Chapter 7

The light streaming in through the windows is getting harder to ignore. Felicity adds it to the list of things she doesn't love about the loft: too many windows. She likes some windows, she's not a nutjob, but is it really necessary to line entire walls with them? If anyone had asked her BI, she would've said that she loved those windows, that the view was her favorite part of the loft. But you know what, no one did ask her, which is just as well because now she won't sound inconsistent. Now, she can focus on these stupid windows and how much stupid light they light in and how they are thwarting her attempts to sleep late, which she totally deserves because she was just up for nearly two days straight rescuing a kidnapped kid.

But now, with her makeshift bedroom getting brighter by the minute, she's going to have to stop pretending to be asleep. And she's going to have to stop pretending not to know that Oliver is pretending to be asleep. She's going to have to face all of the things she's been putting off, and she's going to have to learn how feels to live in yet another new era, AO- After Oliver. She's quite furious about that actually, and she huffs out a bitter little laugh. She's still wrapped in his arms, so he feels that laugh and must pick up on the bitterness, because she feels him flinch.

They both know there's no time left for pretending.

Felicity moves first, since it's going to take her longer-it's not like she can just bound out of bed and get ready without a thought anymore- and there's no way she's having the conversation she knows she has to have in pajama pants and a t-shirt. She drags herself to the edge of the bed where her chair is waiting, and when she looks back she notices the trail of glitter her unicorn shirt has left behind. It comforts her a little, knowing Oliver will never be able to completely get rid of it. She feels his eyes on her as she gathers her clothes and makes her way to the shower, but she knows he won't say anything and force her to start before she's ready. He's the only one dreading this more than her.

Crying in the shower is such a ridiculous cliche, so Felicity doesn't do it. She tries taking some of those deep cleansing breathes that one yoga instructor from that one time she tried a yoga class kept going on and on about like they were the best things since ice cream, but they don't really calm her down so much as make her want ice cream. She will definitely eat ice cream when this is over. All the ice cream. That's a cliche too, she knows, but it's unfair to expect her to be too original and, whatever, ice cream is delicious.

She's focused on thoughts of mint chocolate chip, which is what allows the memory of Oliver's proposal to float in and catch her off guard. Damn it. It had been her best memory. Even AI, it stood out as the best moment of her life (it probably helped that she had no memory of the limo ride that followed, something she never failed to be grateful to the amygdala and its protective instincts for). But now...now she knows that moment, her very best moment, was a lie. Oliver had stood there asking her to build a life with him, all the while knowing that there was this huge part of his life he was intending to keep from her. That memory is a weapon now, and it feels like it's carving off parts of her. The pain of it is physical. And the shittiest part of it all is that every instinct is screaming at her to seek comfort from Oliver. Because he is supposed to be her person, the one she goes to when everything hurts.

He doesn't feel the same way about you.

And okay, if she doesn't take all of this sad and turn it into mad right now, she is going to give into the shower-crying cliche, which means she'll have to give up the ice cream cliche, which just isn't going to happen. Anger it is. It comes easily, and it requires movement. Fury isn't a fan of sitting still, at least hers isn't. She gets out of the shower, this time giving in to frustration at how much harder all of these little everyday things are for her. She lets it fan the flames while she gets dressed and shapes her curls and applies makeup (even eyeliner, even with her shaking hands, because she needs all the battle armor she can get).

She is ready to face him. Until she does. He's sitting at the table with his head in his hands, his hair sticking up in tufts, and he looks at her with those "someone-just-kicked-my-puppy" eyes, and it almost breaks her.

Almost.

She remembers herself at that tree lighting, how she felt so like she was floating...how she was being lied to.

"I can't do this." She'd never put the ring back on after they'd found William. It makes it easier to hand it over.

"Felicity." The way he breathes her name is painful. "I'm sorry."

She finds herself numb to his apology. He's always sorry, but he never seems to learn. "You should've told me."

He nods. "I just kept thinking...if I just gave it time, if I just played the rules, Samantha would trust me, and I would be able to tell you. I wanted that Felicity. I wanted that more than anything."

"You could have trusted me, Oliver. Clearly I'm capable of keeping your secrets." It's so obvious and infuriating, and she wishes she had something she could throw right now. Making something shatter would surely help. "You proposed. In the midst of all of it, you proposed. I get you're a compartmentalizer, but don't you see how selfish that was? You let me agree to make a lifelong commitment while keeping me in the dark about this huge thing." He's still just looking at her with those sad eyes like she's the one hurting him, and it's pissing her off. "Don't you have anything to say?"

Of course he doesn't. What could he possibly say. He lowers his eyes, and good, that helps her. It's easier to hold onto her anger when she doesn't have to look at him.

"I wanted so badly to believe that you meant it. That you were ready for this. I wanted to believe, and I ignored everything that might tell me otherwise. You...you left me in that hospital for weeks. You made me think that maybe you didn't want me like this," she gestures to her chair. "How could you let me think that, Oliver?"

His head snaps back up. "Oh Felicity, oh God...if I could go back. I am so, so sorry."

She shakes her head. "I know. That's not even my point. I know why you did what you did, and even when it hurt me, I swallowed that hurt because I know you. I know who you are, Oliver and I accept who you are, and I love who you are-"

"I love you too. So much. More than anything."

She gives him a little smile. She's crying now, but so is he, and besides, it's not like she's in the shower anymore. "I know you do. And I've been telling myself that it's enough, but Oliver, you are the most afraid person I know. Which is funny, right, because you're also the bravest person I know. But I get it, because we both know, and you especially, how much there is out there to fear. What I'm starting to realize is that you never really believed that you had nothing to fear from me. Oliver, oh wow, I would've accepted anything you had told me. I would've understood everything. You had nothing to fear from me. But you just...that's not what you believe."

"It is." His words are a plea.

"Well, then, it's not how you act. And here I am over here not afraid of you, not for a minute. I trust you with every single part of me, and I'm proud of that because that's the kind of marriage I want, but also I'm really embarrassed about that because I thought…thought…."

"Felicity," he reaches for her hand, "I'm trying."

She takes the hand he offers and squeezes as hard as she can. "I know. That's what's so sad, Oliver. I know you're trying, and I know you love me, but I can't do this. I can't be in this relationship...marry you when I can't trust you to trust me."

He just sits there, broken, and she knows he won't put up a fight. There's nothing he could say that would change her mind, but she wants to shake him, to tell him that he's too young and too good to just so easily lean into loss. She wants to help him, because she loves him. More than anything.

Almost. But not more than she loves herself. His life lessons may have taught him that he doesn't deserve a win, but her's have convinced her that she better be prepared to value herself and to not count on anyone to do it for her. It would be nice, she thinks, if maybe they'd both learned happier lessons. At the very least she would've liked if they could've been each other's exceptions.

"I can leave," he offers, proving her right. "I'll find somewhere else…."

She hates him a little for that. She holds as tightly as she can to her pride. "No. I still have my townhouse. I'm going to go back there."

Then something occurs to her that feels so cruel it's almost funny. Ugh, her life. "Oliver?"

There's still hope in his eyes when he looks at her, so maybe he isn't leaning in as far as she thought. Maybe later that will make her happy, but right now it's all she can do to hold together the shreds of her dignity.

"The suitcases are upstairs...can you?"

"Oh. Right. Of course."

His shoulders slump as he goes, and Felicity texts Curtis. No way is she going to ask Oliver to help her carry her bags out. She starts grabbing books, toiletries and clothes in a blur, tossing them without any order into the suitcases Oliver brings down. She gathers her electronics and sneaks in a few of the photos they'd had framed of their vacation. She isn't ready to let those go yet. She leaves the plum blanket because she knows he secretly loves it.

He watches her as she packs and every once in awhile he sort of starts to help her, but then stops himself. Why doesn't he just go away? She literally bites her tongue. She will not give in to the power uncomfortable silences have over her. She has already said what she wanted to say, and she won't give him anything else.

Curtis arrives, and wow is she going to owe him, because this level of awkwardness is basically kryptonite to someone like him. He practically races out the doors with her bags.

She wishes she could channel Sara right now. Sara would have the perfect words to leave on, she knows it. But Felicity has never excelled at finding the right words, so she leaves without saying anything at all.

"Please. I'll do better. Stay."

Don't look back. His anguish is her kryptonite. She wheels herself away as quickly as she can before she can absorb it.

oOo

"It was smart of you to hold onto this place," Curtis says, bringing in the last of her bags.

Felicity doesn't answer him. Being here feels wrong. She had loved this place. She was so proud when she'd been approved for the mortgage to buy it on her own. The Smoak women were renters, not homeowners, so being able to buy this house had felt so important to Felicity. It meant she was safe, she was successful, she had lived up to her potential and made all of her mother's sacrifices worth it. She had filled it with things that she loved. She had made it her home.

It isn't home anymore. Everything about it is the same, but she has changed. She let Oliver become her home, and now it felt like she has nothing left.

Curtis misinterprets her silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean 'Hey it was smart of you to keep this place because obviously things aren't going to work out with Oliver Queen.' I don't even know him that well. And it wasn't obvious. At all. I would've bet on the two of you making it. Bet metaphorically, of course, not literally because betting on someone's relationship is something a monster would do...sort of like letting your mouth get away from you and saying all sorts of not-very-helpful things to your friend-slash-boss when she's having a really bad day."

"Curtis," she decides to put him out of his misery, "it's okay. We've all been there. It turns out it was smart of me to keep it. Even when I didn't need it, my mom has been able to stay here during her visits, and...no. No, no, no, no, no."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"My mom and Captain Lance probably had sex here, didn't they? In my bed…" Felicity's eyes trail over to her couch, "in other places…."

Curtis winces. "Well, you know how much I love me some Donna Smoak, but she does seem like the kind of woman who-"

"Who what?"

Curtis has the sense to heed her sharp tone. "Who...you should definitely call while I change the sheets on your bed and maybe burn the old ones."

Felicity watches him go while admitting he has a point. As much as she doesn't want to retell this story, she really should call her mother. Donna answers on the first ring and at the sound of her voice Felicity can't help herself, she bursts into tears.

"Oh no, don't cry. Baby girl, what's wrong? Do I need to get on a plane?"

Felicity shakes her head even though she knows her mom can't see her.

"Felicity, you're scaring me."

"I left Oliver," she bursts out between sobs.

Her mother's change of tone is immediate. "What did he do? Do you need me to have him killed, because you don't work in a Vegas casino for as long as I have without getting to know some people."

This at least makes her laugh a little. "No, mom, I don't want you to have him killed."

"Oh baby, what happened?"

Felicity gives her the Cliff's Notes version and is gratified when her mom is outraged in all the right spots. She's spent a lot of time being really hard on her mom, but she's starting to realize how lucky she is to have someone so unfailingly on her side.

"Mom, can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course. Anything. Look, I can get a flight for tomorrow. I just realized that the townhouse isn't setup to accommodate your chair. Honey, I will be right up there, and we will get this all fixed."

"No, mom, it's not that. It's...this weird, I guess, but could you call Oliver? And maybe just not be too hard on him? Because...I mean, he really loves you," she's hiccuping now "and, you know, he d-d-doesn't really have any-"

"Oh, oh sweetie. Okay. Of course." Felicity hears the familiar sounds of the casino in the background. "You still really love him?"

"So much, mom. But I hate him too."

"My baby. Okay, look, I know you're not ready to hear this, but I have to say it now, because let's be honest, who knows when you'll call me again- hold onto that love, okay? I know how you feel now, and you are so right to feel that, but I also know you and Oliver. I know the two of you together, and I know you might not always feel the way you do now."

Felicity nods again.

"And in the meantime, you be strong, Felicity. You show them what you're made of, okay? I love you to the moon. And if you change your mind and want me to come to Star City, you call anytime. I'll be on the next plane."

"Love you too," Felicity whispers as she hangs up.

"You okay?" Curtis asks from behind her.

"Yes." At Curtis's raised eyebrow, she relents. "I will be."

He smiles at her and gestures to the garbage bag at his feet. "Your sheet situation is all handled."

"Right," she laughs. "You're a really good friend, Curtis. Have I told you lately how glad I am to have you around."

"Well, the feeling is mutual."

He starts to go, but she calls him back. She's made a decision. "Look, starting tomorrow, you're off the hook with Team Arrow."

Curtis's eyes widen. "You're not going to help them anymore?"

"No. That's not what I mean. I meant, you're off the hook because I'm going back. To both my jobs." Her relationship might be in ruins, but Oliver Queen being an idiot will not take her purpose from her. "Helping with William made me realize that I'm ready to be back with my team. That's the one good thing to come out of this." And if her presence makes Oliver uncomfortable, well, he deserves it. She knows they need her, so she is going to take her silver lining and run with it. This is what she's made of.