Jerking the door open to the stairs, he rushed down four flights of stairs. The black rage engulfed him, almost smothered him as he ached to hurt, ached to kill someone, and not just someone but a man named Peter that had touched her.
The basic need to punch something, someone, overwhelmed him. He found he wanted someone to bleed, and not just a little but profusely.
With a bang, he jerked the door to the bottom floor garage open and the door slammed against the wall. Damn shame there was no one that wanted a fight waited for him when he opened the door.
He wished desperately for someone who wanted to fight him.
Jogging now through the underground garage, he found the black sedan on the second level and effortlessly unlocked the door and got in. Cranking the engine, he put the car in gear, and squealing the tires, he drove out of the underground garage and headed south, looking for a bar, looking for a fight, hoping he'd find someone that would be willing to fight back.
He needed the pain, craved it and wanted it badly and needed to embrace it.
#####OQ#####
With her headache pounding, she finally picked herself up off the floor. Waiting a little bit, she forced herself to check her e-mail, to go over some code but inside she was dreading but hoping that he'd come back to her, that he'd return to the room. Finally, she forced herself to take a shower and then she'd pampered herself. Taking time for herself, but every minute that passed weighed on her as she wondered where he was and what he was doing.
She knew he tended to blame himself, not that he wasn't to blame but Oliver wasn't like the normal person. And knew that he would punish himself too.
It was after eight now and still he hadn't returned.
Carefully, she got up and dressed in a bright colored flowery dress, intent on going to find him. She didn't understand why she couldn't give him up, but as the time pasted, she found that she couldn't stop herself as she got her tablet out and looked to see where he was, knowing that like her, he was in pain, she activated the chip in his phone and took deep breathes waiting for the search to complete.
Pressing her lips together, she found that she had to know where he was, and she needed to know now.
It took only a few seconds to find him.
"Seriously," she said out loud. "Oliver what's wrong with you? A bar? Truly? You don't drink. You don't do this? What are you thinking?"
#####OQ#####
He ordered whiskey straight and told the bar tender to leave the bottle.
And he was doing shots. More shots than he had done in years. He wished he could drink enough to get drunk.
Drunk would help him forget and he found that he needed, no he ached to forget.
But it didn't seem to be working. He didn't' seem to be able to drink enough to forget.
Wanting to drink more and more, he hoped, no, he found that he begged that for now please let him just forget.
Please, let him, for one instant, stop thinking about how he'd screwed up everything in his life, how he'd stupidly drove her light away, how he'd lied and hid secrets, and about how he deserves to ached for her and how he no longer wanted to survive this.
More and more, he wished to die. Yes, he wanted to DIE. Needed relief from the pain that clawed at him.
God or someone needed to help him and if not tonight then tomorrow. What he needed was for him to just let him feel better, and he was actively hunting an escape to his madness.
Killing again had begun to consume his thoughts, to consume him. The urge to drive back to Sun City and KILL Peter for touching her, for having what was his filled him, almost overpowered him, as the notion of killing the man slashed through him, and he found that he had to fight the urge to KILL. The urge that had become ruthless and almost overpowering and it made his hands shake violently, as he thought about killing the man who'd touched what he considered his woman, with his bare hands.
He wanted to choke him, to steal the breathe from his lungs, and he wanted to hurt him and wanted to end the man's life and it took all he had in him, not to give in to the urge and go get in the car.
The need to kill urged him to buy a gun, to buy a knife, and sharpen it, sharpen it until it was razor sharp and then use it to slit the man's throat. He'd even stopped at a pawn shop and looked at the knifes in the glass case, and he'd thought about how he would get rid of Peter's body.
Argus would help him dispose of Peter's body, especially if he killed one or two people for them. He was sure of it.
Okay, Lyla wasn't Amanda Waller but she still had an agenda. And both of them understood how Argus worked.
Surely, three deaths would seal the deal with Argus. What were three more deaths on his record in the scheme of things? His soul was already lost, and he was dark inside and he no longer had any reason to look for the light.
And then Peter would disappear FOREVER.
Realizing that he couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face then, he instantly worried what was wrong with him. The urge to kill ripped at him, pulled at his will. Felicity wouldn't want him to kill but then she didn't want him. He had to understand that. SHE DIDN'T WANT HIM.
He was having problems with real right now and found that he also wanted to have what was his. His mind was urging him to take was his. It was only right because she BELONGED to him. Why didn't she understand that? Peter was the problem. He had to take care of the problems.
But then she'd told him to leave Peter alone.
He was past confused. His brain had somehow short circuited, and he felt like something was wrong. No matter what he couldn't kill Peter. Stop thinking about killing, he told himself.
Scrubbing his face, he tried to find his focus as he poured himself another shot.
#####OQ#####
Entering the bar, Felicity hesitated as she stood at the entryway.
He was easy to find. His black leather jacket hung perfectly from his chair and several women flocked around him. With bold steps, she walked right up to the group until she stood beside him. Unable to stop herself, even knowing it was wrong, she placed her hand on his shoulder and looked hard as each of the women that flanked him.
"Oliver, I was wondering where you went. Are you ready to take me to dinner? I'm hungry."
It took everything in her not to declare to the women, "He's taken. HE'S MINE. STEP AWAY from my MAN." But she knew she couldn't say the words, that she had no right, that she given up any rights to him. Yet that didn't stop her from glaring hard at the three women, clearly daring them to try to take him from her.
His muscles rippled beneath her hand, and he turned and as his eyes clearly found hers. Instantly, she felt like he was ready to completely devoured her as he unexpectedly jerked her closer to his body, holding her much too tightly for an instant as he merged her body with his.
For a moment, she thought, and almost hoped that he was going to kiss her and her heart raced as she ached for his kiss as the women picked up their drinks and walked away.
Peter, she reminded herself, but she melted into him for an instant.
Just don't do it, her brain told her.
She had to think about Peter, about the fact she had a boyfriend, and she pushed back from Oliver with the words, "You can say thank you, Felicity, for rescuing you. And you can let me go now."
"Did I look like I needed rescued? And if we want to sell this you need to lean toward me not pull back."
He flashed her an Oliver sexy grin with his words.
"They've left and yes, you did. Since, I know you don't like the extra female attention."
"Maybe I liked it tonight. Maybe I'm looking for a little company. Someone to keep me warm. You'd understand, right, since you have Peter now? "
The idea that he could go home with someone else stole the color from her face, and as she watched he shut his eyes for a moment.
"Look I don't want to do this. I'm not into hurting you. I've never meant to hurt you in the first place and that was a clear stab at you." He said quietly, releasing her and then turning his back on her, clearly ending the conversation with the words, "Maybe you should go back to the hotel. I'm not good company."
"And leave you alone?"
He reached for the bottle and poured another shot, not looking at her as he tossed it back. "Yeah, maybe I should be alone. Just let it go. You have Peter now. I understand that you've moved on, and now I'm going to move on too."
"How much have you had to drink?"
"Not enough."
"Come on, Oliver. Please, you need to leave with me. Let's go back to the hotel. Let's go get something to eat." Reaching out, she put her hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged her off, acted like she'd hurt him by touching him and it pained her.
"Don't touch me." His words were harsh. "What would Peter think?"
"I don't care right now. What I think is that you should call it a night. Come on. Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry. When did you eat last? I don't think I've seen you eat all day."
Instead of answering her, he reached for the bottle and poured another shot. Slamming the bottle down, he knocked back the shot, and she realized that his eyes were not his normal blazing blue, that they were still blue but now they were more steel blue then baby blue.
And something nagged at her that she had seen those eyes before. That those blue metallic eyes didn't belong to him.
Reaching, she touched his face and realized he felt hot, like he was running a low grade fever. "Oliver, are you sick?"
"No, I fine."
"Then have you done something other than drink? Taken something maybe?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Drugs maybe?"
Shaking his head, he said, "No, Felicity, I haven't been doing drugs. How could you even asked me such a thing? You know how I feel about drugs. You know how I treat my body?"
"I've notice repeatedly. And you know I love how you treat your body, but I mean it, Oliver, you feel a little warm and there's something wrong with your eyes. I've spent enough time looking in your awesome sexy blue eyes to know what they look like and your eyes aren't it. I mean the color's wrong, the shade's wrong, totally not the Oliver Queen blue but something else. Oh, did I say that out loud? Crap."
"It has to be the light in here. I'm fine. Nothing has changed."
"I don't think so. Your eyes are the WRONG color. Oliver, are you feeling strange? Anything, you're maybe hiding from me or lying about? Do you feel alright? I know this is hard, my having a boyfriend that isn't you but really your eye color is off."
"Felicity, look, I'm a grownup. I know when I'm sick and I'm not AND I'm NOT LYING about anything."
"Well there's a first time for everything. But something is off with you."
"Maybe, I'm having a hard day. Can't I have a hard day? I'm trying to deal with you moving on, that you're dating. Now I don't want to talk about this. I just want to get through this weekend. Don't hurt me anymore than you already have by trying to make me talk about you having a boyfriend."
"You want to talk about hurt? I can tell you about it. Hiding your son, lying to me over the league, trusting Malcolm Merlyn more than me, not just once but twice. Or how about you not coming to see when when I was shot up and lying paralyzed in the hospital. Yes, I want to talk how much it hurt not knowing if you were going to come visit me or not."
"Touché."
His hand reached again for the bottle, and she stayed his hand, as she reached with her other hand and turned his shot glass upside down, knowing he'd had enough, hoping to convince him to leave with her with the words, "But regardless, we have things to get done in the morning and, it's getting late. Besides, I can't see you drinking shots all night as a good idea. Please, Oliver, let's go get something to eat. This isn't the best neighborhood, and I want you to come with me. I took a cab here but who knows if I can find one now? Do you want me to leave alone? What if something happened? You know you have the car."
She was playing him, and she knew it and from the tiny smile on his face, he knew it too. Standing, he pulled his leather jacket off the chair and said, "You win. Burgers okay with you?"
"Perfect. I'll even eat Bigger Belly if they have one." And they left the bar together, not touching but still together.
Exiting the bar, the street light lit up the sidewalk and once more, Felicity wondered again what was wrong with the color of his eyes.
Carefully, he reached out and tried to take her hand as they walked down the street.
"Don't." She said, "We're just friends."
"I don't know if I can be just friends." He said solemnly as he clasp her hand.
"I understand." She said. "But let's give friendship a chance. We used to be friends."
Then she pulled her hand from his and held her hand out. "Keys. Friends don't let friends drive drunk."
"I'm not drunk. Really, I'm fine. I can drive. Trust me I'm still sober."
"That's what they all say. And I saw how much you'd drunk out of that bottle. So give them up."
Sighing, he dug the keys out of his jacket pocket and gave them to her, and then they both climbed in the car and headed out to find a burger.
#####OQ#####
Okay talk to me. What do you think? As always, thanks for the read. Until next time.
