King and Queen
By Bre (dust2dust34)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.
Rating: T
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream Olicity ficlet collection. I've done research on the Bratva for a multi-chapter fic I'm working on aka I took great creative liberties.
Summary: Bratva AU. There was one with two lines. There was one with a plus sign. And then there was the one that said, "BABY!" like it was supposed to be the best thing in the world.
This is based on an edit I made for Tumblr, which is actually my profile picture at the moment. My muse followed the path the edit started in my mind…
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Felicity whispered.
She couldn't stop shaking. If she hadn't already been nauseous, the anxiety jangling up and down her nerves would be picking up the slack. Her hands were raw from wringing them together, and she'd already cut her palm a few times where her wedding ring had snagged.
If the area rug in her room wasn't on the upside of a couple hundred thousand dollars there would be a hole from all her pacing.
She needed to make a doctor's appointment. She needed to confirm that it was real, that she wasn't just freaking out, that her body wasn't having a freaky reaction to the birth control or that her body wasn't… wasn't…
She couldn't even think.
Felicity stopped, her lungs feeling twenty times smaller than they should. She had been seeing black spots for most of the afternoon, she should probably eat something, drink some water, sit down for one second… but if she stopped moving, it was real.
She made a strangled noise, burying her face in her hands, finally stopping.
Was she really thinking about doing this?
Could she do it?
Felicity blinked, and stared blankly at the large painting that took up the wall between her closet and her bathroom.
Her mind was still in there, still with the five tests she had bought intermittently over the last week on various shopping trips, hidden in clothes or stuffed under bags of makeup, until she had what should be deemed enough to satisfy the very serious panic attack she'd been on the verge of since she'd missed her period.
She never missed her period.
Ever.
It was a pretty miraculous thing actually, how steady her period was. Her MIT roommate always complained about missing hers, being worried that this time was The Time, and blaming her course load for the stress it brought; Felicity had never had that problem. Her menstruation was like clockwork, hitting nearly the same morning hour every single time. It was comforting, in a bloody, womb-peeling sort of way.
It was something she could depend on, and finding anything consistent in her life had been as easy as finding a purple unicorn in a field of daisies.
But then…
It hadn't arrived.
To say she had panicked would be like saying she dyed her hair blonde. It was just a fact, and the urge to just to give into the wildly overwhelming urge to sit in a corner and scream until she had nothing left was so, so great.
She'd called the first one a false positive - that could happen, right?
The second one had made her chest start feeling really heavy, like someone was sitting on it.
The third one was she was calling negative, because the faint second line was faint enough to call it negative, and just because she damn well could.
The fourth one she'd thrown against the wall, the stick still wet with pee, leaving a wet smear that only made her want to cry. She'd wiped it away before it had a chance to dry; maybe if she got rid of that evidence this wouldn't be happening.
But then the fifth one's indicator came up, a glorified, "BABY!" in a very distinctive dark blue on the little screen… and it led to her sitting on the toilet and shoving her head between her knees because she could not breathe.
Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe… maybe the tests were broken, or someone had dosed her with hormones or maybe she was dreaming…
But the tightness in her chest and the roiling nausea in her stomach were saying something else and oh god, she shouldn't have eaten any dinner that night.
It had been quiet and tense without her filling the silence with her usual incessant rambling, and she'd systematically shoved everything that was put in front of her as fast as she could before excusing herself. It had been the longest fifteen minutes of her life, the silence in the room so heavy it felt like it was seeping into her lungs - into her freaking pores - cutting off any avenue of oxygen she could get.
She had just needed to get out of there before she threw up all over the table and her husband.
Felicity needed a plan. She had a plan for everything but this.
Logic was telling her it was the smart thing to do, to double check, but something else - something else, whatever it was, something intuitive and instinctual and something that was assuredly not there a few days ago - was telling her she didn't need a doctor to confirm anything.
She knew.
She had known, which was why she had been freaking out since the second she'd woken up on Thursday morning sans Aunt Flo.
She was pregnant.
With a baby, a real baby that was completely innocent and would be another victim in the train wreck of a life that had been put into motion when her father had been a child himself.
How was that fair, that she was paying the price, that her child would be paying the price, living in a world full of danger and constant fear and nothing… nothing sane? Nothing normal?
That was the life she was going to bring a child into? The life she was essentially sacrificing her child to?
"No," she whispered, shaking her head, her feet moving of their own volition as she started pacing again. At least when she was moving she didn't feel like every nerve in her body was being electrocuted. "No. I can't do that, I won't do that."
There was only one thing she and her new maternal instinct agreed on at the moment: she would rather die than bring a child into her world.
Bring it into her cold, emotionless, contract-based marriage, into the dark, ugly, brutal world of the Bratva, and into a world where the father's face was carved from stone with ice for eyes, which never thawed no matter how politely he managed to smile.
No. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen, this hadn't been part of her plan.
So what now?
A million and one options ran through her mind, from the unspeakable to the dangerous to the terrifying…
There really was only thing she could do: run.
Felicity's heart clenched when she thought about her mother and what would happen if Felicity disappeared. What about Donna? They had already used her against Felicity once - just thinking about that day when she'd come home to the men in her living room with the very large, very scary knife poised over her mother's wrist… There was no way in hell she was going to leave her mother to the wolves.
She could make them both new identities. It would be so easy, to put all that knowledge she'd gained in high school to good use - she just needed a few tools, a few things, and she could make that happen. She could siphon some cash from the Family and cash it out and they could run. They could hide. They could survive.
They would survive.
"Yeah." Felicity nodded erratically. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do this."
She had to.
She pulled out her suitcase, flipping it open and randomly started grabbing anything within reach. She didn't stop to wonder why she needed her alarm clock or three bottles of perfume or the fritzy lingerie the room had come with. She grabbed and shoved whatever it was in her hands into the suitcase. She'd just buy anything else she needed whenever they got… wherever they were going.
Because she was doing this.
Because she needed to do this.
Her entire life she had waited for something that would push her over the edge, and now she had it. She'd always wondered what it would be, the catalyst, but no matter what it might have been, she had thought she would be ready for it, whatever it was going to be, because she knew on a bone-deep level that this existence of hers was not going to be her life forever.
She'd always assumed she would be cold and emotionless when the time came, since that was how she lived her life - as detached as she could make herself.
But this possibility had been the farthest from her mind.
And now she was terrified.
Felicity paused at the entrance to the closet, squeezing her eyes shut as more hot tears leaked down her cheeks. The tears felt like acid, and her nose was so clogged it felt like her brain was becoming cotton. She hadn't cried this much in a long time, not since she'd had to watch her father forcibly dragged out of their house before her mom had shoved her face into her stomach so she couldn't see what they did to him.
And now… now she was going to be a mom… and just the thought of having to protect her child like that, from seeing something a child had no business being near, made her heart drop.
A sob slid out before she could stop it and she clamped her hand over her mouth; she was afraid if she gave in, she wouldn't stop. It wasn't fear of the constant parade of the someone's in the hallway hearing her and wondering what was going on, it was fear that if she let the reigns of control over her emotions go… she would be lost to it, she would drown in them and her chance to get out would be gone.
And she couldn't afford that.
Wiping her face, she sniffed, rubbing her eyes. She needed to get to a phone and call Donna. How was she going to get her out? She knew better than to assume that someone wasn't watching her little house in Nevada. She also knew for a fact that her mother's phone was constantly being monitored, it had been since before Felicity had even come here, so she couldn't just call her.
Why hadn't they come up with some special code? They should have come up with a contingency code.
"Later," Felicity promised. "I need to go. Later, I'll worry about it later."
She grabbed an armful of clothes, pulling them off hangers blindly and without any real grace or precision. Most of them fell to the floor, and she paused to grab some shoes that she thought she might need. She didn't notice they were dark green stilettos with gold clasps.
She might need them.
She probably needed pants, pants were good.
What about baby clothes? She didn't have baby clothes. She couldn't just run out in the middle of the night and get baby clothes.
Why was she worried about baby clothes, the thing wasn't any bigger than a blip inside her right now, and oh god, she was pregnant.
Felicity stuffed the clothes into the suitcase, shoving it in awkwardly and in large humps. She was wasting space, she thought in the back of her mind, she would regret not packing properly…
Should she bring shampoo?
A soft thwack interrupted her thoughts, coming from her large picture window overlooking the mansion's vast garden.
Felicity jumped at the sudden sound, her stomach dropping to her feet as a chill raced down her spine. Her eyes ticked to the window, the curtains drawn back… but all she saw was the vague glow of the garden lights, the lit-up fountain in the distance and her blurry reflection, her room in shambles, but nothing else…
She barely caught the flash of her bedroom light reflecting on green leather before a pair of heavy boots shattered the window, glass and broken wood spraying everywhere.
Felicity screamed, reeling backwards until she slammed against a wall as a large man landed in a crouch, his boots crushing broken glass. He immediately moved towards her and she tried to scramble away from him but she had nowhere to go.
He was huge - how was he taking up every inch of the room like that? His very presence felt like a physical entity coming at her - she didn't see the hood, or the broad shoulders - the room was suddenly gone and she was sucked into a giant dark tunnel of death as he stalked towards her, his bow coming up, an arrow alright aimed right at her.
Felicity Meghan Smoak-Queen was not someone who shrank away.
She had spent her entire life with Destiny hanging over her head, a destiny she had wanted nothing to do with, so she had learned to fight for what she wanted because it had literally been the only way.
She was a fighter… but not now.
Because it wasn't just her.
Felicity instinctively shrunk away from him, curving her body over to protect her stomach without a second thought and she turned into the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible.
"Felicity Queen," he said, his voice scarily dark and mutated, like it was coming through a modulator, and she froze at the unnatural sound, fear and adrenaline rocking through her so fast it nearly knocked her over.
She wanted to crawl inside the wall and hide, but one thing the Queen mansion boasted was solid architecture.
"Felicity Queen," he repeated, his voice a thick growl that made her flinch. Like the voice had strings on it, forcing her to pay attention, she turned to look at him, eyes wide. She wrapped her arms around her stomach when she came face to face with an arrow.
The vigilante.
The freaking Starling City Vigilante had just busted through her window and the one time the security detail wasn't responding…
"You-" he started.
Felicity didn't think, she acted.
She grabbed the nearest thing to her and threw it right at him - it was a floor lamp with a stone base. It didn't go very far, but he was close enough that it clipped his shoulder before he could dodge it completely.
The distraction was enough for her to dart around him but he was fast, way too fast, and he snatched her around the waist - a jolt of fear so vivid it felt like someone was stabbing her in the chest shot through her when his arm touched her stomach and she went limp. He tossed her back against the wall and she scrambled to her feet.
"Don't move!" he growled, the modulator sound gone, but his voice still had the same tenor that stoked the living fear in her chest. He grabbed another arrow and aimed the bow again and she crouched over, hiding as much of herself as she could. "Felicity Queen, you have-"
"Don't shoot me!" Felicity shouted, interrupting him before he could finish.
He let out an impatient grunt and she held up a hand to stave him off.
"Please. Please, I'm pregnant," she said softly. A tear slipped down her cheek as she said it for the first time - out loud - and in front of a terrifying man holding an arrow pointed right at her stomach.
He froze, going so still she didn't think it was humanly possible.
"Please… don't shoot me, please."
The longest moment of her life slowly eked by as he just stared at her. She didn't dare move, fright keeping her frozen. She felt so exposed, barefoot in the sea of glass, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a tank top; she knew her feet were bleeding from her attempt to run away from him. She could feel the hot sting and the shards of glass embedded in her heels, but she was afraid if she moved, an arrow would fly right through her chest and then…
And then…
Felicity swore she felt his eyes on her as he stared at her, not breathing.
She flinched when his shoulders fell, like the weight of her words just punched him in the gut, and he slowly lowered the bow, inch by inch until it was no longer a threat.
The arrow clattered to the carpeted floor with a heavy thud.
"Pregnant?" he whispered and ice slid down her spine at the voice.
The modulator was gone, as was the vivid wall of terror he had been imposing a moment ago…
Now he was just a man again, just a human standing in the middle of her room, wearing a green hood; she couldn't see his eyes, but she felt them like a vice grip around her throat.
She knew that voice… but it wasn't possible.
Of course she knew that voice. Her entire world had been tied to the owner of that voice since before she was born. She had come into this world contractually obligated to know this voice, and she had lived her life built around what was waiting for her when she came of age. She had lived her world wondering what his voice sounded like, who he was, what he was like, how he would treat her, and hating him just because of the deal her parents had made with the Bratva.
And when the unthinkable had happened, when she had been gifted with those five years of freedom and normalcy… she had learned to let the hate go.
Until he came back, from wherever he had been for those five years, and everything had been ripped away from her again in the blink of an eye.
She knew - in her saner and more logical moments - that it wasn't actually him she hated because she didn't know him. They had been married for seven months, two weeks and three days now, and they still didn't know anything about the other. It had been an unspoken agreement that it was going to stay that way.
They didn't talk about their lives, they didn't talk about the Business - either the legal or the illegal ones - and they didn't say anything past, "Good morning," and, "Goodnight."
They didn't talk about the contractual obligation for heirs or the fact that they both knew she was on birth control.
They just… were.
And for a while, the anger and hate had simmered to a manageable level. The arrangement was old, but the marriage was still new, and the future still unknown as far as she was concerned…
But now it surged back to life in her chest as she realized the one person - the very single one person whom she had hoped would never know… now knew.
He knew…
No, it wasn't possible.
"Don't shoot me! Please. Please, I'm pregnant…"
It wasn't possible that this was…
"You're pregnant?" he asked, his voice cracking.
Felicity collapsed back against the wall, her legs sliding out from under her as the full weight of what was happening settled over her. All these months she had lived here, all these months she had shared the same roof, shared the same table, the same bed… all this time, and he had been someone - something - else entirely.
"Oh god," she whispered, closing her eyes.
Her entire world had just flipped upside down and her stomach lurched, vomit dancing across the back of her throat.
When she opened her eyes again, he still hadn't moved, and now she recognized the feeling of his eyes on her.
It was the same weight she felt when he thought she wasn't looking, wasn't aware, that one that followed her nearly everywhere she went.
Tears blurred her vision as she asked, "Oliver?"
The End
This is just an idea at the moment - this collection should really be called 'Bre's Idea Dumping Ground (so they don't get sucked away into the black hole inside her crazy head)'. Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
