Hey guys! An update!
With my crazy schedule I can't promise that I will always post on Wednesday. Since work and real life interfere with writing time, updates will take place either on Wednesday like they're suppose to or Thursday. It will be posted before Friday.
Aaaaaaaaand this chapter is angsty. I should probably warn you that this story is pretty angsty. There isn't much Rainbows and Sunshine. We're dealing with Oliver. A similar, guilt ridden, damaged man who has been through hell. Of course there is going to be angst.
But there is fluff coming up. Not with our favorite couple per se, but definitely fluff!
Reviews feed the Muse! Happy Reading!
Chapter Text
This was the most awkward breakfast Oliver had ever had. This is including the breakfast on his first tour where he was forced to eat rat guts right before a fire fight. That was nothing compared to the high tension in the room.
Oliver alone knew every reason. Diggle's tension was mostly aimed at him and Felicity, for the reckless way they had been behaving. Felicity was awkward around Lyla as she Oliver guessed she didn't really know her, and the matters with Dig weren't helping much. Lyla was trying to be the bridge between all three of them and failing spectacularly.
Then there was the tight pull between him and Lyla.
Seeing her here, in the States, under a roof which Oliver would have considered 'safe', was not something Oliver enjoyed, 'enjoyed' being the wrong word. 'Hated' was more likely.
Not that he didn't like Lyla. It's just her presence brought about a whole lot of memories that Oliver would rather keep buried. Two whole years of awful experiences following the tragic three previous years was more than enough for Oliver.
Sometime halfway through the meal, Lyla and Felicity had started up a conversation. The topic changed every minute, briefing through trite and trivial things. In a different situation, he and Dig would be having their own chat but Oliver's decisions had broken that congeniality. He had acted irresponsibly out of complete exhaustiveness and a small desire to throw caution to the wind and follow his heart. All because of Felicity.
She was different, but not in a bad way. She was a spark of bright flame that drew Oliver in, like a shark to blood. In all the women Oliver had met—and he had met quite a number—not one had struck deep down inside his core. He knew her, not intimately like a lover, not emotionally as a friend, not intuitively as a stranger, but a complex blend of all three. At a risk of sounding cliché, she was his better half.
Diggle obvious disagreed. As a presence intertwining both his and Felicity's past, he could judge them individually, knowing both their flaws and strengths and very, very accurately. It was apparent that Dig disapproved of whatever the relationship was that was budding between him and the ingenious blonde beside him.
Rationally, Oliver whole-heartedly agreed with Diggle. Oliver was dangerous. The past four years since Diggle left were nightmarish at best. The greatest of men would have a hard time coming out untainted and Oliver was nowhere close to being of equal caliber. He was unworthy of any kind of friendship, let alone love. Oliver had crossed so many lines that defined good men from evil men that he considered himself a menace, a plague that should be wiped out. He was one of the bad guys. Felicity could be a continent away from him and that still wouldn't be far enough away.
Oliver was too selfish to actually attempt to implement it though. Not unless something drastic happened.
He liked the way he was around her. Lighter, happier. She reminded him of Tommy, the unfailing optimism, always seeing the best in people. Felicity never knew him, but if she had, she would probably be struck by how similar they were.
Oliver saw it. He has spent three hours in her presence and he already saw his best friend shining through the young woman.
Diggle and Felicity had traits in common also. They had built a friendship outside of him,one he only caught glimpses of. Diggle would not be this furious if he didn't care a lot about Felicity.
Oliver knew what he had to do to gain Diggle's respect, something he cherished more than life. His head insisted this was the way back to good graces.
The heart protested violently. It insisted that Felicity could be the key to putting Oliver back together again, like humpty dumpty.
What Oliver knew was that he was going to break someone's trust today. Either Diggle or Felicity.
The worst thing about it, though, was he knew, he knew, which one would hurt worse.
And it wasn't going to be Diggle's.
Breakfast ended and Lyla invited Felicity with her upstairs to take care of Baby Sara. Felicity picked Sara up and Oliver was struck with how natural it looked. He squashed down the thought. Lyla followed Felicity, but not before she grabbed Oliver's arm and gave him a look, one he had seen many times in the past two years. It was the 'I-have-important-information-I-need-to-give-you-as-soon-as-possible' look.
He had always dreaded that look. Most of the time someone ended up dead after Lyla had a meeting with him. Usually by his hands. Anything that came from Lyla that accompanied The Look meant trouble.
Trouble Oliver was done with.
Diggle was clearing dishes and Oliver joined him, silently scrubbing a plate with a washcloth.
"Dig," Oliver started.
Diggle closed his eyes in bit back annoyance before going back to running plates under hot water.
"What now, Oliver?" His tone was short and snappy. Oliver needed to make this right. He needed Diggle to understand.
"I'm not trying to get her hurt."
"That's exactly what you're doing, Oliver." Diggle roughly shoved off the tap. "By being anywhere near her right now, in your condition, is dangerous for her. You're unpredictable and that unsteadiness will leave her hurt and you guilt ridden."
"I'm trying to keep her safe."
"With you? Never. What happens if you flash and she ends up dead? By your own hands? She's better off away from you. She shouldn't have hooked a ride up with you. You shouldn't have offered in the first place."
Oliver squared his shoulders. "Oh, and her hitching rides with truck drivers was completely safe."
Diggle shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying. With you in your condition—"
"I'm fine! I don't have a condition!"
"Bullshit!" Diggle was right in his face. "No soldier is ever free from the battlefield. It takes time to heal, Oliver. Took me nearly three years and it was only with Felicity's help, that I'm even here and functioning with a wife and daughter. There are some days were I don't and Lyla and I are at each other's throats. She has them too. We all do.
"You've been in the States, what, a week? That is not nearly enough time, Oliver. Already, you're unstable. You're shaking, not being able to sleep, wincing at loud noises. What is the next thing that will set you off. And don't say it's not going to happen. Sooner or later it does. If Felicity is anywhere hear you, she will get hurt. So you stay the hell away from her, or I will make you." Diggle threatened Oliver, a menacing look in his eyes.
"I was planning on it." The statement brought Diggle up short.
"Don't give me crap, Oliver."
"I'm not. You've reminded me that I'm not human anymore. Dig," and he lowered his voice, " I fear I became the person we fought against. I am that man, Diggle. No one should be near me."
Diggle raised his head in understanding, his eyes widening. "Oh. That's why you don't want to let your family know your back. You're so screwed up that you believe that you're just going to get them hurt. Why is it any different with Felicity. If she's your sister's sister, she should be treated as such."
A nod of confirmation. "I know. But Felicity, is different. The least I could to was attempt to get her to a safe place. You are that safe place."
"You keep saying she's different, which is not a good excuse Oliver. What makes her special from all the other girls you've wooed before. Nothing! I will not let Felicity get caught up in your playboy ways. Plus, you're damaged. "
"I know that Dig, I know that all too well. My family will not see me like this. They can't be tainted by the darkness. They deserve better than a broken son and brother. So does Felicity. So I'm going to stay away just like you want me too. But Dig, she's made her choice. I'm going to hurt her anyways."
"Oliver…"
"John, please. Don't make it harder than it already is. I might as well get it over with. It's better for me to leave now before it's impossible to leave. She's special, Dig, and I can't—I can't… She draws me in, I can't explain it. So, I'm going to go before she comes down. It's better this way."
Oliver turned to grab his coat, planning to escape the inquiring eyes of Felicity.
"What are you doing?" Felicity voice reached him. Shit. "Where are you going?" She came up to him, a hand on his forearm. He couldn't meet her searching gaze.
"Nowhere," he lied, making the mistake of glancing over at Lyla who had followed Felicity down the stairs. Double Shit. He had forgotten about Lyla's covert meeting .
As she had in the past, Lyla covered for him. "Oliver agreed to go out back with me and look at the four-wheeler. I've heard he's great with mechanics." She gave Oliver a pointed look.
"Yes, that's right." He grimaced behind Felicity's back at the horrible lie. A week out and already his lying skills have diminished.
"Why don't you go and help John finish cleaning up, Felicity? I'm sure he could use some company."
Felicity smiled, before kissing Oliver on the cheek. The guilty weight in his ribcage sunk lower at the thought of what he planned to do. It was for the best, he told himself.
Oliver found Lyla waiting for him just outside the door. They both quickly checked around them for any eavesdroppers, as was custom and habit.
"What do you want, Agent Michaels?" he questioned her gruffly. Lyla gave him a look of annoyance.
"Your mission isn't over, Captain."
Oliver turned away from Lyla in disbelief before whirling on her.
"I thought it was. You pulled me out of the brotherhood for a reason. You sent me back to the States!" He was furious. They had let him believe that was out, that his mission and responsibilities were terminated. He really shouldn't be surprised that they weren't. No one got out unless they were dead.
"No. We needed you back in the States. The intel Contact sent us hinted at them moving the operation here to the US. As soon as we knew, we arranged the best way to extract you. It took a couple months, but now you're here. The indicated party has been confirmed to setting up shop, right here in Starling City. Which is why we've allowed to you come home. We needed you, Captain, with your assets and abilities."
"You want me to infiltrate? That's going to be extremely difficult considering the Father thinks I'm dead."
"Again, no. We need your resources to rescue Contact."
Oliver bared his teeth, clenching his fist in helplessness. He owed Contact for a lot of things, most of all his life, several times. Yet, he balked at the thought of living once again under Waller's thumb. It seemed that her shadow caused too many innocent causalities.
"This is more than just pulling an agent out, Captain." Agent Michaels informed him. "Contact's life is in peril and he has specific information that is vital to your two year mission. Without it, everything that we have worked for will have gone to waste." Oliver turned away, having heard enough. Lyla stopped him. "All your sacrifices would be worthless. Do you really want to live with that heavier guilt, Oliver?" She addressed him by name. Agent Michaels never addressed him by name. It was always Captain.
Lyla was trying to reach him, not as his former—current—handler but as a friend. As John Diggle's wife. "If we finish this, if we get Contact out and intact with the critical information, then everything you had to do in the past two years will be worth it."
"Nothing will be worth taking the lives and virtue of innocents."
"Captain, people who deal only in extremes—"
" I know the rest, Agent Michaels."
"Just remember you did everything of your own free will."
Oliver huffed mockingly. "What free will? You put me in a place with none. It was do or die. And I'm pretty sure you and your superior would have rather had me alive than dead. So that left only 'Do'"
Oliver turned back to the house. "I owe Contact a lot, and for that sole reason alone, I will help you. Then we are done. As for my guilt, it is a burden I bear for what I have become."
The door swung shut in finality behind him.
Oliver found Dig and Felicity in the kitchen, both seated at the table. It was clear he had walked into the middle of something, since Diggle was staring at Felicity pointedly and Felicity was pointedly ignoring him, tracing the grains of wood under her finger.
"Felicity, I—"
Two things happened simultaneously. The backdoor slammed closed as Lyla entered the house and the sound of glass breaking resounded clamorously through Oliver's head. A sense of panic and urgency rushed through him, the overwhelming need to survive rushing in his blood.
On instinct only, a second before overlaying scenarios converged, he grabbed Felicity and hauled her to the ground.
The ground was hard and dusty, the dirt flooding his mouth. Shado was beneath him, eyes wild from panic and fear. She was not trained for these kind of situations.
A ricochet of bullets clamored over his head as Oliver risked a peak over the crate that was shielding him and Shado. Through the dim light of a faraway lantern, he could make out at least three shapes with machine guns, movement behind them betraying more. He was vastly outnumbered and outgunned.
If only he had been on his guard. Dig had always told him that being distracted would get him and others killed.
Tonight proved him right.
Peering through the tent, Oliver saw Brody, strapping two machine guns to his chest. Oliver tried to wave him down, to tell him not to do it, they would figure a way out.
Brody just tipped him a salute and ran out guns blazing. Two went down, providing enough time for Oliver to dash to his duffle, pulling out his weapon.
He turned to Shado.
"Stay Here."
He ran out, shooting one assailant in the chest. The next in the arm. A cry of alarm made him turn around.
"Oliver!"
"Oliver!" Someone was shaking him. Without thinking, reacting purely on fight or die instinct drilled into him, he connected with the threat. A cry of pain was the result. Encouraged, Oliver found the person's neck, squeezing down.
Two sets of hands grabbed him strongly, hauling him off of his attacker. He fought them, hearing his name being deafened.
Oliver shook the memory from his mind, slowly remembering where he was. He was in a kitchen chair, Diggle forcing his shoulders down, the pressure releasing as Diggle felt him stop struggling. On the floor was a broken goblet, the source of the shattering glass.
Lyla was hovering, ready to attempt to incapacitate him if needed, between him and the person who had been shaking him,. Felicity.
Oliver swore in Russian, a stream of filthy words in that tongue filling the tense atmosphere.
Felicity was clutching her throat, still coughing from lack of air. Oliver could see beneath her hands the skin attaining a purplish hue.
Anguished, Oliver buried his head in his hands, fingers pulling at his hair. He started rocking back and forth, the chair's legs coming off the floor with every backward sway, the thunk of every forward motion as the wooden echoed against the hardwood. Denial rang with every down stroke.
"No. No. No. No. No."
"Oliver…" he was stroked on the arm. Physically he flinched away, but internally screaming for someone to help him.
This had never happened before. He'd been through Afghanistan, Mongolia, Russia, and not once had a simple noise set off something as harrowing as this, this, episode. The sensation was strange and new and frightening.
Oliver had been scared many times in his life. He had faced down too many barrels of guns, the men, and sometimes woman, behind it aching to kill him. Everytime he thought he was going to die, he lived to see another day.
Now that he wanted to live, wanted out of that twisted life he'd been living for the past five long years, death came for him in pain and agony. Everyday that he had denied death, it seemed as though it was coming, but not without inflicting as much torture as possible on him.
Oliver shoved away from the comfort, recognizing the hand as Lyla's. He turned cold eyes on her. "This is what you made me into. Are you happy now?"
Time stilled as Oliver took in all their faces. Diggle with a glum look of recognition. He knew that this would happen. Lyla, with a taken aback expression mixed with resignation. And Felicity. Felicity just looked at him with acceptance, albeit with wariness.
"Hey. Hey hey, you're fine you didn't' hurt me," Felicity approached him carefully. Oliver hated how he did this to her. He made her afraid. Of him.
He scoffed at her words. "Say that to the mirror. Those bruises say otherwise."
"Oliver."
"No! Just no! Stay away from me, Felicity. I'm only going to get you hurt. You don't know me. You think you do but you don't. What this just proved is that I'm a monster. I'm tainted so much by blackness that there is nothing left. So get as far away from me as you can because I'm no good for you.
"This was a mistake. Meeting you was a mistake. And for that I'm sorry. I promised you the world and it turns out I can't give it to you. Go find someone who can."
Two seconds later the roar of the motor bike was under him and he was free.
Oliver told himself he was saving them, curing them of the infection that was him.
In reality, he was running away from his demons. Just like he had always been.