Unbreakable Bounds
Summary: After the Undertaking, life has become a constant nightmare and Oliver can't find a reason to continue to fight. Thankfully, he doesn't have to do it alone.
Note: This OS is set a few days after the earthquake in the Glades, at the end of Season 1. Oliver was at his lowest and I wanted to explore this dark time and how he overcame it. I hope you'll enjoy it :)
Warning: suicidal thoughts
Sitting on the ground against a pillar of his lair, knees up, loaded gun in hand, Oliver knew exactly what he had to do.
Just before sunrise, he'd walked down the metal steps, shed his suit and slipped into comfortable clothes, ready to spend the day helping the people of the Glades behind his screen. He couldn't be seen outside since the Queens had become public enemy number one after his mother's confession on television. But this in-between, this moment when he abandoned one mission to move on to the next, proved to be his undoing. Heart full of despair, he'd stopped in front of the drawer containing his weapons, picked up the first one that came to hand and slid down a pillar. His life had become a nightmare.
Half the Glades were in ruins.
He had failed the mission his father had entrusted to him in his final moments, and now found himself faced with the same choice, except that his motives were purely selfish. His five years in hell had led to nothing, except the destruction of everything he cared for. He'd broken his promise.
Tommy was dead.
It should have been me.
It hurt so much. So much. Simply breathing was a struggle, he didn't deserve to be alive when so many people had died because of his incompetence.
The weight of the weapon in his hand was a source of comfort. It anchored him in the present, promising him a future of peace and rest.
For the last four days, he'd been in constant motion. At night, under his hood, he helped search through the rubble, moving pieces of collapsed walls, shattered furniture and broken beams, in the hope of finding survivors. By day, he anonymously helped families who had lost everything to relocate to hotels or other cities, he funded local emergency aid, and rarely allowed himself a moment's rest, only able to fall asleep when he was on the verge of exhaustion.
Eyes closed, he laid his head back against the beam, stretched his legs out in front of him, each movement an agony. A dull pain throbbed in his chest, which had nothing to do with the wound he'd inflicted on himself to defeat Malcolm. He should have pierced his own heart at the same time as his enemy's, killed two monsters with a single arrow.
Did you kill my father?
Yes.
No.
Another lie as his best friend was living his last moments.
Oliver raised the gun to his temple, his grip firm. He'd betrayed his brother in all but blood, just as years before he'd betrayed the woman he loved. Even though the arrogant billionaire scion had disappeared long ago, he remained a poison that destroyed the lives of those around him. Laurel, Sara, his father, Yao Fei, Shado, Slade, Maseo and his family, Taiana… the list went on and on.
In his hand, the means to put an end to all the suffering he was causing.
It would be so easy. No one would miss him.
My beautiful boy…
His mother would mourn him. A part of him was so angry at her that he figured it would be an appropriate punishment. She had been an accomplice in creating this earthquake. Losing a child would only be justice for all those families who were suffering because of her. Besides, she'd already been through it once, she'd survive it again, having Thea as her reason to live, even if she hated her right now.
Thea.
His resolve wavered.
It would destroy her.
She'd just lost Tommy, who was her brother at heart too, their mother was in prison, if Oliver took his own life less than a week later... she'd relapse into drugs and this time no one would be there to stop her.
Oliver lowered his weapon, letting it rest on his thighs.
He couldn't inflict on her the same pain he felt since his father's suicide. Even worse, she'd have no explanation, and no mission to hold on to in order to survive. Thea had been through enough trauma to last her a lifetime. He couldn't, wouldn't, be the cause of her downfall.
With his free hand, he grabbed his phone and called his emergency contact.
One ring. Two.
"Oliver?"
He didn't answer immediately, unable to find his words or his voice. Thea had fractured his resolve but he was still on the edge, suffocating under the weight of despair.
"What's happening?"
He shouldn't have called.
His pain could not be shared, nor soothed.
Nothing would bring Tommy back.
"Diggle…"
A barely audible whisper.
Pathetic.
Families had been shattered, neighborhoods reduced to dust, countless men, women and children seriously injured, and instead of helping to rebuild, managing the press on behalf of his family, rehousing people who had lost everything, participating in the reconstruction effort, he was sitting on the floor, unable to move, ready to end his life. His suffocating guilt was deafening, paralyzing. He was drowning.
"Oliver! Can you hear me? Where are you?"
"Verdant", he said in a breath.
"I'm coming. Don't do anything stupid in the meantime."
Stupid qualified every decision he'd ever made. He'd chosen to be an arrogant billionaire heir, constantly on drugs or drunk, who collected one-night stands, rather than pursue brilliant studies to make his family proud. He'd chosen to cheat on the woman he loved rather than fully commit to their relationship. He'd chosen to save Sara over Shado, because he loved her and was responsible for all the horrors she'd endured, only to see her die before his eyes. He'd chosen to return to Starling City to honor his father's sacrifice, and as a result, the city was destroyed.
Oliver stared at his gun again, tempted to give in to its relentless call.
The world would be better off without him.
Thea was strong, she would get back up.
A door slammed open and footsteps running down the metal stairs echoed through the silent Foundry.
"Oliver?"
He kept his focus on his gun, wondering if Diggle would be as affected as he had been when he'd witnessed his father's suicide. But he was just a teammate, not a family member, and if the stupid billionaire he'd been had survived it, so would this incredibly strong soldier.
His bodyguard paused when he spotted the weapon in his hand, but he didn't say anything and joined him, kneeling at his side.
He wanted to tell him to leave, that he shouldn't have called him, he didn't mean to add to his torment. Not a word passed his lips.
Diggle carefully took the gun from his hands, put the safety back on and slid it away from them.
"Not today, Oliver. We've lost too many good people already."
Retorting that he was nowhere chose to being a good person was beyond him. On his partner's face, he could see a tiredness that echoed his own, a deep sadness but also an unwavering determination. He would never let him commit the irreparable.
"Come on," he said, getting back up.
An open hand appeared in front of him. Too weary to argue, Oliver accepted it and rose to his feet.
He followed his friend who closed behind them, and climbed into his car on the passenger seat. The landscape flashed before his eyes, unnoticed. Once at the mansion, he'll lie down in the living room and Diggle will certainly keep a silent vigil to make sure he wouldn't take his own life.
He was such a burden.
He really shouldn't have called him.
Stunned by the cool morning air, Oliver snapped out of his torpor when the car door opened. They weren't at the mansion. He recognized the place, he had visited her apartment to increase her security when she joined his mission, but he didn't want to impose on her.
"She's waiting for us," said Diggle, sensing his reluctance.
He'd always been perceptive.
He must have called her on the way, without Oliver realizing it, which was hardly a feat.
They were suddenly on her doorstep and Diggle was ringing the doorbell. There was no turning back. Felicity greeted them with a small smile and reddened eyes that betrayed an immeasurable sadness. Diggle must have told her he'd found him on the verge of suicide.
A hand on his back prompted him forward and the door closed behind them. Her apartment was warm and smelled of verbena.
"Oliver…"
Her voice was full of sorrow and relief.
Felicity took him gently in her arms, surrounding him with her warmth and her familiar floral perfume. The fist gripping his heart tightened a little more, a lump in his throat preventing him from breathing. He stood motionless in her embrace, unable to reciprocate. He didn't deserve her empathy nor her tears.
He spoke as soon as she released him.
"I killed all of them."
They had to understand that he wasn't worthy of their friendship and support, not when he'd failed and caused so much destruction.
"No, you didn't. The only one responsible is Merlyn," she said with implacable conviction.
He didn't know whether she was trying to convince him or herself. Guilt was written all over the features of his two teammates, and he hated himself a little more for dragging them into his mission. Sharing the burden didn't make it lighter. He found himself overcome with the same empathy, the same desire to tell them they were not to blame.
"You killed only one person that day," Diggle added, "and he's the one who caused this whole disaster. You did the right thing."
Did you kill my father?
Tommy would have hated him.
He'd been a coward and lied to him, unable to bear his reproaches and anger in the few seconds he had left to live. The betrayal on the face of his best friend would have finished him.
"I've made tea, your favorite, with verbena!"
Felicity's voice drew him out of his dark thoughts and he focused his attention back on her as she went on to talk about the virtues of the tea and suggested they add honey to sweeten it, which she'd bought from a local beekeeper and tasted delicious. Oliver simply nodded, wondering for the umpteenth time how someone so bright had managed to get involved in his life full of darkness. He was grateful that this ordeal hadn't extinguished her light; it was dimmed, fragilized by the horror they'd just been through, but it would shine bright again, he was sure of it.
He just had to get far away from her.
Diggle went to serve the cups and Felicity took him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt and led him to the sofa, where he sank down. She covered herself with the green plaid that was lying on it and spread it over him too. With the television turned off, the silence of the apartment was only broken by the sound of dishes behind their backs. Outside, the sirens kept blaring, unceasing for the past four days.
A constant reminder of the chaos that reigned in his city.
Of his incompetence.
Of his failure.
Of the futility of his mission.
He should have confronted his mother sooner, faced up to the fact that his parents were complicit in a major criminal undertaking, rather than hiding behind pretenses and excuses. He should have known that Malcolm would have a contingency plan, it was his life's work, the sole purpose of his existence since the death of his wife. He should have left Laurel alone, never contacted her again, never interfered between her and Tommy.
His best friend would still be alive.
"Here."
A steaming cup appeared in front of him. He took it robotically and let it rest on his thigh. Diggle had brought the tea and sat down next to him without him noticing, a testament to his pitiful mental state, as for years he'd been constantly hyper-aware of his surroundings. This morning seemed to be an exception.
Each breath he took was another blow to his heart, because he was alive when so many others had taken their last breath. He had pulled many bodies from the rubble, but Tommy's death was by far the image that haunted him the most.
A choked sob passed his lips. This pain was just too much, he couldn't go on living like this.
A delicate hand gently wrapped around his, as if afraid to break him or scare him away. He met a blue gaze filled with empathy and breathed a little easier.
"I'm truly sorry you lost Tommy. I never met him, but he was your best friend, so he must have been a good person."
"Yes," he said in a breath, hanging on to her words to keep from sinking.
"I know that with everything that's happened, it's very difficult to see the positive, but don't forget that you saved lives. Without us, the entirety of the Glades would have been destroyed. If both machines had been triggered, the damage would have been way worse. So yes, we failed, a lot of innocent people died, but we prevented an even bigger tragedy. And that counts."
She was right of course, but the facts remained the same. Hundreds of people had died because of his incompetence.
"I know you're in a lot of pain right now, and everything seems dark, but you can't just give up. We did our best with the information we had, we have to accept that Merlyn outsmarted us, and now we have to live with the consequences of his madness."
He swallowed hard and his hand shook on his cup. He wasn't sure he could.
"Don't let him win another battle, Oliver. Please."
This idea left a bitter taste in his mouth. Malcolm would be delighted if he killed himself. His sworn enemy who had ruined the plan he'd been working on for years would be dead, and Moïra would be punished for her betrayal.
"Your family needs you," she added vehemently. "I need you."
The grip on his hand tightened, as if she wanted to hold him close and never let go.
"We can't lose you," Diggle said with emotion.
When he had the gun in his hand, ready to turn it on himself, he hadn't thought about Felicity and Diggle. Not because they didn't matter to him, on the contrary, but because he hadn't considered that his death would affect them. The bond between them was beyond definition. The desire to protect Starling City had brought them together, they had lived through challenging and traumatic events, they had helped each other and put their skills at the service of the same cause. But their friendship was far from conventional. He didn't know anything about Diggle's past or Felicity's family, he didn't know their tastes or aspirations.
Still, Oliver wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for them.
He'd never wondered if the reverse was true.
He'd kept them at arm's length, refusing to open up to them, to forge strong bonds, because he'd been betrayed too many times, he'd lost too many people he cared about.
But considering Felicity's words, Diggle's calculated gestures, their unconditional presence and support, he had failed miserably. And as always, he didn't have the words to express his gratitude.
He turned his hand in hers and gently squeezed her fingers.
"Thank you."
Eyes glistening with tears, she urged him to drink his honey tea and tell her about it, he wouldn't be disappointed. Oliver savored it in small sips, it was divine. He'd barely eaten these last few days, and the warmth of the drink spread through his body, relaxing his aching and tense muscles, soothing his battered heart. Tatsu had introduced him to the virtues of herbal teas, but he'd never experienced them as he did in that moment.
"I'm just... so tired," he confessed in a breath.
Of living. Of fighting. Of feeling all this pain all the time.
Diggle placed a hand on his knee, imparting some of his quiet strength. "Get some rest. When you're ready, we'll be there by your side."
This unconditional support moved him to the core.
He didn't have to explain anything, they already knew. They had stood by his side as he fought and never faltered. They were still here even though he had failed, and they continued to support him even in defeat.
He felt a little less burdened. Breathing was a little less painful.
His empty cup disappeared from his hands and Diggle suggested they watched a movie. Oliver wouldn't be able to focus on anything, but it would serve as background noise to cover the sirens and drown out his chaotic thoughts. Felicity put on a romantic comedy and he settled more comfortably on the couch, exhaustion catching up with him.
When Felicity compared the couple's unlikely meeting on screen to their own meeting in her office, before backtracking on her words with a stammer and insisting that she was not at all implying they were a couple, a hint of a smile appeared on his face. Some things would never change.
He didn't deserve to be here, surrounded by these two exceptional people.
But they weren't giving him a choice, and he wouldn't leave that couch for the world.