Part 4
"Oh…" Wow.
It was all she could think as he pressed against her.
What stunned her is that she'd been his first choice.
Well, that wasn't necessarily true. I mean, Moira and Thea are too wrapped around each other for a third body. I'm sure I was just the closest source of heat. Because he was cold. And I'm… not…cold. And wearing his sweater. And I need to quick thinking these things. Right now. 3, 2, 1…
He'd never held onto her like this before. She didn't think anyone had. But this was Oliver Queen. He didn't hug people, or at least he didn't hug her. Not like this. Though she knew what it was like to be in his presence, to have a solitary arm wrapped around her waist (because his other was always holding his bow) from the brief hug she'd forced on him when he'd returned from taking on Cyrus Gold… But this was a very different kind of feeling.
For a brief moment her nerves and senses went haywire. She could feel his biceps. Triceps, quadriceps – how many 'ceps' are there anyway because he has them ALL, no exceptions – with how tightly he'd gathered her too him. Against her arms, her back and shoulders. His pectorals, or what she preferred to call them, 'chest-pecs of supreme deliciously moulded awesomeness'? Were pressed, hard, against her breasts. Um, yep. Images were conjured, she would not deny this. Steady girl. And she'd watched the man work out, so yep. She knew very well what he looked like underneath his suit clothes, that he was very strong, that he was a lot bigger than her… she just never expected to be on the receiving end of one of his displays of affection. To have him wrapped around her so completely. They were normally reserved for Laurel, or Thea. Or Sara.
So extremely aware right now…
And he'd been shaking. But he still held her, fiercely, with his face pressed into her neck, and every time he shifted she felt the ridge of his nose against the column of her throat. Oh, boy. As if holding her too gently would allow her to slip away. I swear I could feel his heartbeat. Even through his shirt plus jacket and suspenders. And I just had to think of his suspenders. Now is so not the right time to be thinking about Oliver Queen in suspenders or having any of these thoughts! Save them till later, you know, when he's not around…
He'd shook in relief. And then he spoke, mumbling into the place between her neck and shoulders.
"It's been a really bad day."
It hurt. His uneven tone cracking at the end, breaking into a mere whisper hurt. But the words were just so right for the moment, for him, that she also had to smile an, albeit, wobbly smile.
Then she felt the wetness on her throat. Oh, Oliver. His lashes brushed against her, she could feel his fingers digging into her side, grasping and releasing the material there as if reaching for a steady buoy amidst his all the chaos. He pressed his face further into her neck.
Swallowing she spoke, moving her arms around him so naturally she wondered at the feeling of it. And she did what she'd always wanted to during all those times in the lair when he'd looked so down hearted, so tired and so alone. Her fingers slowly, soothingly stroked through the hair at the base of his skull.
"Understatement." The word made water fill her eyes. "It's okay." She sniffed them away.
It was so comforting to feel him like this. It hadn't hit her just how scared she'd been until he'd held her. Her other arm snuck beneath his suit jacket to rub at the small of his back. She knew what she liked to feel when someone hugged her; maybe he'd like the same. It brought them as close as they could get to one another.
"It's over now. You're safe." She muttered, because he definitely hadn't been.
It took a moment for those words to sink for her to realise the parallel.
Hey, shh, shh, shh, you're safe.
Oh, you were shot-
-Hey.
It's nothing.
Tempus Fugit indeed.
She could feel her thighs against his as they simultaneously rocked together from side to side.
"Thank you." His voice, hoarse but gentle and so very indebted had her pressing her lips together, the tears forming once again. "Thank you Felicity." And she shivered at the very expressive way he said her name.
The dirt beneath her knees was cold but he was so warm and she'd been so scared to come here. But she was thankful she had. "You're very welcome." She'd saved him for a change. The thought made her smile to herself, a little proud. So that's what it feels like. I like it. Though not the whole 'I'm too scared to contemplate loosing that I'll just go in without a plan and hope I don't get killed' thing. Rather avoid that again. At all costs.
It wasn't until a rich voice, one that oozed upper class society - as if you could sell it in silver spoon bottles - broke through her mental wanderlust that Felicity remembered…
"Oliver."
Moira. And Thea. Who were both standing right there… Ah.
His name said so suddenly in the quiet surrounding them had him jolting against her, like it shocked him.
Moment over.
His muscles tensed and shifted under her hands and she felt him lift his head, his arm leaving what felt like the whole of her back as the path of his other made her want to moan out loud. It slowly left her hair, but not her skin, absently stroking all the way down her neck - it had never felt so long before – before dipping down the scope, landing just under her chin. It didn't move. Oh… just… Brillo.
His face came into view as he pulled back from her; his eyes, the white of which were reddened were locked behind her on his mother. Felicity didn't move, suddenly tired and wary of his family's reaction to everything.
"Mom." He swallowed, sounding so relieved. "Thea." Mollified by the sight of them standing there, alive.
He looked stronger.
More like himself; the way he was before heading out on a mission to save the Glades. She felt herself take in a large breath.
He looked more than anything, his face was all edges as it slowly regained its usual severity, like he just wanted to hold them in his arms like he had her but instead remained kneeling. Eventually his gaze shifted back to her. He smiled. It was small and raw but very much the same smile he'd used earlier, after their talk about Sara, only filled with so much more. It was soft and it turned her knees to jelly. She watched him take a deep breath. Then his eyes dropped down.
"You're wearing my hoodie."
Er, what? She blinked at him. That's what he chooses to say first?
"You're usually more loquacious than this." He seemed to deliberate her, arching a brow.
"Ah, I-I…"
His head actually tilted sideways, frowning, then shaking it as if she deified logic, as if he just couldn't believe it. "And you're blushing."
A-buh-uh? "It was the first thing available!" Came out at bullet speed. They were sitting on the ground, after having a very close call with Slade Wilson, ex-Special Ops-Mirakuru enhanced killing machine and he was just smiling at her, this sweet little smile which, merged in with the rich quietness of his very masculine voice and the warm amusement in his eyes, was just a little too much for her to cope with suddenly.
…But there was something deadly deep inside those blue irises. He wasn't done with the night; not at all.
He nodded an 'oh okay' and she shifted, nudging her glasses with the tips of her fingers like she did whenever she was nervous or unsure. A move that she knew that he knew all too well.
The hand at her neck lifted then, his fingers nudging against the underside of her chin, pushing her face sideways, exposing her right cheek. She felt his gaze fix on her most definitely swollen cheek and reached up to grasp his wrist, tenderly pulling his hand away.
"I'm alright too." She said quietly. Well, actually it hurts like a bitch but-
The tip of his index finger trailed underneath the area. He didn't reply, just looked at her again before moving to stand and, even though he was injured, pulling up a blinking Felicity with him in one smooth motion.
Sometimes she still forgot how resilient this man was.
And then all manner of his earlier amusement left him, replaced by hardness. There was a bone-tired air about him and the look in his eyes was one of pure remorse but also of love. It was aimed at the two women huddled together before him.
Slowly he exhaled… Waiting.
Moira had her lips pressed together, as if to negate her tears. "Oliver." She uttered again, shaking her head and giving him a watery smile. Then she was rushing forwards in tandem with Thea who reached him first. The three collided together in a heap of relieved groans and sorrowful gasps, hugging the crap out of each other. Felicity stepped to the side, giving them some room, hearing Oliver murmur with his face in Thea's hair. "It's alright. You're okay."
Moira pulled far enough away from him to see his face. "We're okay."
He nodded, "Yeah," hugging her again until he realised the death grip Thea had on his jacket. He frowned, turning his head, concerned. "Thea? Are you alright?" Dislocating from his mother his hands touched his sister's face and arms, searching for injuries, his powerful eyes flickering here and there. "Did he hurt you?"
Said brunette shook her head before burrowing into his open jacket. Instinctively his arms wrapped around her, rubbing his hands over her back as Moira petted her hair. She's shivering, Felicity noticed, she's probably freezing. "Just cold." The girl confirmed. "And, you know, my hands are tied: I literally can't hug anything but your jacket right now."
Oh… "Oh!"
In unison they turned to look at her. Her eyes fell on one probing stare. Moira.
It wasn't that she was bothered that the mother in question never remembered her name and most people couldn't keep up with her rambling anyway - though it seemed like her trio of Arrow buddies didn't seem to mind too much, she hoped. Fingers crossed. But Moira had the unfailing ability to make Felicity feel, with a single look, like a worm or a particularly annoying/offensive and unwelcome bug; one that was easily disposed of. One that threatened their sculptured world.
Like right now how the woman looked her over inquisitively, relief still echoing in her features but the most powerful emotion, the one that caused her brow line to crinkle and her eyes to narrow, was suspicion. And normally Felicity would completely admit to that being a justifiable response but she didn't feel particularly inclined to do so just now.
Her fingers still had blood on them. Literally. She needed a shower: essence of Slade was not an attractive feature.
Looking from one to the next she held up her last arrow and waved it about like a loon, smiling slightly. "Haven't… cut her loose yet, so…" She gestured at Thea, taking slow steps forward. "I'm just going to… do that."
Immediately Oliver extricated himself from his sister but Thea, she noticed, was now staring at Slade's unconscious form. Okay. She moved to intercept her line of sight, hi there, stepping in front of his body.
It took a moment but eventually hazel eyes popped up to her face, meeting her look.
With everything that had happened there was no way she could start cutting the girl's bonds with anything sharp until she had her full attention.
Nodding to herself she began to pull and swipe at the black ropes of pure persistent annoyance… and didn't stop when she both felt and glimpsed Oliver in her peripheral step back from his mother who'd been holding onto his hand like a life line.
"Oliver?" The woman muttered.
He hobbled out of the circle, bending down just a couple of steps away to pick up… pick up Slade's fallen pistol.
Straightening he checked the magazine of the sleek blackness, looking down at it as his hands moulded around the barrel and the hilt… then his thumb pushed down on the hammer.
Click.
The sound seemed to run right through Thea who jumped a little, trembling, Moira swallowing and opening her mouth once, twice before closing it, enfolding her middle with her arms. She watched her son as he breathed long and deep, eyes travelling from the weapon to sliding over the ground as if following a path only he could see. And he looked at her briefly too before passing her entirely to watch Felicity…
Who hadn't moved. Hadn't flinched. Hadn't reacted. Wasn't even watching him back now, seeing him as Moira and Thea did: like a firework about to explode. Like she was used to it, which she was, let's be fair.
Momentarily Felicity's eyes did flicker upwards, just once. There was nothing to be said.
Dark, his eyes didn't stray. He simply waited for her to finish.
Right this moment Felicity was more than a little worried about the faintly zoned-out expression on Thea's face. Shock? She'd seemed fine earlier though Felicity knew it could sometimes take a while to fully kick in. "Thea?" She spoke, blonde strands falling into her eyes having realised during the hug that her bobble must have fallen out somewhere. "Are you alright?"
Surprising her, the girl immediately answered. "I… I don't know yet."
"That's very understandable." She said, focusing on getting that last knot undone. "If it were me I'd be-"
"-How'd you know where to find us?" Thea questioned suddenly, scrutinizing Felicity with a frown, curiosity and a lot of fear.
Silence. Felicity opened her mouth to say the first thing that popped into her head but Moira got there first, smooth as silk.
"Yes, how did you?" She stepped closer, as if trying to protect her daughter, eyes like ice scrutinizing her every breath and Felicity almost snorted. She was the last person Moira needed to fear.
But then…
"Mom. Now isn't the time." Oliver. Watching his mother with that slightly confused frown he limped back to them. "We need to get out of here." He turned to Felicity, hand automatically moving to her shoulder. "Dig?"
The reminder had her closing her eyes to nod – but then remembered, frack. "I've already left him a billion messages…" I put my phone on silent. Quickly her cell was out of her pocket, Oliver observing her like he always did in the lair, letting her be, leaving her free to do her stuff because he knew he could never do the things she could do…
His intensity reminded her of the face he normally covered with a green hood.
Though on silent the screen of her mobile was lit up like a Christmas tree: Dig's smiling face on view. "He's calling!" She accepted the call, putting the device by her ear. "Dig?"
"Felicity!"
The muscles in her face hurt at the mad rush of happy relief she felt at hearing his voice but she winced when she heard down the line a squeal of what sounded like rubber tires being forced to keep their momentum as they swerved at unimaginable-speeds-per-hour. "Thank God! I've been calling your phone but-"
"No, I had it switched off. Couldn't let Slade-"
"Slade?!" John sounded like he'd been punched and he whispered, 'you were right', before his voice elevated. "What happened? Are you alright? Is Oliver-"
She started talking. "I'm fine and Oliver's…" Her eyes caught his, flickering down and watching the index finger and thumb of his right hand rub themselves together, his little subconscious twitch, she continued, quietly. "He's alright. Thea and Moira are too." Sort of…
A loud exhaled sounded as momentary white noise. "I can't leave you guys alone for an hour can I?"
A shaky laugh left her and she started fidgeting, pacing. "I'm sorry Dig; I didn't have much of a choice." She couldn't stand still. Not with Oliver watching her every reaction: piecing together everything that had happened to bring her here.
"Yeah, got that: that message you left me almost gave me a heart attack."
"Dig-"
"Felicity, I swear, if you scare a brother like that again…"
Floored at the way his voice had started shaking, but knowing she really shouldn't be - they were family after all – had her pause, gaze softening, mouth curling into a smile, a giggle unbecoming of the situation bubbling out of her. "Love you Dig."
A rough bark of raw emotion left the big guy. "…love you too." He seemed to pull himself together though composure was about a million miles away. "You didn't have much of a choice." He reiterated. "I should never have turned off my phone."
"Hey, come on, how were you to know that this was-"
Apparently, what little slice of peace Oliver had since she'd arrived regained had now run dry because he stepped into her space, hand closing around hers, eyes asking her a question, and she automatically let go of the cell, giving it to him and then he was gone.
"Dig? Are you on your way here?" He immediately asked, his voice low, deep, fortified – lethal – and whatever reply Diggle gave him was left a mystery as the archer stepped away, muttering low into the receptacle for, Felicity thinks, the benefit of his mother and sister. A part of her wonders however at the logic in not telling them everything now. After tonight and all that had happened…
Thea's voice pulled her back – it seemed the Queen family had a habit of pulling her both into and outside of her thought-scape on an alarmingly frequent basis.
"Felicity… Smoak?"
She blinked, turning and involuntarily doing her usual little head bob quirk. "That's me."
Thea's eyes were fixed on her brother. "Are you and my brother… together?" Not seeing the 'uh what' look on felicity's face she continued. "I thought he was with Sara but-"
"-No, we are not- why does everyone always think that… we're friends, co-workers!"
Her vehement denial had Thea blinking too, staring at her with raised brows. "Okay. I just thought that…" A breath of frustrated exasperation left her; hazel eyes closing briefly. "I wanted to say thank you, but I also wanted to know who I should be thanking." At Felicity's frown she continued, the barest trace of a genuinely innocent and grateful smile on her face. "Felicity Smoak: my brother's EA, Felicity: my brother's very smart and fake blonde-haired friend or Felicity: my brother's… more than just a friend, friend."
Said fake-blonde opened and closed her mouth like a dying fish. "Oh… y-you're welcome?" It came out like a question.
"I still would like to know how you found us…" Moira, who'd been watching and listening walked over to Thea's side, effectively blocking Felicity in between her daughter and the fallen Slade and finished. "…Miss Smoak." Her name being said by any woman before, not even Isabel, had never sounded so threatening.
Yep; there was history here, in case you forgot.
A very hard-done-to-sound broke free from Thea. "Who cares?"
Moira turned a hard arched brow on the girl who fell into silent perplexity. "I do."
"GPS tracker." Felicity spoke to Moira, who's head had whipped back to hers to so fast she thought she hard it crack before locking eyes with Thea who, seemingly falling into one emotion after the next, now looked a little shell-shocked. "I put one in your phone after Slade kidnapped you the first time."
Slowly Moira's mouth fell open, both eyebrows raised this time. Wow, I managed to crack the most put together exterior since Helen of Troy. Obviously that had been the last thing the older woman had expected her to say.
Thea shook her head. "W-why?"
"Because… because you getting kidnapped could happen again." She muttered, watching Thea rub absently over own wrists.
"So…" Thea shook her head. "You just thought you'd invade my privacy and put random tech on my phone?"
There's definitely no 'random' about it. Though put that way it does sound a little creep-some. She was relieved to discover that Thea's tone, though intense and serious like Oliver's could be, wasn't exactly angry or distrustful. It just sounded like she was trying to grasp at some tangible control.
Taking a breath she gestured at Oliver and spared him a glance that was supposed to be momentary but ended up being… not so momentary.
She'd expected to find him still talking to Dig, still ruminating on the night's various events, still being Oliver. If he managed to hear that she was babbling…She'd expected him to look cautious, worried even, that his family could be further exposed to his secrets…
The phone was still to his ear but his attention was completely focused on her very fake blonde self. And he looked, once again... wrecked. Speechless.
There was a lilt of wonderment that was quickly fading from his features, replaced with something else, as if he'd been hit hard by some knowledge, as if he'd… heard every bit of their conversation.
His blue, blue eyes - how can eyes be that blue - were unusually bright against the car light. Piercing. Intense. The depth of them was a slow burn on her skin. How could eyes even do that, how? It isn't possible. They pulled at her like gravity, a question there too and then it hit her as to why.
He hadn't known about the GPS.
Oh.
She'd just openly admitted to bugging his sister's phone so that she could keep an eye on his loved one. So that he wouldn't have to worry. So that she could spend hours during the night worrying over someone else's sister to the point where she'd travel back to the foundry or to QC to watch over her during the early hours of the morning.
And it had saved their lives.
He looked like he wanted to…
He looked like he wanted to love her.
"You're his sister." Felicity finally muttered, having no strength to wrench her gaze away from him.
"Just like that?" The voice was Thea's who sounded… not so puzzled.
"Just like that."
"I… get it."
So did Moira. She knew exactly how Felicity felt about her son. And judging by the expression of sheer… something she could see on Oliver's face maybe it wasn't all one sided. Maybe. She went unnoticed by the pair, eventually looking away and down, pressing her lips together. Humble crow was never easy to swallow.
Felicity cleared her throat, finally looking back at Thea. "He's my boss so… Well, he was my boss," she backtracked. "But he's also my friend. You didn't see him… you didn't know what it was like when you were kidnapped."
Thea's eyes flickered from felicity to her brother and back again.
Then Oliver spoke, voice still low. Quiet. "Diggle's coming." He waited till he had her attention, before glancing at his mother. "He'll be in here in a few minutes."
He must be breaking the speed limit to be that close so soon, which is exactly what she'd done so… She smiled, aiming to alleviate the atmosphere some-
Then the skin of her left shoulder blade ripped open with fire.
"No! FELICITY!"
What…?
Is that…blood?
The shock of it left her numb for several moments of where blissful ignorance and confusion reigned free and she watched, dazedly.
A flash of red streaking across her vision, those red drops against grey, splattering her neck and her sweater. Heat searing down on her back… the sight of Oliver treading way past her, pistol coming up fast and fierce in his grip. The silent noise of Thea yelling, wide eyed and frightened once again as Moira tugged her back, away from her… away from the danger behind her.
Away from Slade who she'd been standing in front of.
Away from Slade who was notorious for his ease and skill with swords and sharp weapons.
Away from Slade who was supposed to be unconscious…
CRACK!
The sound of the gunshot brought understanding, brought clarity. Forced logic of thought into her brain. Searing heat + freaked out Thea + gunshots from the solitary pistol now in Oliver's possession + catalyst, 'me' = violent threat. Equals pain. God the pain. Suddenly was right there; inescapable. Awareness no longer optional, it forced a scream so sharp from her throat she felt it flare through her bones, the sound echoing harshly in the din of night.
I… I can't…
CRACK!
Wh-what… I… it hurts… really hurts…
CRACK!
Her back throbbed and shrieked at her. Clawed madness down her spine. Surprised she hadn't fallen over she realised, from somewhere in the background of her consciousness, that it was because if she did…Oliver would kill him. Oliver would kill Slade. And where most would believe this completely justifiable, and it was, Felicity knew that in killing Slade, Oliver would undo all the hard work of the past year. It would completely undermine his goal and though she was sure he'd be alright for a while afterwards, it would inevitably come back to haunt him… it would slowly eat at him. Destroying that little light inside him, the one she saw daily, the one with so much potential. She couldn't let that happen.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Oliver.
Do not hurl. Pulling herself up she whirled around. The effort it cost her blurred her vision and she wobbled on the spot, feeling very close to vomiting. She wanted to cry, to release some of the absolute agony bestowed on her body.
But there was Oliver, close to Slade, bearing down on him with a vengeance. The expression on his face said everything. Deadly didn't scratch the surface. Jawline taught, pulled tight against what she was sure were clenched teeth, he looked so… serious about this. Yet the opposite of detached; there was this light in his eyes, furious and blatantly hateful. Anger, pain, a wealth of sadness, that childish hurt in our inner natures that never really died where every boy and girl believed they deserved happiness yet didn't get it, betrayal, fatigue… A sublime chaos.
Pushed to the limit. Again. His finger once again on the trigger, pulling it back, knowing that – though he was Mirakuru enhanced – even monsters couldn't survive everything, like, say, a dozen or two bullets in all the right places.
Slade, helpless against the dirt road was bleeding and seething. Dark eyed, the depth of his irises were black and empty save his wrath. She glimpsed the glint of his sword kicked amidst the bushes, bullet wounds in his chest but not his heart. Not his head. When he coughed, he coughed blood.
And Oliver was past anybody's words or prompts…
But I have to try.
"Oliver!" It wrenched from her chest straining the liquid metal on her back, coated in anxiety and affection. "OLIVER!"
His face, stark and beyond every emotion lifted to face her, see her. His finger loosened on the trigger.
"Don't." She whispered, unable to shout again. "Don't kill him. Don't do it."
He began to shake his head, the tide in his eyes sparking the tell-tale tightening in her chest, the warning bell she got whenever she was about to start sobbing. "He doesn't deserve to live for this Felicity. For any of this." Suddenly so tender, his eyes trailed fingers of care over her form. "He just hurt you." As if it were unimaginable. "He tried to kill my mother. My sister. I can't let him live."
"You're going to have to."
His frown was one of complete bafflement. "Why?" She could tell he wanted so much for to just give him a reason. But she couldn't. Wouldn't.
"He isn't worth you destroying yourself over. He doesn't get to have that Oliver. He doesn't…" God, the pain in her back was actually building. "He doesn't get to ruin you along with him."
"What…" It came out breathless and completely broken. "What is there left to save?!" He half shouted, looking torn and hating himself for it.
Slade's bitter, weak laugh sounded like metal shavings down a parched throat. "That's right kid. Men like us can't be protected from the truth."
Oliver's trigger finger twitched.
Every little part of his soul was open bare for her through his eyes.
The vigilante, scratching off names on a list. The hunter with his bow. The assassin with his deadly aim and those precision tactics. The killer with marked fists and hardened skin. The victim with tortured eyes and a gentle grace. The soldier with scars and a beyond the norm endurance. The hero with his mask and his values. The man who loves his family be they blood related or not. He had, has, just as much heart and soul as she did.
She didn't get how he couldn't see all of that.
The furrow between her brows was deliberate but the feeling in her gaze and the tears gathering there weren't. "You." Always you. "You Oliver."
He didn't have any words; he just looked at her. Like he was seeing her for the first time.
When she tried to move closer she staggered. She saw his arm simply drop down, his body turning as if involuntarily moving to help her but he couldn't seem to move his feet, to step out of the invisible circled he'd pencilled around him and Slade.
Slade.
The man watching the pair of them, weak and bleeding as he was there was a deep reservoir of pain in his gaze too. But unlike Oliver he directed all his rage externally. The slow, savage smile that she glimpsed emerging on his face pushed her to talking again.
"Everything that has ever happened to you, everything you've ever had to do, on the island or before then. Or after…. None of it justifies allowing Slade Wilson or anyone else to ruin your soul. No one on the planet has the right to twist another person." Slightly more than a whisper now, a murmur she continued to ignore Slade and looked directly into Oliver's eyes. Holding him there with her. Stay with me. "To manipulate a person into becoming something they don't deserve? Not even God has that right. Free will Oliver. Don't let him take that from you."
But he started shaking his head again, looking like he was about to dispute everything she'd said but ironically, given her current state of injury, she was faster than him. "Don't say you deserve that. It doesn't matter what you've done. No one deserves what he has tried to do to you tonight." She hated how she was beginning to sound, all choked up and breaking, but the pain was becoming almost unbearable. She was tired too.
"You know…" This is all I can do. "Whatever you choose…" Kill him or don't it doesn't matter. "For whatever it's worth… I believe in you."
I always have.
He didn't move. Still didn't say anything. If she didn't know any better she'd think he'd been frozen. She smiled at him, for him, feeling those tears dropping fast abruptly down her cheeks, the urge to remove her glasses – she'd never really needed them anyway – was stifling. She felt so incompetent. Pathetic. Moira, wherever she was standing, wasn't helping and Thea wouldn't want to: who could blame her? It was just her.
"And the thing about belief Oliver? It is isn't just for 'right now', or for 'today'..." She ran out of air and inhaled a shaky breath realising that, yep, she was really crying now.
Pleading with him. Please Oliver…
"It's forever."
The silence following this felt deafening. And though she knew that waiting was sometimes half the war, she had no idea it could be this overwrought. Did it work? Did I even make a dent? Did I do anything?
Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, a change occurred in Oliver. A sound left him, one she didn't understand, like the expansion and contraction of his vocal cords and he blinked. Once. Inhale. Twice, exhale. Frowning to himself he licked his lips and closed his eyes. "Felicity."
It was a mere whisper but it made her sob in relief.
His eyes opened and the determination there, the desire to 'hope' made her want to dance around an idiot.
But even if she could Slade had other plans. "Hey! You better kill me kid!" Blood and spittle caught against his lips. "You better kill me or the next time I'll-" So quickly she'd had trouble following it Oliver twisted, spinning the pistol in his hand, and then bent low and cold cocked the bastard. He stood back, looking down at his once ally and friend whose eyes were now closed, body now slumped. Once again unconscious.
Which begged the question… how had he regained consciousness so fast in the first place? She pumped a more than lethal dose of venom into his system. He should have stayed down for a half hour…
All thoughts in her head ceased when Oliver turned round. In science everyone knew that blue fire burned hotter than orange. Oliver's eyes were such a prime example of this.
And then he just started striding forwards, sure and strong. Capable. Even with the limping and the bleeding. When he reached her he didn't pause, didn't say a word. Very softly this time, his pistol free hand lifted to her cheek and she panicked inside when her face automatically turned into it. Needing the security. To be comforted.
But he didn't look at all perturbed. She'd done it before after all; when shot by the Clock King.
Her reaction seemed to be what he was waiting for as that same hand then caught the back of her head and pulled her into him, his broad shoulders seeming to somehow curve around her form. He took in a large inhale that expanded his chest into her cheek, his momentum causing her to move backwards and she winced, her face grimancing as more tears fell at the ripple of pain across her shoulder.
"Shh, shh, shh…" The sounds of comfort, because they certainly weren't words, were whispered into her hair. Another first. She shivered, feeling his hot breath against the top of her ear, his cheek against the side of her head. "I've got you."
Nose pressed into his shirt, beneath his collar bones she inhaled what she knew to be leather, soap, sweat, blood and wood. "You don't have to-"
"Shh." Pulling back slightly his gaze caught hers. "I don't know how many times I can thank you in one night but it'll never be enough."
His voice was so warm and necessary she felt herself trembling, feeling like a fool for telling him not to hold her when all she really wanted was to be held. "You'll never have to."
Her answer seemed to floor him. His eyes flickered between hers before he smiled slightly. The hand on the back of her head lifted and she almost cried again. Needing it back there, stroking her hair. Get a grip. She inhaled, exhaled, and forced herself to just smile back at him.
And then that same hand took the front zip of her sweater and started dragging it down.
Er… so caught in the almost hypnotic movement she didn't say a word, just watched as now open his hoodie revealed her tight black yoga top. And a good three inches of toned stomach she was secretly very proud of. He didn't seem to have expected that because the when the on again, off again wind forced the two side to flutter open the severe expression on his face crumbled and fell away, leaving…Oh wow.
The look on his face was so open. Like he hadn't expected it; for this to happen, here of all places. His eyes, his expression: all gentle and he swallowed. It was something Felicity had never expected to see on Oliver, not in relation with her. He'd seen her stomach before, right? Again he blinked and breathed.
"I just need to…" His other hand moved to do something, but with the gun his options were limited. Swiftly, in a move that kind made her bite down on her lip – it was just like in the movies – he deftly pushed the pistol into the back of his suit pants under his jacket, allowing the material to fall back over it. That was so Jason Bourne.
But then his hands were both free and she had bigger problems as they moved to pull the two sides of the hoodie apart.
She frowned. "Oliver?"
"I just need to see…" His hands continued to do the speaking for him, his fingers slipping under the left side of the grey hoodie, the course palm trailing across her shoulder as his other hand pulled the material as slowly and as gently as he possibly could up off her skin. Immediately a sharp lance of pain shot through her from neck to mid back and she hissed, the sound turning into a whimper.
She heard him murmur to her. "I know. I'm sorry." And other things her brain couldn't appropriately comprehend. It was like trying to translate white noise. The cold breeze that hit her, nulled by the intrusion of such an unexpected bout of agony, lit the hair follicles of her arms and she knew he could see the goose bumps as the soft grey material fell away from her left shoulder. When she was coherent she found her forehead was pressed into his shoulder this time.
"S-sorry." She tried to move back but it was like her upper body had lost all of its strength; she was basically leaning against him.
But he wasn't budging and her forehead slid against the warmer skin of his neck. "It's alright." An arm was wrapped over her good shoulder, holding the loose jacket up as his other hand pulled her injured shoulder against his front, his fingers working beneath the strap of the now unfortunately tight yoga top to gently lift it from what she presumed was a devastating slash. She could feel liquid trickle down her spinal column. "Stay there a second."
But as per the norm she didn't. She shifted, turning her face so that her cheek brushed his lapel, the bridge of her nose scraping across his jawline and she tried, hard, not to feel it, endeavouring to look over her shoulder. "How bad is it?"
"It's not as bad as it probably feels." He answered gruffly and peering up from her position she caught it. The smallest twinge, a pull of the brows, the dilation of a pupil… One look of thousands, which was all it really took for Oliver Queen to convey meaning – she spoke fluent 'Oliver' by now so she knew – that this particular expression was a mix of frustrated anxiety, concern and care. But, thankfully, no guilt.
Felicity angled her head some more, trying to see the damage from her angle. "Is-" She twisted too far and another cry of pain left her. Ah, oh, how do they deal with stuff like this on a day to day basis? Oliver and Dig, Sara and Roy, they both got injured, ritually, but none of them ever reacted with this little decorum. But it still burned like she was on fire.
Oliver pressed himself against her. Keeping her standing.
She rested her head back on his shoulder for a quick moment. Breathing heavily, her teeth bit down on her lower lip. You can do this. When she could eventually speak her words came out weak and high. "What did he do to me?"
"It's about 4 inches between your spine and your left shoulder blade." Oliver sounded so quiet, so present in the moment. And very dangerous. "A diagonal line." He let out a breath that she felt on her skin and she shivered.
After a moment where all he seemed to do was stare at her injury he pulled the hoodie back over her shoulder and she dredged up the strength to move out of his space to get her arm back inside it.
"We need to get you out of here." He told her as she concentrated on pulling her hand through the sleeve with igniting another flash of lava. His hands crept back to help her.
"Us, Oliver." She cleared her throat. "Thank you." He didn't reply, just settled the material in front of her, pulling the zip back up like she was a child. And it should have bothered her but to be honest, it felt really good to be-
Car lights blared through the clearing around them, the thrust of an engine and the sound of rubber tires screeching as they were forced to brake following as a black van hit the road in front of them.
"It's Diggle."
She didn't need Oliver's declaration to know who it was. All she could concentrate on was that they were getting out of there. But no sooner had this satisfying thought entered her skull when said driver came bursting through the back doors of the vehicle, eyes wide but serious and catching Oliver's.
"Oliver: we've got trouble!"