Chapter Text
Felicity Smoak and Barry Allen are hopelessly in love. And everybody knows it.
Just not with each other.
It would be a lot less painful if they were in love with each other, that's for certain.
(If he was in love with each her, he would have called her after he got out of that coma. After he saw Iris and Joe, of course, but he would’ve called her nonetheless).
(If she was in love with him, she would’ve said no to Oliver when he asked her out. To be fair, though, if she was in love with Barry then, she doubted Oliver would’ve asked her out in the first place).
(If they were in love with each other, Barry would have asked her out that night on the train).
(If they were in love with each other, that kiss would have gone on a lot longer).
(If they were in love with each other, Felicity would not have tried to latch on to Ray Palmer to keep her from falling into her emotions).
(And Barry wouldn’t have beaten up Eddie. Iris wouldn’t have lost her faith in the Flash. Barry would not be in the position he is now where they tiptoe around each other and barely speak).
(Barry wouldn’t have lost the love of his life).
Sometimes Barry wishes he had fallen in love with Felicity.
The problem, though, is that it wouldn’t have changed anything for her.
(Her being in love with him would not have saved Moira Queen).
(Her being in love with him would not have kept Thea out of Malcolm Merlyn’s reach).
(Her being in love with him would not have kept Thea from murdering Canary).
(Her being in love with him would not have kept Oliver from going to fight on that mountain).
(Her being in love with him would not have left Oliver alive).
And there stands the fault in his wishes, because if they had been in love with each other, Felicity still would’ve lost her best friend. She still would be broken and crying on the ground like she is now.
But at least her last memories of Oliver wouldn’t be him telling her that he feels the same as her. Without ifs, or maybes or buts or somedays. Just like she had wanted back before she had clung to Barry and Ray as lifelines in a frail attempt to keep herself from drowning in her love for the man who refused to allow himself to love her back.
But at least she might let someone in through the locked door she was now sitting behind. She might answer when he called inside with something other than heavy breaths and sobs.
(Not that Barry was doing much better himself).
Oliver Queen may not have been the great love of his life, but he was his mentor and his friend and someone he looked up to a lot. He is feeling the loss heavily, despite what his super healing would have the average onlooker believe.
He tripped three times the other day while running to save someone in a burning building. Nearly broke his ankle the first two and actually did the third time. Still, he managed to limp his way through the flames and save the person inside.
Because that’s what Oliver would have done.
Oliver, without superpowers or quick healing, who would continue his crusade after being gravely injured, who would somehow survive after everything.
Except, apparently, a sword in the chest.
Oliver would have saved these people.
No matter what.
The best way to honor his memory is to become a better, faster Flash.
And to comfort Felicity.
(If only she’d let him).
But she doesn’t seem to want to talk about anything at all. It doesn’t seem like she can talk about anything at all. So instead, he tells her about his Christmas, and the sobs slowly start to stop, and eventually he gets to the topic of Iris.
He doesn’t think he can tell Felicity that Iris knows now (not that he’s the Flash, just that he has always been in love with her) (he wishes it was Felicity instead) (that might make it easier on the both of them). So instead, he just tells her all about Iris.
He tells her about the way Iris smells like lavender in the morning and coffee after work. He tells her about how sometimes they would stay up all night talking back when they were in high school. He tells her about Junior Prom and the way Iris looked in that crimson dress and how he almost told her he loved her but then her date finally showed up.
He tells her about all her little quirks. And how he loves them all.
The first sentence he hears from her all day nearly makes him jump, because he’s rambling on and on (he could go on about Iris forever), and he hasn’t had anyone around to cut him off for a while.
“I have this habit…” Felicity starts, her voice quaky and full of the sadness that she’s drowning in. “where I chew on pens. I was chewing on one when I first-”
She needs to take a deep breath just so she can keep going.
“when he first walked in through the door of my office. He told me later that he… remembered it. Down to the color. It was red.”
“Maybe that’s how you know you love someone.” Barry responds softly. “When you find that you remember specific details of moments that shouldn’t matter to you but do anyway.”
“Maybe.”
They sit there together, still on opposite sides of the door, and, for the first time since he got there, everything is silent.
Felicity breaks it. “Why don’t you have any stories about Iris after Christmas?”
He can’t avoid it anymore.
“Things… aren’t what they used to be…”
“What happened Barry?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re the one who needs me right now, not the other way around.”
“No - talk; somehow its hard to cry when you’re talking to me. This is the longest break I’ve had from tears since I…”
“I know.”
“Did you guys have a fight?”
“I wish we had…. I kind of told her.”
“That you’re the Flash?”
“She probably would’ve taken that better.”
There is quiet from the other side as Felicity begins to understand what he means when he says he told her. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“At least you still have her around.”
“At least he loved you back.”
She chokes back a sob, and Barry regrets saying what he had. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I swear I didn’t mean it. My situation isn’t nearly as bad as yours. Forget I said anything.”
“Its okay Barry. Heartbreak is heartbreak. Just because Iris isn’t… You don’t have to pretend you’re doing fine for my benefit.”
“But you’re right. I don’t know what I’d do if I… if I were in your position.”
“It’s its own unique kind of torture.” She replies bitterly. And then she lets out a laugh that doesn’t sound right, and it matches her tone. “Its funny, you know. Before I met him, I had my life all planned out, but now that…”
“Felicity, you don’t have to…”
She tramples right over the end of his sentence with some awful determination to face the facts that Oliver Queen is dead. “Now that he’s gone, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.”
“Felicity-” He doesn’t know how to comfort her. He’s been there before, with a loved one dead, and no one really helping. “If we’re going to keep talking, at least let me come in so we can get you cleaned up.”
Begrudgingly, she opens the door.
.
.
.
Felicity knows she looks like hell. She hasn’t showered in days and she’s been binging a little heavily on the mocha ice cream. Not to mention, the circles under her eyes are the color of charcoal, because she hasn’t been sleeping well. She blames the nightmares.
In the nightmares, she’s right there beside him.
In the nightmares, she watches him get stabbed with the sword that Malcolm Merlyn placed on the table in front of her.
In the nightmares, she watches him fall.
She definitely should not have done a search to find the mountain he was killed on.
But at least in the nightmares she can hear his voice again.
There was one particularly memorable just the other night where she dreamed that he came back and she kissed him and it felt so real. But then he was stabbed through the back and it pierced inside of her and she could’ve sworn she was dying right along with him. (She might as well have) (It’s not like what she’s been doing for the past few days has exactly been living) She doesn’t dare shut her eyes after that.
But, she opens the door anyway, because its Barry. Because he came all the way from Central City just to talk to her. Because he didn’t go away after she told him to and instead sat down on the other side of the door and regaled her with stories of the great love of his life (who at least is alive) (even if she doesn’t love him back) (she will someday) (how can anyone not love Barry?) (except for her herself) (but that’s mostly because the one great love of her life is-)
Even her thoughts can’t process what has happened.
Even her thoughts, which move just as fast as Barry does at top speed, stop whenever she thinks about what happened on that mountain.
But, as Barry has assured her, she isn’t the only one who is tripping up whenever Oliver Queen crosses their mind.
Barry is still in his Flash suit. (Of course he is) (she can’t have expected him to run over in his normal clothes) (they would have caught on fire) (just like her shirt did that one time). However, he seems to have had the decency to lower his mask and put a hoodie on over the suit, just in case any passers-by happened to see him sitting outside her door.
(It would probably be tough to explain to Iris West why the Flash was sitting outside her bedroom door consoling her over the Arrow’s…) (bottom line: her life was too complicated for her to fully handle). His eyes are full of the same sadness that she’s been seeing in her own for days now, and she’s not sure whether letting him in is a good idea or not. Her apartment may not be able to handle twice the amount of grief.
“I brought you Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, and Pscyh.” He holds up three DVDs in his left hand, and she is almost tempted to smile. “I wasn’t sure which one you would want to watch. I mean, I knew you mentioned liking all of them, but you never really know with situations like this. I figured you might not want to talk right now and just be distracted, and I know watching tv shows is a good distracting and I know you need one and-”
She cuts him off with a hug.
(He’s too good to her) (she doesn’t deserve this)
She is still having a hard time actually comprehending what is happening, so she plays pretend, like she did when her father left, and when Cooper went to jail. She pretends that she is crying because of some other reason, some other, silly not-life-shattering reason. She pretends that Barry is her too-good-for-her boyfriend who has come over to cheer her up.
It is easier that way.
Keeps her from facing reality.
She really does not want to face reality more than she has to. (She already does every time she closes her eyes).
She wishes that second reality was true.
She wishes that her tears and cries and screams were nothing but sound and fury and that she had no real reason to be upset.
She wishes she was in love with Barry and not Oliver.
She wishes she lived in a normal world where there was no Arrow and no Flash and no whatever-the-hell-Ray-is-trying-to-do.
(She might even take Game of Thrones over what she’s feeling right now) (Although in that universe Oliver would probably still be-)
“No Game of Thrones today.” She tells Barry as they make their way over to her couch, which is covered in quilts and slightly spattered with stains from ice cream and coffee and soup. (And tears, all the tears).
“So which is it then, Doctor Who or Psych?”
“Let’s do Psych.”
“Wanting to laugh, then?”
“I could use one… Just no Right Turn or Left for Dead, okay?”
“I don’t think either of us could stomach that episode right now.”
She agrees.
And so they watch together. She does get close to laughing, once. And it’s not even the episode that does that, but Barry himself, who makes some comment about finding a hidden pineapple, and then starts singing a Psych parody of the Sponge Bob theme song. (It’s badly off-key) (but its charming nonetheless) (and it lets her indulge herself in her fantasy that its Barry that she’s in love with and not anybody else). (Especially not Oli-).
Felicity can feel herself tearing up, and so she tries as hard as she can to focus on the episode, see the clues before the camera pans to them and highlights them, trying as hard as she can to keep the tears inside.
But they come out anyway, and she finds herself sobbing into Barry’s shoulder. And he holds her. It feels right, somehow.
(Not as right as the words I love you coming from Oliver’s mouth, though) (not as right as the feel of the Arrow’s lips on hers) (not as right as shoulder touches and red pens between lips and the soft fabric of her date dress against her skin) (but right nonetheless).
And now she’s really in pain, and her breaths are shallow and weak, and she is making the ugliest noises and faces, but he is still holding onto her.
Not too tight though.
She wonders if its because he’s afraid she is going to shatter at any moment.
(She’s afraid she might shatter at any moment).
But they hold onto each other, nevertheless, trying not to think about anything but the moment. And, for the moment, they can pretend that they are in love with each other. Her neighbors probably think they’re in love with each other. The average passerby would think they’re in love with each other, but they’re not.
They’re in love with two other people.
And both of them are lost to them for what may be forever.
(They’re not totally sure whether or not they’ve actually given up hope yet).
And they both know that, even if the great true loves of their life are lost to them forever, they won’t end up falling in love with each other.
As Felicity had so eloquently put it, they’d looked down that road and said no thank you.
But they can pretend, even if its just for now, because there’s no harm in finding solace in each other, just as long as one foot stays planted in reality.
(Right now the sadness that they’re trying to get away from is what's keeping them grounded).
“Moments like this it almost feels like we’re a real couple.” Felicity finally manages to whisper out.
“In another universe, maybe. Any other universe and we’d realize we were perfect for each other.”
“Perfectly perfect.”
But there’s a reason two similar pieces of a puzzle don’t fit together.
(But they can pretend) (at least for now).