A/N - At the bottom of the chapter!
He let himself rest against her bedroom door as he closed it behind him. He felt...heavy. Like every square inch of pressure in the galaxy was weighing on him, pushing his shoulders down, his head down, his soul down.
He hurt. If it were physically, he could handle that. He had taught himself how to separate the different forms of physical pain, the different methods of torture, the different sensations that could or would barrage his body. He knew how to deal with that. He knew how to separate himself from that. He was more than his body, more than his corporeal form.
What he couldn't separate himself from was Felicity. He had spoken the truth to her, however inelegant it was, when he had told her that he couldn't not be with her. He had thought about it, genuinely considered it, when he had first found out she was sick. He thought that maybe his presence in Starling City would hinder her recovery or her treatment. He had had those thoughts before her diagnosis as well, wondering if her nighttime activities helping him were putting her at unnecessary risk. He thought maybe if he just stepped away…
But he wouldn't. He couldn't. The idea of leaving her alone in this was unbearable to him.
He hurt, but it wasn't his body. It was his heart and his mind and his soul and it was so goddamn hard for him to figure out which part of him was suffering the most when all he could think about was how much Felicity was suffering.
Oliver had been selfish before the island, but he prided himself on losing that part of him on his long journey to who he was today. He took great comfort in knowing that he wasn't the most important thing in the universe anymore. There was a sense of ease now, a sense of relief almost. And then he had met Dig and he had met Felicity and he'd be damned if it wasn't the most selfish thing in the world for him to keep her so close.
Sure, he offered her some things that made his presence bearable. He could provide for her financially and get her a nice room in the hospital and hold her hair back when she was sick, but couldn't anyone? Wasn't that a role, a void, that anyone could fill? Dig certainly could. Roy, even, if he ever got over his fear of bodily fluids that weren't his. But buying her dinner, taking care of her when she was ill, that was peanuts compared to what her mere presence did for him.
He wasn't blind or oblivious; he knew that Felicity had harbored a crush on him in the beginning of their relationship. He also was acutely aware of when the shine had dulled on him and she saw him for who he was: a killer, a monster, a wannabe savior. She hadn't run away, which of course only served to pull him closer, but she had started to stand up to him, to give him the honest feedback that he had been lacking ever since returning from Lian Yu. He remembered vividly the first time she had talked back to him - it was about something inconsequential now, but she had felt passionately about at the time. It was at that moment that he realized that as much as he didn't want to be without her, he wasn't sure he could be without her.
All of those little moments, those tiny shards of time, they all piled together to create the deep stabbing sensation he felt in his heart and gut. He couldn't be without her.
And he felt like such an idiot for just realizing this now, when she was sick. A part of him wondered if this was the catalyst he needed, if this was what was necessary to kick his ass into gear and to come to terms with the emotions she elicited in him. Another part of him cursed it so deeply he wondered if he'd ever be able to forgive her for this sickness, despite the fact that she hadn't chosen this and would have done anything necessary to not have to endure it. He needed her and she wasn't...available, for lack of a better term. He knew that if he tried to tell her how he felt now, she would assume it was due to the sickness. Even if he got her to accept it, she would always wonder, in the back of her mind, if it wasn't just because she had cancer.
He had told himself before that it just wasn't the right time. He hadn't saved Starling, he was still struggling with Laurel, he was still ruing the day he met Helena - it just was never the right time. And now this had happened and while he never thought he'd see the day where he was disappointed he hadn't confessed his honest emotions earlier, he found himself wondering if only he had been a little more forthcoming a few months ago, if maybe that would make it easier now for her to swallow the idea of him and her. Of them. Of an us.
So he settled for what he had. He had the opportunity and the capability to take care of her. He had the money to provide for her. He had the shoulder for her to cry on. He had vague statements to her professing his love, even if it was shrouded with words like, 'can't not be.' That was how he knew she was tired; she never would have let him get away with a double negative like that if she had been fully cognizant.
He had to wait for her to realize that he was there because he loved her, and he had to wait to see what she would do with that information.
Oliver Queen was not a patient man.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing off the door and making his way to the kitchen. He had to prepare something for himself to eat and make a plate for Felicity if she happened to wake up later and be hungry. He was reheating some borscht that was frozen in individual containers courtesy of Raisa when an unfamiliar ringtone began to sound from nearby.
He knew it wasn't any of the typical ones on his or Felicity's personal phones, which could only mean one other option.
He rushed to the small built-in bookcase on the end of the counter and knelt by it, jamming his thumb onto the small box that sat on the second shelf. It was plain silver and innocuous as ever, but the small click as it recognized his thumbprint reminded him that it was anything but harmless.
The ringing grew louder as he opened it and grabbed the cellphone that was lying there on top. It was the 'Arrow phone,' as Felicity had dubbed it, and although he could have guessed without seeing the display, it was Detective Lance calling.
"Hello." He felt as if he barely needed the voice modulating software as his own tone right then had to have been just as dark and menacing as the fake, garbled thing this spat out, but he couldn't very well turn it off after seeing Lance almost daily for the last few weeks.
"I'm calling to see how our girl is."
"You could call Oliver Queen. I'm sure you're aware of him staying with her." He was actually at a loss as to why he would call his alter ego over the guy that admitted to watching her day in and day out.
"She told me that she was going to be working with you this weekend. I wanted to make sure she was okay. Sometimes I think Queen hides things from me if he thinks I can't take it."
He was surprised to realize that Lance had noticed his habit of obfuscating some details when it came to Felicity's health. It was never important things, but he didn't want to upset the man, and he also didn't want it to seem as if he couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle her. He thought if he downplayed what they went through every day then maybe he would understand and see Oliver Queen as he worthy of her.
"She was fine when working with me. At the end, she got ill. She must have overdone it; she was so excited to be back that I don't think she realized the strain she placed on her body."
He had the luxury of being a little more forthcoming with Lance when he was the Arrow versus Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen had a lot of history with the detective and neither one of them was very interested in the sound of the other's voice, aside from dealing with Felicity. The Arrow was able to give more details in a clinical manner without fear of additional scrutiny, and he never felt as if the detective was looking for faults or weaknesses within his words.
"She wants things to be normal so badly, I don't think she realizes that things aren't as black and white as normal and abnormal," Lance agreed. "Are you going to let her continue to work for you?"
"She enjoys it. I will monitor her and make sure that she doesn't push herself too far like she did today. I will protect her. I just want her to be able to continue to do the few things that she can still do and enjoy as well."
"Hard to remember that she's so sick when she feels so well. But the easier she takes it now, the faster she can bounce back from this thing."
"Yes. I'm…" He didn't want to give too much away, but it felt right to let Lance in on this little bit. "It's hard watching her deal with this. In my position, there is only so much I can do for her. She appreciates your friendship more than she lets on. I'm glad you're there for her."
"Yeah, well, she appreciates you too," Lance grumbled. Oliver smiled to himself; the man had never been good at accepting compliments. "And don't sell yourself short. You do a lot for her too, I'm sure." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, keep me updated. Thanks for telling me about tonight. We usually do coffee on Mondays but I'll go ahead and drop something off. Make sure she doesn't overdo it again, okay?"
"You're okay-" He stopped himself. He had been about to ask Lance if he was okay with Felicity continuing to work for him, for her to keep putting herself at risk, whether from immune system attacks or stray arrows. He had never sought the man's permission before, but something about his connection with Felicity, his paternal bond, made him actually want the man's approval. He wanted Lance to agree with his decision to let Felicity work with him, he didn't want this to be another thing they disagreed on.
"This disease has robbed more things from her than I think she wants anyone to know. So yeah, I'm okay with her doing the one thing she loves more than the entire world. Just keep an eye on her. I'll talk to you later."
Oliver stared at the phone in his hand, unaccustomed to being hung up on. Would he ever know what to make of Detective Quentin Lance?
A/N: Everyone is free to draw whatever conclusions they would like to about the relationship between Oliver/Lance/The Arrow. My own personal conclusions/story-relevant ones will be revealed in good time. I thought this chapter was important to highlight that just because Oliver might know what to say to Felicity or how to handle certain situations, there's always going to be a part of him that is drowning in all of this. It is harder than a lot of people think to be the person watching and taking care of the cancer patient and trying to make all the right moves.