sure she heard bone grinding. His eyes flashed, his own temper flaring bright behind them. She expected him to raise his voice, or maybe lower it in that menacing, somewhat threatening way he tried on her that time she locked him in the lair.
What she wasn't expecting was for him to nod tightly and growl, "Understood." before stalking away, slamming his staff down on the nearest table and pulling his leather out of its case.
Felicity blinked at the empty space where he had been, heart beating a little faster than normal and limbs shaking with the adrenaline flooding her brain. By the time she shook herself out of it and turned her attention back to Roy, Oliver was already gone.
If he hadn't known it before, Oliver knew it now. There was something wrong inside him. Not just broken or fractured or off, but straight up wrong.
He felt it every time Felicity looked at him, even with sparks of pure, protective rage burning in her eyes. Her gaze made something shift inside him, so deep he wasn't sure it was an entirely physical sensation.
There was something so bright, so untarnished and pure about Felicity; sometimes it made Oliver feel like he was looking into the sun. Even her memories shined brighter than the rest, almost neon in their intensity. It gave him a headache; looking at her, knowing that at one point he had loved her with everything he had and only feeling cold echoes in the space that love once occupied.
Watching Felicity with Roy frustrated and annoyed Oliver on a level he didn't understand. It gave him the urge to fight, to rend and destroy in a vengeful fit of impossible, senseless jealousy. The feeling only intensified when Felicity put herself between them, hovering protectively over Roy while Oliver could do nothing but seethe with rage he had no right to.
The more he wracked his brain in an effort to ignite something he didn't remember how to feel, the more Oliver wished he had a target, someone he could chase down and put a the fear of God into just to take the edge off.
Darting through traffic on his bike, Felicity's ire still wrapped around him so tightly he could practically feel it digging into his skin and memories trying their damnedest to swallow him whole, Oliver was caught off guard when his phone rang. He pressed his hand to his chest, depressing the button in his jacket that allowed him to answer his phone.
"What."
He shouldn't have been surprised to hear Merlyn's voice on the other end.
"Oliver," he greeted smoothly. "I have a job for you."
Oliver's hands clenched around the grips of his bike, muscles going tight. "Thea?"
"Is perfectly safe." Merlyn assured, tone placating. "But that threat we discussed is becoming more imminent with each passing day. Of course, you want to protect your sister, don't you?"
"She wouldn't be in danger if it weren't for you!" Oliver snarled, weaving between two semi-trucks.
"You owe me your life, Oliver." Merlyn reminded him frigidly. "You'd do well to recall what's at stake here, lest I be forced to remind you. Perhaps with a graphic demonstration of precisely what I am capable of."
Oliver grit his teeth, pulling his bike into a deserted alleyway between two tenement buildings. Letting the bike idle, he forced himself to respond to Malcolm's threat.
"One act of prolicide wasn't enough for you, Merlyn?" Oliver spat.
Memories assaulted him; holding Tommy while the life drained out of him, paper-thin remnants of the grief he'd felt over losing his best friend, the vow he'd made to Tommy's memory, to his best friend's ghost.
The vow he'd only broken once since.
"While Thea's death would be unfortunate," Malcolm replied, his tone velvet dripping with venom, "you and I both know that I will do whatever it takes to ensure my survival."
"Where?" Oliver growled, deep and threatening despite knowing Merlyn didn't fear anyone in the world other than Ra's al Ghul himself.
"I'll send you the address. Oh, and Oliver," Malcolm added, all smarmy charm; confident in the power he had over Oliver, "It's only a matter of time before the League finds out you're not as dead as they thought you to be. Ra's is going to take your breathing as a grave and personal insult, and he is going to attempt to rectify the situation.
You need to prepare yourself, Oliver, and decide whether or not you wish to involve your team. Should you decide that they would be of assistance in preparation of your battle with Ra's, just remember that our arrangement – including any missions for which I might require your talents –"
"Are to remain undisclosed," Oliver parroted the phrase he'd heard over and over since they'd set foot back in Starling City, "I'm aware."