Work Text:
A/N: A bit more angst, with this one, sorry! But there was some STUFF to deal with, y’all.
Thus Far You Are The Best Thing
“So, despite what I’ve done, I pray to God that we can move on,
‘cause thus far you are the best thing that this life is yet to lose.”
“Sight of the Sun” - fun.
Nyssa shows up in Coast City, because of course she does. There are few places that the ancient black leather of the League would stand out more than the seaside vineyard where they’re staying for the night.
They’ve just finished what might be the best dinner Felicity’s ever had (despite the fact that she nearly spilled pinot noir all over her pretty new dress when he ran his hand up the thigh slit under the table) and they’re rushing their way back to the private cabin when suddenly, she appears, in full League gear, among the grapevines. Oliver’s wife.
For all they’ve talked about in the days since they left Starling City, this is one topic they have fastidiously avoided. And, if she’s honest with herself, it’s been eating at her. Because it’s not like they’ve waited to do...anything. He nearly took her up against a tree at their first rest stop and since then there’s been, well, a lot of stuff she doesn’t feel great about doing with someone else’s husband. Even if that someone else was forced to marry him in the first place and literally could not want him less, there’s still something about it that makes her stomach turn a little. Afterwards, of course.
Felicity’s ready to tamp down her nervous nausea with another snarky comment about a honeymoon (though her brain is suddenly flooded with Fruit Ninja jokes) but she doesn’t get to say anything as Nyssa speaks first, both with her words and with the sword that she pulls from its sheath and presses to Oliver’s throat.
“Give me one reason why I should not kill you where you stand.”
Oliver stands stock still, but manages to use the hand that he’s holding to maneuver Felicity behind him, shielding her fully.
“I can think of a couple...” Felicity starts, but when Oliver’s hand tightens on hers, she can actually feel it trembling and she falls silent.
“First, you rob me of my vengeance by killing my father,” Nyssa continues. “Then, you mock Sara’s memory by appointing Al Sa-Her as the new Demon’s Head.”
“Al Sa-Her...” Felicity trails off, realization hitting her like a freight train. “Wait a second. You made Malcolm Merlyn the head of the League of Assassins?”
“It was part of the deal,” Oliver grits out and her heart drops like a stone when she realizes he had no intention of telling her this. Not until his wife showed up to ruin their blissful escapism.
“Your ‘deal’ benefited only yourself and a snake of a man, who killed a woman you once claimed to love,” Nyssa sneers, tossing a weighted look at Felicity as she says the last part, like a warning.
“And an entire city full of innocent civilians,” Oliver bites back. “Plus, it also benefits you.”
“How so?”
“Another part of the deal,” Oliver squeezes Felicity’s hand tight before he says this next part, “was annulling our marriage.”
“Impossible,” Nyssa barks out, her tone almost mocking. “That was a traditional League wedding. Al Sa-Her cannot nullify the ceremony, no matter his title.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “But he doesn’t have to. You married the Heir to the Demon: Al Sah-him, Warith al Ghul. Those men no longer exist. As far as Malcolm and League law are concerned, neither does the marriage. It was…”
“...part of the deal.”
In better circumstances, Felicity thinks, there would be a lot more joy from both women at this news. The vice in her chest loosens, but only a little. Nyssa, at least, lowers her blade from his throat in celebration.
“This is meant to be some kind of consolation?”
“It’s the best I can do right now,” Oliver tells her, tugging Felicity forward to stand beside him and running his free hand over his throat. “Malcolm was the only one who could help me pull things off, the only way I could think to keep as many people alive as possible.”
He looks over at her then, and the most she can offer is a stilted, shocked nod.
“And what am I to do now?” Nyssa continues, looking far less confident than she did moments ago.
“You know the League better than anyone. You’ve studied them from the inside for years,” Oliver tells her, and Felicity breathes the tiniest sigh of relief that he actually has a plan this time around, and that he’s sharing it. “Watch them through the transition. Study their loyalties. And when the time is right, take your rightful place as the Demon’s Head.”
“You are saying I should attempt to kill the new Ra’s al Ghul?” She sounds skeptical, but looks intrigued.
“I’m saying I don’t think it would be as difficult as killing the last one,” he admits darkly. “And you’d have help, if you wanted it.”
“From whom?” Nyssa counters. “The team of proxies you have left alone to patrol your city? Laurel is nearly competent, but the rest are little more than armed civilians.”
“They won’t be alone for long,” he says with a warning tone. “And don’t forget, Nyssa, one of those ‘civilians’ is now, technically, the rightful Heir to the Demon.”
Nyssa looks as shell-shocked as Felicity feels. Thea, she remembers belatedly. Thea is now not only a vigilante in her own right, but the only living descendant of Ra’s al Ghul, the next in line for Demon’s Head. A lump forms in her throat when she realizes that he’s also right about something else. They’re going to have to go back.
“I do not begrudge the two of you your happiness,” Nyssa says, finally dropping her eyes to the ground and sheathing her sword. “But I will never forgive this.”
“You never have to,” Oliver tells her. “The offer stands. Just let me know how I can help.”
“Talk to me, Felicity,” he pleads when they finally make it back to their cabin, the mood decidedly colder than either of them had hoped after their romantic dinner.
Felicity is sure that other couples have arguments start the same way, and for a brief second, she allows herself to wish for the problems of normal people. That he would be pleading with her because his eyes lingered too long on the waitress’ ass or because she wants to know if she can call him her boyfriend or not, instead of begging to talk about how his ninja assassin not-really wife had appeared out of thin air and informed her that he had handed the keys to a group of trained killers to a sociopath and mass murderer.
Can she call him her boyfriend, by the way, now that he’s not officially married? What’s the word for what he is to her right now? Man-friend? Companion?
“I just, I feel like we’re back in that alleyway outside Verdant again, you know?” she tells him softly once she’s collected her thoughts. “I’m so glad, so unbelievably happy that you’re not married, just like I was then that you weren’t dead. But yet again, there’s something crushing all that happiness out of me. And that something, yet again, is Malcolm Merlyn.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d help Nyssa kill him.” he says, clasping her palms in his and locking his gaze on hers. Her eyes burn with the unshed tears she’s trying to fight back and she thinks she sees the same sparkle in his. “I will if it comes to that.”
“I don’t want that to be something that you have to do,” she tells him honestly.
Because even though there is possibly no one else in the world who wants Malcolm Merlyn dead more than Felicity (besides maybe Nyssa), she knows some twisted part of Oliver would never forgive himself for it.
He’s given up so much already to protect his sister, and keeping her broken bits of a family in tact seems so important to him, for reasons Felicity can’t quite grasp. As a latch-key kid who was living on her own by 16, she’s always been a bigger supporter of “the family you make,” and she’s not sure if she’ll ever understand the leeway Oliver has provided Malcolm Merlyn since finding out that he is part of Thea’s genetic makeup.
“Your sister,” she says, mind going on a small tangent. “I’m actually not sure if this makes me feel better or worse about her safety.”
“She’ll be okay,” Oliver sounds less convincing than she knows he wants to. “Malcolm will hold up his end of the bargain.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Felicity snaps, an extra drop of vitriol for each promise she knows Merlyn has broken in the past. “How do you know for sure that any of us are safe?”
“Because he knows that if he doesn’t, there will be consequences,” he tells her darkly. It’s as close to Arrow mode as she’s seen since they crossed the Starling City limits. “He may hold the title, but Malcolm and I both know who is the rightful heir to the Demon’s Head. I handed him the ring. I killed the last Ra’s al Ghul. He’s not naive enough to think that I couldn’t do the same again.”
She sits down on the bed, heaving a sigh.
“I still don’t like that you trusted him.”
“I had to to keep you safe.” Now his voice is a little desperate, as he paces past her, shrugging off his suit jacket and unbuckling his suspenders. “I needed him to make the plan work and he and I wanted enough of the same things.”
“He only ever wants the same things when he has everything to gain and you have everything to lose,” she bites off coldly. “And so you left it up to him to inoculate us from a deadly bioweapon on the honor system because what? You were busy with your bachelor party?”
Her mind races with bitterness for long enough that she misses how his has clearly gone in a different direction, until he drops to his knees in front of where she sits on the edge of the bed, placing his hands on her thighs.
“I never thought seriously about marriage,” he says after a long moment, his thumbs rubbing absently over the high slits of her dress. It’s less heated than his touch at dinner, but no less intimate. “Laurel tried to talk to me about it once or twice before I got on that boat. And after, since I’ve been back, I thought there was just no way…”
He shakes his head like he’s the clearing cobwebs of bad memories and looks back at her, as focused and open as she’s ever seen him.
“I didn’t ever want to get married, until the moment I actually was and it was all wrong,” his voice scrapes at the walls she’s been trying in vain to put up around her heart. “The wrong place, the wrong story, the wrong woman walking down the aisle.”
He’s down on his knees, her mind finally registers. She takes in a shuddering breath and presses her hands to where his are still grasping her thighs, lacing their fingers together as he continues.
“Felicity, I’ll never forgive myself for letting you think that you were dying as I was marrying someone else,” he says, eyes shining right at her. “But I’ll live the rest of our lives proving to you that you’re the only woman I want to be my wife.”
And she kisses him then, because she kind of has to, and it’s not until he pulls back to swipe at her cheeks with his thumbs that she realizes she’s crying.
“God, please don’t,” he pleads, pulling her up when he stands and pressing his lips to the salt on her cheeks, which makes her cry just that much harder.
“I’m sorry,” she forces herself to catch a breath, lacing her hands together behind his head and pulling him close. “It’s just...it’s also the first time we’ve said anything about going back.”
“I don’t want to, Felicity,” he says sadly, dropping his forehead to hers. “You have to know that. I wish we could stay away forever, just the two of us. But..”
“I remember,” she interrupts him softly with a memory. “You’re someone who will do whatever it takes to save his sister.”
Realization flashes across his face, along with a smile she’s so grateful for, and her brain finally registers what the appropriate word is for what they are. Somewhat tellingly, it’s the one they’ve been using all along. Partners.
“And the second thing?” he asks, inches from her lips.
“I love you.”