Chpt 5: Here's To New Beginnings

When I arrive at QC, Felicity is already there at her desk. "Good morning," I say, but all I receive in response is a wave. She has pulled her monitor to the side of her desk and is slumped toward it as if she has already been here for several hours. Her hair is down today and wavy. It swept to the side in an artful drape over her shoulder. Beautiful, except that it creates a curtain over her face. I want to reach across her desk and pull it back so that it falls to the other side. It reminds me of the first time that I saw her all dressed up in her little gold cocktail dress. That was the night the Dodger put a bomb collar around her neck. That was the night I realized there was way more to Felicity Smoak than I had ever considered.

"Do you need something, Oliver," she asks sounding a little annoyed, but she does not stop typing.

"What are you working on?" I say even though I know that I likely will not understand a word of it. Really I just want her to pull her eyes from her monitor and turn them toward me, but she doesn't.

"Just working on a way to better protect our computers."

It is clear that her new program is way more interesting than I am so I check my watch and head to my office.

When I reach my desk, I see that she has three stacks of files waiting for my undivided attention. The sticky note on top of the first stack reads "For your review and signature, ASAP." The second says, "READ THESE! VERY IMPORTANT!" The third stack is labeled "Stop procrastinating on these. Not that important, but you still have to muddle through them." The note is punctuated with a hooded smiley face. I look up expecting to see Felicity grinning at me through the glass, but all I see is her back, and I feel a pang of disappointment. Usually she sits stock straight when she is working. More than once she has chastised me for my poor posture behind my desk. Her last ramble on the subject included oxygenation and circulatory data including brain and bone decay associated with poor posture in people stuck behind a computer all day. I smile when I think about it and roll up my sleeves. Apparently I have a lot of work to do today.

I've been drowning in big words and thick files for the last three hours. My stomach alerts me to the noon hour as Digg appears at my door, perfect timing as always. "You ready for lunch?"

"Please," I say and look around him for Felicity.

"She's not here," he says. I must stare a little too long at the empty space on the other side of the glass because Digg asks, "Everything okay with you two?"

I shake my head. "Something's off."

"Should I be worried," he asks.

My phone buzzes. It's a text from Felicity: "Won't be back today. Not feeling well. No meetings this afternoon so you should have plenty of time to finish going through those files. Sorry. Fe." I show it to Digg.

"There's your answer," he says. "Let's eat." I nod, but lunch is not the only thing my gut alerts me too.

When Digg and I return from lunch, we find that Felicity has had a temp sent up to answer the phones. She is waiting for us in the front office. I barely notice her, but I can't say the same for Digg. He closes the glass door behind us, and I hear him chuckle. I deposit my jacket on the back of my chair and look up at him, clueless as to what it is he finds so funny.

"Did you not see that," he asks and chucks his chin toward Felicity's desk.

I glance past him. "What?"

"You come back from lunch to find a beautiful red head in a short tight dress with a rather revealing neck line leaning against the desk and smiling suggestively, and you don't even notice. What's that about?"

"I noticed her," I say rather unconvincingly.

"Yeah, well she definitely noticed you. I think maybe you ought to stay in here for the rest of the afternoon just to be safe. Want me to stand guard at the door while you work?"

"I think I got it, Digg. Thanks," I say and roll my eyes.

"I'm just saying, if you need me to run interference, you know how to find me," he says as he backs for the door. "See you at 5?"

I nod and then survey the remaining pile on my desk. "Hey, Digg! Make it 4," I call and he waves a hand over his head as he heads toward the door and my new temp.

Digg drops me at the foundry and I tell him to take the night off. "Tell Felicity I said 'hi'." Apparently I am transparent when it comes to her.

It is 6:00 and I find myself on Felicity's front porch, supper in hand. I knock but there is no answer. I knock again and call her name. I sense rather than see or hear movement behind the door. "Felicity?" I call. Still no answer. I rattle the door knob, but it is locked. "Felicity!" I am considering knocking the door down when she opens it, but just a crack.

"Oliver," she says, but I can't read any meaning in the way she says my name. I only know she sounds tired.

"You okay?"

"I'm better, thanks," she says through the crack. Although I can only see her left eye and half of her tight smile, I can tell that she is freshly showered and her hair is piled on top of her head. Even without a stitch of make-up she is beautiful.

"I brought you something," I say hoping that my offering will earn me an invitation, and I hold up the brown paper bag in my hand. "Won Ton soup and an egg roll from Ming Lau's on 4th." I wiggle my eyebrows hoping to tempt her into opening the door all the way. "I remember you once said Ming Lau's Won Ton soup can cure anything." She smiles and I hope, as always.

"Thanks, Oliver, but I might be contagious. I don't want you to get sick."

"I'm pretty hardy, you know."

"Yeah, I've noticed," she says and her cheeks flush. It reminds me of our early interactions, and I remember the time when I tried to pass Vertigo off as a sports drink in a syringe. I told her I wanted it analyzed because I am particular about what I put in my body. She said then too that she noticed, and immediately tried to back out of it. Classic Felicity. I feel the same warmth now that I felt then, only this time, I realize it is amplified by desire.

She reaches for the bag through the crack, but the crack is too small for it to pass. She opens the door just a hair more and angles her body to the side. I shove my foot in the space playfully, forcing the door to open a bit wider. She over-reacts to my advance and retreats, stumbling over the rug and flinging the door wide open in the process. "Felicity!" I shout and rush forward to catch her. She drops the bag and folds in on herself in a protective stance. That is when I see the small, fresh bruise on her neck. It is the size of my thumb. I feel her stiffen beneath the hold that I have on her wrists. I lower her hands from in front of her face and my stomach drops. There is a purple and blue bruise over her right eye and her lip is split on that same side. "Felicity," I whisper, but I choke on her name. "What happened? Who did this?" Her hands shake beneath mine, and I feel like I can't catch a solid breath.

"Oliver," she rasps. "I… He…" Her eyes plead with me for strength before she falls forward onto my chest. I gently wrap my arms around her, and I can feel how her entire body trembles.

"Felicity, talk to me. Do we need to go to the hospital?" She shakes her head, no. I rest my chin on the top of her head and we sway back and forth until her trembling slows. I do not know how long we have been standing here, but I will not let her go, not until she asks me too. Her knees give and I feel her slipping. I do not know the extent of her injuries so I lift her gingerly and cradle her against me. I place her on the couch and kneel in front of her. I cannot help the way my eyes roam over her face and down her neck.

"I'm okay," she whispers.

"I'm gonna' get you some Kleenex and a glass of water." She wipes her nose on her sleeve and nods. I look toward what I think must be the bathroom and find a box of tissues on the sink. The kitchen is around the corner. I reach for a bottle of water from the fridge, and I am surprised at how my own hands shake. My mind is racing and I am trying hard to keep it together for Felicity's sake. When I return to her, she is hugging her knees to her chest in the corner of the couch. I sit next to her, close enough to touch her, but not close enough to crowd her.

"Felicity," I say as gently as I can. It isn't until I touch her hand that she looks at me. I hand her the water and a Kleenex, and offer her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She sniffs and takes a sip of her water.

"Oliver, promise me you won't go flying out of here half-cocked, ready to put an arrow in him."

"Him, who," I growl.

"Promise me, Oliver."

I close my eyes and force the anger down. My temper is the last thing she needs right now. "I promise."

She hesitates and draws in a deep, steadying breath before she answers. "Brant… It was Brant."

She's right, all I needed was a name. Every part of me wants to charge out of here… now… and finish him. I'm going to hunt down that son of a bitch and put an arrow through his heart.

"Oliver, listen. As soon as it happened I called Lance and he handled everything."

Lance? Why would she call Quinten Lance?

She answers as if she has read my mind. "I didn't call you Oliver because I wanted this to go through the proper channels. If he did it to me, it's likely he's done it to someone else."

"What did he do Felicity," I ask, although I am not entirely sure that I want to know. I try desperately to cap my fear. "Did he…" It occurs to me that I am a coward. I expect her to relive what I cannot even bring myself to ask.

Felicity's eyes grow wide. "No, Oliver! No." She shakes her head and I know that she is telling me the truth. I close my eyes and blow out a hard, relieved breath.

"We were at his house Saturday night, watching a basketball game. There's some big college tournament going on right now. His team was losing and the ref made a bad call, I guess. He started screaming at the TV, all kinds of obscenities. He had had a little too much to drink, but I didn't say anything because I had my car there so it wasn't like he was going to be driving me home or anything, and besides, that's what guys do, right? They relax, have a few beers, and watch a ballgame? When he asked me to come over and watch it with him, he said he had originally planned on watching it with some of the guys from his firehouse, but… He was just so sweet. He said he had rather watch it with me. I told him that I know absolutely nothing about the game of basketball, but he didn't care." She sounds sad, regretful. "Anyway, I made some stupid comment about how it was just a game and how life would go on as usual the next day..." She stops and her lips disappear into a tight, thin line. Her knuckles are white against her knees and her breaths are coming quickly now. I reach for her carefully so as not to spook her and gently pry her fingers loose. She wraps them tightly around mine, and I lower them to her sides. I scoot closer and pull her legs across my lap. She seems to relax a bit and continues. "He looked at me like I had two heads and started screaming about a bet and how much he stood to lose. I think I made some kind of apology and tried to calm him down. That's when he lost it completely. He… He slapped me and I stumbled, but he grabbed me before I hit the floor… I tried to push him away, Oliver, but he… he." She rips her tissue in half and one trembling hand lands on her forehead and scrapes through her hair. I catch it when it falls back to her lap. "He punched me. He punched me and he threw me against the wall." Her lip trembles and I want so badly to pull her to me and take it all away. "That's when he put his hand around my throat…" Her voice cracks and I can no longer maintain the careful distance between us. I lift her into my lap and cradle her to me. I am grateful when she does not pull away. She nestles her forehead into my neck and I know that she trusts me. "I couldn't breathe. Everything started to go black and quiet. It was soooo quiet. That's when I heard Digg."

"Digg?"

She nods and sniffles. Her tears are silent and it breaks my heart. "I heard Digg's voice. He told me to find a weapon. He told me once that anything can be a weapon if you use it right. I saw the lamp out of the corner of my eye. I grabbed it, and I hit him… I hit him as hard as I could." She says it with a strength that I do not expect. "I think a part of me intended to kill him." I should say something, but I am speechless. "He fell, and I ran. I grabbed my phone and my keys, and I called Lance from my car. When he got there, Brant was still out."

Relief floods me and I swell with pride. "You're remarkable, Felicity." She lifts her chin and gives me a sad smile. "I mean it. You're amazing."

She scoots off of my lap and snuggles into my side. I turn to face her and slide my knee under hers. We both lean our heads on the couch. "I don't feel amazing. I feel like I got my ass kicked."

"Seems to me you're the one that did the ass kicking," I say and I take her hand in mine. She watches me, watching her as I try to find a place for all that she has told me. One question plagues me, and I have to ask. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

She looks at our hands and shrugs. "I guess I didn't want you to see me as a victim. You already see me as the damsel in distress, or the weakest link, or… whatever you want to call it. Just think about how many times you've had to save me in this last year alone." She glances up at me, gauging my reaction.

"Felicity," I say, and I run my knuckles down the side of her face. I can't help it, I have to touch her. "I don't see you as a victim or a damsel in distress, and you're certainly not the weakest link. You're strong and smart and you've saved my ass more times than I can count." I take her face in my hands and I stroke her unblemished cheek. "You saved yourself, babe. What you did was beyond strong, beyond brave, and I'm so proud of you, Felicity"

A strange look crosses her face and I let go, but I do not drop my hands. She smiles hesitantly. "Did you just call me babe?"

I chuckle and drop my forehead to hers. Twenty minutes ago I was as scared as I have ever been. I think it is safe to say that my brain is not working exactly as it should be right now. "You prefer 'sweetheart' or maybe "pumpkin"? How about I call you pumpkin?" I tease.

"Don't you dare," she laughs and does her best to level me with an Arrow worthy glare. She pulls her knees from my lap and crosses her legs in front of her. I miss her warmth immediately.

"Does it hurt much," I ask, and I can't help but ghost my thumb over her lip and eye.

"Only when I breathe," she jokes and then her eyes grow big the way they do when her brain to mouth filter has failed her. "Not that I'm complaining, about breathing, I mean. I won't ever take that simple act for granted again."

I grimace at the hard reality of what could have been.

"Lance gave me an ice pack and two Tylenol at the station. It took a lot of the sting away."

"He took you to the station," I ask in disbelief.

"He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I wouldn't let him. I was fine. No concussion, no cuts that needed stitching. I just wanted to make my statement and get home. Lance even called Laurel. She talked to a sympathetic judge who was kind enough to grant me a restraining order that keeps him far, far away until he goes to trial. Lance charged him with assault and a few other minor things that won't stick, but Laurel said we have a good case against him on the assault charge. They took some photos at the precinct of my face and neck."

I cringe at the thought of all she went through alone. "Before you get all broody faced there Oliver, I wasn't alone. Detective Lance stayed with me the whole time. He followed me home when I left and put a patrol car outside my door until morning." I guess my "broody face" doesn't go away because she covers my hand with hers and asks me not to be angry with her. "I didn't not call you to hurt you, Oliver. I just needed to see this through on my own."

I nod and she traces my jaw with her thumb. Something inside me shifts, and I feel more alive than I have since before the island. When her thumb stops and hovers just over my skin, I know that she feels it too. My heart is gaining speed and I find it difficult to catch a breath. I slip my arm around her waist and slide her toward me. She tenses and for a moment I think that maybe I should stop, but then her fingers scrape across my cheek and settle on the back of my neck. Her eyes flutter closed and she urges me forward. I trace the curve of her eyebrow with my nose and place a hesitant kiss over her eyelid. I feel her other hand tangle in the hem of my shirt. She sits straighter, and I kiss the bridge of her nose. As I slide toward her cheek, she tilts her head and I angle my lips over hers. We fit together like the last piece of a puzzle. One soft, slow kiss becomes a second and then a third. I feel as if I might shatter under the weight of all that she means to me. Her kiss is excruciatingly tender yet I am on fire for her. I pull her to me so that we are flush, and a small moan escapes her throat. It is too much and yet somehow not enough. One more lingering kiss and I reluctantly pull away. "I don't want to hurt you," I whisper. My voice is deep and raspy as if I have been sleeping.

"You won't, but thank you, Oliver. I don't want to move too fast."

I nod because I understand. I don't want to screw this up either. It's too important. "You care if I sleep on your couch tonight? I just want to be close." She smiles, but shakes her head 'no'. I try not to look disappointed.

"There isn't enough room on the couch for two."

A/N: I think we can all take it from there, don't you Olicity fans? Holler if you hear me! I choose to believe that they take it slow and find their way together, down their own path, in their own time. I would truly love to know what you think of my little story so if you have the time, leave a review on the way out. Thank you so much for reading.

Ren