Work Text:
So I send you the gift of empathy
if you'd once in your life acknowledge me.
I have visualized so thoroughly
that when I think of me I think of we...
~ "Parallel Lines", TR
Oliver Queen sat at his work bench, soldering iron in hand, grumbling at an arrow that he'd been trying to design for weeks but had been proving evasive. The wiring...he couldn't get the damn thing to spark how and when he wanted. As soon as he got one aspect right, another would go wrong. Now it seemed he finally had the firing mechanism wired the right way, but it wasn't timed correctly. God, what the hell was wrong with him?
He swore under his breath and tossed the component aside frustratedly, jerking his head to the right when he heard a mutter from the area of his bed. Felicity lie there, glasses askew, her arm draped over her head. She'd been up so late the night before that he'd told her just to lie down on his bed and sleep for a couple of hours. She'd sprawled out on his bed and slept for seven.
Good, he thought. The closer she was, the better.
When he left the island, he'd left any semblance of the person he had been before far behind him. That boy had had lots of flaws; he'd practically been a child, but he'd been able to laugh, joke, and enjoy life. The man who was rescued from Purgatory five years after his shipwreck was bitter, full of hate, bent on vengeance. He had had no thought beyond destroying the people his father had directed him to. All he wanted was to avenge his father's death and fulfill the dying wish of Robert Queen. The horrors of that island and surrounding events had hardened him into something unrecognizeable to anyone who had known him before, and he realized he would have quite a difficult time convincing his family and friends that he wasn't what he had actually become. They would know he was different, sure, and it was fine. No one would expect any different after him being on a deserted island for five years. But they could never know what he really was. He'd lied to them, telling them he hadn't really changed, but he had. There wasn't a question about it.
Oliver Queen the boy was gone. Oliver Queen the man was brutal, merciless, bent on death. He could not be dissuaded from his mission. Men who had cheated death several times and been forced to do the things he had had to do tended to be fearless. Oliver had spit in death's eye and kicked it in the crotch over and over: he'd had the humanity beaten out of him long ago. There was nothing to keep him from utterly destroying everyone in that book and anyone who stood in his way.
The island and the choices that he'd made had left him hollow.
Until Felicity Smoak.
As if she sensed him thinking about her, she muttered in her sleep and rolled over, curling into a little ball on her side. Oliver's eyes crinkled fondly and he resisted the urge to go to her, gather her close and kiss her, reminding himself they didn't have that type of relationship. He opted instead to slip over to where she lay, covering her gently with a blanket. He allowed himself a few moments to linger by her side, watching her like a sentinel before taking a deep breath and shoving his hand through his hair, blowing out his cheeks. Get it together, Queen.
Oliver had heard somewhere, sometime, that falling in love was like falling asleep: it started slowly and easily, so softly you barely knew it was happening and then suddenly it happened all at once and you were just there. He'd always thought that was utterly ridiculous. That had never happened to him any of the times he had been in love: not with Laurel, not with Shado, not with Sara. It had taken Felicity to make him realize that he’d never actually been in love with any of them. He’d loved them, sure, he’d never deny that. But he’d not been in love with them. No, that was unfair. He had been in love with Laurel, but it had been different somehow. This thing with Felicity...it was mature. It felt stronger. It felt real.
He had no idea when it had happened, when she had happened to him. He knew that from the moment he lay eyes on her, she had made him feel differently than anyone else ever had. Like he had confessed to her, almost from the moment he washed up on Lian Yu Oliver he had begun to see everyone as a danger to him: someone to be neutralized one way or another, but she hadn’t triggered that response in him. He’d instantly felt safety radiating from her, comfort. When he’d needed information from the laptop Deadshot had destroyed he could have gone to anyone in QC’s expansive IT department, but he hadn’t. He’d sought Felicity out. To this day, he had no idea why he’d told such a ridiculous cover story. He was an assassin adept at torture for God’s sake. But Oliver didn’t want to lie to her. Oliver wondered if that was when it began, if the seeds of love were planted when he realized he wanted Felicity to like him. She intrigued him and brightened him - just a little. There had been precious little shine in his life and Oliver recalled being distantly annoyed with himself for feeling anything other than wrath. But he did feel something other than wrath and angst - for her.
When Oliver returned to her for help he found himself wondering idly if she would be glad to see him. His smile was genuine when they exchanged banter, and he realized as he left that he could count on his hands the genuine smiles he had given out in the last years - but this woman had gotten one out of him in less than ten minutes of contact.
When his mother had shot him, it never occured to Oliver to do anything but get to Felicity's car. His instinct, so finely honed after five years of fighting for survival every day, told him to seek her out. He never questioned himself, he never questioned her, he never questioned anything. Oliver Queen simply laid his life in Felicity's hands. Later he thought that maybe that was why he had been seeking her out over and over, that he was just working up to bringing her into the fold with he and Diggle. Maybe it was just that he was falling a little more. But he didn't know. God, he didn't really know anything when it came to Felicity.
Maybe that was when it had happened. Maybe that was when he had started relying on her, needing her. Maybe it had been gradual and came before the love. Maybe that was when she had started burrowing into his heart and mind. Oliver felt fairly certain she had already started from that first meeting. The knowing smirks from Diggle had started up almost from that day, when he caught Oliver watching Felicity just a moment too long. And her challenges to his conscience began almost immediately as well. He had thought his soul had died, but it was there. Felicity found it again right away and nudged it to life.
Oliver put the soldering iron down and leaned back, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck before his scrubbing his face with his hands. He had tried to fuck her out of his mind with other women. Laurel, Isabel, Helena, Sara... Sometimes it may work temporarily. Sometimes a day would go by, a week, even a month and Oliver would convince himself that she had just been a little infatuation. He'd feel silly for ever thinking about her romantically. But then something would happen and he would be back on his knees. It could be something as small as a conversation or as substantial as life-threatening danger, it didn't matter. Eventually, Oliver quit trying to put her out of his mind and accepted he was all gone for her. She had become buffalo grass to him; he could cut her off, but she would grow right back. He pinched the bridge of his nose now as he realized just how stupid he had been.
Oliver had thought he would be so happy to be see Laurel, but he hadn't been. Not really. The attempts to rekindle their relationship had failed so spectacularly - even their friendship tended to be difficult. Yes, there had still been a spark of fire between them, but they couldn't carry it without burning each other. She wasn't the love he needed and he wasn't the love she needed. They couldn't be good for each other, but neither of them knew any other kind of love before so they clung to one another. Laurel was part of the Oliver that had died on the island - she reminded him of everything that he had lost. No, Laurel was his past and his love for her was sentimental. He had idealized their relationship over the five years he had been gone, and there was really nothing left but a beautiful, shimmery ghost to treasure.
Oliver had always been somewhat like a star. Everything revolved around him; the people in his orbit basked in the warmth he gave and everyone else was either left cold or crashed and burned. Felicity turned all of that on it's head and suddenly he was revolving around her, delighting in her glow but craving more - always craving more. When she was around, Oliver felt his life's completion was just within his grasp. She was his happy ending - the ending he didn't deserve but craved anyway...and she was right there in front of him. He knew that fulfilling his father's wish would never quiet the roar of voices in his head, although it did give him satisfaction to know that he was doing good in this city to make up for the horrors his parents had inflicted. Reducing the crime in Starling City would never calm his mind, not to any great degree, but it would soothe his conscience. The only thing that that did reduce the constant noise in his mind was Felicity. Just her presence reduced them to a dull roar, when she spoke they almost disappeared. Yes, the only path to peace for Oliver would be to be the vigilante and love Felicity. That was his identity. To be the Arrow and her man.
Maybe Felicity had taken over his heart the night she'd walked into the room in that gold dress when they were after the Dodger, the first night he had saved her. God knows he had seen thousands of women in slinky dresses and at least a couple hundred wearing gold dresses but Felicity...when she walked into that room wearing that dress he recognized her as something beyond adorable. Beyond resourceful. Beyond a challenge to him. She was stunning. He certainly wanted her more after that night. And when she had been in danger...he remembered how high his adrenaline had pumped, the fear he felt for her and wondered if he had started to love her already. Oliver wondered if that was the moment she took root.
He picked the soldering iron back up and bent over, brows knitted as he brought another wire to the point of contact and he wondered as he scowled at the offending red and black wires if Felicity knew how fast she'd hacked into his heart and mind, and just how far in she'd gotten. He'd told her one time that she wasn't the only one who knew how to reboot his system. Well, the thing was, now she was. She had completely rewired him.
Felicity had become the voice in his head. Maybe because she had been chattering in his ear via comms for quite a while, giving him vital information - instructions to keep him safe and working as his own little bespectacled Jiminy Cricket, but he'd noticed more and more that she had taken up permanent residence in his thoughts. She directed his conscience and guided his actions. For so long Oliver had been accompanied only by his rage; now he had her soft, lilting voice babbling in his ear even when he wasn't around. Even when she wasn't actually near him, he could imagine what she would say in any given situation and how she would prattle nervously in that way she had. It made him smile. Diggle had started smirking whenever Oliver would smile out of the blue. Nothing got past Diggle. Dammit.
Oliver had truly believed he'd shut down his emotions completely. Felicity opened him up, and she'd done it without exerting any effort whatsoever. He'd believed he'd become hardened, that there was nothing left of him anymore but steel and jagged edges. Felicity had proved him wrong, just so, so wrong. She was the flame that had melted the steel around his heart. For her, Oliver was softer than fleece over a pillow. And he had no idea when he had become her slave. It hadn't taken long before he realized that he was doing things because she asked him to, when he'd never done that for anyone else in his life. Then he realized he was doing almost everything she asked him to do. He'd been blown away when that hit him.
Oliver nearly threw down the soldering iron and leaned over to massage his forehead. Diggle walked over to the workbench, making an effort to look casual as he put his gun on the bench. "You okay, man?"
"I'm fine. Cloaking arrow. It's a dud. And keep your voice down, Felicity's asleep."
"Cloaking arrow, huh?"
That knowing look again. Damn you, Diggle. Oliver glared at him. "Yeah, I'm going to have to find a workaround. I'm going at this all wrong."
"I'm certain you are," Diggle smirked. "You know, hiding isn't all it's cracked up to be." Oliver scowled. "When you're keeping yourself in the dark and operating from the shadows, you scare other people. Thing is, you don't just scare your enemies, you sometimes keep your friends hidden. Maybe concealing the Arrow even more isn't such a great idea. I'd think on it."
Oliver sat on the stool with his hands in his lap, staring pensively with his brows furrowed at a spot somewhere to the left of Diggle's foot. He hadn't missed the meaning behind that; everyone had agreed a cloaking arrow was a great idea. Diggle had just given him covert relationship advice. Team Arrow's Cupid had taken a shot at him with his own little cloaking arrow.
"Tell you something else. This concrete floor is hard."
Oliver shook his head and shifted on the stool, unconsiously testing his weight on the floor as if to confirm the floor was indeed hard, his brows knitted with confusion. "Well, yeah? Isn't concrete supposed to be hard?"
Diggle narrowed his eyes at him. "It is. But it's a bitch to get comfortable on. Hell, you can even stand on it to work for long periods of time, but eventually it's going to hurt you. Even drive you off. You can't rest comfortably on concrete. You get what I'm saying? Might want to figure out a way to soften it up."
Realization dawned in Oliver's eyes and he watched Digg for a second before giving a tiny, almost imperceptible nod to show he had understood, then went back to staring at the spot on the floor that had been so interesting a few moments before.
Diggle watched Oliver with a tiny half smile for a moment. "I'm headed out for a patrol and to check on Roy. Just chew on that for a bit. Catch me on comms if you need me."
Oliver gave an indistinct wave but didn't look up. "Yeah, you got it."
Digg had been vital to him, had saved him in more ways than one more than once. Oliver loved John Diggle like a brother. He trusted Diggle to have his back, both in the field and in the Foundry . One of the ways Diggle tried to cover Oliver's back was to nudge he and Felicity towards each other.
He'd never dreamed that seeing a woman and another man interacting would make him so happy, would fill him with so much joy, but the fact that Felicity felt she could completely trust Diggle made him happy, as did the fact that Diggle cared so much about her and was so fiercely protective over her - willing even to protect her from Oliver. It warmed him to know that there was someone else who was willing to fight to the death to keep her safe. He knew that Roy would fight for her too, but the bond between he and Felicity just wasn't the same. You tended to fight harder for something or someone close to your heart, and Oliver knew that he and Diggle were willing to do whatever it took to save her.
Dig had seen through Oliver immediately, he almost always did. And when he'd told Oliver that he was only protecting himself by holding her at arm's length, well, that had cut right through to Oliver. He didn't want to hurt Felicity. Dig didn't want him to hurt Felicity, and was pushing him hard to make her happy.
Could I? he wondered. Am I even capable of that? She's my happy ending, but I've never been anyone's knight in shining armor, not really. Could I possibly be hers? Oliver scrubbed both hands against the scruff on his cheeks and looked over at her. Yes, he felt like he could make her happy. He was fairly secure in the knowledge that she loved him, too, although she had never said so. He could devote his life to making her happy - but could he really? Can I be the Arrow and be with her - and keep her safe? Because God, that's all I want.
Oliver broke out of his reverie and swiveled around on his stool back to his work, looking away from Felicity. Taking up a fresh arrow, he placed it in the polymer cradle to set it up for his attempts to make a cloaking device for it. Snap out of it. Think, Queen. What would produce the thickest smoke? Potassium nitrate? But when he tried to think about what triggering mechanism he should use, all that would come to mind was the sound of Felicity's laugh.
He stared at the arrow for a minute before giving up, peeling off his shirt and walking to the dummy, not looking at Felicity. He took a deep breath began the rhythmic motions that had become almost meditative over the years.
Oliver just had no idea when it had happened. He didn't know when she had become his home, his safe harbor. He didn't know when she had become more important to him than his next breath. He didn't know when he had started daydreaming about coming home to her every day, about waking up next to her every morning, about watching her walk down an aisle in a white dress, about stroking her growing belly. Oliver had never really wanted any of that with anyone, not even Laurel. He'd figured it was an obligation he'd be required to fulfill and Laurel would be the person he'd want to do it with. But now...now he actually wanted those things. All of them. The sight of Felicity standing with Lyla the night Sara was born - he'd never wanted anything more in his life than to reenact that scene and be a part of it. And he wanted Felicity to be the woman holding the baby - his baby. He had known, in that moment, that he was completely devoted to her and only her. And just like he'd been told, it had been just like going asleep...he'd slipped a little, then a little more, then a little more...until all of the sudden he was standing in the door of a hospital room whispering a prayer to a God he'd stopped believing in on an island in the North China Sea to please, please just give him a chance at what he was seeing. It had just happened, and Oliver could not have stopped it if he had tried. But if he was being honest, he didn't know if he would have tried to.
No, he had no idea when she had changed his entire life. He had been a world-renowned playboy-cum-assassin, and now he was longing for the home life with Felicity Smoak. It made absolutely no sense, and he couldn't possibly explain it. He just tried to accept it.
Oliver Queen had no idea when he had fallen completely, totally, helplessly in love with Felicity Smoak.
He had thought he could keep her safe by denying her, by denying himself. He had thought that if they weren't together, nobody would be aware that she was the Arrow's weakness. Nobody would ever know that he would sacrifice anything - everything - to see to her well-being. Felicity would be safe. That was all he cared about; he would be of no use to anyone if they knew the truth of how much he loved her, so he hid his thoughts and denied his feelings.
Apparently he was a shitty actor because everyone - almost literally everyone - knew that he was in love with her. His friends knew it - every last one of them had either asked him about her or shot him looks when the two of them interacted. His enemies knew it -the Count had taken her, Slade had threatened her and Ra's had mentioned his love for her. When he told Carrie Cutter he couldn't be with anyone, she had screeched at him and called him a liar. Her psychatrist had told him that she would spot a lie immediately and warned him not to do so under any circumstances. The thing was, he hadn't known he was lying until she told him so.
Everyone already knew. There was no use hiding how he felt anymore, that particular truth no longer needed to be protected. Only Felicity needed protection. The truth of his feelings, weakness or no, was exposed.
But as time went by it became clear to him that the more she meant to Oliver, the stronger the Arrow became. He became more and more protective of the city because it was her home. All Oliver had to do was think of Felicity fixing her gaze on him and he was much more passionate about stopping whatever wrong was happening, imagining it were her in danger. If anyone dared touch her, it made him instantly deadly. Threatening her fueled him and brought out the Oliver fresh from the island. He had broken his no-kill vow exactly once, and it was for her. He regretted nothing. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. Yes, Felicity was his soft underbelly, there was no use denying that. He didn't pretend to be objective anymore: she directed him.
So what was holding him back? Wouldn't it be easier to keep her safe if she were by his side all the time, now that the cards were on the table? And wouldn't he sleep easier if he could touch her? If he could roll over in the middle of the night and place his hand on her back to feel her heartbeat, her chest rise and fall with her breath, to smell the comforting, light cherry-almond scent of her hair? How much better would his life be if he were truly, fully happy, not just aware of what would make him happy as it lie just outside his grasp? You know your life would be better with her in it - the way she's meant to be instead of as she is. This is torture. Stop doing this to yourself and to her.
Oliver paused his punches and draped his forearms across the foam-padded arms of the thoroughly punished dummy, hanging his head for a minute before peering over his bicep at Felicity. He willed himself to take slow, even breaths and slow his heartbeat, wondering just what in the hell to do and how to do it.
He stepped back from the dummy and arched his back slightly, bringing both hands to his face, scrubbing it before leaning with both hands on the dummy and blowing out his cheeks. He had to make some sort of move soon or do nothing at all and learn to live with it. He simply couldn't take this agony any longer. He'd rather be tied to a chair and beaten again than feel like this. This was the real purgatory. Lian Yu had nothing on this. This is what he needed to be rescued from.
But more than that - if he didn't, she may very well fall for Ray Palmer and be lost to him forever. Oliver felt pretty sure that she wasn't so far gone yet, but the possibility was there. He wasn't sure he could stay around Starling City after that - he would most likely have to find another island and set up camp there for a few years. He didn't think he could stand to watch her walk down the aisle to take someone else's hand, watch someone else stroke her belly, or hold a baby with her eyes and chin. He couldn't handle seeing her fall in love with someone else.
This had to end.
He counted to three, gathering his thoughts and nerve then pushed off the dummy and walked over to where she lie sleeping, trying to figure out what exactly he should say, knowing that if he took more time to figure it out he might lose his nerve. He had to do it now or it may never happen.
Oliver squatted down beside her, taking a moment to just watch her. He'd had seen her in all kinds of situations. He'd seen her happy, sad, terrified, angry, drugged... but he had never seen her completely and totally vulnerable. Her face, already so soft and beautiful, was somehow softer and looked younger. All of the things that they had seen that had left him so battered and damaged seemed to have left her untouched - she was peaceful. Innocent. Radiant. She almost seemed to glow in her beauty. He knew she was stronger for the struggles but outwardly, she just looked angelic.
The urge to touch her overwhelmed him and he reached out, brushing back an errant strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek, dragging the tip of his middle finger across her cheek slowly before tucking her hair behind her ear then pulling his hand away as she stirred.
Felicity squirmed, swimming up out of her deep sleep, before stretching, letting out a little squeal and yawn at the end. Oliver sat back on his heels, allowing her space, and tried hard not to ogle her as she arched her back in her stretch.
"Hey you, good morning. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"Oliver?"
"Hey."
She stretched again and yawned again, covering her mouth this time as she spoke to him. "Did you need me?"
Yes.
"No, I didn't mean to wake you." Liar. "I just wanted to check on you, see if you were cold or anything."
She smiled sleepily. "No, I was nice and snuggly. I must have slept well." She looked around, furrowing her brows. God, it's so cute when she does that. "Where are my glasses?"
"Here." Oliver stood and leaned over to the bench and reached to fetch her glasses, wondering if she was watching him as he stretched like he had watched her before it occured to him that she may not be able to see him without her contacts. "Sorry," he said, leaning back to give them to her. "I took them off of you when you fell asleep, I was afraid they'd dig into the side of your face or something." He pulled a rolling chair over, sitting down beside her - not so close that he'd crowd her but close enough to reach and touch her if he wanted. If he dared.
Felicity sat up fully, rubbing her eyes before she put on her glasses and looked around the room, getting her bearings. "They've got spring hinges so it probably would have been okay," she smiled warmly at him. "But thank you for thinking of me." Oliver nodded, before clenching his jaw and closing his eyes tight and standing, taking two steps to the bureau where he kept a couple of changes of clothes, grabbing a clean shirt.
Felicity pulled the blanket around her chest. "Oliver? What's wrong?"
You. No, I take that back. You are the solution to everything that's wrong with me, and I don't know how to tell you that.
He gave her a tight little smile while he shook out the shirt to unfold it. "Nothing, I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine." Her voice was suspicious, and her tense body relaxing slowly.
"Really, I am."
"Okay...if you say so..." Felicity yawned broadly again, pulling the blanket with her as she swung her legs off the bed and finishing in an "EEEEarrranh..What time is it?"
Oliver tugged the shirt down over his abdomen, straightening it out. "Nine-thirty."
She blinked incredulously at him. "In the morning?"
"It's Sunday. Relax." Felicity darted her eyes around the room while he pulled the chair back over and sat. Oliver leaned towards her and smiled reassuringly. "Really, Felicity. Relax. It's okay. You needed the sleep."
"But where did you sleep?"
"I'm fine." He sat up straight, feigning relaxation and cool as the corner of his mouth quirked up.
Felicity groaned. "I've got to finish -"
"Felicity, it really is okay."
"But the code for the location software..."
"...is not nearly as important as you." There is nothing as important as you are, Felicity. Oliver shut his eyes for half a second longer than a blink then opened them, looking at Felicity's worried, beautiful face, gazing into her eyes through her glasses. She looked at him with the tenderness and concern that can only come from the time and familiarity of knowing someone inside and out: the deep intimacy of having seen all of the dark as well as the light in a person and still being completely comfortable with them and loving them anyway. Don't blow this, Oliver Queen. Don't let this woman get away from you. Tell her.
He leaned towards her and put his elbows on his knees, ducking his head to look at his feet a moment. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. In, out.
"Oliver? Are you okay?"
He knew that voice. That was the don't-bullshit-me voice. He loved it when she got like this; it was the only way he got his head on straight sometimes. Now was no exception. It's time.
"Yes."
In. Out.
Oliver raised his head and looked into her eyes.
"Felicity, I need to ask you something..."