A/N: Thank you for the sweet, wonderful, kind words, once again. Hope this chapter lives up to the enjoyment I believe you've all been getting from this story so far! And maybe that it even opens up some eyes to the torture that is chemotherapy. Blech. This is a pretty Oliver-centric chapter, and it could probably even fit in with the For Darker Days series, but writing Felicity being sick for paragraphs on end is depressing. I needed some Oliver-cheer.
If he didn't know any better, Detective Lance would've thought he had walked into the wrong room. After a nod from the security agent at the door, he waltzed in as he usually did, prepared to give some much-needed cheering up the woman he thought of like a daughter, but the room was different.
Visually, the room was pretty much the same, aside from the curtains being half drawn and the overhead lights off. The curtains were a big deal though, considering how much Felicity loved the view of Starling City. He didn't ever recall the lights being turned off during the day either, especially since she tried to stay on a normal schedule as much as possible, despite being bedridden for a lot of her time there. But it was more than the darkened room. Lance could feel it. It was as if the room itself was tired, exhausted even. When his eyes finally made it to the hospital bed, he knew why.
Felicity was asleep, but judging from the look on Oliver's face next to her, this wasn't a thing that would last long. He got up when he saw the detective, quickly crossing the room and ushering him back out the door to the hallway where he felt they could speak freely.
"How's she doing?"
He carefully weighed his words.
"I've had a lot of bad nights in my life, but that is the only one that I want to forget."
They had been up all night essentially, with her being sick and a brief dizzy spell that left Oliver more afraid than he had thought possible. The light had started to aggravate her eyes the second the sun started to rise, and as much as she didn't want to, having always wanted to witness a sunrise over Starling, had to ask Oliver to angle the blinds down. He could have handled it if it was just the sickness and the aches. But what he hadn't been prepared for were the tears and the pleading from Felicity. He could have sworn he felt his heart fracture just a little bit when around 4 a.m., she begged him to not make her do it again. To not have to put that poison in her body, to not make her be sick anymore. She had apologized profusely afterwards, promising she didn't mean it and that she was just in a lot of pain and wasn't thinking clearly, but it had rattled Oliver. For the first time since all of this began, he realized that this entire situation, not to mention his entire future, hinged upon Felicity not giving up. It was her fight and she was the only one that could do this. The idea that it might at one point get to be too much for her was unfathomable on one hand, while an actual possibility on the other.
Lance studied Oliver, who looked just as exhausted as he had to have felt. His eyes were red-rimmed, from lack of sleep and his emotions getting the better of him, and the skin around his mouth was pinched with effort to try and seem unphased. That, plus his wrinkled jeans and the plaid button up that had a pair of latex gloves sticking out of the front pocket told the cop that the night had been long for not just Felicity.
"She get any sleep?" He didn't want to insult the boy and suggest that he slept while Felicity was sick on her own.
"An hour? Maybe? She's been out for about 20 minutes so far and it's the longest stretch. They gave her a large dose of the anti-nausea medicine so hopefully that puts her out for a while. But she still has hours left on chemo today, plus tomorrow she goes on steroids and…" He trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable with how much he was sharing with Lance. It wasn't as if Felicity's treatment was a secret, but he knew that was the most words to come out of his mouth to the detective since he had returned from the island. The fact that they had just flowed freely told him that he was a lot more tired than he though.
"Why don't you go home and get some rest?"
"I'm fine," came the instant, instinctive response.
"Well you may be fine but you look like the walking dead."
Oliver breathed out a laugh. What had Roy been saying a few weeks ago about the walking dead phase? Or was it walking ghost? It seemed like a whole lifetime ago, when everything was different. Better. But not really, he had to remind himself. Felicity had still been sick back then, they just hadn't known. It was as if all his memories were now tainted with that knowledge. He knew, logically, that there was nothing he could have done to detect this earlier, or discover it sooner, and there was no point in wasting time thinking that he could have. But at the same time, it was Felicity, his Felicity, and he still felt on some level that he should've known.
"Kid?"
"I might try to get some sleep on the couch, if you don't mind just sitting with her."
It was a small concession, but it was something. He wasn't sure if he'd really be able to relax enough to fall asleep, but he thought it might be good for Felicity to see someone else besides him sitting next to her. They reentered the room silently, pleased to note that Felicity was still sleeping, and Oliver repositioned the couch as quietly as he could so that he would be able to see her if he opened his eyes. He watched as Lance gently took her hand in his and whispered something in her ear.
These were their lives now.
She finished her first round of chemo on Saturday night, and by Tuesday morning she was finally feeling human, the nausea all but completely subsided. She was still majorly fatigued and spent most of her time sleeping, but anytime she didn't wake up reaching for the bowl on her nightstand was a win in both her's and Oliver's minds.
On Thursday, she finally felt as if things were getting back to normal - especially when she heard the whispers of her possibly being discharged. Dr. Fox came in that afternoon and said that all of her blood work came back good, so her counts were high enough for her to go home the next day, if she was interested. Felicity had a good laugh at that. As if there was a chance that she wasn't going to be interested.
"My own bed," she moaned wistfully. "My own socks!"
"You don't like the hospital slipper socks?" Dig asked indulgently, flipping through the TV channels.
"I do," Roy chimed in. "I've taken like, five pairs." At their looks, he scoffed. "What? Like Oliver can't afford it?"
"Speaking of, where is he? I thought he said he'd be here today? Did he take security with him?"
Felicity shrugged. "Haven't seen him since they told me I could go home. You'd think he'd want to celebrate with me breaking out of this place."
"Maybe he's mad that he'll be paying rent on a place that you won't even be living in," Roy suggested.
"Yeah, because Oliver's so fiscally responsible," Dig jabbed. "But speaking of, Felicity, where are you going to be staying?"
"Uh, my home? Remember: bed, socks? Excitement?"
"Maybe Oliver has been here so long that he doesn't know where his home is," he said cryptically. Roy's brow wrinkled in confusion and Felicity took his words in stride but knew that they might hold merit. She decided to put it out of her mind for the time being and just ask Oliver the next time she saw him.
It was after dinner that night that she finally was alone with Oliver, but if she didn't know better, she would say that nothing was wrong with him. It was like any angst he felt earlier in the day was wiped away. It instantly made her suspicious.
"Are you mad?"
"What?" He looked up from his phone, his eyes questioning. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"
"You just don't seem that excited about me being able to go home."
She watched in fascination as his carefully constructed emotionless mask slid over his face, smoothing out his features and making him impossible to read.
"Of course I am, Felicity. I know how much you dislike being cooped up like this."
"It's not the room! The room's great. I just, you know. Wanna be at home with my stuff."
He smiled at her: a true, albeit small, smile. "The room could be forty times larger than this and I would still hope that after weeks there, you'd want to get out of it."
"Then why don't you seem happy?"
He paused, ordering his words in his head. For some reason, he decided to just go with honesty, figuring that he wasn't doing anyone any good by silently stewing. "I am just trying to terms with the fact that you will be all alone. I know," he saw the argument bubbling on her lips, "that you have lived by yourself for years, and you have always been safe. This is a 'me' thing, Felicity, it doesn't have to do with you. I worry. And I know that you will be responsible and take all the precautions you are supposed to, but it doesn't change the fact that I will be very worried the entire time that you are by yourself because I..." He trailed off with a small shrug, unsure of where to go next.
"I was going to say that I was worried too."
It wasn't entirely true - she had been fully prepared to berate Oliver for thinking that she couldn't be on her own when she had done it for so many years - but what she said was still honest as well. She was worried. And it went deeper than just being concerned that something could happen to her, that she could contract a sudden infection or something, and she might not make it to the phone in time. It was the loneliness that frightened her too.
Felicity Smoak had never been one to need other people. She was as self-sufficient as they come and she prided herself on that. She had learned at a young age that she was all she needed. Her mother's flaky absences and sporadic appearances had taught her how to get by on being by herself. Then as she got older, she learned that friends were just as unreliable. She had never been Miss Popular in high school with her weird looks and her freakish smarts, but she had known by then that that was okay. She never wanted to be one of those girls that needed a boyfriend at all times and she was happy to say that the only person she needed was herself.
But then Team Arrow had happened.
Team Arrow which taught her that needing people was just a thing that was going to happen. She needed Oliver to save her sometimes, just like he needed her. They both needed Dig to keep them out of trouble (Oliver more so, of course) and Dig needed them, their purpose, their presence in his life. She hadn't been aware of needing them, it had just gradually happened, and one day she woke up knowing that she needed these people in her life, and she needed to do all that she could to guarantee that they wouldn't leave her. And then she was diagnosed and she'd be damned if it wasn't clear to everyone how much she needed these people in her life.
Someone had been with her every single day since she had been admitted to the hospital. Not just Oliver, although his omnipresence was the one thing she hadn't counted on loving so much, but Dig and Roy too, not to mention Detective Lance. Even though sometimes they didn't say much, or she just slept the day away, or threw up non stop in front of them, the fact that they were there said so much to Felicity. They made her laugh when she thought she was drowning in misery. They brought so much to her life, or the shell of a life that it was currently, that the idea of being by herself and her own miserable thoughts was incomprehensible to her at that point.
She was struggling with telling Oliver that.
"I don't want to be alone with this...disease." And that was the heart of it. Her voice shook with the effort to keep the tears at bay and she loved Oliver a little more at that point when just his eyes softened at her words, but he didn't actually comment on it.
"And you won't be. You don't have to be." His hand found her's on top of the blankets and despite the familiarity of that simple gesture, him having done it for weeks now to give her some of his strength, she still felt it straight to her core. He was giving her so much more than just his strength at that moment.
"I've been thinking," he began, ignoring the spike in her heart rate at his words. "What if maybe, just for the first week or so...I stay with you."
In retrospect, it became obvious to Felicity that this was where the conversation had been heading the entire time, but at that moment she just stared at him in awe. She certainly didn't have the guts to ask that of him; she would never make the assumption that he would even be interested in doing that. But for him to offer was an entirely different ballgame, one that she would very much like to participate in.
"Just, you know. To make sure you're settled in. That you get into a routine or something."
"A routine," she echoed.
"Yeah. A routine." With him, were the unspoken words.
"I live in a one bedroom," she pointed out.
"I'll sleep on the couch. Or, I mean, I think I own that bed," he nodded to the bed that was still folded up in the corner, never having been touched. "We could always take that."
She grinned at him. "You sure you don't mind?"
"Felicity. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to. So don't worry. It doesn't have to be forever. Besides, I think it'll make everyone feel better, knowing you're not alone."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"Have you really thought this through, Oliver?"
"I think it sounds like a good plan." All eyes fell to Roy. "But, uh, what do I know?"
Oliver had just finished explaining their living situation to Detective Lance, Dig, and Roy in the small waiting room down the hall as a female nurse helped Felicity shower and prepare to be discharged.
"It is a good plan," Oliver insisted. "This way, Felicity isn't alone and we can all rest easier."
"Yeah, I'll be resting a lot thinking about you sleeping in the same bed as the girl I think of as a daughter, yeah, great. Thanks."
"First of all, I will be on her couch."
"What's gonna happen when people see you leaving her place? She didn't want this to get out and now you're just gonna be living there?"
"Yeah, Oliver, what's gonna happen when people see you leaving her place?" Dig's words were rife with double meaning, his mind racing with what this might potentially mean for Team Arrow.
"I will be discreet."
"Discreet! Oh, good. Oliver Queen will be discreet, I can die a happy man." Lance paced around the small room, arms waving wildly, before he came to a stop in front of Oliver. "You don't see it, because you're always blinded by your own damn stupidity, but this could hurt her, Queen. In a lot of different ways."
"I'm not going to hurt her." He worked to make his tone even, intent on not appearing the least bit perturbed by the cop in his face, but the truth was that he had those same thoughts. But the idea of putting Felicity in harm's way by being there for her trumped the idea of her going through this alone. At least if he was there, he could do everything in his power to protect her.
Lance muttered something before walking away, and Oliver met Dig's eyes warily.
"Anything you'd like to add? Maybe question my intelligence as well?"
"I've always known you were an idiot." Dig moved to follow the detective.
"That's it?"
"You never listen to a word I say when it comes to decisions you've already made, so I don't know why you'd start now. Besides, if Felicity wants you there, then that's where you have to be. Simple as that."
As Dig walked down the hall, back towards her room, Oliver turned to Roy who held his hands up innocently.
"Hey, I agreed with you."
"Don't remind me."
"So," she did a little twirl, "this is my home."
"Felicity, I've been here before."
Not only had Oliver been there before, but he had been sitting on her couch for the last hour. They were finally alone after getting home from the hospital with her entourage, as Felicity affectionately referred to them. Lance had insisted on taking her home in his cruiser, and Oliver was fairly certain that he had given her a long talking to about the dangers and pitfalls of having him stay with her, but to Felicity's credit, she didn't seem to be rethinking anything.
"I know that…" She batted away the stray balloon from the bouquet Roy had given her. The dozens that now littered her apartment were hot pink and shiny and they all had variations of 'happy birthday' written on them. She thought it was the perfect, most ridiculous gift.
"You don't need to act any differently with me here. You can relax."
"I am relaxed!"
"You've been walking around the room for ten minutes."
Oh. She had, hadn't she? It was strange seeing Oliver here, in her own place, looking so comfortable. He was sprawled on her couch, his arms resting on the back of the cushions, and he looked like he did this every day. Like it was just a normal position for him. Like this was normal. It was driving her crazy in the best way.
"I was going to say that we can just sit and talk and I'd tell you a little bit about what Team Arrow has been doing, but you look exhausted. Maybe you should lie down for a bit and then I'll wake you for dinner?"
She was tired, and damn him for noticing. The day was so exciting for her, but it had drained whatever energy stores she had left. She had read somewhere that when you were going through chemo, once you lost your energy for the day, or event - it was gone. You didn't get a 'second wind,' you had to actually rest and recuperate.
Her mouth open and closed a few times, before she finally settled on what to say.
"Did you just call it Team Arrow?"
"Go to bed." He pointed down the hall where her room was and she knew it was no good arguing over this, especially when it was what she desperately needed to do.
"Can we still talk later?"
"We can talk whenever you want, Felicity. I'm not going anywhere."
And it was true. When he woke her up for dinner, they talked plenty. And not just about Team Arrow, but about everything. He told her about the time he was younger and had his tonsils out and his subsequent stay in the hospital after he had got an infection. He told her about funny memories and sad memories and she laughed harder than she could remember in recent history when he regaled her with some of his and Tommy's antics. She surprised herself by reciprocating; she tried to steer clear of anything too personal lest she get over emotional, but she did delight in Oliver's blatant surprise at some of her stories from MIT.
It was nothing like she expected. She knew that she wanted someone with her when she got home, but she had resigned herself to thinking it was going to be her and Oliver tiptoeing around each other for weeks, never knowing what to do or say around each other. For the first time, she allowed herself to think that maybe this whole thing - Oliver staying with her, their growing closeness, their friendship that suddenly had an actual foundation that wasn't based in crime-fighting - was the silver lining to her gray, chemo-filled cloud. That maybe this was supposed to happen to her, because her and Oliver were supposed to have this. Maybe everything would be okay after all, if he was here with her through everything.